#paz vizsla AU

[freakrenaissance]

Reblogging again, because omg! I loved this! The perfect royalty au 😍 two idiots in looooove! This was the best series. Friggin hate her mom for taking her titles... what a bitch... but her brother was on point. & Briggs is fantastic. Captured the rigors of royal life so well, I loved every word ❤️

The One - Masterlist

Summary: Pas Vizsla, a security guard for the Royal family, is assigned to be the new personal bodyguard of the youngest princess and PR darling - you.

Pairing: bodyguard!Paz Vizsla x princess!Reader

Rating: E (18+ only!)

This story would have been impossible to write without @mostly-megan who has an understanding of bodyguard!Paz that I could only ever dream of!

ALL LINKS LEAD TO AO3

1. The One Where You Meet

2. The One With The Nickname

3. The One With The Other Guy

4. The One With The Knife

5. The One With The Flowers

6. The One With The Toys

7. The One With The Blanket

8. The One With The Mistake

9. The One With The Hotel

10. The One With The Croissant

11. The One With The Risks

12. The One With The Crown

13. The One With The Accident

14. The One With The Hospital

15. The One With The Apartment

16. The One With The Picnic

17. The One With The Visit

18. The One With The Palace

19. The One With The Family

20. The One With The Cabin

[nothing-but-flowers88]

Ok school teacher Luke for Dinluke AUs are amazing but also consider martial arts teacher Luke. Din’s a little worried about Grogu being so small and wants to make sure he can defend himself Incase of bullies. Paz tells him to put the kid into boxing like they did growing up but Din sees a flyer for a self defense class and takes grogu there, only the teachers a hot blonde with a black belt and Din is smitten. Especially if Paz goes with him and talks shit about the class so Luke asks him to volunteer for a demonstration and flips Paz over his shoulder

[bon-sides-sw]

That's how Mandos Flirt

[Mando Luke Au]

I've been obsessing recently over my Mando Luke ideas, and how he would not know how to act on his huge Crush on Din. Also they indeed fucked after this, Din plowed him hard.

[multific]

Parents

Paz Vizsla x Reader

"Ragnar Vizsla!" the young Mandalorian turned and looked at the person yelling for him.

Upon seeing his mother Ragnar started to run. 

They met halfway. You scooped him up into your arms, breathing him in.

Tears ran down your face as you looked at Bo Katan and Din Djarin.

"Thank you." both gave you a nod before your husband arrived by your side and decided to get you to a more private place.

Going back to your home, you never once let go of Ragnar.

"Riduur, you should sit down." said Paz as he tried to pull you to the couch. 

"Yes, Mother, it would be best for the baby." Ragnar said as he too was rather worried.

"Thank you, but I was very worried." you said as you sat down finally. You reached out for Ragnar who hugged you.

"I am fine. I am back home." said the young boy, reassuring you and Paz.

"Thank you for bringing him back," you said to Paz who only nodded.

"Of course," you were just happy to finally have your son back.

---

"My beautiful mother, she is such a great soul. Even if she isn't a Mandalorian, she had all the great values of one. She loves my father, me and my brothers with all of her heart. My father is a great warrior, he taught me a lot and took me in as a foundling. When my mother got pregnant with my brother, I was scared they would neglect me since I wasn't their blood, but that never happened. Both of them treated me as their own, and I am. I am their son."

Ragnar remembers telling this story and many more of his parents for as long as he lived and after, his children told the stories of their grandparents.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​ @noname2246​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[24-guy]

Forgive the traditional doodle dump that's done bad because I only have an overhead light. I've been thinking about them a lot.

[synthwavecryptid]

Body shots at a frat party can be so romantic actually

(Cobb did shots off of him first 😌)

[vizslathot]

Been writing my first Paz x Reader fic and also my first attempt at 2nd POV for the past few days now but I keep getting hounded by other story ideas and mannn. I'm just tryin focus. On that note here's one that's plaguing me. Maybe throwing this out will help me. Lol

***

Alpha!Paz and his covert are traveling to a yearly gathering of all Mandalorian clans, it provides them chances to make alliances, trading routes and much more. While this maybe other's plenty of times this was your first.

You are in awe at how many different clans can mingle and converse with one another, greeting people left and right but none struck you more than Paz Vizsla. He towered over many making it impossible to ignore him sticking out like a sore thumb, luckily for you your Alor introduces you to him taking great fun in your immediate crush.

You stumble around your words but Paz doesn't seem to mind, seemingly taking an great interest in your conversation you end up talking with him well into the night before you are dragged off by your friends.

The next few days you encounter Paz here and there, your interactions making it harder to keep him off your mind. Soon the day of the run of the wild was fast approaching, an event where those who choose to be "rabbits" or "hunters" participated in a game. When the game started the hunters would pursue for their target hiding in the surrounding forest.

When everyone was paired up the celebration feast would begin. It was one of the biggest feasts during the gathering and during the feast you would spend it with whomever had captured you. It was a straightforward way to show your affections to said person at the end of the day.

And after the feast well, that was up to the partners to decide what to do next.

You were lugging some supplies down to the gaurds at the south gate when Paz caught up to you offering his help. You laughed as he carried everything while you walked besides him. Now it felt like he was on the task and you were just following him but you didn't mind. Once you make it back to camp he walks you to your tent. As you said your goodbyes lifting the cover to walk inside he grabs you by the arm.

Surprised by the sudden action you asked him if somethings wrong, his hold on you was the only thing keeping the flap of the tent open. Paz takes a second before responding.

"Are you going to join the run?"

"Of course, it's my first time I might as well have some fun."

"Have you decided on your role?"

"Rabbit, I find hiding to be more exciting than hunting in hide and seek."

"Then I'll be looking for you mesh'la."

He gazed down at you for a moment longer before letting go. Pulling his hand away closing the outside world to your tent.

[snaurus]

UPDATE: The Middle (8/19)

Pairings: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker Ratings: T Categories: Action/Adventure, Drama, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Blood & Injury, Dismemberment, Violence The Jedi Order, alongside the Galactic Republic in which they accompany, have been entangled in the Clone Wars and Mandalorian-Jedi War simultaneously. But that is potentially set to change. Mand'alor Din Djarin has agreed to meet with representatives for the first time in history. Recently appointed Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, his Padawan learner Grogu, and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi must embark to Mandalore and attend the delegations, with the hopes of reaching a compromise.

As promised, here is my direct sequel to The Beginning, a continuation of the events in that story! At last we can follow Luke, and in turn Grogu and Din, as they work to bring understanding between their people.

Somewhat like before, chapters will be posted every Friday, until reaching chapter 9. Only half is completed in its entirety so far. I’m currently still working on the second half, but it’s estimated that I won’t be able to resume posting until sometime next year. So sorry for the delay, but I was just too excited to withhold what I’ve managed to write so far!

Also please, please, be sure to check out the warnings for this particular installment in the tags here and on AO3. This segment will have more violence than the previous story, although I wouldn’t consider it any worse than what we see in canon. I still went ahead and listed any future warnings to prepare folks, and I’ll try to remember to post a warning when a particular chapter is heavier on the teen rating.

In this eighth chapter, Luke has a nightly visitor, and later he gets a history lesson.

[AO3: Part 8]

[azertyrobaz]

Valentine’s Brew Chapter 1 / 2

It was Winta in the end who had to spell it out for them when she told her they would be out with Din this particular evening.

“Well, yeah, I figured, it’s Valentine’s day.”

Omera had looked up towards Din who was in the process of cutting Hadi’s food at the time, and the blank expression he gave her told her everything she needed to know. He’d forgotten. They’d both completely forgotten.

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

Fourth part in the Coffee Shop AU series! It's Valentine's day, they have all planned to go out at this fancy new restaurant, what could possibly go wrong?

Read below or on ao3.

Chapter 2

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

Din was running late.

It wasn’t like him, and Omera exhaled slowly as she looked at her phone once more to see if he had tried to text or call her – he hadn’t.

She couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. She’d been the one insisting they should go out more, and it had taken weeks to arrange this double-date. Well, triple-date. He’d managed to convince her that if she wanted them to socialize, it could at least be with people he knew and liked. To be honest, it hadn’t taken much to sway her – she might have been the one who decided they should make an effort to get to know the Sheriff in another capacity (that is, as Peli’s boyfriend), but Omera had similarly dreaded the prospect.

Not to see Peli, obviously – she loved Peli. They worked together and got on very well. But the Sheriff – Cobb, she had to call him Cobb, he’d insisted when he arrived, scrupulously on time – was a different matter entirely. And so the idea to ask Paz and Bo-Katan to join them had been a welcome one.

They’d started off on the wrong foot, that was all. Cobb was perfectly amicable when he showed up in Sorgan for his daily americano. If not for the fact that he had almost killed her boyfriend last Thanksgiving during a disastrous game of touch football, they would surely be friends already. Maybe.

“Is he ever gonna show up? I’m starving,” Paz complained loudly.

Yes, she was still a little bitter. And yes, probably exaggerating – Din had only suffered a mild concussion at the time.

“He’s only ten minutes late,” Omera pointed out unhelpfully, then tried to refocus on the menu. The place was packed, and their table had already been approached twice by an overeager waiter who only just about managed not to show exasperation when they told him they were still waiting for someone to order. But that was fair enough, as today was no regular Tuesday and he was probably hoping to free up their table for waiting guests.

The idea to try the new Italian restaurant dated back to Christmas. It had been her suggestion to mend bridges with the Sheriff – Cobb – and hopefully have a nice evening with her friend Peli in the process. But they all led busy lives and had kept on pushing the date. Their most recent attempt had been last Saturday, but since it was Super Bowl weekend it had been deemed “out of the fucking question” by Paz (and Din, and Winta, though they had been more polite about it).

Which led them to today. A Tuesday. Which was a good day for her and Peli because Sorgan was closed on Wednesdays. She should have realized that something was off when she made the reservation and the lady on the phone told her she was very lucky because someone had just cancelled and they could now accommodate a table of six.

It was Winta in the end who had to spell it out for them when she told her they would be out with Din this particular evening.

“Well, yeah, I figured, it’s Valentine’s day.”

Omera had looked up towards Din who was in the process of cutting Hadi’s food at the time, and the blank expression he gave her told her everything she needed to know. He’d forgotten. They’d both completely forgotten.

Tuesday, 14th of February, aka Valentine’s day.

“Let’s order some wine,” Bo-Katan suggested, bringing Omera back to the present. Peli and her nodded immediately and Paz stopped fidgeting.

Wine was an excellent idea.

“Who’s babysitting Hadi?” Peli asked when five more minutes had passed.

“Ahsoka offered to do it,” Omera replied. It wasn’t often that they had to find someone, but with the boy’s regular caretakers all being present that evening, it had taken some figuring out. In the end, the daycare manager had suggested it directly, claiming she would soon not see the child much since he would be starting pre-k next September. Omera thought that had also been her looking for an excuse to be out of the house for the evening, since she knew that her girlfriend Trace was currently driving her up the wall.

Winta had even insisted she could look after the three-year old on her own, and her daughter had certainly proved many times over she was responsible and trustworthy, especially when it concerned Hadi, but Omera and Din had both felt it wasn’t fair to rely on her so much. Maybe in a year or two. Although by then, she might be the one who wanted to go out on Valentine’s day. And not forget about the silly date.

The bottle of wine they ordered had just turned up when Din finally arrived, and Paz remarked his timing was suspiciously perfect.

“Sorry,” he rushed in to say as he slid in next to Omera. “Basketball coach held me back and I was late to pick up Hadi.”

“Woves is a pain in the – ”

“Nice of you to take the time to shower,” Bo swiftly interrupted Paz. Omera had also noted his still wet hair and the fact that he had missed a button on his shirt. “Unlike other people.”

“I showered,” Paz huffed.

“Yes, this morning, not after work.”

“At least I was on time!”

“Let’s order?” Peli reminded them, and soon enough their extra keen waiter showed up at their table again.

“What did I miss?” Din asked, his question mostly directed at Cobb. He really was making an effort, Omera thought, especially since the Sheriff had barely said anything yet. “Did you watch the game on Sunday?”

Omera bit back a groan. Football was the last subject they should mention given their catastrophic game on Thanksgiving day, but then it was a decent enough ice breaker. And one he knew he wouldn’t have to participate in much since Paz would be able to do all the talking if required. Because upon closer inspection, Omera had realized something else – Din was utterly exhausted. The fact that he’d arrived late should have told her as much – the man was punctual to a fault.

The mention of the basketball coach delaying him was only the tip of the iceberg, she knew that. When he’d taken on the job of athletic trainer at the high school, Omera had thought it would be a nice break for him after the army and the perfect segue into working as a teacher once he got his degree. But she should have known that he would take it extremely seriously, and feel responsible for each and every kid he trained and treated. That on top of the grueling schedule he’d given himself to be able to pass his exams in June and start teaching next September. She’d already tried to suggest to him that maybe he should give himself another year, but he was set on starting his new career as the same time as Hadi started preschool.

Din could be very stubborn.

But she had to admit that it would be a relief to see him focus on just one thing next year. Even if he’d probably accept Paz’s offer to stay on as assistant coach for the football team. This would only be for a few months a year, after all. And he was pretty much doing all the work already, as he was one of the rare people Paz actually listened to when it came to the Mandalorians.

And so on to the subject of football they moved to, Paz predictably intent on retelling everything that had happened on Sunday but the Sheriff – Cobb, dammit – seemed to be slowly coming out of his shell and participate, and Peli looked pleased. Hurts’s fumble, Mahomes’s ankle, Bradberry’s defensive holding penalty (they spent a good ten minutes arguing whether the refs had been right to call it), Butker’s 27-yard field goal with eight seconds left in the game… Omera was taken right back to the conversations she’d already been subjected to a couple of days prior, but she guessed it was a small price to pay. Also, it gave Din the necessary time to munch on half a dozen grissini, and it looked like he’d needed it. He’d probably skipped lunch again.

Food arrived, her spaghetti alle vongole tasted amazing, and it became easier to make small talk that had nothing to do with the Philadelphia Eagles or the Kansas City Chiefs. Bo-Katan gave them news about her sister in Boston, Peli mentioned the old 1966 Ford Bronco she was currently restoring, and Omera talked about the renovation work that would start at the coffee shop the following month. This took them almost all the way to the deserts they all ordered, and it might even have worked if Paz hadn’t been so intent to stare at a couple who had just been seated near the bar, several tables away from them – but then the man was notorious for being Nevarro’s ultimate busybody.

“Isn’t that Qin and Xi-an over there?”

If he’d expected Din and Bo-Katan to behave discretely, he was sorely disappointed, as they had both recognized the names immediately and turned towards the table he was observing.

“Why are they pretending to be a couple?” Din asked, looking at the man and woman as they ostensibly held hands and made eyes at each other. This might be Valentine’s day and the restaurant had done its best to make the setting romantic, but even to Omera’s eyes their behavior seemed to be over the top.

“Their family’s always been weird but not that weird,” Bo added.

“Didn’t Qin do time upstate?” Paz whispered.

“What’s that now?” the Sheriff wondered, looking very interested indeed.

“We went to high school with them,” Din explained. “They’re twins.”

“And very much bad news,” Bo confirmed, as Paz and Din nodded reluctantly.

“What happened?” Omera inquired, her interest also piqued.

“Qin wanted to join the football team but had a problem with authority so he never made it, and his sister found another way to make sure to get into the Mandalorians, if you know what I mean,” Paz explained, taking clear delight in the retelling. “She went through pretty much all the players in record time.”

“I shouldn’t have asked, “Omera sighed.

“You included I take it?” Peli asked at the same time with a cackle.

“Me? No, I have standards,” Paz huffed, while Din and Bo guffawed not too discretely. “Why are you laughing? Didn’t you have a thing for her?”

“What?” Din replied, affronted. “No! Never!”

“She was crazy about you.”

“For about five minutes, and it was definitely one-sided.”

Omera thought he was protesting a bit too much but she kept her doubts to herself. This could wait, she thought with a grin.

“So they’re definitely not a couple,” Cobb made sure, trying to redirect the conversation.

“No,” all three confirmed.

“And you said he did time? How much time?” he asked, all business.

“I know it was for at least five years, I thought he was still inside,” Paz offered.

“So most likely repeated offenses, and the dates match for him to have met Bane,” the Sheriff noted. “Now that’s very interesting.”

“What’s so interesting?” Paz asked, his main focus on the other man now instead of the twins’ table. Cobb seemed to hesitate for a second, but he eventually bent his head and shared what he could in a low voice.

“There’s been a string of robberies in various high-end restaurants in the county, always the same m.o., but we’re not sure it’s always the same perpetrators. They’re good at avoiding cameras and no one seems to be able to give a good description for a composite. I thought there might be a chance one could take place tonight, cash register must be getting pretty full on Valentine’s day, and what you just told me could be the key to all of this. If they’re pretending to be a couple – ”

“Wait,” Peli interrupted. “Are you saying you knew something like this could happen? Is that why you agreed to this date?”

“Well – ”

“Because let me tell you, me and Omera have been working our asses off to find a place and a day that would fit everybody’s schedule, so you’ve got some nerve!”

That was a slight exaggeration, thought Omera. She’d been the one doing all the work. And to be honest, she thought the conversation had finally started to get interesting. Learning that there might soon even be a robbery taking place? Yes, this was slightly concerning. But also kind of exciting?

“Who’s this Bane you mentioned?” she asked Cobb, saving him from having to reply to Peli just yet.

“Do you mean Cad Bane?” Bo whispered, having reached a similar conclusion as Omera and looking just as thrilled. “The crime boss? Are they working for him?”

The two women had apparently been reading the same articles online and the Sheriff looked as though he didn’t want to confirm it, but there again he eventually decided he’d said too much already, so he gave a reluctant nod.

“Well, shit,” Paz concluded.

“So we’re just going to sit there and do nothing?” Din asked. “You’re not going to call for backup?”

“We’re simply going to observe, this is just speculation right now,” Cobb said. “Well, I’m observing, you should try looking a little less obvious about it, it’s a miracle they haven’t spotted you yet.”

Omera thought he had a point there, but then the fake couple had been intent to play their parts until now, and didn’t seem to have noticed they were being closely monitored from the other side of the room. Looking at Din though, she could tell he hadn’t liked the Sheriff’s answer.

“Let’s order coffee,” she suggested. Omera always made it a rule to try the competition in Nevarro. You never knew. Especially now that she intended to expand Sorgan and serve more food, she’d have to go toe to toe with other venues, even the fancier ones. It wouldn’t do if people could get better coffee somewhere else – coffee was her thing. Also, it meant they could stay and observe – discretely – for just a little longer.

In the end, it happened very fast.

They had been sipping their coffee – much too dark, and with a questionable coffee to water ratio, she had nothing to worry about – and trying to keep a low profile when suddenly a man’s raised voice was heard near the bar.

“My wife! She’s choking! Someone do something!”

It was hard to see what was happening in the resulting commotion, with staff and patrons rushing in to assist the ‘victim’, but the Sheriff had immediately stood up, followed closely by Din and Paz.

Omera could now see a shape hurrying behind the bar, where the cash register was no doubt tucked away. Cobb ran in that direction, Paz right behind him, and her first reaction was to hold Din back but it proved unnecessary – he was standing still by their table, eyes fixed not on the potential robbery taking place, but on the group of people trying to come to the rescue of the supposedly choking woman, his back to the door, making sure he’d spot anyone trying to run for the exit. And then Omera was distracted once more when yet another shout was heard.

“Gun!”

The Sheriff’s voice. Who then disappeared from view with a stunning slide across the bar and a no doubt worthy tackle – a regular one this time – of the armed robber. A muffled shot resonated and everyone held their breath for what felt like long minutes. Peli swore. Bo stood up. Din gripped the back of Omera’s chair so hard she thought he would break it.

“Got you!” Cobb Vanth exclaimed, standing up, arms encircling a man Omera could now clearly recognize as Qin. Paz stood next to them, ready to intervene if necessary. No one looked hurt, which was a relief after the gunshot they’d heard, or so she’d thought.

“You’re bleeding!” Peli realized with a groan, getting up quickly to assess the damage in person, as the Sheriff’s white shirt was indeed starting to turn red near his shoulder.

“It’s nothing – ” she heard him mumble before yet another commotion took place. The one Din had clearly anticipated when he’d decided to stay put. Contrary to the others, he’d managed not to get distracted and lose track of the other twin, who’d pretended she needed medical attention while her brother robbed the place.

“Watch out!” Bo yelled, frozen for an instant as Xi-an, armed with a knife, lunged at Din, who’d done a good job covering the exit until now for that exact reason, and had expected such a move. Omera’s first instinct was to throw the decidedly not very good coffee she was still somehow holding at the attacker, but the woman was already on the ground, and the ensuing scuffle that gradually involved more and more people – Bo, a waiter, then Paz once Qin had been cuffed by the Sheriff, and finally herself when she decided she’d better make sure that bitch wouldn’t try anything else – took longer than her nerves could easily handle.

All in all, this was much more drama than Omera had expected or wanted for this evening. Especially when the restaurant turned into an overcrowded circus with state troopers, EMTs, local journalists, and according to Peli who’d been the only one who’d managed to talk to Vanth at one point, the FBI soon.

“Let’s get out of here,” Paz suggested, and they all agreed.

The Sheriff’s injury was thankfully minor and he would be kept busy for a long while yet – and seemed to be relishing every minute of it – so Peli suggested they went back to her place to wait for more news with a well-deserved shot of something stronger than the limoncello the owner had kindly started pouring to some of the haggard-looking patrons. Bo-Katan and Paz immediately agreed, but Omera and Din begged off, since they had Ahsoka to relieve from babysitting duties. They were both looking forward to give their kids a hug as well.

“Let’s watch something on Netflix next year,” Din suggested as he started the car, and Omera laughed until she felt nervous tears at the corner of her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, worried, and she realized her hands were still shaking.

“Let’s go home,” she urged, and he nodded, understanding she needed that moment to herself.

Something told her the night was far from being over.

[adancedivasmom]

Same. Every now and then I’ll throw in a c-drama post among my Pedro Pascal ones just to shake things up.

👆🏻Watch this show!

no i will not make separate blogs for my fandoms, everyone who follows me must experience ALL my insanity

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

HIGHLIGHTS FROM THIS EPISODE OF FRIDAY NIGHT PUNCHGROUND

SABINE WREN AND THE MANDALORIAN BLOODLINE

Picking up from Sabine Wren’s victory and becoming the first ABW Divas Champion, Sabine entered the arena to a hero’s welcoming. Not only did the ABW crowd cheer her on, the Mandalorian Bloodline (Bo-Katan, Axe Woves, Paz, Din, The Armorer and Koska Reeves) all clapped as she joined them in the ring.

Bo, speaking on the mic, would go on to congratulate Sabine for her victory and representing the Mandalorian Bloodline. But that’s when she drops the bombshell. Bo is unconvinced that Sabine will make a good Divas Champion in the long-term (insert crowd booing).

The solution; Sabine is to turn over the Divas title to Koska Reeves, who Bo has more trust in. Din, The Armorer, and Paz are all shocked at this turn of events while Axe and Koska take Bo’s side. Sabine, who went through hell and defeated 5 other women to win this title, looks conflicted. Backstage, Ezra Bridger is watching, horrified that Sabine is being betrayed like this.

[corellianhounds]

The Exodus

Media: The Mandalorian

Rating: Gen.

Word Count: 5,674

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Art Credit: Christian Alzmann, The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Summary: Mandalorians are adaptable by nature but often nomadic without choice. The covert on Nevarro wouldn’t have risked the entire tribe to save only one of their own, not without contingency plans in place.

Set during “The Sin,” retconning the canon idea that only Paz Vizsla and the Armorer escaped Nevarro. Mando’a translations are at the bottom.

“In the years to come, when the balladeers of Nevarro spoke of the day the Mandalorian broke the Code and signed his own death warrant, there were as many different versions of the events as there were ears to hear it.

“But it always started with the explosion.”

— The Mandalorian Junior Novel, adapted by Joe Schreiber

An explosion rocked the city above. Barely a minute of cautious, alert networking had passed before the slight frame of Jenryk Lokatta flew down the subterranean antechambers of the hidden Mandalorian enclave, fleet-footed messenger to every tribe member he saw.

The detonation had gone off somewhere beyond the marketplace, calling to it a hurrying fleet of Stormtroopers. Word travels fast on Nevarro, and as tracking fobs blinked to life in dim corners and shadowed streets, civilians and hunters alike traded news in whispers that someone was back on the Guild radar.

The thing about the Bounty Hunters Guild is that listings are largely posted based on who the ISB deems a criminal. Whether laws themselves are just or not matters little to most hunters and good money is the fastest way to find someone on the run: despite the outcome of the war, Imperial credits still spend.

A heavy infantry Mandalorian stalked through the sewers of the black market outpost, bracing for yet another battle and hasty relocation effort that ran the gamut of every possible risk. In another life the bulwark of Mandalorian tradition lived in palatial dwellings with tribute given to his family’s honorable name, his days spent facilitating trade and overseeing the expansion of infrastructure. In another life he trained cadets in green fields and laughed heartily with his comrades-in-arms, swapping tales over tihaar long into the night.

This was not that life, and now as he stormed through the tunnels he mentally spat a curse at those who had driven him and his kin underground in every sense of the word.

Despite those bitter, percolating thoughts, there was a glimmer of something mean at the back of the blue Mandalorian’s mind, raring for a good fight.

From the innermost refuge of their hidden home came the sound of sizzling slag and the *ring* of an iron forge. Steam permeated the chamber as the Armorer, civil and religious leader of the diasporic warriors, worked tirelessly at the millennium-long craft that safeguarded her people.

The silhouette of Paz Vizsla filled the doorway.

“Djarin’s in trouble,” he said. “Topside.”

The Armorer’s hammer stopped mid-swing. Her brass-toned helm swiveled to lock on him, the hum of blue flames filling the forge as he awaited her orders.

“What happened?”

Vizsla’s hand flexed, agitated. “The western scout said he blew a hole in the Stormtrooper safe house and shot his way out. They’re all dead. He’s— He took something—”

“Brevity, Vizsla.”

“We think it’s a child.”

For a singular moment the Armorer felt every muscle coiling to pounce. Clamoring echoed in the tunnels. Decisions had to be made, and they had to be made now. Their brother would not have done something so rash as to take on a squadron of Imperials by himself unless he had a very, very good reason for doing so.

And even then, he had not called for help.

”Let’s move.”

She strode out into the corridor to the assembled brigade awaiting her command with Paz behind her. “Barycir jiila,” she ordered, and the group began to split under her direction. “Tsad Solus, ready the ships for relocation— Take only what can be carried once beyond the flows and get the foundlings out. The rest of you to the south exit past the bazaar. Find him. Follow on Vizsla’s command.”

The remaining Mandalorians beat their right bracers against their breastplates in a sharp *clang* of acknowledgement and turned on their heels to leave for their stations. Shouting from above and the beginning of a firefight echoed from the street level. Foundlings darted through the corridors, hastily grabbing sparse belongings and following orders from those focused on evacuation.

“Reroute the civilians,” she told Paz as they strode through the tunnel. “Get to higher ground and do what you can to contain the firefight— Send the Phoenixes in first. Clear a path for the others and funnel his adversaries back towards the square.”

The infantryman nodded, retreating and clicking the comm on his bracer to relay the message.

“And Vizsla—”

He turned back to her, at the ready.

“Buy him some time. And keep the skies clear.”

—

Working with martial efficiency, the remaining members of the covert crammed supplies into every spare satchel and duffel available. The children crèched together under the emergency lanterns as they packed the barge, helping one another don cloaks and filters as needed while the cadets moved weapons and gear. The Nautolan boy’s hands shook with the effort it took to strap on his vest, his fingers slipping on the latches, and one of the older cadets stooped to help him. The Mandalorians moved quickly, arranging what they could onto the barge that would reconvene with them out past the lava flow at the edge of the flats. The hidden cargo shuttles camouflaged within the caves had been maintained far beyond the city walls, and with luck the fight in the streets would keep all eyes turned inward long enough for the first ship to depart.

The children were antsy, most having been woken from sleep by the urgent call to attention. The adults could hear their murmurings as they shuffled into formation.

“But why do we have to leave now?” one of the foundlings pleaded. Petulance didn’t dictate their inquiries; the children were familiar with the plans laid out for their escape if it ever came to it, but curiosity and frustration were to be expected regardless of age. The youngest just happened to be the most vocal.

Hartek, an older Mandalorian in bronze, glanced at the group from where he stood at the mouth of the cavern. He clasped his sister’s forearm in a reluctant bid farewell, then came over to address the children, kneeling to their level.

“Beroya is in trouble and he needs our help,” he explained calmly. “And he would not need our help unless it was absolutely necessary to reveal ourselves. We have to leave.”

Whispers spread amongst the children before one of the older boys hushed them, and the foundlings exchanged solemn looks. They knew secrecy was the key to their survival; too many had known guardians and kin killed for their armor or hunted for their weapons. The Empire wasn’t the only entity responsible for the destruction they had seen wreaked across the galaxy— The vacuum of power it left behind was filled with mercenaries, warlords, and syndicates of every kind. The Mandalorians protected them, and the bounty hunter had never let them down.

They understood the gravity of what was to come.

Hartek nodded in approval and turned to finish hauling the last gunlocker up onto the hovering sled.

“Remember,” he said. “Stay quiet so you can listen for instructions, stick together, and keep out of sight. Keep low, and stay calm. We’ll protect you.”

Two Mandalorians finished lashing down the barge and shoved off for the exit tunnel following the lava flow. As the cadets filed back in towards the forge the alor waved the group inside. Hartek finalized the head count as the Armorer heaved the grate over the tunnel shut behind the barge. The bronze Mandalorian tugged the end of a leather cord from the collar of his tunic and unhooked the Mythosaur pendant, beskar glinting in the rippling forge light. Another explosion rocked the street above, the Mandalorians tensing as dust and gravel fell from the ceiling. Gritting his teeth, Hartek slotted the pendant into the ridge along the back wall and twisted the latch: an invisible seam in the basalt parted with a grating slide, and the hidden passage came into view on a gust of damp air.

“Move out.”

And on his lead they followed.

Bringing up the rear, Jenryk could feel the course of adrenaline in his veins as he saw the last of the evacuation head out the tunnel that would circumvent most of the attention of the town. Once assured the passageway closed up behind them he rejoined the Armorer as she secured the tripwires beyond the forge. Down at the end of the corridor that would lead them to the bazaar, Vizsla motioned for the troop to clear out. Jenryk hesitated for only a moment before approaching the Armorer, her sharp gaze watching the last of the offensive squads split off into the hidden exits far down the tunnels.

“Alor, will you be accompanying us?”

She shook her head, not looking at him. “My place is here until those remaining are ready to depart. The forge needs dismantled, and I will stay until the rest return.”

Jenryk shifted uneasily. “Something doesn’t feel right,” he said. “The Imperials weren’t the only ones firing at him.”

“… There may be other forces at work,” the Armorer hedged. “Once you’re in the air, keep the transponders off en route. We will regroup offworld and signal for you once we’ve settled at the second camp. Do not wait for us: the second ship will depart once Vizsla confirms the Crest has made its escape.”

“… Will do.”

The Armorer glanced his way as she holstered her hammer. “Do not deviate from the plan, Jenryk,” she warned him. She started to gather her tools, retrieving the last piece of his cuirass from the forge and clasping it to his backplate. “Hartek will need you as medic.”

He nodded reluctantly as she assessed her handiwork, securing the conduit latches for the durasteel jetpack and ensuring the suit’s circuitry had fully integrated into the system. Alfi approached from her setup at the false tunnel, signing that all was set as she grabbed the last rucksack. Jenryk rested a hand on her pauldron as she passed, the two of them exchanging a nod before she took off, racing to the exit.

The Armorer returned, holstering her sidearm as she listened over the comm channel. “The firing team will reconvene from the butcher’s entrance,” she said. “Move out.”

Jenryk activated the chameleon cloak on his suit and departed from the smithy, slinking out to the pyroduct under the west side of town. He spiked into the rock face above him with the climbing gaff on his boots and ascended the winding, eroded tunnel up to the street, his heart thundering in his ears. The natural ventilation shaft spit out past the slums up above, and though it was a more densely populated area of the city it had fewer Imperial scouts stationed between streets.

Smoke and brimstone filled the air, the clamor of civilians weaving through the streets as they bolted themselves indoors. Buildings of stone covered with volcanic earth rippled around him in a near-imperceptible mirage as he cut through town, mapping the fastest route between alleyways and cataloguing potential threats once the covert had finished aiding the bounty hunter at the docking yard.

There was a scout trooper leaning against a speeder bike near the canal, but he was far enough out of the district it seemed like the original safehouse hadn’t commed for him. Two Trandoshan guards for one of the wealthy families had broadened their post outside the townhouse to include the courtyard connecting the intersecting side streets, and the lights of the banking district blazed green and bright.

Blending into the twilight, Jenryk slipped past all of them to the outer edge of town. He cleared the canal, rocking the gondolas as he leapt to the other side. Carefully, he picked his way up the dark, pitted defensive wall, slipping over and out of Nevarro’s starport city and into the night. Once they were on open ground and trekking across the flats they would be vulnerable until they reached the freighter. Dusk brought with it reptavians and other nocturnal predators, and with the cover the cloak gave him, he was the most suited to clear a path.

There were six adults, three cadets, and seven foundlings coming from the flows, himself and Alfi making up the remainder of their group. Alfi would station herself as sniper and watchman while the freighter was loaded, her and Hartek waiting on him to voice the all clear before they departed. Vizsla would be the last to leave with the Armorer on the second ship if all went well, and hopefully they would hear from each other once they were out of New Republic airspace.

This was the third relocation Jenryk had seen. The uncertainty that came with dividing their numbers was not one he missed.

A shot rang out from the street leading to the docking yard far behind him, and a volley of blaster fire followed. Jenryk steeled his nerves, ignited his jetpack, and sped out across the flats.

—

Vizsla led the firing team through the narrow alleys of Nevarro. Doors and windows shuttered at the first sign of blaster fire, and the ground shook with the aftershocks of another detonation. They honed in on the smoke emanating from the shipyard entrance, footsteps weighted down with ordnance and determination. He motioned for the squad of foot soldiers to break off from the jet team, seeing them cut smoothly down to the buildings behind the main street. The remaining troops clambered silently up rock-hewn walls, creeping across balconies and roofs to get a bead on Djarin’s location.

There was a brief pause in gunfire when they were still three streets away before Paz heard the unmistakable sound of a particle disruptor atomizing its targets and reducing them to cinders. As he rounded a turret above the market district he scoped in on the street: bounty hunters of every kind scattered as a fellow hunter disintegrated to nothing, all of them now clamoring for cover. A third shot resounded, disintegrating a Rodian as the Mandalorians advanced, then all fell silent.

Paz held up his fist, signaling for those on the rooftops to halt as the gunfire came to a momentary standstill. He turned up the audio feed on his helmet, tuning it carefully. The Guild broker’s voice projected from the archway entrance and called out to Djarin, wherever he was on the street beyond them.

“That’s one impressive weapon!”

Paz dimly heard their brother respond, tuning in again. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to my ship, with the kid, and you’re gonna let it happen.”

The broker barked a venomous order, this one loud enough to be heard by everyone in attendance:

“No— How about this: We take the kid, and if you try to stop us, we kill you and we strip your body for parts.”

The truth of the threat reverberated against the chest of every Mandalorian who heard it. Hackles raised, they advanced as one, their net drawing tighter with the impending ambush hidden by the cacophony of blaster fire. The ground team drew up sharp behind archways and corners, visages grim beneath the mask. Vizsla jabbed two fingers in a directive to ready themselves for the assault: the air team was in position. The footmen waited for his signal. He just needed to find Din so they could clear the path to the dockyard.

A plume of fire burst from a speeder on one side of the street. Vizsla narrowed his scope, adjusting the feed and impatiently waiting for the air to clear.

As hunters fell back from the blaze, the fire stuttered and dissipated, sputtering to a failing halt. The figure behind the smoke ducked back down into the open speeder out of firing range, but the armor it wore was unmistakable.

Finally, Vizsla grinned.

—

It wasn’t his reclamation of the child that deemed his actions a sin, but the initial transaction. No matter what he did in this life, Din Djarin would forever be a man who had at one time traded the life of a child to known enemies for payment. That was an immutable fact he would spend the rest of his lifetime atoning for.

He just thought the rest of their lives were going to be longer than this.

The Mandalorian looked down at the little boy he wanted to protect, stricken with the grief of his sin. He had known their chances of a hasty retreat were narrow when he left the ship to retrace his steps, but his prior confidence was founded in his determination to remedy the sacrilege of a tenet he had always held true.

Now though with plasma and fire flashing above them, the gravity of his decision was evident in the tragedy of his shortcomings. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to secure a future where the boy was safe, happy, and free. He was the one responsible for the child’s place here and now in the middle of a dark street on a blighted planet, surrounded by enemies hellbent on killing them both. The sense memory of his own father carrying him through a city filled with destruction refused to leave his mind’s eye, mingling with the guilt of knowing his circumstances and the child’s fate were of his own doing.

He had no right to pray for a painless end, but he hoped whatever life came after this one would grant him mercy for his greatest misdeed.

The child looked up at him with quizzical, sleep-filled eyes. Din stroked the boy’s head and wished he could apologize in a way he would understand.

—

A sharp whistle streaked overhead, following a streaming cascade of sparks. When the missile connected with the corner of the stone archway above the public house it exploded, sending a gunman from above toppling to the street below.

All eyes turned skyward as a figure rose above the crowd like a hawk, a dozen like it soaring up over rooftops and descending in a hail of precise, deadly gunfire.

Din couldn’t believe his eyes.

Laserfire streamed from above, hunters falling in the street. As they fired back the Mandalorians wove through the air, evading and deflecting every shot as they drew the Guild members’ attention to themselves, firing again with unparalleled accuracy into the street. More hunters appeared from alleyways but proved no match for the Mandalorians’ numbers, blaster shots finding their marks in the hearts of those now terrified by the descending ambush.

The covert had appeared from nowhere and rallied to Din’s defense, picking off assailants around him. For a singular, shining moment he was stricken with the same awe he felt when he’d first encountered the warriors as a child.

Another missle screamed from the gauntlet of a Mandalorian firing in mid-air, dodging the shots returned by the panicked and disoriented mercenaries and hunters littering the street. A fuel reserve from the docking yard exploded in front of a salvage shop and blazed up in a fireball that scattered a pack of mercs, three Mandalorians rerouting them to the square south of the bazaar. A Mandalorian in green landed behind an unsuspecting Nikto and wrapped both arms around him, jetting up beyond the buildings as the mercenary cried out in terror. Two more hunters ran for alleyways, shooting wildly behind them at the armored gunmen in the street who then gave chase, boots thumping on stone as their kin covered their backs.

In a stuttering, rapidfire flash of light, an infantryman landed near the speeder, gunning down any hunter foolish enough to have remained out in the open. The bulk of his imposing figure blocked the stone archway to the dockyard, his own aim still precise in its destruction as he cleared swaths of bounty hunters from the black market port in seconds.

Out of everybody, Din had expected him the least.

Paz jerked his head to Din, hollering, “Get out of here! We’ll hold them off!”

Din kept his aim level at their assailants as he hollered back. “You’re going to have to relocate the covert!”

Paz paused in firing for only a moment, nodding in affirmation. His voice was level with assurance. “This is the Way.”

And for the first time in a long time, Din felt something akin to hope.

“This is the Way.”

Din scooped the small child protectively into the crook of his left arm before ducking from the firefight and running to the Crest.

—

The Mandalorians moved quickly. The cargo shuttle was primed for takeoff, Hartek swiftly finalizing their pre-flight checks. He could see the firefight off in the distance as night fell, the rest of their crew moving around the hold below and securing the foundlings and the covert’s supplies. Time was running out.

“How many?” his co-pilot, Sapsen, barked over the headset.

Jenryk’s voice crackled over the comm’s frequency. “Twenty, more— on the way. Alfi’s— karking hell— Alfi’s pinned down, you— need to leave, now! We’ll regroup and— on the second ship!”

Hartek pressed the transceiver’s relay on his vambrace. His voice transmitted over the open channel to the helmets of the others belowdeck. “Who has the most fuel reserve?”

Two lights responded instantly over the head-up display. Hartek weighed his options but knew there wasn’t time to deliberate.

“Kyden, Whyt, jet out to the cliff and get her out of there. We’re nearly ready for takeoff. Jenryk, stay on the ground; we’ll come to you.”

“— long range repeaters,” Jenryk’s voice cut through. Laserfire screamed over his voice on the other end. “TL-50— scout troopers on bikes. They’ll see— coming, you won’t be able to get low enough— the hatch—”

The two Mandalorians following Hartek’s directive blasted from the bay doors in a stream of fire. The engines rumbled to life; Hartek pressed the command for the docking ramp to ascend, flipping the toggle to transfer control to the co-pilot. “Get us in the air. I’ll lock into the harness from the hatch— When we get to the firefight drop as low as you can and I’ll grab him from the starboard side.”

Sapsen’s voice was strained as he pulled on the yoke and leveled them with the horizon. “Hartek, it’s too risky—”

Hartek snapped the tether from above to his belt, yanking himself upward hand over hand.

“So we’ll just have to be careful.”

—

Jenryk’s lungs screamed with the effort it had taken to race over the plateau on foot. His jetpack sputtered and he could smell the fuel leak now soaking into his suit— The pack was damaged by one of the trooper’s heavy blaster bolts piercing the tank. Rendered immediately useless, he’d raced in the direction of his comrade, conveying what information he could to the others in the hopes that they could escape before the scout troopers on bikes caught up. Now camouflaged with the sparse brush, Jenryk crouched out of view, firing at the troopers when he could before pressing on.

Up on the ridge he could barely see Alfi’s red helm peek out in the twilight as she shot at the firing team below, but every time she revealed herself the heavy repeating blasters rattled the cliff edge and broke off more of the upper rock face, sending intermittent rockslides down the cliff. Even though she had the high ground, she was back-to-back with a lava flow that had broken open with fresh magma, effectively trapping her and keeping her from descending to the ravine on the west that would take them to the ships. Any time she rose higher than knee height she caught the troopers’ attention and they opened fire. If she exposed herself on a run to the ravine she’d be riddled with holes.

Jenryk’s cloak on the suit had given him a slight advantage as he shot unseen from the brush, and knowing Alfi she was just as much buying the shuttle time to escape by keeping the troopers occupied as he was. It was her idea to relay the decision to stay, and he’d never been able to tell her no.

Jenryk shot another Stormtrooper in the neck and kept moving. He switched his comm to Alfi’s frequency. “Why haven’t they left yet?”

Alfi signaled back in Dadita: “N-E-E-D-T-I-M-E.”

The remaining troopers advanced towards the trail to the outcropping. Jenryk picked up his pace before he heard one of them yell; he ducked, only narrowly missing a shot that flew by his helmet, and he heard the recoil of Alfi’s sniper rifle echo across the landscape. The heavy repeating blasters picked up again, rocks scouring the earth as they fell in a crashing wave not sixty feet from where Jenryk hid.

As the dust settled he knew he had to face the reality of the situation. By his estimate, Alfi was only a scant forty feet from the magma flow and likely cooking beneath her armor. He wasn’t going to get there in enough time to cover her escape.

He took a deep breath, his nerves settling to resolve as his mind cleared of distractions.

Jenryk spoke again, knowing she would hear him. “Move on my signal, Ori’vod. I’ll see you again someday.”

The Mandalorian armed the last two grenades in his arsenal and stepped out from the brush. He stalked toward the firing team on the ground, the waning light refracting around his figure like heatwaves in the desert, and as he drew near he upped his pace to a sprint. Two cluster grenades sang up through the air and exploded high above the trail to the ridge, eight concussive blasts following as they rained down on the troopers clinging to the rock face. Blaster drawn, Jenryk shot the heavy infantryman closest to him and leapt into the fray.

—

Alfi felt the explosions rock the cliff seconds after Jenryk’s comm went silent. Fear struck like lightning up her spine as she realized what he had done; she yanked herself up over the outcropping to scope in on the ground, seeing only a haze of smoke and blaster bolts firing in every direction. The idiot had given her the opportunity to get to the ravine at the cost of himself, and he had the audacity to keep the lenticular mirage up.

She had never been so angry with him.

Jenryk’s voice echoed in her ears, the reassuring tone doing nothing to calm her in those final seconds as she registered his farewell. Far below, the firing squad was in a disarray, at least a dozen still standing as they fired wildly around themselves while Jenryk cut through the smoke in the confusion.

Dimly, she heard the whine of a jet approaching from behind, and she whirled around to see two of their kin descending from the sky. Whyt and Kyden landed hard next to her as she jumped to her feet, signing quickly with her hands. Three laser bolts shot past their shoulders and they ducked out from range.

J fighting the group. Jetpack damaged. Need to help, she said.

Whyt shook his head and grabbed up her rifle, handing it to her. “Hartek’s on the way. We’ve got to go.”

Alfi violently shook her head, taking a step back, only for Kyden to wrap both of his thick arms around her from behind, pinning her own arms to her side as his jetpack ignited again and lifted both of them into the air. Alfi reared back in anger, a strangled yell escaping her as she struggled against his grip. Whyt followed after, flying with his back to them and firing his carbine rifle into the troopers below.

“I’m sorry, Al,” Kyden said over his headset. “We’re going to get him, just hang tight.”

Heat blazed under Alfi’s armor that had nothing to do with the river of lava streaming beneath them. She swore if Jenryk didn’t make it onto the ship alive she’d crack both their jaws.

—

Jenryk parried another blow, ducking beneath the trooper’s arm and jamming his blade into a crevice of their armor, twisting between their ribs with a snap. He yanked it free and immediately threw it into the chest of another, just as the butt of a blaster rifle came down between his shoulder blades. The fall knocked the wind out of him— On reflex he jerked his boot back, drawing a hard line in the dirt as he swept the legs out from beneath his attacker. He tried to right himself, still struggling to draw air, and a second trooper took aim, finally spotting him in the haze.

With weakening strength Jenryk pulled his arm up to deflect the shot with his bracer, the momentum of the bolt still jarring his forearm and jerking him to the side. Pain radiated from the right side of his chest, a lancing stitch pulsing with his every move. The Mandalorian tensed just as another shot hit his breastplate, sending him back several feet. The smoke was clearing from the basin beneath the cliff, and his camouflage flickered in and out across his suit.

“There he is!”

“Grab him! Don’t let him get away!”

He dearly hoped the covert had made it to safety.

Finally gasping a lungful of air, Jenryk dodged into a side roll, landing in a crouch. He shot his whipcord at the farthest trooper and yanked him into the two closing in on him and sent them clattering to the ground. A scorching volley of shots rattled his bones from the ground up as the last rapid fire gunner swung wide, coming around in an attempt to pin him against the cliff.

His eyes widened and he turned to leap up the rock face, bloodied gloves grabbing a ledge and vaulting him upward. The heavy repeater shook the volcanic earth and it broke apart as quickly as he scrabbled for handholds, barely gaining purchase against the rock. He spiked harshly into the substrate with his boot and yanked himself up. Every shot threatened to shake him off the cliff face, but still he climbed.

A loud, shuddering ripple of wind approached from behind him. Every wave of force felt like it displaced muscle from bone and it took every ounce of his remaining strength to turn his head.

Jenryk was struck with complete astonishment as he looked over one bloody shoulder to see the silhouette of a Mandalorian, illuminated by the waning sun and holding a grappling line on the outside of a cargo freighter. Bewildered hope washed over the resignation harboring in his chest, revitalizing him in an instant.

Without a second thought to anything else— not the height of the cliff side, not the blaze or gunner below, not every Imperial rat on that vile planet— he leapt off from his place against the earth crumbling beneath his hands.

And for a moment, Jenryk hung suspended in midair, one arm raised aloft as he reached for the hand of a friend.

—

Three successive shots rang out over the lava flats. Three troopers fell.

Alfi grimaced, seeing the final two run for the speederbikes. Whyt yelled something she ignored, the din of the engines drowning out the clamoring noise of the Mandalorians waiting tensely behind her as she followed the Imps with her scope. Craning out of the docking ramp, held only by Whyt’s grip on her belt, she fired again.

The speederbike in the lead crashed, digging its nose into the earth and throwing its rider up and over itself, just in time for the second rider to crash into him and for his own bike to explode on impact. Outside the outer hull Hartek clung one-handed to the grappling line and held fast to the forearm of their bloodied comrade.

Alfi handed her rifle back to another Mandalorian and gestured for Whyt to edge them down to the end of the ramp. Whyt carefully maneuvered the two of them as far as he could, still holding onto the railing as Alfi waved to catch Hartek’s attention. The older Mandalorian nodded, managing to get the message across to Jenryk that they were moving. Wind whipped around them as the freighter climbed, pulling Jenryk’s weight against the line, but Hartek’s grip never wavered.

Alfi squared her stance as Hartek heaved them both towards the ramp. Whyt’s grip on her belt tightened as the pilot’s grappling line pulled taut, and a sharp nod from Hartek was all the signal she got before he rocked back and used their forward momentum to swing Jenryk into the hold.

The three Mandalorians on the ramp crashed back into a pile, Alfi with both arms fiercely secured around Jenryk’s middle.

Whyt hauled both of them back as another Mandalorian raised the ramp, Hartek retreating to climb the hull to the hatch above the canopy. Alfi could feel her heartbeat in her ears as the hydraulics hissed and the rest of the covert behind them cheered.

Alfi lay there for several long moments, breathing heavily but grateful for the solid weight of the Mandalorian in her arms. She wished she could verbally tell him how much of an idiot she thought he was, but he was still clinging to her flight suit as his labored breathing struggled to find stasis, so she settled for knocking her helmet against his, perhaps a bit harder than necessary.

Jenryk chuckled through the mask, returning the gesture more gently. “I’m sorry,” he said, warmth suffusing his tone. “I missed you too.”

The intercom in the lower deck crackled to life as Hartek’s booming voice filtered through. “All present and accounted for. Hitting atmo soon so strap in. Lightspeed in three minutes. We’ll hear from Vizsla when they’ve made landfall. Over and out.”

The Mandalorians tucked into the cramped rows of bench seats, securing the cadets and checking again on the foundlings before finding their way to their stations. The rumble of dual engines hummed throughout the ship, but for the first time since the first explosion on the streets of Nevarro, those of the covert could finally breathe easily. Triumph in the face of calamity was a rare find these days.

It wouldn’t always be like this, but for now it was enough.

Mando’a

Tihaar: a strong alcoholic spirit distilled by Mandalorians

Barycir jiila: “Deploy immediately.”

Tsad Solus: Group One

Beroya: bounty hunter

Alor: leader

Dadita: The equivalent of Morse code for Mandalorians

Ori’vod: a stronger term for a beloved friend or family member

[freakrenaissance]

These two! So cute! I really love the holiday headcanon... you just know mom would be in massive matchmaker mode 😆 & now I can't stop thinking about how their first time would be. Both of them being so insecure that the other one thinks that the sex is included in the arrangement, but they're both so in love & it's just the sweetest sex.... that evolves into this raw heat when they can't get enough of each other 🤤 I'm addicted to these two! 🤣

okay so! accidental sugar daddy!paz time for @galacticgraffiti specifically and for all of us do enjoy

He never ever uses his kitchen and is barely home just because he’s so busy with work. But once you’re in his life, he can hardly wait for the few days at home so he can visit you and Snowball. Staying at your place for two nights is like his secret paradise away from the business of the world.

Really, at this point it’s more of a fake dating kind of situation but you’re both too shy to really try and have The Talk - even when you’re so in love everyone except for you two knows that you’ll end up together.

Snowball is such a spoiled little cat but she also just loves you and Paz. Now that she has someone who’s always home and ready to cuddle her, she’s almost jealous when Paz comes to visit because how dare he want to use the sink when she just managed to perfectly curl up in it? But she also loves to stare at the flower arrangements he keeps sending and every time you and Paz video chat, she butts her little face in and starts meowing to catch him up on her life as New York’s most important cat.

Remember how I said he rarely uses his kitchen? Well, since you love food and you love cooking and baking, Paz makes an effort to always have something to present when you come over. Snowball just sits on the dining table, judging as he mumbles to himself and tries to cook a delicious Pasta aglio e olio. He really makes an effort to impress you and share your interests 🥺

You accompany him to business dinners and he’s so happy every time you show him a new dress or a new price of jewelry or maybe a new piece of lingerie that he loves to take off of you 👀 and just imagine walking through the crowded streets in your long evening dress, with your arm hooked through his and he looks down on you and is just smiling so softly and pulls you the tiniest bit closer because “I’m just so happy to know you, love.”

The first time you kiss is when he brings you home from a business dinner and he walks you up the stairs and he goes in to kiss your cheek and you go on to kiss his but you mean the opposite one and suddenly you’re kissing and you don’t stop and Paz’s arms are around you and you wrap your arms around his neck and it’s just soft and lovely and when you pull apart he’s so smiley 🥺

Holidays with Paz’s family? His mom has invited him for the winter to his childhood home and since your family will be meeting up just for New Years, Paz asks if you want to come along. And because he looks at you like that you say yes. So just … imagine unwrapping gifts that morning and stealing glances at each other and taking walks in the snow 😭

[the-starry-seas]

Get to Know You

Thanks for the tag @insertmeaningfulusername!

Last song: Which Witch by Florence and the Machine

Currently watching: Bad Batch! and I keep saying I'm gonna rewatch Killjoys and Prehistoric Park but I've been saying that for a while 😬

Three ships: Mordecai/Brick, Wrecker/Crosshair, and fuck it I'm gonna say my strawberries too (OC clone/Paz Vizsla/OC Tusken)

Favorite color: purple!

Currently consuming: AriZona green tea

First ship: Parker/Hardison from Leverage, they've been my blorbos since high school

Birthplace: I just spawned in like in Minecraft idk what to tell you

Current location: North Carolina

Relationship status: single and no idea how to mingle

Last movie: Kissing Jessica Stein

Currently working on: *kicks so many docs under the bed. just so, so many* I have a "Myles survived Galidraan and becomes part of the Cuy'val Dar with eventual Myles/Jango" AU occupying a significant amount of my brain right now. Zer0 meeting Murderbot. Din/Cobb Bioshock-verse AU. Knightverse Bumblebee meets a TMNT OC. Post-canon fix-it Titanfall 2. Ghost Squad origin story (so many clone OCs). "Obi-Wan comes back home after the events of Kenobi to find Jango chilling in the Lars' living room and it gets poly from there". Boba/Din Pacific Rim AU. Just so many. So many.

No pressure tagging: @midwinterhunt @sofiaspeaksart @syn0vial @voidistooshortforausername @loverboy-havocboy and whoever else I was spam booping/wants to do it!

[bitchin-beskar]

These two seem to be the most popular so I need help deciding! Pls reblog if you vote so I can have a larger data pool!! ☺️☺️

also apparently my only two options for a poll are a singular day or a week and I’m too damn impatient to wait a week to see what y’all think so pls pls pls vote and reblog!!! I’m merely a slave to the will of the people at this point

[yourstrulylightstar283]

This is heartwarming. ^^ Get well soon, Paz.

Canon? What canon?