#paz vizsla x the armorer

[sassygirl579]

It’s done!

All I have to do is final edits on the last two scenes, thanks to my cursor going italics crazy--but once that happens, probably sometime tomorrow, all I’ll have to do is post!  And while I didn’t plan to post on Mother’s Day, there’s definitely a lot of momming happening in this chapter--including some from a special guest!

[idkbishsss]

Bo-Katan in an argument with Din: I FUCKED YOUR MOM

Paz listening in: HUN?!?

Loud running

The Armorer teaching Grogu: And that is how we make helmets-

Paz: YOU SLEPT WITH BO-KATAN?!?

[gabrielislovegabrielislife]

Saving Ragnar

Paz Vizsla x reader

Mandalorian S3 E4 SPOILERS!

no beta read, we die like the younglings

1566 words, angst with a happy ending, no y/n

Literally just self-indulgence.

“Mom, are you sure I’m ready to start sparring with the others?”

“Of course you are sweetheart. Why wouldn’t you be?” I respond, brushing some dust off of his brand-new helmet.

“Well… I’m… I haven’t been with the covert as long as the other kids. What if I haven’t trained enough. What if I embarrass you and dad. What if–” I hold up a hand to stop him and pull him into a hug.

“Ragnar, you could never embarrass us. We love you very much and know you have trained more than enough. But failing in a sparring match will teach you things that you will not learn otherwise.” I take his hands and crouch so we are eye to eye, well… visor to visor, “remember what we have taught you and trust yourself.”

“I’ll try.” he sighs. I shake my head.

“Don’t try. Do.” I say softly.

“She’s right.” I hear from the entryway of our little home alcove. I see my husband leaning against the wall. He walks towards us and crouches next to me, putting a hand on Ragnar’s shoulder, “We are so proud of you, and no matter what happens today, we know you will learn from today.”

Ragnar takes a deep breath and nods.

“Come, the others have already begun training,” Paz says, standing up and patting our son on the shoulder. This seems to get the young boy excited, he practically runs out of the alcove.

“He will be fine cyare,” Paz says, putting an arm around my shoulders.

“I know that, but does he?” I sigh.

“Let’s go find out.”

….

A few minutes later, Ragnar has begun his first-ever sparring match.

It begins quite mildly, with a little bit of a scuffle as both children try to gain the upper hand, but Ragnar comes out on top, throwing his opponent in the sand.

Once declared the winner, he looks over to us, watching from a distance. I clang my vambraces together in excitement.  He nods and brings his focus back to the judge. It is then that I notice Din’s little one standing across from Ragnar as if to challenge.

“Is he putting his baby into a match?” Paz asks no one in particular.

“He knows his child best,” I respond, continuing to watch as Din convinces the judge it will be ok.

Ragnar chooses to fight with darts to which Paz remarks, “good choice.”

While waiting for the training darts, Ragnar begins speaking to Din, asking why the child does not wear a helmet, then saying he is too young to fight. Din reminds him of part of the Creed, sounding a little bit passive-aggressive, but whatever, that's just Din.

I sigh when Ragnar speaks, “Well, I know.”

“Well, we know what he will learn today then,” Paz states, a smile in his voice at his son’s sass.

After a moment of Din teaching Grogu how to fire the darts, the match begins.

The first two points go to Ragnar, quite easily, seeing as Grogu looked like he did not know what to do.

After another brief talk from Djarin, the next round begins.

Ragnar fires his dart the same as before, but this time, the small child jumps out of the way and completely over him, then back to his original position, firing all three darts and winning the challenge.

Ragnar looks around, confused, before looking back at us. I nod to him as Paz says, “One doesn’t speak unless one knows.”

Ragnar visibly sighs before walking toward an empty part of the beach to calm down.

“A valuable lesson has been learned today,” the Armorer speaks up, “go make sure he remembers it.”

We both nod and begin walking toward our son, but the flying beast comes flying over the mountain.

My heart stops, this creature has been picking us off for weeks, and it is flying directly toward the easiest target.

My son.

I'm not even sure I'm breathing as I take to the sky, willing my jetpack to go faster and faster, but it is still not enough. The beast is getting further and further ahead, Ragnar still flailing in its talons.

My pack begins to run out of fuel and I feel tears streaming under my helmet. I whisper, “please…no.”

I am forced to land, Paz and Din not far behind.

Even though I can't fly, I can still run, so I do. I don't even think as I hurdle over rocks and bushes, ignoring the burning in my legs and lungs.

I don’t notice my husband and friend running behind me to stop me until they each grab one of my arms.

“No! We have to get him! I can’t lose him!” I scream, fighting to get out of their hold.

“We can’t get him like this, we need to regroup. Look,” Din points, “Bo-katan is following the beast to its nest. When she comes back we will know exactly where it is.” he reasons.

I take a deep breath, following the ship with my eyes.

….

When Bo-katan vets back to the covert she immediately proposes a plan to save the boy.

We leave the covert within the hour and land where we have to start walking.

The sun is setting by the time we reach the peak holding the nest.

We make camp for the night. I help prepare the food, thankful for something to keep my mind off of my son, who will have to spend the night alone and scared in the lair of the beast.

Din explains how meals work in groups like this as the food is distributed.

Bo stands up to find somewhere to eat, but Paz stops her. “You are the leader of the war party. You have the honor of staying by the fire. This is the Way.” he says, taking my hand so we can find a place to eat together.

We eat in silence, having nothing to say in this solemn environment.

Fifteen minutes later, our helmets are back on, and we are back with the group, settling down for the night.

Sleeping on the ground next to my husband is not an unfamiliar experience, but it seems wrong to sleep when my child is not safe at home, surrounded by his family. I stay silent I feel tears reach my eyes.

Paz seems to sense my distress in his sleep as he pulls me closer to him, mumbling nonsense as he dreams.

Eventually, my tears fade and the feelings of fear and sadness in my heart are replaced with resolve, we will get our son back.

I don't know when or how I fell asleep but I am woken by my husband, who is gently shaking my shoulder.

The second I remember where we are and why, I’m up.

We have a short breakfast before re-stating the plan and beginning the climb up the peak.

Reaching the bundle of branches and sticks, I notice the eerie silence within the nest. Once we reach the edge of the nest, Din scans the area, pointing out heat signatures from the left.

Paz takes off immediately, against everyone’s protests, “He’s my son!” he says running in the direction Din pointed, shouting for our son.

He is knocked over by three baby beasts screeching and snapping at him, hungry for food. The mother comes flying up to the nest, alerted by the babies’ noise.

Paz covers himself with parts of the nest, trying to hide from the bird.

The bird begins regurgitating something for the young ones, and I almost lose my grip on the edge of the nest when I see that something is my son.

“Help me!” he calls out when he sees us.

I let out a breath of relief as Paz exclaims “He's alive!”

Paz activates his jetpack, flying toward the creature’s face to get it to drop Ragnar. The beast holds Paz in its mouth and Ragnar in its talons as it takes off, the war party not far behind.

Bo-katan is the first to attempt to grab Ragnar, getting smacked down by a wing in the process.

I am the next one to approach, grabbing Ragnar’s hand and pulling. He didn't budge.

I latch onto the creature’s ankle, pulling out my blade to get it to loosen its grip.

I didn't account for getting scratched off the leg by the other foot, earning deep gashes on my elbow and side.

I cry out as I fall, spinning out of control until I steady myself with my pack, landing on the side of a peak.

Paz is then released from the beast’s jaws as Bo-katan stabs its face. He lands right next to me, groaning in pain.

“Are you alright?” I breathe.

“Yes, you?”

“I’ll live,” I respond, holding a hand to one of the deeper gashes.

We watch as Din lands a successful stab at the creature’s ankle. It drops Ragnar and Din races to stop his fall.

He latches onto Ragnar just as the others take down the beast, flying him over to where we hold on to the rocks.

When they land Paz firmly asks, “are you okay?” Ragnar clambers over to me, clinging to my chest before breathlessly answering, “I’m okay dad.”

“Thank you,” I say to Din over Ragnar’s helmet.

“This is the Way” he replies

“This is the Way” we echo.

[armoralor]

inspired by these iconic lesbian posts (x x) ✰ Reminder that TERFs can fuck off, multiple Nite Owls are trans & if you reblog this you love trans & nb women ❤️

[court-jobi]

Sneak Peek: Just Be Gentle pt 2

Gif credit by @javier-pena

I am SO delayed in this, but WIP Weekend it is! Recommended by the lovely @djarins-cyare, thanks friend!

I have not visited my drafts folder in sooo long, but I'm coming out of an unintentional writing hiatus and have fresh motivation to open the ole lappytop back up for a little sample to share. Part 1 of this fic was much beloved by yall apparently, so it continues here!

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x reader

Words: 1.9K (for now)

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

Paz watched the scene before him unfold; the heat of compassion bloomed in the gut like stoking a fire…

Din Djarin swore on the deed of his ship that he wasn’t exaggerating. He placed a flag solidly in her camp, and would go to arms for her as a returned gesture of loyalty. From that first meeting when the Hunter came back through the alcove to Nevarro’s covert, he spoke on his companion’s competence on several fronts. Namely, in all the ways that resonated with his people: creative thinking, handy know-how, and something more: empathy- a gift not to be ignored when it came to caring for others -himself included- in moments of high stress. 

He praised her talents ‘all across the board’, citing moments in their brief stint together on the Razor Crest as testimony to his Mandalorian clan for her to remain there in shelter– to be the exception to their rules regarding outsiders. Aruetti. 

A surprise to none, Paz Vizsla deemed that it would be up to him to judge such loyalties for himself; as a man more inclined to view actions as proof rather than words. 

But then he met her. Every bit of what Djarin said was true. Better yet, she proved every assumption of his wrong: allowed her to take him by the crook of his arm, surrendered her best vote of confidence, and let him lead. Acquiesced to his strength, protected it, and encouraged him at every turn. Saved him the first of her meals, the best of her scavenged findings. Took to tending to his wounds herself, because he wasn’t gentle enough to do so on his own.

A few weeks have passed since that day, but his fondness for her didn’t wane like the moon’s phases did. Paz Vizsla made it his mission from that moment forward to carry an extra ounce of gentleness, just for her. 

Then, the refugees came pouring in. Her arrival couldn't have been timed more perfectly, Paz thought; he’d only begun to see the full measure of little Song’s magic the moment he saw her skills at work. 

A smaller covert made a quick exit and raced to safety after a raid depleted their stores a few systems over. There had been some rumors of their hunter clans taking the bait of Guild membership in order to make ends meet, as they’d seen in Djarin’s success. The Way instilled a sense of belonging wherever Mandalorians crossed paths, so merging on his covert’s territory for the upcoming season out of necessity was a given.

But now, in light of Nevarro’s storm season, it seems their numbers would be doubling indefinitely. The situation proved to be a strain and test of everyone’s flexibility and resilience, to keep everyone content and organized on such short notice… but with a Vizsla as Alorad, they flourished with the change in plans and watched on as Paz steeled himself against Fear, and made everything suitable. Supplies were rationed and rooms were stuffed to the brim, but they would make do.

While they may not have resources with them in tow, they more than made up for it by pulling their weight in preparation for the underground shelters. And that, would benefit all. 

Song made herself indispensable, true to what Djarin had said. Moreover, she did so with caring smiles and solemn assurances to the migrating Mandalorians -young and old- who felt very out of place. To those men who lost their way in the bustle and found themselves turned around in the tunnels, she would give quick pointers about where to go– and thanked them for their service to the clan, each and every one. 

Learning fast. Paz was grateful.

Upon nightfall, there was less commotion than normal. As the common spaces gradually funneled down, bedchambers were lit and sealed for the night. For the most part, it was the heads of families -adults- who went to rooms for the night as a chance to let down and get their heads on straight after such a sudden move. Surely not all slept right away, but took to tending to their armor and delving into their meditation practices.

 Meanwhile, their children under ten or so were sent off to the creche where they could be watched over. The community room was next to the medstations, and as kids are often ones to complain of very little bout of aches, pains, or simple snotty noses, it was the logical choice. 

Two crechemasters stayed in the spacious alcove of the Medbay annex overseeing the creche, as well as one of the resident tribe’s kitchen aides, a few men as guards near the entrance and supply doors… and a certain someone -with a voice like the Coming of Spring- that Paz Viszla could never refuse pausing for a minute to listen….

Clearly tugged by the soft spot within him, Paz volunteered to serve first watch over the children for their first night, which made their parents feel that much more assured of their protection. So with blankets pulled from every corner of spare storage, canvas mats laid this way and that, and with juvenile excitement despite the circumstances, the children all got to sleep and the staff interchanged periods of rest until all was quiet by the early waning hours of morning. Even the covert’s local young ones came to join this slumber party of sorts. For the sake of welcoming and strengthening bonds, the crechemasters allowed it. 

Right after the 0300 guards changed out, Paz heard it. Inside the alcoves inset bunks, one of the smallest boys -nearly four years old- was making a steady and increasing amount of noise, until he startled himself awake and clearly didn't know where he was. He was calling for his babuir in their native tongue; but by his aimless flailing about, it’s clear he’s looking for just about anyone bigger than him that might come to his cry for help.

Before Paz could overstep one of the sleeping children nearest him to respond, he caught the woman he'd know to know as the 'Songbird of the Covert' slipping out of the window jumpseat like a sparrow off its perch, flying to the child's stuttering form up on the riser.

"Well hi honey, g'morning to you too~ Pretty early, isn't it?"

Seeing a soothing figure coming to his call, little threadbare arms immediately shot out and spoke brokenly in bits and pieces of a particular Sundari dialect. Basic wasn't his strong suit. Then again, it gave way to crying in minutes anyway, so his distress was clear and the language barrier mattered little.

"Hm?-- ohhh, aw c'mere bub..” the woman set the child on a hip as he clutched to her. She set them in a sway, “Yeah, you can stay up with me– I can always use some snuggles, too."

The toddler nuzzled in but by his whimpers, Song moved towards the open atrium with more room to walk around and hopefully not disturb the sleeping of any others. 

Paz met her there. She'd looked his way with a pitiful expression, traipsing about with the little one in her arms and keeping his little shoulders pressed in close.

"Bad dreams, I'd say," she murmured low to Paz, in Basic. "But I can't tell if anything else is wrong. Doesn’t feel too warm, not coughing. Seems trusting though, poor thing. " she shrugged, motioning to how easily the child was settling.

Through his careful watch of her across the room, he’d caught her sneaking the back of her hand to his forehead earlier in a move masked as just fixing his curls, but fortunately, he must not have been found feverish to warrant more worry. 

Paz came to bring a big, steady hand on the child's back. The kid turned his head from her neck to find the new Alorad tilting his helmet to match, and  made a big sniff to put on a brace face. Shy and no doubt aware of this elder’s importance, he snuck out a little wave back in acknowledgement.

"//Be at peace, young one. You're safe in the Reliable one's arms, that you are.//"

Whatever Paz said to this "adika" -as he seems to have called him- brought relief to the child, as he hugged her neck tighter and made himself comfortable again in her arms.

An amused whisper graced his ears as she looked up at him,

"What'd you say?"

"That he has nothing to worry about," Paz shared kindly. "He seems to like you."

 "I wouldn't think these kiddos would trust strangers so easily after what they've been through," she smoothed back the child’s hair gently- thankfully, his breathing evened out into sleepy sighs.

 "They've had quite the eventful last few days."

She kept humming away for a minute, trying to subconsciously lull the child the rest of the way. She looked absently over the nursery if other young ones, but Paz was captivated by her alone.

This instinct must have been what Djarin was talking about. She hadn't hesitated to jump right in, even though she must have been on the edge of sleep herself- if her state of dress was any hint. Shed opted for no outer protective layers for this reason perhaps- a source of comfort for the little ones, and though perhaps it was also to signify to them she was not a warrior or someone too formal for them to shy away from.

Finally seeing the child dozing back fully, Paz offered to take the child from her and set him back on his bunk above them.

 She let him, adjusting her loose cardigan back onto her shoulder. Shed opted for that over her cropped black body glove that acted as a breastband, and the loose comfy pants that honestly have fit Paz better, but she made do with her current wardrobe and didn't bother worrying about outfits too much.

Here, just over his shoulder, she watched the Big Blue tuck -yes, tuck- the child in. Stepping away only when he saw the child try to settle into his new sleep position did he step away and back towards her retreat to her watch corner.

"Teacher and carer? You're the dual package, Mr. Vizsla."

"I do what I can. It's not often I get to see our children be children- I would preserve that wonder in them if I could."

Childlike innocence: to hear the hardest-working, stoic soldier speak on such tender things was a thing of wonder itself. 

“I’ve only ever seen the little ones work their drills here– recitations, history lessons.” She looked about the room. “I haven’t seen kids this young in a year, much less so many crammed into one room.”

“Well, the rooming arrangement is common practice,” Paz explained, his trademark patience a soothing constant- even through the helmet, “You’ll find a nursery like this in every covert across the galaxy.”

Then, a more sobering thought, one that brought pity to the forefront of her mind:

“If– you weren’t all living down here, would they be going to a normal school? Making other friends? At least while they’re young?”

As if she expected any other answer, Paz’s reflex came through the form of his gentle whisper: “This is the Way.”

“That it is,” she firmed up a knowing smile. “There’s so many of them, going through so much newness at their age.”

Paz agrees, though knows no other way than the community that sleeps before them. To watch the woman’s empathy radiate from her being -those angel eyes- was to know the warmest ray of sunshine in the pit of winter. Such a calm presence… that’s what these youth need, after all. She’s exactly where she should be.

[valentines-fav]

I’m back from the dead

[suiine]

paz: whoa bro you ok?

din, shaking and crying: paz can you give me the number to your therapist, I've experienced a trauma

paz: bro what happened bro

din: I caught our mother and bo katan...together

paz: you caught our mom the armorer...having sex?!

din: yeah she was completely naked

paz: you mean you saw our mom's - *pukes*

din, puking, calling the mando-therapist: yeah I saw her un-helmeted face

[measlyscrapofseafood]

do you see the vision

[bimswritings]

StarWars Masterlist

Includes 18+ material, police yourselves!

Key:

Violence-🩸

Smut/Suggestive Content-🔥

Armorer

Armorer x Blacksmith reader🩸 pt.1 pt.2

Clones

Overall Kink Headcanons🔥

Din Djarin

This is Our Way (Third and fourth chapter on the continuous fic on AO3, too lazy to post here) 🩸 pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6

Savage Opress

The Conqueror🩸

Three parts, don't necessarily all have to be read. pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

In-Universe Character Shipping Fics

Reylo/Finpoe-Games and Prize. Modern AU. Just some fun at a carnival.

Suu/Cut Lawrence-Strange Traditions

Han Solo vs Holdo x Leia-To The Winner Goes The Love. Jealous Han Solo who hates competition.

Non-Shipping works, just fun character stuff

White Christmas-Din spends Christmas with Grogu, remembering his own childhood and the holiday.

[kalevalakryze]

Bo, when The Armorer leaves her alone with Din and Paz: ….you guys wanna see this fun thing I found?

Bo, pulling out a sewer lizard from her inventory:

Paz and Din, both looking on unimpressed:

Bo: look guys, I’m not that sorry I fucked your mom, but I’m trying to step up and be a good stepdad

[sassygirl579]

Finally thought of a good Writing Prompt Game idea!

The Armorer & Paz meet and/or decide to take in Ragnar either in TLGF or canon.

Wow--how did you know I've had this thought multiple times? 😮

TLGF-verse--but not sure how much will actually end up being canon 😊 Don't have an exact timeline, but this would be a few months after our current chapter.

Rated VFK for Vizsla Family Chaos (as usual 🤣)

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

"Buir, why are we having a family meeting--I wanna play Lothball with with Emi!" Eyra said as Bryn led her children down the hall, with Paz bringing up the rear.

"I promise it will be brief--but it's very important, and your father and I want all of you to be well informed," Bryn answered as she keyed open the door to their apartment.

The twins raced for the couch, followed by Kyri, Ajay, and Nima, who quickly overtook their little sister to get the favored spots.

"Buir, that's not fair!" Kyri complained, angrily pulling off her helmet and throwing it down on the floor. She was overtired and desperately in need of a nap.

"Come sit with me, Ky," Jos said, plopping down on a floor cushion and patting her knees.

Kyri turned and made a face at her older siblings before curling up in her eldest sister's lap, thumb in her mouth.

"So.....what's important?" Jerem asked, once he'd settled on his own cushion.

Bryn sat down on her own cushion next to Paz, and he took his hand in hers.

"Wait a minute--the last time this happened, we found out Kyri was on the way!" Ajay replied.

"We're gonna have another baby?" Evet asked excitedly.

"No, di'kut--Buir can't have more babies!" Nima exclaimed.

"How come?" Eyra asked.

Nima opened her mouth to explain, and Bryn decided she'd best clear up any misconceptions.......quickly.

"I'm not pregnant--but our family will be growing."

"You and Ammon are getting married?" Miri squealed, turning to look at Jos.

"No--now shut up and listen and maybe we'll all find out what's going on!"

Bryn shook her head, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to settle her thoughts against the chaos surrounding her. "This afternoon, while your father and I were gathering information from the Foundlings who arrived today, we made an interesting discovery. One of them, a twelve-year-old boy, is from Clan Vizsla--and he's one of your first cousins."

"Like Grogu?" Kyri asked, then put her thumb back in her mouth, eyelids already drooping as Jos rocked her back and forth.

"Yes. He was your Ba'vodu Lina's youngest--just a toddler when the Purge happened."

"He's been alone all this time?" Nima asked, and Bryn's heart broke, remembering the tiny girl with big brown eyes who'd been without her mother for three weeks when Paz had found her in the halls of the Covert, hidden away while Ajay went searching for food.

No, darling," Bryn replied, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "His father was killed in the Purge, but his mother was alive until a few weeks ago. He's been staying with a neighbor since then."

"But if 'family is more than blood', why is he coming here?" Ajay asked.

"Because he wants to stay with his own Clan," Paz answered.

"Is he gonna sleep in the empty bunk in our room?" Evet asked.

"I'm keeping my top bunk!" Ajay added.

Bryn took another deep breath. "Yes, he wil be taking the empty bunk--but we'll figure out all the details later. Now, are you ready to meet him?"

"Do we have to put our helmets on?" Evet asked.

"Not unless you want to," Bryn assured him. The younger children were still getting used to not having to keep their faces covered, and would occasionally ask about helmets for various circumstances. However, all of them chose to remain without this time.

"Okay, we're ready," Paz said into his comm.

"Sending him over now," Cara replied, and a few moments later, there was a knock at the door.

Paz pushed the button on his vambrace to reveal the soon-to-be newest member of their branch of Clan Vizsla.

"I'm his big sister?" Kyri asked, now wide awake.

"No--you're still the youngest," Ajay told her, rolling his eyes.

"But I wanted a baby brother!" Kyri replied, her words turning into a wail as she dissolved into tears.

"Great," Ragnar, said, watching as Jos carried her little sister into their bedroom.

"She's not always like that--she just needs a nap really bad," Jerem explained, holding out a hand to grasp, giving his cousin a small smile.

Ragnar gave him a similar smile back, and sat down on the cushion next to him--the one Jos had just vacated.

"Everyone, this is Ragnar--as I said earlier, he's twelve. Ragnar, these are our children, minus the two who just left--Joselin, who's eighteen and Kyri, who's three. I would like each of you to introduce yourselves, and tell Ragnar how old you are, starting with Miri," Bryn said.

Once they'd done that, Ragnar tried to recall each of the children's names and ages, instantly retaining some while others he forgot multiple times. However, the six of them--seven when Jos rejoined them--were having a good time, cheering when their soon-to-be brother got one right, and laughing when he purposefully started getting them wrong.

"I think this is gonna work," Paz said softly, giving Bryn's hand a squeeze.

Bryn squeezed back, giving her husband a smile. "So do I."

****

When Kyri awoke, Bryn and Paz spoke the adoption vow, making Ragnar an official part of their Clan. They spent the remainder of the afternoon getting the boy settled, and his meager posessions put away. Jerem used his datapad to reconfigure the chore chart, and Miri used hers to readjust the quantities of food they would need to buy to accommodate another growing child.

That night, after they themselves were ready for bed, they made their nightly rounds. Bryn smiled, her heart full, as the dim light from the hall revealed all four boys piled on three mattresses on the floor, with Ragnar snuggled in the middle.

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

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-Five)

Summary: (Y/N) struggles to find her place within her husband’s Mandalorian covert and while he’s away on a rescue mission with Bo-Katan, she finds herself unexpectedly bonding with Grogu.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a brief description of a panic attack

A/N: And here we’ve got our second big-ass creature trying to kill the Mandalorians lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Five The Foundling (Previous Chapter)

The day after they arrived at the Mandalorian covert and were welcomed into their ranks, (Y/N) found herself to be the center of attention for the covert’s younger members and even a handful of the adults. They hadn’t grown up around non-Mandalorians and were rarely exposed to cultures outside of their own, so it was understandable that they were drawn to her and wanted to learn as much as they could about her adventurous life; while the rest of the covert ran through their drills – shooting, flying, climbing and hand-to-hand combat techniques – on the shore of the great lake, several young apprentices managed to sneak away from their training to visit (Y/N), who was working on tuning up their N-1 Starfighter after all the recent battles it had gone through.

“Is this starfighter really from Naboo?”

(Y/N) smiled and gave the red-helmeted girl a nod before continuing to tighten one of the engines’ loose bolts. “Mm-hmm, they were once originally commissioned by the Queen of Naboo. Din and I bought this one on Tatooine and after a little bit of work, it flies better than it ever did when it was brand new.”

An older boy lifted one of the younger ones so that he could see into the open cockpit. “Have you been flying long?”

“Since I was about his age,” She gestured to the boy he’d just set back down and grabbed a bundle of steel wool to begin scrubbing at the carbon scoring near the droid port. “I actually first learned to fly in an old starfighter just like this one.”

“Can you teach us how to fly?”

“Um…”

(Y/N) was spared from answering by an older Mandalorian, who approached them with his arms crossed over his beskar-covered chest. “It is time to focus on your drills now, young ones.” The group of children bid her goodbye and the older Mandalorian gave her a nod before following them back towards the active part of the shoreline.

“You’re pretty popular around here.”

She glanced over to see Bo-Katan leaning against the side of the starfighter. “With the kids, sure, but I’m not too certain about the adults; it’s hard to get a read on people who cover their faces and don’t speak unless they have to.”

The Nite Owl shrugged noncommittally. “They like you. They’re just taking the time to feel you out before they start opening up around you.” She looked past (Y/N) and chuckled. “Speaking of the kids, I think that husband of yours is trying to introduce your foundling to the drills.”

(Y/N) turned around and looked across the crowded shoreline to see Din placing Grogu down on the sand outside the semicircle of Mandalorians watching two children wrestle; she tossed the bundle of steel wool aside and marched down the beach towards the pair, reaching them just as the boy wearing a blue-colored helmet won his match. “Din, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“If he is ever to rise from foundling to apprentice, he must learn.” Her husband looked up and over at her, and she could hear the gentle reassurance in his modulated voice when he quietly added, “He’ll be okay, alor’ad. I promise.”

“He’s not the one that I’m worried about,” (Y/N) mumbled back, causing Bo-Katan to snort in amusement as she joined them at the edge of the gathering. The only real training that Grogu received to hone his skills with the Force came from his brief time with Luke Skywalker, and (Y/N) often wondered if the child had truly gotten enough instruction with the Jedi; she didn’t want him to overexert himself or accidentally hurt someone while using the Force, and she wasn’t exactly keen on him trying his powers out on an unsuspecting Mandalorian apprentice only a day after they’d been welcomed into the covert.

Din raised a gloved hand. “Judge!” One of the older Mandalorians turned and strode across the semicircle to stand before them. “He challenges.”

The judge glanced down at Grogu, who cooed in curiosity, before looking back up at Din. “He is too small.”

“I am his ward. Proceed.”

The judge turned to (Y/N) and after she gave him a nod, he asked, “What weapon?”

Din nodded towards the boy with the blue-colored helmet. “Let the challenged decide.”

The young apprentice crossed his arms over his chest and defiantly stared down at his small challenger. “Darts.”

“Bring the training darts!”

As another Mandalorian left to fetch the practice weapons, the boy tilted his helmeted head to the side. “Why doesn’t he wear a helmet?”

“He is too young to speak the Creed,” Din patiently explained. “And so, too young to wear a helmet.”

“Then he’s too young to fight.”

(Y/N) arched a brow at the boy’s blatant attitude and bit her lip to keep from retorting, but her husband had no compunction about countering his pointed words. “‘One does not speak unless one knows.’ Is that not the Creed?”

The boy shrugged his shoulder. “Well, I know.”

“Perhaps this lesson is for you, then.”

The defensive edge to the Mandalorian’s modulated voice as he verbally sparred with the apprentice forced (Y/N) to clear her throat to mask her chuckles. The judge’s assistant returned with a metal box and promptly handed it over. “The training darts.”

Kneeling on the sand, the judge set the box down and opened its lid. “Fighters, arm yourselves.”

Bo-Katan volunteered to help Grogu prepare for his match, taking one of the devices and kneeling before him to fasten it around his tiny wrist. “Don’t worry, my dad was the same way. He’s just proud of you.”

“We both are,” (Y/N) added, bending over to roll up the cuff of his sleeve and affectionately rub his large ear. “You take it easy on him, little guy. Okay?”

Grogu babbled in response and when both women moved to stand on either side of Din, the judge took a step forward. “Each has three darts. You may fire the darts in any order. Each direct hit scores one point. A mark must be visible to score. One round, highest score wins.”

When the child looked uncertainly over his shoulder at them, Din crouched down and mimed what to do for his benefit. “Squeeze your fist to launch the darts.” Grogu cooed and Din nodded. “You’ll be fine.”

“He doesn’t know how to fire darts?” Bo-Katan quietly asked, and (Y/N) could imagine that her eyes were widening in disbelief beneath her beskar helmet.

“He’s got this,” Din reassured her as he straightened and rested a gloved hand against the small of (Y/N)’s back. “Trust me.”

The judge stepped back to give both combatants their space. “Ready…begin!” Quick as a flash, the apprentice fired a dart and hit Grogu directly in the chest, its yellow paint splattering across his robe and drawing an indignant squeal from the child. “Point!”

Grogu looked over his shoulder at Din in obvious displeasure, but he merely shrugged and gestured towards the apprentice. “Don’t look at me, look at him.”

“Ready…begin!” The apprentice’s second dart hit Grogu’s chest. “Point!”

(Y/N) impulsively took a knee. “Grogu?” She gave the child a patient smile when he turned around to face her and she quietly continued. “I’ve seen what you can do. It’s okay, show them.”

Grogu cooed and his large eyes gleamed in understanding as she got to her feet, and he turned back around to stare down his opponent. “Ready…begin!” The apprentice fired his third dart but Grogu leapt out of its way, flipping over the young Mandalorian’s head and immediately flipping back around to face him; he took advantage of his opponent’s disorientation and fired all three of his darts, hitting him in the center of his chest and stunning every Mandalorian in the vicinity. “Three points. Winner!”

“There you go!” Din exclaimed with a prideful edge to his modulated voice.

While the Mandalorians surrounding them applauded Grogu’s win, (Y/N) scooped the child up into her arms and pressed kisses across his smiling face. “You were wonderful, little guy! You keep it up, and you’ll be an apprentice in no time!”

Bo-Katan nodded appreciatively and looked over at them. “Did you guys teach him that?”

“Not us.” Din wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and gave Grogu’s ear an affectionate rub. “Great job, kid.”

As Grogu cooed and babbled in her arms, (Y/N) tentatively prodded the half-stained paint splatters on the front of his robes. “I hope this paint doesn’t stain.”

“It doesn’t. As his ward, it’s my responsibility to wash his training robes…” Din pointed to the seam of his sleeve and the loosening stitches. “Just so long as you handle the sewing.”

“Dank farrik, I just repaired that seam. I-”

A child’s scream caused them all to turn around and they watched in horror as the apprentice that Grogu just defeated was snatched off the lakeshore by a swooping raptor and carried away. Din drew his blaster to shoot the creature down, but Paz appeared out of nowhere and lowered his arm before he could. “No blasters, it will kill the child! Follow it to its lair!”

While the older Mandalorians ushered the children into the tunnels, both Mandalorians took to the sky and were soon joined by two more. Knowing that their jetpacks would eventually run out of fuel, (Y/N) exchanged a look with Bo-Katan and both women sprinted towards their respective ships, with the Nite Owl running up the Gauntlet’s ramp and (Y/N) climbing into the N-1’s cockpit; she allowed Grogu to sit on her lap as she piloted the starfighter after the raptor and the Mandalorians.

“It’s flying down into the ravine,” Bo-Katan’s voice called through the communication radio. “Keep tailing it and I’ll follow from above.”

“I’m on it.” (Y/N) steered the starfighter into the narrow and winding ravine and spared Grogu a comforting pat on the head when he let out a worried coo. “It’s okay, little guy, we’ll get him back.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the bottom of the ravine and she bit her lip when she realized that the Mandalorians had all run out of fuel and were grounded. “Son of a mud-scuffer. Looks like you and I are on our own, Bo.”

“We’ll do a loose follow and stay up high, that way it’ll hopefully lead us to its lair.”

(Y/N) eased the controls up and joined the Gauntlet as it flew just above the clouds; while they followed after the raptor, she prayed to the Maker that the young Mandalorian child would make it back home to his covert alive and unharmed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After an hour of flying, the raptor finally returned to its nest but because of their unpreparedness to carry out a rescue mission, (Y/N) and Bo-Katan were forced to turn around and fly back to the covert with only a set of coordinates. They landed on the shoreline and several Mandalorians hurried out of the cave to hear their news, including Din, the Armorer and Paz Vizsla.

“We kept a high altitude and followed it to its lair,” (Y/N) remarked as they joined the group of Mandalorians, passing Grogu over to Din and giving the unarmored part of his arm a reassuring squeeze. “We know how to get there.”

Bo-Katan glanced around at the other Mandalorians. “We should muster up a hunting party and go after him.” After exchanging a look with Paz, the Armorer followed the Nite Owl into the Gauntlet while the three of them trailed behind, stepping into the ship as she pulled up a holographic map. “Captain (Y/L/N) scouted where it lives and I mapped the location.” She pointed a gloved finger at the top of one of the planet’s highest peaks. “There. The nest.”

“It flew a long way,” Din remarked as they all studied the map before them.

“I will go get him.”

“The mountains are too high,” Paz pointed out. “If we use jetpacks, the beast will hear.”

The Armorer nodded in agreement. “It would kill the child.”

“These are no higher than the peaks of Kyrimorut; I used to climb them in basic training.” Bo-Katan’s modulated voice was filled with self-assurance as she continued. “I’ll fly to the foothills, scale the rest of the way on foot.”

Din gave her a firm nod. “I’ll join you.”

“So will I.” The other four all looked over at (Y/N) at the same time, and she forced herself not to shrink under their scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

“Alor’ad, I’m not sure that this mission will be safe for you,” Her husband gently remarked. “You don’t wear beskar armor, so you’ll have no protection, and the climb will be challenging for even a highly-trained Mandalorian to complete.”

(Y/N)’s shoulders sagged as she absorbed his words and after a moment, she nodded and gave him a fleeting smile. “You’re right. I’d only slow you down, and you need all the time you can get to rescue that boy.”

As Din reached out to touch her but thought better of it and dropped his gloved hand, the Armorer looked at Paz standing beside her. “Paz Vizsla, enjoin the Shriek-hawk Training team to accompany you. I will pack extended lariats for your launchers; we must avoid explosives and blasters for the safety of the foundling.”

While the Mandalorians all prepared for the rescue mission, (Y/N) helped Grogu change into a clean robe and watched the warriors file into the Gauntlet with a heavy heart; in the rest of the galaxy, there wasn’t much that she couldn’t do using all the skills she spent most of her life honing but living among the Mandalorians, she couldn’t help but feel useless. They were fighters, trained from birth in the art of warfare and weaponry, and everything that she could do they could do with their eyes closed and a hand tied behind their back. They hadn’t discussed it yet but (Y/N) knew that Din would want to stay with the covert now that he was no longer an apostate, which would allow him to train Grogu as a Mandalorian but also meant that the inadequacy she felt would only come to intensify. It’s only been one day, she silently reasoned with herself, maybe things will begin to look better the longer you stay here.

(Y/N) and Grogu said their goodbyes to Din, both stoically watching the Gauntlet take off and fly through the sky towards the raptor’s far-off nest. “You are unequipped to join them.” The Armorer moved to stand beside them and although her helmet’s visor was fixed on the retreating starfighter in the distance, (Y/N) could still feel the heavy weight of her gaze on her. “And you are too young to join them.” Grogu cooed and the Armorer looked down at him. “All in good time. Come, Captain (Y/L/N) and Grogu. If you both wish to understand the Way of the Mandalore, there is much work to attend to.”

While the Armorer walked back into the cave, (Y/N) exchanged a look with Grogu and jutted her chin towards the wide crevice in the rock. “It’s okay, little guy. A little learning will do us both some good.”

They both entered the tunnels and followed the Armorer to her cavernous forge, finding her as she stood heating a ladle of molten beskar over the open flame of the cryo-furnace. Grogu waddled ahead and climbed to sit on the nearby bench, and (Y/N) carefully studied the Mandalorian as she sat beside him. “This is the Forge. It is the heart of Mandalorian culture.” She carried the ladle across the chamber and carefully poured the molten beskar into two molds. “Just as we shape the Mandalorian steel, we shape ourselves. We all begin as raw ore…” Crossing back to the forge, she heated a flattened circle of beskar and continued. “We refine ourselves through trials and adversity.” The child whimpered when the Armorer suspended the circle below the forge’s hammering mechanism and (Y/N) took one of his tiny clawed hands between her fingers. “The Forge can reveal weaknesses.”

Grogu flinched when the device pounded down onto the beskar and before (Y/N) could ask what was wrong, the forge around her faded away and was replaced with the sight of a door being forced open by blaster fire; the pounding of blaster bolts against the door was joined by the electric cackling of lightsabers as brown-robed Jedi came into view.

“Get him to Kelleran!” One of the Jedi shouted and the door burst open to reveal a garrison of Clone Troopers; they fired their blasters into the hall and while some of the Jedi were able to deflect the bolts, two were hit and collapsed onto the ground. The remaining two Jedi blocked Grogu’s pram as they defeated the garrison and led the way down a different hall, but more Clone Troopers appeared and the two Jedi were overwhelmed. “The elevator! Get the youngling to Kelleran! Go!”

The female Jedi used the Force to shove Grogu’s pram into an open elevator and was shot as she hurried in after him; her body lay motionless on the elevator floor and (Y/N) could sense Grogu’s fear while the elevator came to a stop. The doors slid open to reveal another Jedi, with intricately-embroidered robes and an expression of grim determination on his face as he lowered his green-colored lightsaber and addressed the child. “Everything’s gonna be all right, kid.”

Kelleran picked up his fallen comrade’s lightsaber hilt and ignited it, turning around just in time to fight off another wave of Clone Troopers with both blades. He blocked blaster bolt after blaster bolt, both blades whirling and spinning with expert ease, until all his enemies lay dead on the ground. A wide-eyed Grogu used the Force to settle his pram onto one of the fallen Clone Trooper’s speeder bikes and watched as the Jedi fought off an onslaught of blaster fire from a larger garrison of soldiers; the Jedi holstered his weapons and mounted the speeder bike, flying away from the burning structure and further into what appeared to be Coruscant.

A Clone transport ship appeared behind them and a chase through Coruscant’s heavy air traffic ensued, only ending when Kelleran flew their speeder through a hovertrain tunnel and the transport was destroyed by an oncoming train. Their speeder emerged from one of the train stations and weaved in between the city’s towering skyscrapers until they came upon a landing platform.

“Don’t worry, we’re gonna meet up with some friends of mine,” Kelleran reassured Grogu. “But hold on, it’s gonna be a bumpy landing.”

The speeder skidded across the landing platform and the Jedi was ejected from his seat; when he picked himself up, he ran over to the speeder’s remnants and removed Grogu’s pram and (Y/N)’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief when she saw what awaited them: a J-Type 327 Nubian Starship, the spacecraft commissioned and owned by the Royal House of Naboo. Several figures wearing the uniforms of the Naboo Royal Guard emerged from the starship and hurried over to the pair.

“Kelleran Beq?”

The Jedi nodded at the Guard Captain’s question. “They’re right behind me.”

“What about the others?”

“There are no others.”

Another Clone transport flew down and landed on the platform and under a hail of blaster fire, the Guard Captain shouted, “Take the ship, it’s fueled and ready to go!”

Kelleran ushered Grogu’s pram onto the starship and took to the sky, piloting the starship out of the planet’s atmosphere and then…

(Y/N) blinked and found herself back in the Armorer’s forge, the sound of hammering filling the cavernous space instead of screams and blaster fire. She looked down at Grogu, who was looking up at her with imploring eyes, but before she could ask him about the vision, the Armorer spoke. “Captain (Y/L/N). You worry that you do not fit in here amongst your riduur’s people.”

“I…Yes, I do.” Shaking her head to clear her mind of the befuddling vision, (Y/N) sat straighter and watched the Mandalorian across from her cool the circle of beskar in the water trough. “I’m not Mandalorian, so there’s not much I can contribute to the covert.”

“On the contrary, you contribute a great deal to us.” (Y/N) blinked in surprise but remained silent while the Armorer took the circle of beskar and began soldering a design onto its bowed surface. “You provide us with insight into the galaxy. From your homeworld of Naboo and your noble involvement in the Rebellion against the Empire to your travels with Din Djarin, you offer us the ability to see into parts of the galaxy, its many cultures and years of history that we may never have learned of before. Mandalorians respect wisdom and knowledge, and you provide our covert with both in spades.” The Armorer looked up from her work and (Y/N) could feel her eyes meeting hers. “You are also raising a foundling. You saved the foundling Grogu’s life and in so doing, you have achieved the highest honor of the Creed. You may not follow the Way or don a set of beskar armor, but that does not make you any lesser than the ones who do. This is the Way.”

As the Armorer turned her focus back onto her work, (Y/N) nodded and quietly murmured, “This is the Way.”

“It is a tradition in our culture for each to donate a small portion of what they earn to the foundlings.” The Armorer set her soldering tools down and carried the circle of beskar over to where they sat; it was a rondel and on its beveled surface, the signet of a mudhorn was proudly fastened. “It is with these scraps of beskar that I forged your next piece of armor, young one.” Grogu cooed in interest as he recognized the symbol of their small clan. “Mandalorian steel shall keep you safe as you grow stronger.” With a small smile, (Y/N) held the child’s robe open and watched as the Armorer fastened the armor onto his chainmail shirt. ��You will grow into this rondel as you grow into your station, foundling Grogu.”

Grogu’s clawed hand tugged on the sleeve of (Y/N)’s coat and she chuckled. “Yes, I see it, little guy. It looks wonderful on you!”

The Armorer dismissed them and while they walked back to the starfighter to finish up its tune-up, all (Y/N) could think of was the Mandalorian’s words and her adoptive son’s troubling vision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Grogu, can I ask you a little about what you showed me in the forge?” (Y/N) asked later that night; she and the child had retired to their living quarters and while she was working on a new shirt for herself, he kept himself entertained by hovering his silver sphere with the Force. At her question, Grogu jumped up onto the bed and babbled out an incomprehensible answer while nodding his head. “That was the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, wasn’t it? Ahsoka Tano told us about it when we first met her on Corvus. You were thinking about your escape at the end of the Clone Wars.”

Grogu nodded again, his brow wrinkling as he let out a saddened coo.

“I’m sorry if the forging made you go back to that night.” (Y/N) set her sewing aside and allowed him to crawl into her lap, leaning down to give his forehead a kiss and running her fingertips over his wrinkled head. “The same happens to your dad sometimes; loud noises make him remember the day he lost his parents and was rescued by the Mandalorians. And from time to time, the sight of fire reminds me of my years of service in the Rebellion.”

To her surprise, Grogu pulled himself up to rest against her chest and patted a clawed hand against her cheek as if to comfort her.

“It’s okay, little guy; being with you and your dad helps me cope with those memories,” (Y/N) reassured him before studying the trusting gleam in his wide eyes. “That starship you escaped in was from Naboo, and so were those Royal Guards who bought you and your Jedi friend time. Is that why you trusted me so much when we first met? Because you could sense through the Force that I was from Naboo?”

Grogu nodded his little head and softly babbled out a reply, and (Y/N) silently wished that she could understand what he was always saying to them.

“I always knew that you and I were alike…” She quietly admitted as the child snuggled against the soft material of her sleeping shirt. “We were both forced to flee our homes at a young age, we both spent years on our own in an unforgiving galaxy, we both were changed for the better when Din Djarin came into our lives and now, we both seem to share a connection to Naboo.” Seeing his eyelids beginning to grow heavy, she gave his forehead another kiss and rubbed soothing circles over his back. “We’ll get the hang of this Mandalorian lifestyle soon, little guy. You’ll have me and I’ll have you, okay?”

Yawning, Grogu let out a sleepy and content coo and (Y/N) leaned back against the headboard as sleep began to overtake her, the feeling of the child’s calm heartbeat the last thing she remembered before falling into a dreamless slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mando’a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain Riduur-Spouse

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Thirty-Six

Taking Care of Business Masterlist 

Tagging: @remmysbounty​​​ @sinon36​​​ @seninjakitey​​​ @thatonedindjarinfan​​​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​​​ @mostclevermiss​​​ @momc95​​​ @welcometothepedroverse​​​ @sarahjkl82-blog​​​ @elinedjarin​​​ @itsnottilly​​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​​  @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001​​​ @groovy-lady​​​ @impala1967666​​​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​​ @icee228​​​​

[lesbii-enne]

Di’kut

(Part three)

I am so sorry, this is taking a lot longer than expected.

Part one: Part two:

Translations below

“I appreciate the hospitality of your covert but I do have a job I must get back to. Hod knows if Jawas stripped my ship already.”

I said to the armorer.

She nodded but insisted I stay the night as it was becoming dark. I agreed to stay the night and she summoned alor Vizsla to show me to my temporary quarters.

Neither of us talked as we walked the way to my quarters, once we made it I thanked him. He simply nodded and left, I opened the door walking into the undecorated small dormitory.

Locking the door behind me I began to strip my armor off of my body. I saw another door in the small room, opening it there was a small small washroom equipped with a small tub. Stripping my flight suit I turned the water on and slipped in the warm water soothed my aching muscles. Taking my helmet off and setting it beside the tub I began to wash up, soon after I put a clean set of clothes on.

Dimming the lights I sat on the cot, thinking about all that has transpired today I soon felt tired and laid down, falling asleep quickly.

Waking up I felt a familiar dull ache, it did in fact hurt like Mustafar. Pulling on my flight suit and attaching my armor I made sure to tidy the room before leaving. Walking the halls of the caverns I made my way to the forge. Seeing the Armorer already working, I stood by. Soon enough she put her work aside and turned to me.

“I thank you for your hospitality and kindness, but I must get back to work.”

I bowed my head and turned to take my leave.

“Wait.”

I paused and turned back to face the Armorer.

“You are a mechanic are you not? We have use for your skills if you will have us. We will compensate you handsomely and you will be treated with utmost respect.”

I took a moment to think, I could stay and be with my kind once again, have my work respected, and finally have a home. However, I would lose the excitement and thrill of traveling to far off planets seeing so many beautiful sights.

“I have made my decision, I will stay and work for the covert under one condition-”

She cut me off

“You will be free to leave the covert on trips for most anything.”

She nearly read my mind.

I bowed my head once again and said

“Thank you for accepting me into the covert and for this opportunity.”

She nodded.

“Have you any experience in repairing and cleaning weapons as well?”

“I do.”

“Excellent, your help will certainly take some of the stress off of some of the other mandalorians.”

What I didn’t know was that ‘some of the other mandalorians’ was the one and only alor Vizsla.

Several cycles passed since had decided to stay and work for the covert. You were nearly always covered in grease, grime, and oil. alor Vizsla had begun to warm up to me; acknowledging me when I entered a room, letting me clean some of his grimy weapons when they started to work improperly, and allowing me to call him by his first name; Paz.

After working nearly all day on most of the coverts’ weapons including Paz’s overly large and weighted blaster my back was aching. Crazy enough but sitting hunched over a desk cleaning and maintaining weapons all day really makes your body ache. Rolling my shoulders for what felt like the twelfth time in a row on the way back to my dormitory ,I arrived. Walking into the washroom I drew the bath water and began to strip my armor off; my cuirass, pauldrons, shin guards, and other miscellaneous parts, laying them gently under the vanity. Peeling my sweat drenched flightsuit I made my way into the bubble filled tub. Getting ready to take my helmet off I hear the door to the bathroom open. Snapping my head towards the door I saw alor Paz Vizsla. He didn’t move, quickly realizing what had happened he adverted his gaze. I spoke up.

“I will be out in a minute please close the door.”

He swiftly turned away and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts as I removed my helmet and finished bathing. Quickly throwing on slightly more appropriate attire I stepped out of the washroom with my helmet on my head. He stood in the middle of my dormitory looking at his shoes. He heard the door open and slowly looked back up. Stepping out into the halls, he said

“The Armorer requests your presence.”

I nod to him and he begins to walk alongside me. After a painful silence he says

“You’re a woman?”

I tilt my head at him

“Yes, I figured you would have realized rather quickly.”

He said nothing further the rest of the walk, arriving at the forge I walked in

“You needed to see me?”

I said, she turned around with a case of whistling birds

“Yes, while overseeing the target range I heard of a few faulty whistling birds, would you mind taking a look at them for me? The foundlings are to start practice with them soon.”

She spoke

“Oh course, I can take them to the workshop and examine them now if you don’t mind.”

She agreed and thanked me

I took the case in my hands and headed to the workshop. Paz accompanied me to the workshop, making sure I arrived he turned and left to his dormitory not far from the workshop. Observing the weapons for quite some time I couldn’t find anything wrong with it. So, testing it was my next step. Putting the vambrace on, I aimed and fired. As quick as I fired I let out a scream.

The whistling bird wasn’t able to shoot out as it was intended to instead it went the only other way it could go; into my arm. Blood began to seep into the fabric of my shirt. Pulling the vambrace off I could see scorch marks and a hole in the clothing and my arm.

The door slammed open as I stood there holding my arm in pain, Paz Vizsla stood in the doorway, he rushed over to me and took hold, albeit more gently this time, of my arm. Sitting me down on the work table he quickly got gauze, forceps, and bacta-spray from an aid kit. Using the forceps he pulled the painful piece of beskar from my forearm, wincing as he did so he set it aside and whispered to me

“Gar atin’la cyar’ika, gar tayli’bac.”

I recognized most of the words, one I couldn’t quite remember

‘You’re tough —- , you’re okay.’

Pulling the cap off of the bacta-spray he dressed my wound, I clenched my teeth. Once he had finished with my arm he insisted he take over and work on the whistling birds. I tried to protest but he demanded I not work on them any further. I obeyed but refused to leave the workshop, we stayed in the workshop throughout the night and well into the early hours of the morning.

I eventually fell asleep on the counter of the workshop with my helmet still on. Waking up a few hours later I noticed a small bit of extra weight on my back, lifting my head up I noticed it was animal furs. It was rather warm but I didn’t own any animal furs. Looking over I saw Paz still working on the whistling birds. We’re these furs his? He noticed that I was awake and nodded to me.

My face felt suddenly hot, odd. Getting up I stretched and made my way over to Paz I said

“Thank you Paz, you really didn’t have to do this for me.”

He faltered for just a moment and shook his head to me, I assumed he meant ‘no problem’

I figured I may as well bring him food as he helped me out the night before. Warming up a stew in the dorms was harder than you’d think. Walking back to the workshop people started to stir awake, it must have been later in the morning than I realized.

Stepping into the shop I see Paz still working on one of the last whistling birds. Setting the stew down he looked up at me and said

“Thank you cyar’ika.”

My face went hot for a moment again, what did that word mean again?

“Was that an insult?”

I asked

He looked back up at me and said

“What?”

“Look it’s been a while since I’ve seen or been around other mandalorians, I can’t remember some words, I remember the basics, some words have just been lost to time.”

I laughed nervously, soon after I left to go back to my dorm. Trying to collect my thoughts I paced around the room

‘What is wrong with me?’

‘Am I attracted to Paz?’

I thought

‘Oh no, this is not good.’

‘I should distance myself until I figure out what is going on.’

For the next few cycles I tried my best to avoid alor Paz. Working during the night instead of the day, staying in my room for most everything other than reporting to the Armorer. I tried everything to dissuade myself from him, but I couldn’t seem convince myself that I wasn’t attracted to him.

I groaned into my cot, getting up I would continue to work during the night. It was almost dawn when I left the workshop to head to my dormitory, when I suddenly had my back pressed to the walls of the cavern. Looking up I saw the familiar blue of Alor Paz’s beskar helmet.

“Why are you avoiding me, Verde?”

I swallowed

He leaned his helmet closer to mine, pressing the front of his helmet to mine trapping me in a keldabe kiss. My face ran hot once again, He pulled back.

“I apologize for that, that was inappropriate of me.”

He paused

“Why are you avoiding me cyar’ika?”

There was that word again, I mustered up my courage and said

“I believe I may be attracted to you.”

I realized my words and quickly sputtered out

“ I am sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly

“Do not worry, that certainly makes things easier.”

Quickly he produced a blue pauldron, the same color as his own armor, from a pocket of sorts.

“I would like to begin courting you, if you’ll allow me to. As a sign of my devotion I offer you a new pauldron with my clan signet.”

I looked at him in shock quietly whispering out

“Yes, I ,, I would appreciate that.”

Heyy, it’s finally done! Look at that I’m so productive! Possibly more to come in the future like the armorer.

Translations:

alor: leader, boss, basically anyone of higher ‘rank’ than oneself

Gar atin’la cyar’ika, gar tayli’bac: you’re tough darling, you’re okay

Cyar’ika: darling

[darkstorm2178]

Mainly I made this video as a dedication to Paz and a conversation between him and his son Ragnar who for me could undoubtedly have been Canon, for Paz his son was everything, the same applies to Ragnar, he was waiting for his father's return, I am a supporter Shipp from The Armorer and Paz always had that connection of a family, both the armorer and Ragnar were still waiting for Paz's return.

The video is in Spanish made by me, it will take me a while to add English subtitles, thank you if you made it this far ✨

@brujitaadinbo First post of the year ✨

[idkbishsss]

Din after Bo can walk both ways: I was the first bi icon

Paz:…

Bo-katan: I’m older than you, and dating the armorer.

Paz:…

Din: Favoritism!

Paz: Din you’re bi? Wait, Bo you’re dating the armorer?!?

(I’m shitposting on a Friday night)

[court-jobi]

Can I ask about two things? Blue Mando-Paz Feels and The Touch Barrier? Feel free to only answer one! This is @newpathwrites btw.

Hekk yeah I'll answer both, @newpathwrites!!! Let's goooo~

The Touch Barrier | Ver. 1 under the cut

Ah my lovely fic headcanons with no real name... The Google Doc I have my drabbles about Paz Viszla are on just a funny sheet called quite literally Blue Mando Paz Feels. We had so little Paz content at the time I began writing these in 2019, but when I tell you my mind went wild...

Big blue boi Mando had my heart from the get go, and I quickly envisioned a nameless little OC (that I have yet to get onto paper). I paired him with a gentle soul who has a heart bigger than her head, and shakes the moment a gun is put into her hands-- but I think that brand of softness may be just what he needed in this harsh lonely world Mandalorians are so used to. He's big, he's blue, and it's cuffing season.. all I gotta say on that.

Now that I've seen more of Viszla in Season 3 I HAVE NEW SOURCE MATERIAL MUAHAHAHA but (ach-hem) I really do think the newest episodes helped me figure out his 'voice' so I might pick these little stories back up!

//psst my favorite of these is one where oc/reader's helping him clean up after a yucky, muggy recon mission, seeing him scrub himself really hard and she fusses over how rough he's being-even with himself. I go into how to care for your beskar, some Din Djarin rivalry-ish backstory, and how SWEET Paz can be when he's treated gently... Perhaps I'll flesh this one out if there's interest?

But also... my beloved:

I answered a bit on my different directions on The Touch Barrier here... But I imagine you'll be most interested in the first iteration of it, so here's a snippet!!

"Are we ok?"

The helmet straightened up, fixed to you again from its nervous evasion. "What?"

"You look like a caged lothcat right now.." you shared, unable to hold back a smile. "And here I thought we were on hugging terms~"

Inside the beskar suit, Mando’s neck flared with heat. And before he could silence himself,

"..we are?"

You hummed noncommittally- betraying your whole-hearted desire.

"I hoped so. At least I thought we might be, based on how you boarded the other day. Unless you didn't necessarily want me there. After all, I know you were kinda having a hard time staying upright."

Only then did Mando's beskar curves slide more naturally into place. No longer bolted to the wall but angled catty corner to you. 

He recalled the 'hug' referenced, but he also remembered how he'd cupped your head to him after you'd brought him up to the cockpit-- that one was for comfort. Not stability.

"I was. But that's not why I .."

–but before he fully finished his train of thought, the baby in the hold let out a frustrated garble of calls as a rolling ball clinked out of his reach. Each plunk echoed down the rungs until it rolled off to parts unknown. You snorted, wondering what on earth he was getting into up there.

"Gosh, that little guy. Sorry, what were you saying?" you recentered from your distraction.

With a lag in his shoulders, the Mandalorian thought the truth to be the best answer. But still wanting to answer to the Child, he nodded his head on for you to continue down to the hull, and he'd follow,

"I was just going to say," he answered, "I didn't do that because I couldn't stand on my own. i-i mean I couldn't, true, but the thing is, I 'wanted to'..." 

His heart was thundering, some cracks in his words were audible,

"I was bleeding out all over the floor. But really, l I could think of was just how grateful I was that you hadn't been hurt. You were safe, and seeing you? I was relieved."

Now side by side in the open air cargo space you smiled, feeling a bit like the silly girls in the holonovels when they pushed their hair behind their ears.

"Well... For one, I'm glad you're not bleeding all over the floor."

That earned you a breathy laugh, "Thank you."

"And for two, I'm- glad you wanted to. Because I may or may not have been wanting to, myself.." 

Mando paused in his strides. which you matched. Even though you were unable to read his expression, you gave a satisfied little smile with your answer, 

"So… it sounds like we're on the same page."

"Sounds like we are."

The Child whined again, making both tip their head off to the side, perfectly in sync.

"I can go get him-- meet you back up top?"

"Okay." He nodded and they split.

Back in the cockpit, you wrangled the bouncing little potato sack. Mando turned when you came in, hearing you corral the kid trying to jump out of your arms to get a better view from his pram.

"Ok ok kiddo, good grief– your seat's but going anywhere!" You shrilled. Planted into his blankets, he sat back in content, swaying side to side, taking in the stars and clusters they were passing in awe.

"Handful?"

"More like tryin'a be a hand-empty, the little wiggle worm." you sassed. His playfighting was all in good fun.

The Mandalorian spun to meet you. First and foremost, you know he'd set the locks on the overhead panels on the side wall, but then he surprised you when he faced fully after you readjusted your clothes the kid had tugged every which way.

"You're good with him. He seems happy to have someone else around." He complimented, stepping into your space. 

Then- finally- meeting your sparkling eyes with all their silent anticipation of his arms, he wrapped around you to pull you in. You locked him in by the waist. 

Then, slightly softer, he nearly whispered, "and.. he's not the only one."

Smushed slightly into his flight suit padding above his chest plate, you smiled. The pats you gave him back passed assurance and as much comfort as you could manage in this relatively tiny hunk of metal in the vast black dust of space. 

"Feeling's mutual, hon."

Hope you liked it!! More of this may come one day...

...dangit.. now I wanna finish this. (le sigh)