PazDin

Paz! Get your ass to Din’s side, he needs you so much in Need for touch. So saaad

Posted on av swmoddy

Nevarro.

The place where it all began.

Watching Cara step down the ramp to meet with Greef, Din blearily tilted his head to look around, taking in how little had changed since the last time he was there.

Sand and sun with the mid-morning heat making everyone lazy, that was all there was with a scattering of people that weren’t taking naps to avoid the worst of the sun.

He only half noticed Greef jerking to in surprise, could feel the beta’s eyes on him. Greef had after all known what Din was from the get go, he had been there when Din returned from a hunt, fresh from his presentation.

He had also been the one to give Din not only scent blockers but also suppressors.

Just long enough to keep Din stable, so he could get his own supply, gruffly stating that Din was one of his best hunters and he’d rather not have anything happen to him.

Concern hidden by his desire for value, not that Din back then had been able to see it, he had been too worried about Greef using the information somehow.

Now he knew that Greef Karga was a friend and in that moment, he had a need for friends.

His eyes landed on the statue of the IG-11, his heart jumping a bit.

Kuiil and it had been the first ones to sacrifice themselves for Grogu, the first ones who had died for him to protect him as far as Din knew.

But knowing how old Grogu was, there was a large chance that they had not been the first.

They were the first since Grogu became his ward.

The ward he had to give away, the foundling that had become…

His scent must have twisted, because suddenly Boba was there, pressing their arms together as he rumbled to him.

His maybe packmate.

Boba and Shand were going to Tatooine, they had only stopped in Nevarro to drop Cara off and resupply since this was a safer place than most to them.

Mostly thanks to Cara.

There wasn’t really much for him anymore, his covert was gone, his pack was scattered if they had survived, his ship was destroyed and even his kit was now in the hands of another because Din could not protect him from the remains of the Empire.

Going with Boba, leaving behind the memories of what was here on Nevarro despite knowing he had a place in Greef bounty hunter guild… well, it sounded like the better option.

Boba was angling to overthrow what was left of the hutt cartel on Tatooine, not that the hutts were that strong thanks to the Empire.

They hadn’t let the hutts keep a strong threshold on the galaxy.

Looking at it, it was almost like the Empire had been trying to wipe out most of the other species of the galaxy unless they had some kind of use, making humanity its core. Getting rid of those that were combative, like the mandalorians and lasats and then moving on to those it thought of as scum with no worth.

‘Not that I’ve ever meet a decent hutt in my life.’ Din mused tiredly, wondering if there were decent hutts in the galaxy.

Tatooine, with the tuskens, sounded like a far better option. Maybe he could visit White Bantha, the clan he had lived with for a while, Boba respected the tuskens as much as Din did and wouldn’t mind if Din wander- “Djarin!”

A loud, familiar voice called out, almost echoing between the buildings and Din’s heart leapt to his throat from the sheer shock of hearing it.

He looked around almost spastically, eyes wide behind his visor before his eyes landed on the all too recognizable blue armor.

Paz.

It was Paz, stepping out from between two white buildings, his gait rushed and his helmet locked on Din with such focus he could almost feel the intensity of the gaze behind the visor.

Alive, Paz was alive.

A sob unwittingly escaped Din at the sight, the sound garbled to static by the vocoder of his helmet as he stepped forward on shaking legs, feeling like a newborn colt.

Unnoticed by him, Boba, Shand, Cara and Greef had leveled their weapons at Paz, only to pause when Din called back. “Vizla!” Din called out, crashing into Paz large chest, feeling those thick arms coming up around him in a familiar embrace. “Paz, Paz he’s gone. He’s gone. I gave him away. Paz.” He sobbed out, his knees giving out from under him as he clung to the others cuirass.

Paz rumbled loudly, shifting his arms around Din to support him. “Din. Din you need to calm down. Udesii, udesii beroya.” The blue armored man finally just outright lifted him.

Another time, Din would have marveled at the display of strength, another time he would have flushed and maybe squirmed.

He wasn’t a light man after all, especially not in his armor.

But that was not now as he lifted his legs to wrap around the alpha’s waist, right now he was baring his soul to his alor and maybe someone who was more. Right now he needed Paz to be both comfort and judgment, even if the latter didn’t seem to be inclined to judge anything and Din didn’t seem to be able to explain himself well.

“My kit is gone.” Din admitted weakly what he hadn’t wanted to admit before.

That Grogu had become not only his foundling but his kit, his child in all but blood.

Blood of the covenant is stronger than water of the womb.

It was something he had heard his buir say once, holding Din tightly to his chest with his chin resting on Din’s curly head and now he understood what it had meant.

Paz stiffened, his arms going almost painfully tight around Din before he crooned, deep in his chest and so loudly it rattled Din’s helmet.

But it felt good to hear and Din pressed his audial to the others cuirass, breaking down into wordless but loud crying.

The kind of crying he had not allowed himself in Boba’s den but right now, in Paz arms…

He would let himself cry over Grogu, cry over the unfairness of the galaxy, cry over his own inability to keep his pup safe.

Cry for the covert.

And maybe, somewhere in those tears, he was crying for himself and everything he had lost as Paz held him together.

Udesii = Calm down

Beroya = Bounty hunter

Alor = Captain

Buir = parent

Oh my… scarfaced Din was really great! When did he get the scar? And from whom? Is there still some kind of trauma? Does showing his scar to them bring his trauma back?

Posted on av swmoddy

Grunting as he woke up, Boba stared at the dim ceiling for a long minute as he wondered what in the hell had woken him, the sound of one of his snoring bedmates annoying but familiar to Boba, it couldn’t be that.

It wasn’t his alarm, that’s for sure, so what in Sith hells ha-a soft whimper interrupted his tired thought and Boba was suddenly very awake as he turned his head quickly towards the noise.

Paz still on his back and was snoring deeply, the weird neck pillow he used to sleep comfortably in his helmet still tucked under his head as he slept in the middle, one arm awkwardly sprawled over his chest and the other still tucked under the waistband of his shorts.

For some odd reason, Paz liked to stick one of his hands down his boxers, arm across his body as he rested it on his hipbone.

A small smile twitched onto Boba’s lips at the sight he had come to find endearing, finding the others blanket down at the foot end, Paz most likely having become too hot during the rise of the sun.

Another whimper echoed and Boba’s breath caught as realization hit him.

Din.

Slowly, careful so he wouldn’t wake the other two hyper vigilant warriors sharing his bed and life, Boba slid out of their large. In the gray light peeking in through the corners of the curtain, he made his way around on bare feet, his heart sinking at the sight of his bared lover.

Din was curled up in a fetal position, clearly visible as he had also kicked his blanket off at some point. His legs were pulled up and his arms were pressed to his chest, his body shaking ever so slightly. His tanned skin was coated in sweat, his eyelids flickered heavily and his lips were twitching, as if speaking to ward someone off, though Boba could make no sense of any words.

Boba breathed out, kneeling down, uncertain what to do.

A nightmare was never easy for any warrior and he was shocked Paz was sleeping through the noise. Maybe he had turned down his helmet audio for the night but occasionally Din would twitch in the bed, his back pressed to Paz arm and Boba wasn’t sure what the hell to do.

Waking sleeping warriors were never easy but he couldn’t stand to see Din like this and in the gray of the light, his face scar almost looked swollen.

Maybe it was the scar, Boba knew from his own that they could flare with pain and maybe Din’s face scar was the same way.

“Fuck me…” He hissed quietly then reached out, touching Din’s upper arm. “Din, Princess, wak-” Din let out a cry and lashed out, his uncoordinated fist striking Boba in the cheek, sending him flailing back with a throbbing face.

Despite half expecting it, despite being almost resigned to it, Boba still let out a violent and loud curse as his ass hit the sandstone floor and his back the wall.

The cry and move woke Paz too, the big warrior letting out a mighty roar as he sat up and all three of them heard the ripping of fabric as he bounced out of bed with unexpected agility for a man his size.

Both Din and Boba, the latter holding his cheek, turned to the man and found Paz shorts sliding slowly down his legs, baring his frankly magnificent arse to the bedroom if you were to ask Boba, a very, very magnificent ass.

For a moment, only the panting of air was heard before Boba cracked up from the sheer hilarity of the situation, Din letting out a slightly nervous giggle and Paz muttering slightly as he looked around, clearly confused about what in the world had just happened as it was clear they were safe in their bedroom.

Snorting at the puppy dog tilt of the others head, Boba rubbed gingerly at his cheek. “Put on some new underwear cyare, we don’t need a full moon right now.” He teased softly.

Paz grumbled slightly, scratching at his pubic trail before nodding. “Mmmkay.”

Still giggling slightly, Boba shuffled up slowly and sat down on the bedside, grunting slightly as Din cautiously touched him. “Its alright, you had a nightmare. I don’t blame you.” He rumbled at the guilty look of the others wide, brown eyes.

“Still doesn’t make it alright to hit you.” Din rasped out, glancing over at Paz as the other found himself a new pair of shorts from his drawer.

Shaking his head softly, Boba just smiled at him. “You didn’t mean to little one.” Boba gently knocked his knuckles over Din’s chin, leaning in to press their foreheads together. This close, he could feel that there was heat in the scar and he let out a small hum, lifting his fingers to gently prod at it.

Din hissed quietly but didn’t move away, the bed bouncing a bit as Paz climbed back into their bed and settled down again, muttering tiredly before giving a loud, jaw cracking yawn. “What the kark just happened?” He grumbled out, scratching at the wry hairs on his chest.

“Nightmare, I hit Boba.” Din confessed, flinching a bit at the sudden silence on the other side.

Paz raised his head, t-visor locked on Boba. “…You okay?” He turned his head to Din. “Either of you?”

It warmed Boba to hear the concern and from the wobbly smile on Din’s lips, it did the same for him. “Throbs a bit, nothing some ice won’t solve,” He rumbled, still gently touching the edges of Din’s face scar. “I got some creams that would help this, want me to find them?” He queried softly.

He didn’t want to push Din for answers, didn’t want the other to feel forced to answer them.

For a moment, his face pulling taunt, Din hesitated before he deflated and gave a small nod against Boba’s forehead. “Please… it’s… I don’t know, it feels hot and somehow taunt. I don’t know what to do with it.” He confessed quietly, leaning back into the hand Paz settled on his back.

Pressing a soft kiss to the edge on his forehead, Boba slid off the bed. “Alright, I’ll fetch the ice and the cream I use for warm scars.” He stated promisingly, watching for a second as Paz gently coaxed Din into laying down against him.

It was a pretty sight and Boba might have stayed to watch as Paz ran his hand through Din’s hair if it wasn’t for the throbbing of his face reminding him that he had a task to do.

‘Cream and ice first, cuddles with my little ones afterward.’ He promised himself, grumbling faintly as he made his way to the mini fridge and freezer combo he had in the sitting room of the quarters.

It was really intended for drinks and a few snacks but right now the ice in the freezer was going to be for his face, Boba tucking it into the ice pack they had so it wouldn’t leak water everywhere. ‘Maybe I should just start keeping this thing in the freezer.’ He mused thoughtfully to himself as he made his way back.

The cream was quickly collected from the fresher, Boba getting a look at his face in the mirror.

No blood, thank kark, Din had hit him hard but hadn’t broken skin.

Not that Boba would have minded but he knew that Din would have felt even more guilty.

The bruise that was coming would be magnificent, that much Boba knew. Even half asleep and dazed from a nightmare, Din was deadly and a fierce storm and Boba had no idea he could be even more attracted to their princess.

But a little display of strength and violence had always gotten Boba’s blood roaring with attraction.

The sight when he returned to the bed had him softening, still attracted but a softer sort as he watched Paz coddle Din, stroking his hair with a slow tenderness that made Boba’s heart flutter, Din turned trustingly into his chest after his nightmare.

The flutter only grew when Din, a bit doopy eyed from the hair petting, sat up and let Boba rub cream into his scar with slow, gentle fingers.

Hands that had bought violence and pain, hands Boba once had thought would never be clean of the blood, bringing Din comfort as he looked at him with those large doe eyes full of trust and warmth.

And maybe a little guilt.

Paz hand found Boba’s thigh in the meantime, petting lightly as he watched them and Boba could swear he could feel the sappy smile on a face he had yet to see. ‘Ner mesh’la.’ Boba would do anything for his little ones, even setting the galaxy ablaze if they asked and it should terrify him.

But all it served to do was make him weak in the knees, because Din and Paz would never ask for it.

His little ones.

Drink too many: how will they spoil Din? What will they be getting for him? I really wanna know what happens next! Your stories are great!

Posted on av swmoddy

Looking around the stalls, Paz contemplated just how many weapon stalls there were.

It was a bit funny, it hadn’t started that way.

When the houses and marketplace had started popping up, the majority of it all had been food related, a cobbler that also worked as cordwainer, a medical stall, jewelry stall, two that had sweets and baked goods and one weapon one.

Now there were so much more, at least five that Paz could count just by turning his head around and he knew that a few of the other stalls also carried weapons, the medical and jewelry he knew also had blades that could be turned into weapons.

The reason for the growth?

Mandalorians.

Din still had the darksaber and Boba Fett’s name had a legend to it.

To hear that the man had taken over Jabba the hutt’s palace, had taken over as King, drew curiosity. And to know there was a potential Mand’alor that had won the darksaber in battle… well, it was a focal point.

It drew mandalorians, hopeful ones, to see if Din Djarin was a worthy Mand’alor, to see if maybe this one could galvanize and gather their scattered people, take back their planets and old territories and send the remaining Imps packing.

The New Republic had yet to reach that far out.

Paz wasn’t sure what Din wanted to do about it honestly, he knew that Din had never wanted the saber when he had taken it off the moff, had even offered it to Kryze.

She had refused.

At least there was some honor to the woman, not that Paz thought he’d ever like her, he was all to aware of the past of the Death Watch, of where Pre Vizla had taken it. His father, a relative of Pre Vizla, had bitterly told Paz about what had happened, how Pre Vizla had been involved in the scheme that got Satine Kryze killed.

Which had lead to the civil war of Mandalore, the internal conflict making them easy pickings for the Empire.

Paz had suspected that his father was a brother of Pre Vizla, with how much he knew, but his father had never admitted to it, the shame in the hunched shoulders of his father obvious as Paz mother gently kneaded his shoulders with her large hands, crooning softly at her omega.

And that always kept Paz from asking.

He knew the history of Pre Vizla and that was enough.

Frankly, Bo-Katan Kryze made Paz teeth ache, from what Din had told him, it didn’t sound like the woman had changed much from those days.

She seemed to be a good leader for a smaller group, a battle experienced alor Paz had parsed out from the story but the idea of her ruling an entire planet, a planet of warriors that easily stepped on each others feet and lead to fights…

No, Kryze behavior made Paz think that the other alpha would not make a good Mand’alor. A Mand’alor was meant to unite and a ruler was meant to rule wisely.

That didn’t mean rulers didn’t make mistakes of course but Kryze’s mistakes…

They had come with a civil war and if Paz was honest, it had always bugged him the way his father had spoken about Bo-Katan turning on her sister and joining a group that would have happily murdered the Duchess.

He knew the clans of old did that but to join a group that would have murdered a pacifist in cold blood… it didn’t stick right with Paz, it felt too close to murdering someone weaponless.

His father had laughed when Paz had stated that, muttering something about, ‘yeah right, weaponless… Satine Kryze would have bit off the heads of people if she could.’ but Paz wasn’t sure and didn’t quite understand what his father meant.

Satine Kryze had been a pacifist, right?

Shaking himself a bit from the thoughts, Paz looked around one more time, taking in how there were now several hot food stalls, even more sweets stalls, clothes ones, amenities like soaps and oils, weapons and so many others as people made their homes around the palace.

Hell, there was even a cantina starting up, a shipyard and an inn for offworlders to rent rooms.

The market and surrounding town had really grown and the growth of it made Paz feel oddly proud.

The shift of a familiar scent brought Paz out of his head and he focused to his side as he watched Din, smiling goofily to himself as the man ran his bare hands slowly over the royal blue nesting blanket he had found at the stand they had stopped at.

The orange tipped gloves had been stashed in his belt and Paz could tell by the way Din reverently ran his hands over the fabric that he really liked it.

He’d never buy it for himself.

“You have more like this one?” Paz questioned the nikto manning the stall, the woman smiling slightly at him as she nodded. Din had stilled beside him, his helmet tilted to look up at Paz, his scent changing to an embarrassed one when he realized Paz had caught onto his like for the fabric.

“Yes sir, I have three in the same shade and length as these, but I have to warn you, that its dramassian shimmersilk, its very expensive.” She stated, rubbing her hands together a bit nervously as she eyed the two mandalorians.

Paz could feel his brows raise in surprise inside his helmet, ignoring her nerves. He knew why she was nervous, just last week Boba had to shut down two mandalorians that got into a scuffle with the marketplace, trying to intimidate the owners into paying protection fees.

Boba would have nothing of that on his planet and Paz had been ashamed of the two mandalorians trying to rig it all.

But honestly, this was a surprise even if his helmet hid his reaction. Dramassian shimmersilk was extremely soft and smooth and Dramassia had only recently started exporting it again, now that the Empire could no longer tax them to hell and back.

That also made it an expensive thing to buy and sell.

But Din’s reverent touch made sense now.

The silk would make for gorgeous nesting material, soft and gentle against skin, especially during pre-heat and heat when his skin was already sensitive and he was uncomfortable.

Pulling out the credit chip Boba had given him, Paz waved his hand. “We’ll take all if them, what’s your price?” He rumbled at the beta, pausing when a hand wrapped around his wrist.

He tilted his head to Din, visor meeting visor. “Paz, no. I have enough blankets. The palace has so many.” Din weakly protested. Paz could imagine the flush on those dark cheeks and Din’s shifty eyes from the tone alone.

Smirking slightly, Paz leaned down enough to tap their foreheads together, feeling Din still at the public affection, chaste as it was. “But you like these ones. So you’ll have these riduur,” He rumbled, tone gently coaxing as he shifted enough to fully face Din, wrapping his arm around the others waist to squeeze him closer with a click of their armors. “You can’t stop me, I’ll buy them anyhow and take them with me home. They’ll be mine then.” He singsonged teasingly to his omega.

Din let out a low noise before sighing deeply, realizing that Paz would not be stopped. “…Fine, but um, you’ll let me do something nice for you later then.” He grumbled, as if he was driving a hard bargain, his omega reaching up to gently rub his wrist glands against Paz neck

Crooning happily at the action, Paz gave the others trim waist another squeeze. “Deal, I’d love a shoulder rub later at home.” He rumbled, straightening slowly as Din visibly perked up at his words. A warm glow settled low in Paz chest at the sight, the alpha turning back to the stall owner to haggle for the soft fabrics.

Boba would be ever so pleased with this buy in for Din, Paz just knew it.

Is Din going stop taking suppressant in need for touch? I mean, I can’t imagine its healthy for him and it wouldn’t make it easy to create a family dynamic as far as I understand the abo stuff

Posted on av swmoddy

Sometimes, just sometimes if he was very, very honest with both himself and the kid, Din would think about trying to find other mandalorians.

From his covert.

Finding out if they had joined another covert or maybe made a new one if enough of them had survived. The Armorer had confirmed that some of them had escaped and he knew the none-combatant, the few elderly and the foundlings they had at the very least escaped.

Though calling them noncombatant wasn’t quite right.

After all, no mandalorian, with or without a weapon, could be called harmless.

There were just some that weren’t front line fighters and would be ushered to safety before others.

There was no shame in it.

Warriors past their prime that had lived a long life of fighting and children yet to become soldiers or swear their resol’nare.

Yet still able to to defend themselves.

And Din, despite all the days he had flown off of and out into the galaxy, wanted to find them, settle his own foundling into the care of the pack, maybe eat a proper meal that he didn’t have to buy…

Oh, Din was a horrible cook, he was more than willing to admit that and therefore set aside credits to buy food the kid could eat out with, proper food with proper nourishment, like the bone broth.

It had a lot of minerals and vitamins, something Din figured the kid needed considering he ate a whole frog.

Rehydrated rations were a maker-sent blessing, since Din’s diet could be… solitary.

Considering he somehow managed to set fire to the Razor Crest little kitchen last time he tried to make something proper, it was better that way.

His cupboards prior to the child was mostly full of rehydrated bread pouches, cups of noodles and ration bars. Oh and a dish of salted blue butter, if you used warm water, you got warm bread and Din enjoyed the melted salty butter taste it got when it was warm.

But all of that made him think of the covert, made him think of the kitchen in the covert, about the mix of betas, alphas and omegas that made meals everyday for the entire covert to come and eat if they wanted.

Never a morsel wasted, leftovers always used and always enjoyed, food eaten later if they didn’t show up during the actual dinner time.

And if he in particular thought of Paz Vizla, settled in front of one of the stoves with a large pot of tiingilar, the alpha laughing as he added beer and spices to the dish along with soft bread to dip into the sauce and get every little bit of delicious spot of sauce.

It was good food.

Full of warmth and filling and Din always made sure to grab a full bowl of it once he was sure Paz was out of view due to how conflict filled their relationship was, not wanting to bloat the alpha’s head.

That thought lead him to a dark alcove, armors off with thick arms wrapped around Din, a low alpha rumbling in his ear as Din let himself rest.

So far, Din had meet several alphas, hell, he had even started weaning himself off his suppressors and only wore the scent removers when his anxiety got the better of him.

Oh the look on Xi’an and Ranzar’s faces had been precious, Din had laughed himself to tear about it for days after.

But none of those alphas measured up to Paz.

And maybe, in those secret little wishes, his fantasy hoped that Paz was alright, that the alpha was… waiting on him.

“I think I got my head screwed on wrong,” He sighed, looking at the kid as he paused in eating a cookie. “…Where in the world did you get that?” The kid of course just cooed at him before giggling.

Bemused, Din watched him before shaking his head slowly.

Well, this was the same kid that ate a live frog, so at this point he was sure that an old cookie wouldn’t harm him, because Din seriously could not remember buying in any cookies in a long while.

Or maybe the kid stole it in their last planet hop.

Sounded like him, little mischievous womp rat.

The thought was fond however and Din released his belt to stand, moving over to pick the kid up and settle him on his hip. “So, lets go see about this Jedi that Kryze talked about, huh?” He bounced him a bit, lips twitching into a smile when the kid instantly cooed and giggled.

The dip in the ocean hadn’t been too good for Din but at least he wasn’t feeling as under the weather and having the kid like this… well it helped.

Having weaned himself off his suppressors, his instincts were helping out too and he lifted him up to his neck, feeling an ear brush his neck before there was a noise and the kid made happy little cooing noises.

This close, the kid could smell Din like no one else had, the lack of suppressors, no scent wipers and the closeness to the slight opening in his kute not keeping the smell as wrapped up as Din used to.

Rubbing the kids back, Din wondered…

Would Paz like his scent?

He had been virtually scentless or upset when they were together last, no clear read on him due to that. But Paz had tried to scent him as best he could with his wrists pressing gently to the few exposed areas Din had, leaving his own scent on Din even if Din had no scent.

But now he was without chemical altering in his systems, he’d soon be fully done weaning himself and with the little gaps in his kute…

That was if Paz was even alive, Din hadn’t seen his helmet in the pile but…

He tightened his grip on the kid.

No, he had no other choice but to think that Paz was alright, he was a Vizla.

And a big shabuir like him would fight to survive and to protect.

The kid tapped his clawed hand on Din’s pauldron, cooing more worriedly now and Din let out a shuddering breath. “Its alright pup, I’m just… thinking. Just thinking.” Din whispered, smiling sadly when he felt the little one stroke gently between the nooks of his pauldron and cuirass.

For a moment, he was tempted to pull off his helmet, to press a kiss to the little one’s head.

He settled for a gentle ear stroke, humming quietly as the kid settled and went back to eating what was left of the cookie, the two cuddled up into each other for just a few precious moments.

Neither thought about the fact that maybe in a few days, Din might have to give up on the child or the pain that would come with separation.

No, for just a few moments, the galaxy didn’t exist, only they and the Razor Crest did.

need for touch, well fuck me. I need to know what comes after. Does anyone give Din some tlc? Or SOMETHING?

Posted on av swmoddy

It could blamed on the day, the entire week, the revelation or something else but for whatever reason, Din is distracted as he comes out of his room, sans armor except for his helmet as he steps into hallway.

Sporting simply his helmet and his suit, not even his cape, makes him look so much smaller for all his lean muscles.

His durasteel cuirass, vambrace, pauldron, cuisse and greaves left behind for some reason, maybe the other is going for a shower, maybe for once he’s letting himself be vulnerable, maybe it needs to be polished and repaired.

Paz doesn’t know.

Doesn’t really care.

It makes what he does next easier as he swipes out of the shadows and catches the smaller man, lifting Din clean off his feet as he traps the other against the wall. But he ensures his arm is between the others back and the wall, his hand cupping Din’s helmet.

He’s not here to harm him but talking with Din isn’t easy on a good day.

Djarin is not having good days lately and Paz is not here for a fight.

Its why his hand shifts the moment he has Din captured, feeling the others legs come up, likely to knock into his stomach as his hands grab onto Paz pauldrons.

But Paz hands closes around the back of the others neck before that, scruffing the other as he gripped.

His breath catches when instantly Din hands fall lax and his feet drop. Din is stupidly strong and its a bit heady to have caught him off guard and capturing him like this despite Paz not angling for a fight.

“Vizla…” Din still manages to growl, despite the scuffing, despite his body going lax and his muscles responding to the release of endorphins the scruffing does. It says something about the trust Din at least has in the pack, brings Paz some relief.

Because Paz admits now what he didn’t want to admit the other day.

He’s worried.

Worried about Djarin, about Din.

He has been for years now, even as a beta, separating from the pack isn’t easy and he knows that bounty hunting work isn’t easy on the heart or the mind.

After this, he knows that the wires of the others head has been crossed.

The fact that the other isn’t fighting him, just dangles between Paz and the wall clues him in too, Din’s toes barely scruffing the floor.

He’s not sure but this close, Din should be able to smell Paz as much as Paz can smell Din and he can’t help but wonder when the last time someone touched the other kindly. It is why Paz eases the his grip lightly, thumbing carefully over where he thinks the scent gland is.

Din lets out a low noise, the vocoder scrambling it so Paz can’t tell if its good or bad, but he continues. “Ni ceta.” He whispers quietly.

He feels more than he sees Din stiffen.

Clearly the other knows for what but not the why.

Paz can’t explain, not really, everything had just boiled over for him.

He was so tired of hiding, so tired of fearing the Empire, even the remains. And Din working with them when Paz was so worried about the other hit all the wrong spots.

Mixed in with his recent rut, Paz will admit that he took it all the wrong way and let his aggression speak where his concern should have.

But Paz has never been a subtle man, it is not his way, not the way of the Vizla.

Loud and proud, that’s the Vizla clan and yet here they are, hiding in a sewer.

But to take it out on a packmate… it was too far.

And even worse, revealing Din to the rest of the pack.

Exposing an omega, when they were so few now, was a thing of shame and had there been any aruetii around to smell him, to know, Paz would have…

Well, he’s grateful there were none.

Just as he’s grateful now as he presses a bit closer to the others neck, the smell coming in from under the helmet.

Omega, still stressed, still sour, but not hurt, the other had put bacta on it.

Good. “Ni ceta.” He simply repeated again, easing his grip slowly so he could set Din on his feet, bending his back to keep his arm between the other and the wall.

Din clung to his cuirass, wobbly footed from the scruffing but not pulling away. “…Ni lini’bar gar baatir.” He finally hissed and yet his body remained pliant, his usually graveled tone slurred.

Paz simply thumbed gently at the hidden gland. ‘Of course you do, even if you won’t admit it. If not mine then someone else, anyone. Child, parent or bondmate.’ He thought sadly. Din’s behavior made so much more sense now. Din was so used to no one worrying or caring properly that he felt wrong footed by it.

Slowly, Paz shifted his head from the others neck to gently clink their foreheads together, hearing Din’s breath hitch. “Ni ceta.” Paz repeated once more, more than willing to grovel for Din’s forgiveness, standing in the hallway with the omega hidden by his own larger bulk.

Translation:

Ni ceta = Formal apology, ‘I kneel’ literally

Ni lini’bar gar baatir = I don’t need your concern. I had to fudge this one a bit, since mando’a doesn’t have a word for ‘don’t. Linibar means need and I put in a ‘ to stimulate the other sentences that had don’t in them.

aruetii = outsider or traitor pretty much

y got any plans for pazdin?

Posted on av swmoddy

The potential for a fight always gets Mandalorian’s geared up.

Everyone of them tense, hard wired for the fight, witnessing or taking sides even with the Armorer defusing the situation as Din pulls his blade away, his moves smooth.

The taller alpha gave one last snarl before doing the same.

But then Paz Vizla froze, visor focused on Djarin as he remained sitting at the Armorer’s table.

The knife had nicked the skin of the smaller man in the almost fight.

A thin roll of blood was on Vizla’s knife, rolling lightly over the metal in the dim light, more likely hidden beneath their beroya helmet and kute.

But that wasn’t what had frozen Vizla, a knife wound was to be expected with where he put the blade, no, it is the scent reaching slowly but steadily through the compound had reached him first.

Inside his armor and his kute, Djarin had been as good as scentless, most likely coupled with scent blockers their hunter had collected when out of the Covert. A good thing when one was a bounty hunter, those who realized approved of the decision, though no one in the covert had, though others outside it had.

Greef Karga was very careful with which bounties he gave one of his best and if he was honest, favorite bounty hunters.

Those who didn’t made assumption about Djarin.

Beta.

But with the release of blood came the release of scent, barely caught through the filters of their helmets but there.

Omega.

Not just any kind of omega either.

No, a highly fertile one as strong as the scent was even through helmet filters, tinged with distress, uncertainty present in their scent and sharp, sour, hurt.

This was the last thing that had been expected, Mandalorian’s weren’t stupid about designations but having their sole beroya turn out to be an omega…

It rattled bones when they were so few already.

Anything could happen out there. And omegas thrived on contact, it was why most of the omegas of the tribe made more than one bond, to continue on the human contact they needed.

Hell, even the Armorer, solitary by nature of her personality and her role as a leader, had two bonded mates even if she had no children, not even foundlings.

Others had bonded family packs, siblings or parents and not just mates, giving them the contact they needed.

Djarin had been the sole beroya of the clan since his father died, always going, always leaving and not bonding to anyone in that manner.

Had been alone on the Razor Crest since, with no one to hold, no one to touch, no one to look after them when their heat hit.

He simply settled into the pack every time he returned, part of it but not bonded to anyone closely.

“A surprise this is,” The Armorer finally said, resting her hands on the table, quite clearly staring though what she was thinking, no one knew. But there was a question in that voice. “You… presented late.” It wasn’t a question now.

The beroya still nodded in answer, his own hands settled on the table too, away from his weapons. “Buir let me choose, said I should tell whenever I was ready. Then he died.” Djarin’s dark T-visors stares straight at the Armorer. “The Covert needed me.”

That answered everything and yet nothing.

A late presenting, after he got into his armor.

Potential genetic, stress from his life or just a random quirk of Djarin’s, waiting until he was far past swearing the resol’nare, waiting until he was stuck in his armor and away from the Covert with only his buir around.

A buir that took in him, gave him his name, who respected his son enough to let him decide.

A buir, who had been killed on their hunt.

A young but capable beroya, their only one, well aware that he was their only beroya after the Purge and the death of his father, their means to many credits and information, though others went up for shorter trips than Djarin himself.

A new one would take longer to train, maybe longer than they really could afford, their foundlings needing what Djarin could provide via credits, which bought them food, medicine, comforts and all the things a foundling would need.

And so Djarin said nothing and simply made due with what he had.

Who knew how many wires that had crossed in the omegas brain, starved for touch, starved for bonds and starved for contact.

And too late to do anything about right now as Din simply left the beskar to the Armorer and went to find his space, deftly avoiding anyone as he covered the bloodied cut on his neck with a gloved hand.

Posted on av swmoddy

saqueenkawockeez:

Patu~~

I’m in the mood of domestic AU PazDin today😌

This is my own version of Paz. I know the bully in chapter 1, Tait Fletcher(the actor) I believe his name was(I’m sorry if I got it wrong) was the one behind Paz suit meanwhile Favreau do the voiceover. If somehow Paz going to show up and like Din did; take off his helmet, that gonna be awkward af😅