#paz vizla imagine

[a-name-bruh-idk]

mando s3 ep7 spoilers:

don’t imagine ragnar waiting for his dad to come back from the scouting party

[thewriterowl]

Imagine Cobb Vanth with a popular online ghost hunting show, starring his skeptic partner Boba Fett and their loud, bizarrely confrontational friend Paz Vizla; directed by Fennec and Exceedingly Reluctantly filmed by Din Djarin, talented photographer and Dad Who Just Wants a Dad Nap.

Enter Luke Skywalker, a hobbyist mechanic and disillusioned fortune teller who gained internet infamy by being repeatedly interviewed and mocked by ghost debunkers who, through creative editing, made this kind, earnest, gifted young man look like a delusional lunatic that believes he's "special."

Boba offers Luke a stupid amount of money to appear on his boyfriend's channel, so Luke reluctantly accompanies them to an abandoned hospital, where he has lost all fucks when it comes to making people think he isn't crazy, and uses his psychic abilities so nonchalantly and dismissively he's basically gaslighting the whole crew.

Cobb: What the fuck is that?!

Luke: *on the floor of the decayed children's ward, clearly rolling a ball back and forth with an invisible entity* What do you mean?

Boba: All our equipment is saying someone is here. We literally just heard a child say "Let's play, Luke."

Luke: *Now gently tossing a ball back and forth with the entity* That's wild, man.

(Din: You, uh... you look really pretty in this lighting.

Luke: You're too sweet! Also, your son definitely sees ghosts.

Din: What?

Luke: :)

Feralsunshine, you always have some of the best ideas. Cause this is so CUTE and fun!

Poor Luke ostracized when all he wanted was to help people and understand his strange abilities because people were jerks. Then he gets dragged into this growing in popularity show (Ryan and Shane!!) on youtube and is just trying to play it cool, trying not to take the attention, trying to just be "ah, yeah, this is....a thing" as spirits either try to just get his attention or are literally trying to steal him away to the Beyond.

And just him casually playing catch with something invisible and everyone is freaking out...except for Din who (is sorta used to it with his son who does weird things from time to time, isn't that normal???) is like dreamily sighing to himself as he continues to just film Luke and not the star of the show.

Cobb and Boba have to sit down and talk with him because, "my guy...this is sad."

Din doesn't get it...he just thinks Luke's very pretty as he talks with someone who isn't there but they keep getting really scary voices on recordings. Is it his fault?? No!

And oh, Luke was a different kid himself? Maybe he can talk to Grogu to help him feel better!

Everyone is trying to make him understand that Luke is an actual psychic, and so his is son, but Din just keeps trying to make dinner plans.

[moodymisty]

Hi there 😊 I am so glad to see someone writing (so well, I might add) for Paz Vizsla ! I am quite obsessed with him atm... May I request something for him, like falling uncontrollably in love with a jedi reader? (also with some nsfw... a little inappropriate use of the force... just enough to bring this big guy to his knees 😇😍).

Of course I know it is not easily compatible with canon so it is completely fine if you do not wish to write it, no pressure!

Thanks 💜

An opportunity to write for Paz? Hell yeah. Forgive any issues, I wrote this while sick in bed. (I don’t think it’s COVID and praying it isn’t cause I had over 6 months of long COVID last year and I’m not in the mood)

Maybe it isn't the most canon compliant thing sure, but fuck that lol. Went with kind of a order 66 padawan survivor kind of vibe, but overall it's pretty vague. imagine how you wish all, tis the point of this sort of thing.

Relationships: Paz Vizla/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lewd but not full NSFW, Inappropriate use of The Force, handjob(?)

It’s during a long hyperspace flight that Paz leans back in the creaking pilots chair, and thinks. He’s perhaps been a bit reckless at times; But he has a brain in that helmet of his, and prides himself on the minimal damage it’s taken.

But his trip to Dirahn didn’t leave him empty handed, which was part of the reason why his thoughts were so tumultuous. Maybe more so the main reason, than just part.

Judging by the description on the bounty he’d expected someone like a Zabrak armed to the teeth; Not, you. Someone in a hovel near the woods, clearly trying to hide from something. He remembers the look you’d had, of someone who was scared but couldn’t run and so they were ready to fight, even if they weren’t prepared.

He’s had that look before; He’d recognized it through the glow of your rusted unkempt lightsaber.

He couldn’t pull the trigger then, even if you’re a sworn enemy. Even if you’re the bounty he’s after.

Thats what made it all worse. It also wasn’t a problem. At least to someone with less of a moral compass.

It took more than a bit of coaxing to get you to dim your lightsaber, and even more so to step closer. Then again, he isn’t an expert in talking. Not to many Mandalorians are. But it works, and eventually the bad feeling in your gut dimmed enough to follow him.

You originally say, after a long and uncomfortable silence that he had brusquely explained that you were no longer hidden here, that he should drop you off at the next habitable planet with spots to hide. It makes sense; And at first he's more than eager to get you off of his ship. But the travel takes cycles of boring time that you fill with casual attempts and conversation and fixing your old robe, and by the time you both get to a habitable planet and he’s refueling the ship, he finds himself convincing you away from staying here.

It’s a better idea; Is the excuse he uses for himself. He attempts to ignore the way he keeps looking over at you sitting in a normally unused co-pilot seat, a dark robe comfortably swathing almost your entire body.

He finds himself in less of a rush to throw you off than he’d like to admit.

The Jedi are their sworn enemies, he knows well. Even though you insist you aren't a Jedi, Paz knows that it isn't that simple. But yet here you are, sitting in his co-pilot's seat as the stars stripe past the viewport.

Paz considers this all a lapse in judgement.

A big one.

He has to go back to the covert, and part of feels tumultuous at the idea; He's bringing someone who's supposed to be a sworn enemy this close to where is people lie hidden.

He should've just given you that first ride and dropped you off on Nar Shaddaa like you'd asked. But when he glances over to you again and sees you turn to him and give a small smile playing again with the bracelets on your wrist, he knew he would've have been able to.

Of course the time he falls irrevocably head over boots for someone, it's a Jedi.

Well, not a jedi, as you say. But you know it's just arguing semantics. In this day and age the difference is just a line in the sand.

It doesn’t take a genius to tell by the tone in his voice when you land that you aren’t welcome where he’s going, and you’re not exactly surprised.

“I’ll be back to the ship before dark.”

"Don't take too long," You manage to joke before he leaves. The ship also needs a good bit of work, after a fire fight you’d gotten into a short while back. Some of it might serve to keep you busy while he's gone, or you wander around.

You decide to wander; As the large city is too much of a temptation after so long of seclusion.

And with your newly fixed robe swathing most of your body, the hilt of your lightsaber is hidden safely behind it, you end up passing through crowds of people and around stuffed little stalls. The security of your inherited lightsaber lets you wander around safely, arms close to your body as the cold pierces your clothing.

You have vague memories of large cities like this, but overall, it's largely new.

You'd ran to the farthest planet you could make it to with the credits you had once the order fell, as even after the main slaughter many like you were still being actively hunted. Paz being a lucky break.

It's not like it's something that's exactly easy to keep a secret, the Force.

Neither is your appearance, as you can feel eyes on you as you slowly shift through a sizable crowd. There’s shops selling things everywhere and it’s almost overwhelming, compared to the peace of your woods. You must seem out of place enough that people are starting to get a little curious, particularly any locals.

From the perspective of a Jedi in hiding this would be a perfect place; as the noise from so many beings clouds the Force to such a degree that tracking is difficult.

But not for Paz, it seems.

“What are you doing out here?” It’s less so of a question and more of a statement, as he doesn’t give you much leeway to answer once you turn to look at him.

“The ship is fixed. We should be off.” It's the ladder half of the sentence that catches your ear, as you hadn't exactly heard him use one of those particular words before.

“We?” Part of you had been under the impression this was where you parted ways, even if the time you’d spent together had been surprisingly enjoyable. You wouldn’t mind sticking around, as well as it was safer being constantly on the move. However it seems Paz is content to completely ignore your question, and stares at you through the tinted visor of his helmet. He's glaring, you can feel it.

“Let’s go.”

———————--------------

Time passes slowly and incredibly quickly during hyperspace, as it feels like you're often time ferociously bored, as well as constantly busy with things.

Paz being one of those things.

You weren't sure exactly of what place in time you ended up becoming a permanent edition to the ship, but at some point you had beaten the odds, as well as Paz's hard exterior. At least made a few cracks in it. You’ve found out through it and many other little instances stuck alone up in hyperspace that Paz can be a bit of a flirt, in the right mood.

It’s just after one of those moods now, and you’ve decided to play around a bit with him when he isn't expecting it.

The force is something you’ll always need to hone but the feeling lasts on your palm as you slowly move, your hand cupped a bit as you glance over. You know exactly what you're trying to do, but you can't exactly shake the feeling that it feels a little, wrong. You still do it anyways however, biting your lip to try and avoid smirking when you glance over to take a look at the pilot's seat.

He shifts ever so slightly, so you have a good feeling it is working.

Slowly you keep it up, trying to focus but not make it incredibly obvious you are focusing on something. Afterall you can't see if he's looking at you, unless his helmet is pointed right at you. He's managed to abuse that with a few sneaky glances, you're sure. But he's not facing you now, as the reflection of stars scatter across his helmet while he looks out of the viewport.

He shifts again, and you could swear you heard him clear his throat, but the helmet muffles it almost completely. That piece of armor is the source of a good bit of your grievances, it seems.

One of his hands darts down for a second to tug at the fabric of his flightsuit, so it's more than obvious now he's getting hard. It's even hard to hold back the smirk now. You wonder how long you can get away with this before you either get caught, or he takes his leave for a moment to deal with what he surely thinks is a random thing.

Not much longer is what it seems; As mere moments after you have that thought, his helmet is turning to look right at you.

When he glances over, tempted to leave the pilot's seat for bit to take care of this, it's when he notices something about you that his body goes so rigid that even you realize you've been caught. You still keep going however, even as it's more than obvious his eyes are on your lap.

"Are you-"

He sees the way your hand is ever so slightly moving while your arm rests on your lap, and you glance at him. Your hand matches what he's feeling perfectly.

"Dirty Jedi tricks."

He doesn't have much of a chance to say anything more beyond that, as the feeling intensifies so much so that he actually lets out a somewhat loud groan while leaning forward. That sensation shot all the way up his spine, and it probably would've buckled him had he been standing. Right after he manages to gather himself just enough he suddenly bursts up from his seat, and even with his helmet on you can tell by his rigid body poster that he's more than a little bit furious.

Thats fine with you, as more often that not as you've learned that isn't exactly a bad outcome for you.

“Come here.” He doesn’t give you much choice in the matter, as he grabs your wrist- conveniently the one that was just in a way jerking him off, and drags you in the direction of his cot near the back of the ship. He throws you down onto it, just as you speak up:

“I thought you couldn’t take the helmet off?” Paz sternly gives a response.

“You’re lucky I’m taking my glove off after that trick.” Now well and truly out of your depth the engine still rumbles in the background; as Paz flips you over onto your stomach.

[goblininawig]

The Future Has Many Paths

□ Rated T □ Chapters 9/? □ Words 24.5k □

Summary: Marooned on Arvala-7, you meet a Mandalorian who offers you a job. Accepting it leads you down a path you never imagined, full of both wonders and terrors.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | to be continued...

Tags: Din Djarin & Reader, Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin, You, Grogu | Baby Yoda, Kuiil, Greef Karga, Original Force-Sensitive Characters, Caben, Stoke, Omera, Winta, Peli Motto, Toro Calican, Fennec Shand, Boba Fett, Cobb Vanth, Ranzar Malk, Migs Mayfeld, Burg, Zero, Xi'an, Qin, IG-11, Paz Vizla, The Armorer, Moff Gideon, Force-Sensitive Reader, Starship Razor Crest | Din Djarin's ST-70 Assault Ship, Canon Universe, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader-Insert, Getting to Know Each OtherSlow Burn, Din Djarin Doesn't Remove the Helmet, Grogu | Baby Yoda Stays with Din Djarin, Hurt/Comfort, Force Healing, New Republic Era, Mandalorian Covert from Nevarro, Clan Mudhorn, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

A/N: Reader is a chaotic good opportunist, along the lines of Lando Calrissian, Han Solo, Trace Martez, and Phee Genoa.... but with Force-sensitivity and low-grade powers.

Mood board

[fictionkinfessions]

There’s not much to say except everything so here I go:

There was once a time in my life where Din Djarin was as integral to me as my right hand. He was an everyday part of my life. We ate, trained, slept and breathed together. We knew each other, we grew entangled together like the roots of a tree. He meant more to me than I’ll ever be able to describe.

(This did not make us friends.)

I can’t tell you exactly why we grew apart, there are too many reasons, but I will say that I miss him. I have missed him. In the years since, his lack of presence in my life felt like a wound. At first it was raw and open, any hint of him caused acid to flood my stomach. It made me angry, at him and the life that forced upon us. As time passed, it felt more like a gunshot, with shrapnel still left inside. If I press hard enough, I can feel the sharp edges dig in.

I was one of the last people to see his face before he swore the Creed. I don’t know why he chose me, we were constantly butting heads at this point in our lives, but he did. I still wonder what that meant. Or if he meant anything by it. Maybe he was just scared.

We grew apart, as people do, but I still look at him and see the small brown haired boy my family took in. I still see his wide eyes and curled, frightened fingers. I used to wonder if he grew into his face.

(Now I don’t need to imagine, his actors face is all over the net. Still, this doesn’t settle me.)

Sometimes it makes me seethe. The boy I knew is stubborn, he was cunning and straightforward. I expect nothing less, we are Mandalorian after all, but it still infuriates me. He infuriates me.

When we were young men, I let my temper run wild. Maybe lashing out drove him away. Maybe he never truly felt like he fit in. Either way, he left and his name turned bitter in my mouth. Can you blame me?

(Was I not enough?)

I never took a riduur, I never raised children that shared my name. I looked after the foundlings, I followed the orders of our Alor, I trained and I taught. I regret, more than anything else.

- Paz Vizla (Star Wars)

🪵

[expansegirl]

Mandalorian Season Finale (with spoilers)

Sometimes a story can be a story. It doesn't have to have huge amounts of depth. It can be fun and that's what the season finale of The Mandalorian was.

I imagine there are people out there saying 'oh, the plot was weak', 'the ending was too pat', 'Grogu shouldn't have been able to hold off that explosion.' I would remind those people that Star Wars was inspired partly by the old serials George Lucas watched as a child. There were thrill, spills and chills just like in this season of The Mandalorian.

The best bits for me were: Grogu saving Din Djardin (with IG-12's assistance), Grogu running rings around the Pretorian Guard, the relighting of the Great Forge and Paz Vizla's son reciting the creed, Moff Gideon dying multiple times and see what happens when a bunch of stormtroopers make the mistake of thinking that having beskar armour puts them on an even foot as a group of Mandalorians.

The long wait till August and Ahsoka begins.

[moonlight-prose]

Omg if you're still taking prompts pls give me some 80s Din or Paz with "your hand is tiny. look at the size difference."

I love you babyyy😘😘😘

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

a/n: this has been sitting in my inbox for SO LONG. apologies about that babes. i just wasn't sure what to do with it, but i finally figured it out and my heart has been dying over 80s paz lately. so i hope you enjoy it! i made a mini vibes banner for it as well!

summary: his hands could break you, but he chose instead to tenderly hold your love between them.

word count: 650

pairing: 1980s!paz x fem!reader (even tho it can probably be read as just reader)

warnings: not explicit, so much tenderness it's insane, extreme amount of kissing, hand holding (i know scandalous), mention of paz putting his hand somewhere....let me know if i missed anything!

“I never get tired of kissing you.” The words were whispered against his lips as he lounged on the bed with you. His body too large to fit in your already too small bed, lay beside you, his hand playing with yours as his lips continued to brush against yours.

If you were to be told that months after going on a blind date with a man who was a friend of a friend, you’d be lying beside him, content with life finally...you would have laughed. Yet there you were - kissing him until the breath left your lungs. The taste of his favorite brand of bourbon stains your tongue as he brought you an almost dizzying high. Just with his lips.

Inhaling you dragged him closer by his black shirt, hearing the bed creak as he rolled on top of you. Kissing him felt like the world was slowing down. Time finally comes to a stop in order for you to feel every piece of him - explore every inch of his skin with your mouth. Kissing him was eternal bliss wrapped up in a neat little present. A promise that you’d never know such pleasure again, because the moment was fleeting and before you could open your eyes it was already gone.

Lazily wrapping your leg around his waist, you tangled your fingers together - feeling him drag them above your head until you were trapped beneath his body. A position you loved...possibly more than the feel of his lips against yours. Although both were a tie at this point. Sucking on the skin of your neck he smiled at the breathy moan he pulled from you; the feeling of being so surrounded by him was nearly overwhelming.

“I love kissing you too,” he whispered, trailing wet kissing down your throat until he reached your collarbone.

“Yeah?” You smiled, peeking your eyes open to see him directly above you once more. “What do you like about it?”

His breath washed across your skin as he laughed, hand bringing yours down to press his lips to your wrist. “Feeling you like this,” he said, letting go of your hand and dragging his down to your waist. Splaying it across your ribs. “And like this.”

Your breath hitched, tongue peeking out to dampen your lips. “What else?” He knew he had you once your voice shifted, turning breathy with every movement he made.

Shifting his hand even lower until he was practically cupping you through your pants he watched your eyes flutter close - teeth digging into your bottom lip until it nearly broke the skin. This man. This power of a man knew how to leave you a whimpering mess with only a few simple words. One touch and you were his. You knew that the moment he kissed you for the first time, and you knew it now.

“Like this,” he breathed out, lips barely touching yours as he grinded his palm against you.

Whining you dragged his lips back to yours, his hand returning to yours and shifting until he was laying between your spread legs. “You did that on purpose,” you said, smiling against his skin.

He laughed again, eyes opening to meet yours. “Maybe.”

“Do you know what I like?” you asked.

“What?”

Tugging on his hand you brought it down towards your lips. “Your hands. Perfect for holding me.”

Curling his fingers around yours he kisses the tip of your thumb. “Your hand is tiny. Look at the size difference.”

“Too small for you?” you asked, unable to find your way out of the pleasurable haze that had overtaken your mind, but it’s not like you wanted to.

“Never.” His lips met yours again and you melted beneath his touch. Content to spend the rest of the day beneath this man that you loved, until time decided to restart the clock.

permanent tags:

@pamguini @blondekel77 @princess-and-pedro @phoenixhalliwell @greeneyedblondie44 @amelia-song-pond @ladylothlorien @littlebopper96 @a-little-counter-esperanto @cap-n-stuff @agirllovespancakes

[lilhawkeye3]

Paz and 4?

4. Awkward kiss • from this prompt list

Paz Vizsla x Reader • prompt masterlist

———————

The ship was pitch black this late in the night cycle. At the moment, you were glad for it. The heater had gone out once again— you were not looking forward to having to fix it when you landed— so Paz had wordlessly led you to his cot and slid under the sheets with you, pressing your bodies together to share some warmth in the cold of space. It was necessary for survival and you both knew that.

But now…

You couldn’t help how flushed your entire body was when you awoke with a gasp in the middle of the night. Paz’s arms were wrapped around your waist, anchoring your chest to his, and his tense thigh had wedged its way between your legs. You did your best to ignore your body’s reactions to the position you’d found yourself in, so of course your brain decided to instead notice the warm puffs of breath that brushed over your face every few moments.

Oh stars, you could feel Paz’s breath. Where was his helmet?

Even though it was completely dark, you squeezed your eyes shut again. You didn’t want to take the chance that your eyes would adjust and allow you to see the outlines of his face. You were both warm now; perhaps it would be best for you to find your way to the cockpit and wait until Paz was awake and helmeted once again.

No such luck— your gentle shifting while you tried to free yourself seemed to have roused Paz from his slumber.

“Mesh’la? What’re doin’?”

Hell, his lips were much closer to yours than you’d realized. You froze up for a moment and the hesitation has Paz holding you tighter to him.

“I… uh, I was going to go to the cockpit so you could sleep without your helmet,” you muttered sheepishly at being caught.

Paz huffed out a soft chuckle. “It’s fine. Go back to sleep, mesh’la.”

You sighed and nodded before remembering he couldn’t see you. Acting on impulse, you leaned in, hoping to show your thanks by leaving a quick peck on his cheek.

You’d forgotten that the dark meant you also couldn’t see. Your heart nearly gave out when you felt your lips press against something soft and warm, but definitely not the stubbled or bearded cheek you’d been expecting.

Paz clearly hadn’t expected your lips on his either, because he was a still statue under your touch. Face flaming in embarrassment, you pulled back quickly and tried to hide your face in his chest with a muffled apology.

“That… wasn’t what I expected, but I’m certainly not complaining,” Paz rumbled in a lower voice than before. You felt his lips find you once more, this time to leave a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. “We’ll save next time for the morning when we’re both awake, yeah?”

He couldn’t see your smile, but you hoped the way you nodded against him and clutched him tighter to you was answer enough.

[bobafetts-princess]

The Hunters and the Hunted (Chapter 2)

Pairings: Din Djarin x Reader x Boba Fett x Paz Vizsla (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: This is dead filth y’all. Creampie, throat fucking, choking, dirty talk, a little aftercare, fingering, oral (fem receiving) I think that’s all??? Idk lemme know if I missed something!

A/N: Yaaaa this is trash bc I am trash! I live by the fancast Winston Duke as Paz! If y’all are interested in a chapter 3, let me know! I hope you like this ❤️

Find Chapter 1 here!

“I thought Mandalorians couldn’t remove their helmets?” You questioned, once Boba punched in the coordinates.

“We can’t,” Paz and Din answered simultaneously.

“I’m not a Mandalorian, the armor belonged to my father,” Boba supplied, spinning in his chair to face you, now that the ship was in space. “Now how about that kiss?” He said, fixing you with a wicked grin and mischievous eyes.

Rolling your own eyes, you unbuckled and stood, crossing the small cockpit and leaned in, capturing his lips with your own in a soft kiss. Boba’s hands came up to cup your face, deepening the kiss just slightly before pulling away and slapping you on the ass lightly.

“Go freshen up. My quarters are down the hall and to the left. There’s a fresher in the back and I’ll grab you some clothes.” He said, nodding down the same hall they walked down when they placed you in the cell.

You nodded, stopping to kiss the helmets of both Paz and Din, with the former gripping you by the hips and the latter grabbing the outsides of your thighs. You whispered a thank you to them both, garnering a small nod before you walked where Boba had pointed you.

You took your time in the fresher, washing down your body with the soap Boba had in there. It smelled masculine and slightly spicy and you took a deep inhale with every pass over your body. You soaked under the warm spray, letting the stressful events of the day wash off of you. You were free, you could do whatever you wanted. You could settle down, explore the galaxy, live a life. Smiling, you turned off the water, finding clothes just outside of the fresher door for you and you pulled them on. They were tighter than your usual clothes, forming to your body in the best way. You turned in the mirror admiring the way the trousers clung to your hips and ass. The tunic was low cut, showing off your collarbones and neck. Making your way back to the cockpit, you noticed there was food and water sitting in the spare seat.

“The clothes fit! Here I was worrying they would be too small.” Boba said, but the glint in his eyes made you think that’s exactly what he was hoping for.

“My partner in crime,” and you felt like he meant that literally, “Fennec is about the same size as yourself, so I snatched some clothes she left here.”

“There’s food and water, you haven’t eaten since this morning so I’m sure you’re hungry.” Din remarked and you sat down, eating and basking in the comfortable silence.

“So where are we going?” You prompted after you finished your food, settling down in the chair.

“Well Tattooine first, make sure there’s no one tailing us, and then you’re free to go wherever you want, Princess.” Boba said, sunk down in his chair.

“Is that where you live?”

“Yes, I have control of the Hutt compound and we’ll be safe there.” You hoped safe for forever, honestly. “Now, the ship is on autopilot and I’m going to lay down. An old man needs his rest. Are you planning on joining me, little one?” He said, standing and leaning against his captains chair, giving you a sly wink. You took a second to appreciate his strong, thick build. Smaller than Paz but thicker than Din, he was definitely a looker. Then you realized what he asked and your mouth dropped.

“Boba.” Came the sharp bark from Din.

“Don’t be a downer, Mandalorian. You should have felt her kiss me, I don’t think she’d opposed to spending the night in my bed.” You flushed because he wasn’t wrong but you also got the distinct impression that they discussed this while you were showering and changing. Din turned to you speaking softly.

“You don’t have to, we don’t expect this from you because we helped you get away.”

Nodding, you turned towards Paz, who had yet to speak, but you weren’t really sure what you planned on saying.

“Don’t look at me, pretty girl. I wouldn’t turn down having you in my bed for the night either. But I would never make you warm my bed or my cock.” His words shot through you and you swallowed thickly.

“How about you, Mando?” You asked, using the nickname Boba had used.

“How about me what?”

“Don’t play stupid, you know what I’m asking.” You snapped, a quick flash of bravado under stress.

He sighed heavily, answering you.

“Of course I wouldn’t be opposed to you spending the night in my bed, but I do not expect it of you.”

“So you all want to sleep with me?” You asked, looking at all three men in turn as they nodded. You sat back, taking this moment in, knowing you would never get the opportunity to do something like this again, so you blurted the words out before you could regret them. “Would you all like to sleep with me tonight?” There was a sharp intake of breath as they considered your words.

“You mean, watch you get stuffed full of cock?” Boba said, voicing your thoughts. “I’ll never turn down a pretty girl wanting to take cock.” Din simply nodded and Paz was already palming himself at the thought.

“I guess that answers my question, so uhh, who wants to start?” To your surprise, Din moved first, picking you up and taking large paces towards Boba’s quarters. You heard the shuffling of feet and thought the other two were following close behind, confirmed when Din dumped you on the bed and three figures loomed over you. Boba moved first, crushing your mouth in a searing kiss as other hands worked off your trousers and underclothes, spreading your thighs.

“Do you have an implant?” Din asked.

“Yes!” You told them and two gloved fingers swiped through your folds before circling your clit in short, rapid strokes. Boba’s tongue tangled with yours, breaking the kiss only to remove your tunic and bindings. His ungloved fingers found your nipples, tweaking them into stiff peaks. One gloved finger found its way into your slicked entrance and you arched at the feeling.

Paz’s helmet appeared near your shoulder, speaking lowly in your ear.

“If that feels good, pretty girl, imagine how good our cocks will feel in you.” A groan rose in your throat at his words and the finger in your pussy started moving slowly. Boba’s lips left yours, moving down your neck as the finger inside you pulled out. You whined, reaching for some sort of friction but the explanation came quick.

“Want to feel you, mesh’la.” Dins modulated voice said, strained from arousal. He shifted to pull of his gloves before sinking a finger back into you.

“What does that mean? Mesh’la? You keep saying it and I don’t know what it means.” You panted, Boba’s lips biting a trail to one nipple as Paz’s fingers tortured the other.

“It means beautiful in our native tongue.” Paz explained, shifting to pull off his gloves as well, pulling a nipple taut between his large fingers. Your breath was coming in pants, between Boba’s teeth, Paz’s fingers, and Din sinking two fingers into your core, you were quickly coming undone.

“Don’t make her come yet.” Boba barked and you actually whined. “Want her to come on my tongue. Now move, let me taste.” He snapped at them, voice demanding. “Sit in the chairs and watch.” He instructed and the two Mandalorians grudgingly obliged. They plopped into chairs that had been pulled up next to the bed, and pulled their hard cocks out of their trousers.

“Now, Princess, let me give you what they can’t.” He said, kissing and nipping his way down your body, taking time to soothe over your bruises and leaving you panting for more. He finally settled between your thighs, broad shoulders opening you wide. He sunk his teeth into the soft skin of your inner thigh and you arched, hands finding your own breasts. You peaked your nipples and the seated hunters groaned watching you, hands stroking themselves.

Boba tormented you, ghosting over your center, hot breath teasing. Without warning, he dove into your pussy face first, his hot tongue licking and torturing. A low, heady moan ripped from your throat and you threw your head back into the bed and Boba stopped.

“Look at me while I eat your pussy, Princess, I want to watch you come undone.” His words shot straight through your core, and you sat up on your elbows to watch him. He leaned back in as soon as you did, tongue swirling around your clit and two thick fingers thrust into you, starting a slow, toe-curling, deliberate pace. Your moans got louder as you got closer and Boba stroked that spot inside you relentlessly.

“You gonna come, pretty girl?” Paz grunted, hand stroking an impressive length. A whiny yes left your throat and Boba added a third finger at the same time as he sucked on your clit and you snapped. You gushed around him, screaming your release as you watched him lap up everything you gave. He crawled up your body, mouths meeting in a clash of teeth and tongues as his cock brushed against you and you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Ready to take me babygirl?” You nodded, grinding for more friction.

“Why do you get to fuck her first?” Din sneered, hand pumping.

“Because I made her come first.” Boba answered simply, sitting back on his heels and pulling your hips towards him. Din mumbled something about not having the chance but otherwise kept quiet. Boba started pushing in, his thickness stretching you deliciously.

“Been a while baby girl? You’re so fucking tight.” You nodded, focusing as he sank in inch by deliciously thick inch until he was fully seated inside you and you both groaned at the fullness. He wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you to him and shuffling on the bed, gently laying you back down with your head hanging off so you were looking upside down at the two Mandalorians stroking themselves.

“Want to take cock from both ends, Princess?” He asked and you nodded as Din rose from his position and stepped up to you. His cock was longer than Boba’s, but not as thick and you knew it would be a challenge to take him down your throat. Boba began to pull out as Din began to push in, equally as slow.

“Ready Princess? I’m not gonna be gentle.”

Boba warned after pulling out and pushing in a few times, helping your walls stretch. You couldn’t answer though, you had a mouthful of Mandalorian cock so your hand traveled down your body, hitting tight circles on your clit as a response. You heard a low growl and you transcended into another realm of pleasure as Boba let loose. His pace was rough and precise, he knew exactly the way to angle himself to pleasure you most.

Din was much more gentle, your throat not as forgiving as your pussy, but he still pushed your limits. You could just barely see Paz, the brown skin of his hands stroking himself and his visor locked on your face. You started moving against Din, following his strokes and taking him deeper each time. Saliva began to drip from your mouth when Din pulled out, and your face was covered in it. Boba’s strokes, long, rough, and deep, hit a spot inside of you that would have had you screaming if you weren’t otherwise entrenched.

His fingers traveled the length of your body, groping your breasts and pinching your nipples, before laying a sharp slap to them both. You arched, groaning deeply around the cock in your throat.

You heard a low curse from above you and knew it was Din, who was softly rubbing your throat. You could only imagine what he was seeing, stretched out and stuffed from both ends. You wondered what your throat looked like from his angle, bulging around him and your eyes closed in bliss at the idea. Your body relaxed, and you became nothing more than a glorified cock-sleeve, but you felt that slow burn in your belly as another orgasm approached.

Din and Boba took and took from your body, but expert fingers swirled tight, precise, harsh, circles around your clit and you felt your body tighten as you got closer. They both bottomed out at the same time, Boba hitting that spot that made you see stars and the taut chain snapped. You came hard, a scream deep in your throat. You hummed around Din as you came down, deliriously happy. Boba buried himself to the hilt moments later and spilled inside you, soft curses dropping from his mouth.

He gently pulled out at the same time Din did and you knew you were wrecked, face covered in your own saliva. Soft hands gripped the back of your head, helping you up gently and you cracked an eye to see Boba standing there with a wet rag to wipe you off with, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“Don’t. I like her like this.” Came the sharp command as Din set you onto your knees, facing Paz and Boba. Din lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly until he was seated fully.

“Pussy feels good mesh’la.” He grunted, starting a brutal pace that had you gasping, eyes closed as your own spit dried on your face. His fingers threaded through your hair, pulling your head back as his hips snapped into you. Soft moans dropped from your lips, punctuated by whispers of his name as you came close to the edge again. Suddenly you were hauled up against him, cold bite of beskar on your back as his fingers gripped your chin.

“You should see yourself, mesh’la. All fucked out for us. You like this, don’t you? Being used by us to get off?” His words hit deep inside your core and you whimpered a yes. The hand that wasn’t gripping your chin traveled down your body, circling your clit. You had been close, but those calloused fingers and dirty words pushed you over the edge and you came, hard. Din growled, shoving you back down into the bed as his hips snapped into yours and his modulated voice growled dirty promises. He laid a sharp smack to each cheek and then buried deep inside you, mixing his release with Bobas.

Soft hands rolled you onto your back, cupping your face before wiping it with something warm. Once your eyes were clean, you opened them to see Paz’s visor looking down on you.

“Like to see you ruined like this mesh’la, but I want to watch your eyes roll back into your head when I make you cum.” You sighed at his words while he maneuvered you to a position he liked. He laid one large palm on your inner thigh, pinning it against the bed and hooking the other leg over his shoulder as he began pushing into you. Even after the bed acrobatics that had already been performed, he was so large that he still stretched you. The hand that wasn’t pinning you to the bed wrapped around your rib cage, right underneath your breasts as he started this slow, devastating pace.

He hit all the right spots inside of you, brushing over the spot that made you see stars every time he thrust in. The slow pace burned your body up and you were sitting on the precipice of another orgasm before you knew it. His pace sped only marginally as he felt you fluttering around him and the hand around your ribs moved to your throat. The hand pinning you to the bed moved to circle your clit and your breath was coming in hard gasps.

“Next time we’ll split you on our cocks, stuffing you full from all angles. Would you like that, pretty girl?” A panted yes left your lips as you clenched harder around him.

“You gonna come, mesh’la?” He grunted and you whimpered a yes.

“Then beg.” His words took a moment to sink in and in that moment he tightened the grip around your throat.

“Please.” Came the weak plea from your throat and his hand tightened again. “Please Paz.” You begged, slightly stronger this time, but it wasn’t enough for him as his fingers tightened again. It finally clicked that he wanted you to really beg for it, so you did. Strong whimpered pleas kept his fingers tight, while weak pleas caused him to tighten again.

“Please, Paz. I’ll be so good Paz, please let me come for you. I want to come all over your big cock while you fuck me, please.” Your voice was hoarse and his hand was tight enough that you were starting to see spots behind your eyes. Your fingers scrabbled up his arm, nails digging into the soft skin on the inside of his biceps.

“Cum.” Came the short growl and you did, eyes rolling back in your head. Your vison burst with colors before going momentarily black as your dripping cunt choked his cock with the same force that his hand was choking your throat. You faintly heard a roar and then Paz’s cock touched places inside of you that no one had before as he released into you. His hand released the pressure and you found yourself floating emotionally as you came down from your high. He stroked lightly, helmet near your ear whispering praises about what a good girl you were. Once you were fully back with the living you had one simple remark.

“Wow.”

And you heard the rumble of laughs from all three men, two modulated and one clear chuckle. You moved to stand on jelly legs, but Boba’s voice stopped you.

“Where ya going, little one? I said I wanted you to warm my cock and my bed.” You looked up to see him laying in the center of the large bed, dressed in underclothes and a loose tunic.

“C’mere.” He instructed to you and you couldn’t help but obey him.

Crawling up the length of the bed, you snuggled into his waiting arms and stifled a groan at the heat radiating from him. You threw a leg over his hips and he rubbed a comforting hand down your back. He turned and told the Mandalorians to get comfortable, the bed was big enough for everyone. You heard the clanking of armor and then the bed dipped behind you as Din’s hand gripped at your hips and his beskar helmet bit into the skin of your shoulder.

“You did good baby girl.” He cooed and you basked into the praise. You felt a hand curl around the calf thrown lazily over Boba and lifted your head slightly to see Paz laying down, chest still heaving from his efforts. Lips found your hair and a rough timbre reached your ears.

“Get some sleep, Princess, we’ll go for round two in the morning.” Paz promised softly and you nodded, falling into a deep slumber as soon as he finished his sentence.

Tags: @tibbietibbs @keeper-of-the-sarlacc-pit @jedi-and-clones @sammiesweet @auty-ren @ahoeformando

Masterlist | Taglist

[boomtowngirl]

It’s missing Paz Hours

I personally think he’d be a big softie with his s/o and would love to just shed the armor and cuddle when he’s on the covert

Special thanks to @firstofficerwiggles for inspiring me to finish this piece 💕

[stars-trash-18]

Home 4

That was a long hiatus than I as expecting, but I’m finally settled into my new home and schedule so I found time to finish this chapter. You know the rules, message me with mistakes. Ps. First time making a post on a tablet so IDK if the format will be off. @imjustdanna @misguidedandbeguiled @cosmicbreathe @justnat15

Edit: Finally got my computer back so I edited this chapter and am working on another

It had been years since the war had ended and yet you still remembered every detail. From the flashes of blaster fire and the screams of soldiers just wanting to have freedom from the empire. You could still feel the burns from where the flames licked your leg after your transport had been shot down, and yet you still dragged the limb as you hobbled to the trenches. The mud enveloping your boots as you plopped down and began to quickly work your way across the injured, stuffing blaster holes with gauze to staunch the bleeding and slapping a bacta patch where you could spare. Lucky thing the stormtroopers had a lousy shot and most of the snipers had been moved to the other lines.

You could feel your breath coming out in warbled croaks from all the ash coating them and heard a child’s scream among the ashes. You swiveled around trying to find where the hell the sound was coming from only to have a massive weight drop onto your chest.

“Zaza wake up it’s market day!” Your son screeched, sitting his weight onto your chest and abruptly pulling you from your nightmare. You groaned but plastered on a smile looking at Attila’s sweet smiling face, you could never stay mad for long.

You rolled over and trapped Attila under your weight and attacked his sides with your tickling fingers making him squirm and shriek.

“What have I told you about waking me up like that kiddo,” you teased, pausing to allow him a chance to breathe and answer.

“Not to, unless in an emergency,'' he replied, wrapping his arms around his sides to try and protect them from another onslaught.

“It was an emergency, Paz is here and he wanted me to wake you up so we could get going,” Attila admonished, scrambling from the bed to stand in the doorway, “Now get up, I want to watch the parade come in,” he yelled again before racing through the house.

You gave a deep groan before finally rolling out of bed, grabbing the clothes you had set out the day beforehand. You had forgotten the favor the Armorer had asked of you a few days prior. You were surprised however to see that Paz had come earlier than you had thought, making you lace your boots up quickly to catch up and help him get everything loaded onto the wagon for transport.

You grabbed your thermos of coffee and the box of lunch you had packed the day before, skipping meals was not something you did or allowed in your home. Food was too good for that. Slapping your hand on the door frame on your way out, letting the symbol of your old squadron brush your fingertips before you followed the sounds of your son asking every question under the sun.

“Mr.Paz how is this made?” He inquired, holding up a brightly colored, well embroidered blanket. You moved to scold Attila for barraging your guest with questions but Paz spoke before you could. The man seemed to shrink under the gaze of your child as he took the blanket from Attila’s hands to gently fold.

“ This blanket tells a story, a mother typically stitches it for her young about the history of her family. These darker colors and embroidery tell of hardship, while these brighter colors and embroidery tell of peace or battles won,” he explained, trailing a hand over the different parts of the blanket. He had Attila wrapping up in his story, his eyes soaking up every movement and word Paz made.

“However this blanket tells the story of Mandalorians as a whole, our history and creed are embedded in this blanket in hopes that if a Mandalorian ever sees it they’ll know we’re out here and they’re not alone, this section speaks of The Way, or the oaths that we make to never let anyone but our family see our faces so that we can remain safe and honor the Manda,” Paz finished, tapping his helmet to show your son his own Oath.

“That’s so COOL, zaza wears a necklace and they tell me it’s because they took an oath, so I guess that’s their helmet,” he blurted, tracing one of the intricate patterns. At that you decide to step in, kids are the most honest beings in the galaxy and before you know it he'll give away your recipes.

“That’s enough Attila, go get the twins ready to hitch up while I finish here with mister Paz,” you chastised. Watching him run off towards the stalls with the Kybucks. They were two of the most expensive creatures you owned next to your varactyl but they were well worth the money.

“I’m sorry for getting here so early, you didn’t specify a time and I figured since the town is a good 2 hours from here you’d want to leave early,” he said, tying the beautiful blanket next to several others.

“It’s alright Paz, I’m sorry my son was bothering you with questions, his curiosity gets the best of him at times,” you sighed, setting your essentials down in the driver’s seat and begin loading some of your supplies in. Paz let out a genuine laugh, one that was deep and rumbled through the air, but it was a pleasant rumble.

“It’s perfectly fine, an Adi’kas curiosity is one of my favorite things about them, it shows that they have a hunger to learn and that you’re raising him to learn about others,” he quipped, helping you lift a heavy box filled with bottles of milk from your dairy cattle. You briefly rested your hand on his forearm looking him directly in his visor trying to find where his eyes might be.

“Thank you Paz, truly,” you said before moving to the harnesses to help Attila.

-time skip cause I’m lazy-

You’d been on the road for over an hour listening to Attila point out various places to Paz as you steered the cart towards town and took small sips of your coffee. But Attila soon fell asleep curled up on top of the blankets Paz brought and you sat in silence with the giant man next to you.

The silence didn’t last long before Paz leaned into you to catch your attention, jerking his head towards the Kybucks.

“I’ve never seen Kybucks used for pulling carts, only with single riders,” he said. Watching the two twin Kybucks as they knocked their heads together at the sound of someone paying them attention. You grinned before clicking your tongue to get them to pick up the pace slightly.

“Because no one thought they’d be good at it, but when you get two who work well together they can pull weight better than Dewbacks learned first hand in the war,” you said with a smile. Glancing back at Attila.

“Attila mentioned something about it before you walked out. I figured you had some training with how you stood up against me and my clansmen,” Paz leaned back in his seat, his words coming out like a sigh as he visibly relaxed.

“Yeah some training never leaves you, so you better remember what I’m about to say before we get to the market if you want your clansmen to make a decent profit,” you snapped, taking on the persona of your drill sergeant. Paz only tilted his helmet inquisitively at you, which only cooled your fake temper.

“Your clan leader probably already told you, but on this planet we work with some of the other craftsmen, it’s the reason I don’t refine much of my goods, because somebody buys the leather off me and they take it to some good friends of mine who in return give me a small percentage,” you explained, remembering the lecture from when you first started going to the markets.

“Your clan seems to be pretty good at textiles, so I’ll introduce you to the Grondomire’s they’ll be able to start sending you customers with their undyed linen, cotton, and wools and they’ll make the deal because A) Mandalorian dyes are some of the best and B) they hate dyeing it themselves because it takes too much time,” you listed, turning around to see what else the Mandalorians had brought, warily eyeing the small amount of weapons.

“People don’t really use weapons around here, only for shooting vermin, your clan could make a killing making good farm equipment so I’ll also introduce you to the Mortarsons they own a few of the mines and would be more than happy to supply you with ore so long as you supply them with finished mining equipment, again they’ll make the deal because of how good mandalorian smithing is and they can save money from importing off world,” you quipped, steering the Kybucks through the city’s main gate and past the residential district.

Paz seemed to perk up a bit, “you’re people don’t like talking with off worlders do they?” He queried. You only nodded your head to let him know he can continue.

“So how will they respond to my people, we’re more reclusive and mandalorians are more largely known for mercenary work,” he furthered, leaning one of his elbows on his knee, first staring at you before swiveling his head around the passing streets. He acted like most of the your fellow veterans, wary of the openness and looking for danger that isn’t there.

“It’ll take getting used to of course, but if you show them that you’re not here for mercenary work and that you truly only want to trade and settle here they’ll be more welcoming, that’s why I agreed to bring you here; because I can tell your clan wants some peace and the best way to do that is by making sure others don’t see you as a threat, My friend’s know wouldn’t charter my land to just anyone,” you replied, resting a hand on his open knee. He surprised you by gently resting his over yours, lightly squeezing it.

“Thank you, burc’ya our creed favors honor through battle yes, but it also tells us that we gain honor through the loyalty to our clan and surviving, it is something that not many Aruetii know of our people because we keep our creed sacred, but you’ve become a tomad, an ally,” he admitted. It cause your heart to stutter for a moment seeing how he showed that chink in his armor, a window that showed you that he may be a warrior but he cared so deeply for his clan that he’d allow you to see things not others would. All because you helped them and didn’t turn them away like many have done since the Great Purge.

But your tender moment came to an abrupt halt when Attila plopped himself in your lap squealing.

“Zaz we’re here! And Andronica is here too,” he yelled, pointing to his Twi’lek friend from school. Her mother setting up her stall next to your usual place, and when Roni set eyes on Attila she quickly made her way over to you. You pulled the Kybucks to a halt, handing the reins to Paz and hauled Attila over your lap and onto the ground, giving him a small bag of credits and his hat.

“Strange how you slept all the way here but the moment we walk through the gates you’re wide awake, you know the rules son stick to em’ and you can run off with Roni all you like,” you admonished. Ruffling his hair for a moment before he darted off into the market with Roni close to his heels. Their shrieks of delight floating into the still early air.

Paz seemed skeptical at first, his eyes seeming to trail the two kids far into the crowd before you gave him a nudge to relax. You both dismount the cart and start to assemble the stall, you directing Paz on where to set his wares on occasion. It was going to be a long day.

[remmysbounty]

Could I perchance request the prompt

“Marry me”

“What?”

With Paz and a side of fluff? 🥺

omg yesssss!!!! I can’t believe I haven’t thought of this yet 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 be prepared to just have Paz staring at you with heart eyes under his blue helmet.

You kept one eye on the holochrome as the other remained stuck on the entrance of your shop.

Paz should have been back by now.

The bell attached to the door jingled softly and you found a smile growing on your lips as your head snapped to look at who had entered only for it to disappear completely.

Bounty hunters.

There seemed to be only two of them and from the way they strutted into your shop they seemed to believe that they held all the power in this situation.

You schooled your features and rolled your shoulders back just as Paz had taught you many nights ago. They didn’t pay much attention to you behind the counter so you took the chance to slyly grab ahold of the private comm Paz had gifted you and sent a short message. Just three dots.

You wouldn’t need to tell Paz any words, because those three dots were enough to tell him the situation. Trouble.

Your eyes looked up at the clock and then glanced towards the bounty hunters as they seemed to wait for you to act. They swaggered about the shop floor, with their chests puffed up and their hands nowhere near those blasters. Only when they looked up they both found themselves with a blaster to their face.

They laughed, and your resolve steeled. You lowered one of the blasters purposefully shooting right next to one of the hunter’s foot.

“I don’t know what you two want, but I recommend that you leave,” you raised the blaster back up to the hunter’s chest, “now.”

Clearly they weren’t expecting you to act, from the way they looked at one another with a hint of fear in their eye only to quickly return their eyes to you. You started up the other blaster, going to shoot the other hunter as they quickly fell on their own feet trying to get out of your shop.

The second the door closed, you rested the blasters on your counter and grabbed the com, turning it on as you brought it up to your ear, “Paz?”

You tried to ignore the slight waver your voice had as you waited for him to respond.

“You okay, mesh’la?” His gruff voice clearly showing his worry for you, “I’m almost there.”

You nodded your head before remembering that he couldn’t see you, “I’m fine, really... might have used some of what you taught me.”

The pride was obvious in his laugh and tone, “That’s good mesh’la, really good.”

“Were you able to meet up with Din?” Feeling yourself finally relax at hearing Paz’s voice, you started to clean up your shop so that you could close up when Paz arrived.

“Actually....” “what did you do Paz?” Your cheeky smile was obvious to the both of you.

You still found it funny when Paz got all embarrassed around you. It didn’t happen all the time but when it did, you couldn’t help but laugh.

Still you got no response from him, so you asked him the first possibility you had, “You asked him and his ad’ika to join us for dinner didn’t you?”

“How did you know, mesh’la?”

“I know you, Paz Vizsla. That’s how I know.”

He seemed to mutter something that not even the comm thought, and then he said two words that shocked you to the core, “Marry me.”

“What?”

You were so busy cleaning up the mess you’d caused in your shock that you didn’t hear the bell go off, or see Paz’s boots out of the corner of your eye. But then you heard him again, not through your comm but next to your ear, “Marry me, mesh’la?”

Your face shoot up as you came face to face with Paz’s blue helmet. You weren’t sure what to do but clearly Paz did. His gloveless hand came up to your face and cupped your check softly as you let yourself relax into his touch.

“Ner riduur,” he whispered, “I want to be able to call you that every day of the rest of our lives.”

You nodded slowly, tears falling down your face, not that you realized it until Paz wiped them away, “I want to be your riduur, Paz.”

He brought you into him, your chest hitting his armor, not that either of you cared.

You knew Din was standing outside the door, you could clearly see him, but from the way he peered at you and Paz you knew there was no way he’d come inside until Paz would tell him to. Suddenly, Paz brought the two of you up off the floor and you yelped as you tightened your hold on him, only for him to spin the two of you around.

“Paz!”

He stopped spinning slowly, “Yes, mesh’la?”

“I am really happy that we’re gonna get married, but can we at least let Din in now?”

Paz laughed, and grumbled slightly, as he let Din in without letting go off you.

You and Paz were getting married. You didn’t know when or where, but you two were getting married and just that thought filled you with a happiness and love you couldn’t believe you had for the blue tin man whose eyes continued to just watch you.

——

translations:

mesh’la: beautiful

ner riduur: my spouse/partner/wife/husband

——

Tin Man:  @captn-andor  @thewayofthemandalorian   @magpie-to-the-morning  @magicrowiswritingstuff  @booksmusicteaandanimals  @dinthisisthe-wayson  @littlemisspascal  @din-damn-djarin  @cleversturmhond  @dincrypt  @ohwaitimthewriter  @poestardust  @dindjarindiaries  @dindja  @dindjarinsghost  @reluctant-mandalore  @pascalpanic @princessxkenobi @smoldjarin @spideysimpossiblegirl

[mandadoration]

why does paz calling me pretty thing make my knees w e a k

“Pretty thing,” is what Paz calls you the first time he sees you. You’re a fierce little thing, all teeth and nails as you fight to get out of his iron grip on the collar of your jacket. He’s showing you your puck, a bust bearing your displeased face rotating slowly, but you knock it out of his hands and try to kick him. He laughs in your face, a low, amused sound that makes your ears burn, even more so when he wrenches your hands in front of you with a bruising grip (and Maker, his hand wraps around your entire wrist no problem) to slap cuffs on you and push you along to cash you in. His hand is warm and steady against your back and you hate the way his handprint sears itself into your back.

“Pretty thing,” he says when he sees you limp towards him, where he’s been waiting for you to emerge from the dilapidated building. You want to correct him that no, you’re not pretty, you’re dangerous, and you just killed at least 30 people with a well-timed gas leak and detonator, no thanks to him. You don’t even want to know why he’s here if these are, well, were the people that wanted you stuck in carbonite to display as a trophy in their living room. Getting away is the best course of action. There’s soot and ash and blood all over you, shrapnel in your legs and ice in your heart, but Paz Vizla catches you in his arms when that endless sleep starts pulling at you. 

“Pretty thing,” he groans, when he’s sinking you down onto his cock, hands around your waist and ever mindful of your healing leg. You don’t know how you got here, here in this compromising position and vulnerable and ripe for the picking. Your head is thrown back in ecstasy as you scrabble for purchase on the smooth expanse of his beskar, a moan ripping itself from your throat as you feel as though you’re being split in half. It’s dark in the little safehouse you had woken up in, and so, so cold but Paz is warm and his heat is threatening to burn you up from the inside. Paz stops being gentle with you three thrusts in, and his hips buck up to meet you halfway as you bounce in his lap. 

“Pretty thing,” he coos, when past grief and long-ago tragedies tear at your heart and you’re screaming until your throat feels raw. Hot tears spill over your eyes and stain your shirt as you fight back, wanting away from Paz and away from his burning heat, but he’s far stronger than you, and he’s pulling you into his arms despite how his limbs are too awkward and too unused to any sort of affection, giving and receiving. The insults you spit at him, the vitriol and poison dripping from your tongue do nothing to him, and you hate, hate, hate how he already knows what it means to be something to you. 

“Pretty thing,” he sighs, out of the blue when you look up at him with the sun shining and warming your skin, hair pulled away from your face as you show him a small trinket at a marketplace. Souvenirs are not what you are here for, but he lets you dart around and admire the luxuries you might have indulged in where you are richer, safer, less hardened and more whole, more of a person that might have been than the person you are. He can see how you’re lighter than you have in years, maybe ever, having some security and some trust that he will always remind you is unwarranted. You think that maybe… Maybe you could afford to be invested, to have someone to think about and come back to, and Paz thinks that you’re someone worth protecting.

“Pretty thing,” he murmurs, almost absentmindedly as you look out the window to gaze up at the stars. But there’s clear purpose behind his words and his gaze stays strong on you despite the way your head snaps to look at him. There’s something different about the way he says that little term of endearment, like instead of saying them about you he’s saying them to you for once. A gnarled hand threatens to squeeze your heart and turn it to dust, reaching between your ribs and scratching at your lungs, but he tilts his head at you in a particular way, and it’s all it takes for the hand to retreat back. 

And “pretty thing” are his last words to you, gasped out through bloodied teeth as his helmet lays a few feet away, denting and crackling with spent electricity, his body a dead weight in your arms as you try in vain to staunch the wound, blood running warm and wet and red, red, red through your fingers. A dirty glove comes up to brush the sweat-soaked hair from your forehead, to smooth out the worry between your brows and trail down your cheek, and you stifle a sob as even that small motion drains the energy from him. This isn’t how it was supposed to go, his eyes shouldn’t be boring into you despite the haze clouding his sight and you weren’t supposed to look back as the tears blur your vision. Ichor is dripping down into his hair and a cold panic seizes you, but he manages to drag your blood-slick hand up to cup his face, and this is the first and last time you can see Paz Vizla’s smile. 

“My pretty thing.”

—

Forever Tag: @mabelleen @mando-vibes @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore @mudhornmando  @jokersdoll @creamysacrilege @blondecity @satans-tongues @skinny-macncheese @mrsparknuts @eupphoriaaa @talesfromtheguild @magichandthing

[certifiedskywalker]

I Don’t Care - Paz Vizla

Anonymous said: I loved you paz vizla story!! Can we have another reader one? Your writing was SOOOO gooood for that one so I just had to request another!

AN: This is a Mandalorian!Reader fic! I hope I did the big blue boy justice!

Paz Vizla is rude, cold, and reckless. But around you, his ‘I-don’t-care’ attitude melts away. 

You couldn’t see who drew the first vibroblade but the moment you heard the familiar hum, your body tensed. Muscles you hadn’t used in ages readied to launch into action. Your teeth clacked together with grit, the sound filling your ears as it resounded in your beskar helmet. Battle had hardened your bones and it had been too long since your last skirmish.

You were hungry for it.

Before you could get to it, dive right into the fray, the fight came to an end. The Armorers smooth voice rung out with the words of the Creed.

“This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” you echoed, letting your braced shoulders fall. Curled fists relaxed into open palms and you had to bite your tongue to keep from grumbling. You stood still as the others in front of you watched the Armorer and Din Djarin. As you were trying to listen out for what they were saying, the sound of heavy footfalls reached your ears. 

The crowd of your tribe, fellow Mandalorians, parted slightly then, suddenly, all at once to make way for the hulking form of Paz Vizla. A smile spread under your helmet and you too started to push out of the crowd. Not long after you started moving, you could sense Paz’s presence behind you. Shadows cast in front of you, bulky and large, only confirmed the feeling. 

Finally, you and Paz were free from the gathering mass of people. Heat from the forge trailed you both as you filed into the main tunnel. The smell of it made its way to your tongue, tarnished the taste buds with steel and sweat. Flames and metal were your only memory of home.

“This is coward’s way of the Mandalore,” Paz snapped when you both were far enough away from the beskar forge. “Djarin is a mercenary wearing our armor.”

“Paz,” you looked past him, to the side to eye at the cluster of people still lingering around the forge. “Careful.”

“I’m done being careful. I’m going up.” 

Your eyes widened and your felt your heart lurch in your chest. Warningly, scared, you whispered, “Paz, that is not-”

“I don’t care.”

His words were cold, harsh, and unnerving. His words set you on edge, teetering on a cliff, balancing in the darkness of a night sky. If you fell, the plunge could kill you. If you stayed, you never would get the chance to fly. You took a collecting breath and crossed your arms over your chest.

“You should care,” you fired back, “because I’m going with you.”

Paz jerked his head back and you could only imagine his wide eyes glued to you. Smug and closed-lipped, a grin spread across your features; one that Paz could not see. Part of you wished he could. Maybe then the words lodged in your chest could be said easily. Maybe then, finally, Paz could truly see you, in the way you longed for him to see you.

“Let’s go then.”

Before you could respond, Paz was already making his way towards an intersection of tunnels. You followed after him quietly as to not alert the others to your intentions. With each step, your excitement, your nerves, grew. It had been a long time since you had stepped out from the sewers, too long. You were just hungry for freedom as you were a fight.

So you followed Paz outside, into the dusk of Nevarro. 

His blue armor looked dark against the orange-pink sky. Not as dark as his silhouette, which resembled deep pitch. Your eyes were glued to him so intensely, you nearly tripped up to the surface. To catch yourself, you reached out and gripped Paz’s shoulder. Instincts, hardened through traditional Mandalorian training, the same training you had endured, kicked in. Paz reached and wrapped a thick arm around your waist, pulling you to him. 

“Watch it,” he said gruffly. Something in his tone was teasing though.

You rolled your eyes and punched your fist lightly against his chest plate. The beskar elements clanged together like tiny echoes from the forge. He caught your wrist, his gauntlet knocking against the metal on your forearm. You both stayed still, your body almost completely flush with his. It was sight you had longed for. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you could feel them intently focused on you.

“That’s not very nice,” he said lowly. You felt your stomach twist at the deep sound. Perhaps Paz seeing you was something you were not yet ready for. Wanting to relieve the feeling, the tension, you pulled away slightly.

“Spar?” You knew that Paz could sense your nerves. Your voice made it clear at the sky above you. The smell of ash and smoke was getting to you. Or perhaps it was how close Paz was to you that made your head feel light. “Paz, I-”

“No,” he replied softly. Even with his helmet’s voice modulator, there was something terribly gentle, human, in his voice. “I want to see you.”

You tried to think back to the last time Paz had been so tender, so careful. 

It could have been when you were both foundlings in the Clone Wars. You could still remember the boy you met all those years ago. Or maybe it was on your first few missions together. He had saved your life and you had saved him; you worked together well. How long had it been since you had been so close to him? You had been starved of Paz’s softness, the caring nature he only showed sparingly. Just as you were hungry for a fight, for fresh air, you yearned to see Paz and for Paz to see you.

“Paz, we’re out in the open. Anyone can-”

“I don’t care.”

Unlike the first time the phrase left his mouth, this time it was desperate. The arm Paz had around you waist slipped away and, for a moment, you were scared that you were going to lose him. So you reached out, gloved hands gripping his chest plate. Instead of falling away from you, Paz lifted his hands to yours only to move them upwards. Up and up until your gloves rested on the sides of his blue helmet. Your breath hitched at the touch.

“You care,” you whispered, find your voice, “I know you.”

Paz let out a small grunt as he lifted his hands to your helmet. There was a silent, mutual agreement between you in that moment. Then, and in the next moment as you and Paz lifted each other’s helmets off your heads. It was like a breath of fresh air.

Literally, it was. Nearly as gentle as Paz’s touch, a breeze kissed the skin of your cheeks, then your nose, then, finally, your forehead. Relief, it was a relief. Then you saw him.

“Paz.” His name come out in a whimper as you met his bright eyes. 

Carefully, you both let the other’s helmets fall into the sand. Nevarro, it’s sands, it’s heat, everything, faded away until all you saw, all you cared about, was Paz. His sharp features seemed to call your name. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.  

His brows, his chin, coaxed your hands into motion. Even his own hands gripped you, pulled you close. His jaw, and his lips: “Y/N.”

Your hands found their way to his thick neck and you leaned up towards him. He met you in the middle, his nose knocking against yours softly. Paz’s hands tightened on your waist as his lips met with yours. Sweat, he tasted like sweat and something sweet. He parted your lips with his and deepened the kiss until you were so close your chest plates clanged together. 

The sound made you smile into the kiss. Slowly, you pulled away. Your smile turned into a grin, one that Paz could see; one that you would only ever show to him. 

A sudden shout down the way, most likely a fight breaking out near the cantina, made you jump. Nerves flooded your system and you tore your gaze from Paz’s. “We should go, before someone-.”

“No,” Paz whispered, pinching your chin between his thumb and finger to pull your eyes back to his. “I don’t care who sees.”

He pulled your lips back to his and your eyes closed on instinct. In the dark behind your eyelids you saw a future. A future with Paz, where he could kiss you like this whenever he, whenever you wanted. That was the way you wanted to go. That was the future you wanted to have and share with the man you love.

[starfirette]

Every Which Way : Chapter Two

The Way To Nevarro

➡️a/n: a new series! Woohoo! Shoutout to  https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/ for inspiring the names of the people and planet. There is possible false information regarding Mandalorian culture, so don’t bitch to me about it.

➡️ prev chapter found on masterlist

➡️Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader | attempted murder | arranged marriage | love triangle kinda | slow burn romance | mild smut | angst to fluff | strangers to lovers | word count: 7,237

➡️ JOIN THE TAGLIST  | NEXT CHAPTER >> !

Mando’s only command is to stay with him at all times. 

He did not want you to wander or stray from his side.

You felt jittery with excitement. You agreed to all of his terms knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to survive without him. You can’t read, write, or even spell, so how could you make it on this planet? 

Mando explained before you two left the ship that Nevarro is a planet of a bounty congregation that calls themselves The Guild. You know that means at least one person here will have heard about the missing servant girl from Aniri. Mando explained further that while he is a member of the guild, he is first and foremost a Mandalorian warrior. 

You knew of Mandalorians, but not much else. 

Venturing out to the town, clad in the leather jacket (which Mando insisted you wear zipped over your plain shirt) and by Mando’s side, you asked him many questions. Where would you go, what would happen? You wanted to know. 

But mostly you wanted to talk. 

You’ve kept your inner dialogue “inner” for too long, now, and you’ve decided you will babble to your heart’s content. Mando didn’t seem to mind. He answered all of your questions truthfully and without judgment. He understands that you lacked a proper education and he doesn’t make you feel bad about it.

He’s easy to be around, despite his often awkward bouts of silence. 

His strides are a bit faster than you’re used to, so you catch yourself jogging just to keep up. 

Nevarro is very sandy, you have learned. At least it’s sandy out in the middle of nowhere . You wonder why Mando would have landed the ship so far away from wherever he’s taking you, but you don’t ask him to explain. He’s in charge, you tell yourself, and that’s perfectly okay with you. 

Your feet kicked up sand that irritates the back of your thighs. 

“We’re here,” Mando said. You’d stopped outside the entrance to the sandy village, guarded by two men in uniforms you’d never seen before. Mando exchanged a few words with them, explaining he had business with the guild. 

“Who’s the pretty lady?” One of them asked, pointing at you with a blaster. They have the same sort of modulated voice that Mando does. Your knees felt weak when you realized they’d been talking to you, looking at you. 

“No one you need to worry about,” Mando gruffly replied. 

Still, the man zeroed in on you. “Why don’t you let her answer me? Huh, gorgeous?” 

You are hardly able to stammer out a proper response. Your knees wobbled. Gorgeous. The word here is a compliment, but you’ve gone your entire life dodging compliments. Being ‘gorgeous’ wasn’t good, not ever, it only causes trouble. As the soldier’s helmet bobbed down then up, you could tell the rules of beauty might not be entirely different on Nevarro. 

“She’s mine,” Mando growled. “Are you letting us in or not?”

With a defeated shrug, the man let out both in. Mando ushered you with an arm around your waist, just barely there, not quite touching you, but enough to keep you safe. 

The Nevarro village is filled with the same sort of soldier who’d given you a hard time at the gateway. 

“Who are they?” You asked, careful to keep your eyes straight ahead. 

“Storm troopers,” Mando explained. “They’re all—,”

“Imperial?” You guessed. You tucked stray hair behind your ear. 

Mando made a confirming sound as he continued to usher you through the village. 

“I often worked events for the court when they entertained Imperial officers,” you mutter. “Are the rumors about the war true?” 

Mando nods. 

“Everything you’ve heard about the Empire is completely true,” he whispered in your ear. 

A sharp shiver rolled down your spine. You exhale a shaky breath. 

“Left here,” Mando instructed, taking you on a sudden turn. The alley slips into a steep slope, where at the end is a large dumpster positioned beside a little metal door. 

“Where are we going?” You finally asked, unable to contain your questions. 

“Just follow me,” Mando pressed as he kicked open the creaky door. 

You did as he asked, but with a sour feeling at the bottom of your stomach. 

Through the door is a tunnel that runs long with stone floors. You feel almost at home, in the most inappropriate of ways. 

“Where are we?”

“Underground,” Mando says. “I’m taking you to my people. They can protect you while I figure out what to do next.” He offers you a hand to help you maneuver between the jagged stone that scatters around the floor. 

The warm leather of his glove soaks into your palm as you squeeze his fingers and step over the jagged rocks. The darkness deepens the more you walk along. 

“How can you see?” You ask. 

He pulls you out of the way of a rock you can’t see, pulling you close to his body.  Nestled against his armor, all you can think about is the smell of his pillows. 

“My helmet does more than hide my ugly face,” Mando whispered, a lilt of amusement somewhere in his words. 

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. So he does have a sense of humor.

“We’re here,” Mando eventually murmurs in your ear. His hand found your lower back and gently he pushed you forward. You step downward, onto a new setting of cobblestone that massages the arches of your feet. 

Light came to your eyes, blinding you momentarily as you stumbled back into Mando’s arms. He helped you stay upright while you rubbed your eyes. 

You’re standing amidst the underground world of Mandalorians. It’s a medium sized congregation of people wearing armor like your friend. The telltale sign is the helmet with the signature T visor and precise slopes around the jaw. Some armor gold, others blue, but all in all they are the same. Mingling into the crowd you feel unseen eyes on you. You curl into your Mandalorian’s side, heart beating painfully. 

“It’s alright,” he assures you. His helmet tips down as though he were looking straight at you. “You’re going to be safe here.”

You’d been under the impression Mandalorians had an entire planet to themselves. You can’t say you know much, if anything at all, about them, but the rumors that did manage to spread around the Anirian servants made Mandalorians out to be practically invincible. It is why your king and queen hired your Mandalorian to kill that man. 

Mando had delivered, and he’d done it in less than a day. You can’t imagine what a whole colony of Mandalorians can do. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to pop back in, hm?” 

Mando stopped in his steps and groaned quietly. 

He turned to look at the largest man you’ve ever seen. Your eyes trailed up and up to finally see this man’s crimson helmet. How could anyone be so tall? You swallowed a lump in your throat as you inched closer to Mando. 

“Well, well, I see you didn’t do anyone a favor and abandon the planet,” Mando grunted. 

The other Mandalorian laughed, booming through his modulator as he bent over himself to pat his knee. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? And who is this?”

Your face burns as the Crimson Mandalorian inspects you up and down with an exaggerated nod of his head. 

“Djarren, aren’t you a bit old to be pickin’ up foundlings?” Crimson chortled. “She is pretty, but a little old to be a recruit.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Mando asked, in that same stoic tone. 

Crimson ignored him; you imagine he probably rolled his eyes, as he didn’t seem as intimidated by Mando as many others did. He held out an open hand in front of you. 

You flinched away, half expecting him to grab you or drag you down the hall kicking. Rather than that, he just waited for you to do something. 

“Don’t ya know how to shake hands?” Crimson asked. 

Mando knocked his friend’s hand away. “Leave her alone.”

“Smitten, are we?” Crimson mocked. “I’m not so sure how the others will react to you giving away the covert. Where’d you pick her up, eh? You a Hutt whore?” Crimson asked you with a jut of his chin.

“A what?” You asked. It didn’t sound like a good thing to be. 

“Leave her alone,” Mando grits out. “Let’s leave,” Mando says as he leads you away. “What’s a Hutt whore?” You asked Mando as you were escorted away. “Something you’re not,” he assures you. 

Many heads turned your way as you followed Mando through the underground colony. You earned the attention from every Mandalorian you walked by; you’re not so certain, anymore, that it’s your lack of armor as it is your presence beside your Mandolorian. 

“The Crimson Mandalorian called you Djarren,” you murmur, intertwining your hand with his. 

He quickly pulls his hand away. “That’s my name,” he says stiffly. “Din Djarren.” 

It’s a perfectly normal name but it somehow feels different. 

You want to tell him it’s nice; only thing is, you’ve started to realize he isn’t your friend like you’d mistaken. He didn’t hold your hand and he didn’t even want you to know about his name. You fold your hands behind your back as you follow Din into the first room you’ve seen in a while. A burning sort of stove pillar lights up the entire room from the center, where something inside boils. Weapons hang along the walls, sharper and made with more intricacies than you’ve ever seen on decor, let alone on weapons. 

Two Mandalorian women occupied the room, one donning gold armor and fur as she tended to the furnace; the other lounged in a chair, her legs kicked over a table with a sword strewn in her lap, which she sharpens at her own leisure. 

The Mandalorian women inside are muscular and beautiful, even with their masks covering their faces. Aniri required servant girls to wear makeup to hide their beauty, but now you’re doubting it worked at all. You can’t see their skin but you’re enamored by their beauty anyways. 

“Din Djarren,” the Golden Mandalorian says. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” Din replies. “Hello, Wendi,” he adds to the Blue Mandalorian that sits. “Din,” Wendi replies, her voice smooth as butter. 

“I see you’ve brought a visitor,” Golden drawls. She sets down a large hammer on her work table, coming to examine you closeup. “I would suppose this is the girl you spoke of in your last transmission.”

“Yes,” Din replies curtly. “She was a slave in Aniri, condemned to execution.”

Wendi raked her stone up her sword with a sharp hiss. Sparks flew on her lap. “And her crime?” Wendi asked.

Three visors turned to you. You suddenly realized they meant to listen to you speak for yourself. 

You’d never gotten the chance to explain before. You spoke up best as you could with your chest tight with anxiety. “I tried to escape the palace while also abandoning my makeup.”

“Your makeup?” Wendi cried. A laugh escaped her modulator as she tossed the sword to the cobblestone floor that had begun to pain at your feet. You felt increasingly smaller by the minute, especially as Wendi took to her feet and made her own examination of you. 

“Awfully plain without this makeup, isn’t she?” Wendi drawled. 

At your sides your hands form tight fists. “On the contrary, ma’am,” you muttered while your nails bit your palm. “I was told to wear makeup because I am beautiful.”

Wendi sniffed behind her modulator. “And awfully sarcastic,” she snubbed. 

“I wasn’t being sarcastic,” you snap. Your heart jitters for a second, half expecting retaliation or punishment for speaking with such a tone. None came. You were in slight awe as you realized the extent of your freedom. “I only meant to answer your questions,” you added, softly now as you chew the inside of your lip.

The Golden woman lifted a hand to silence one of Wendi’s impending remarks. “I’m sure you’ve had a very exhausting two days,” Gold says smoothly. “Not to mention the complete and utter lack of proper clothing from Djarren.”

Mando remained totally silent, his helmet staring expressionless at Gold. 

“Yeah, it’s almost as if Din’s never had a girlfriend before,” Wendi purred as she elbowed Din on his side. 

Din tilts his helmet to her. “More than you have,” he says. 

You never heard such jokes from Din’s lips! He calmly explained everything in full detail, then, from his bounty Kais Korren to the number of ships that chased him off planet. 

“They considered Y/n property,” Din recalled, looking at you. You stared deep into the visor, unable to tell if Din is even actually looking at you.

“We have all heard of your stunt, already,” Wendi notes from her corner of the room. “As if we didn’t need anything else to be on the run for. I suppose now we’ll have to help fix your mistake.”

Gold made a fist, hitting it against her worktable, making Wendi jump in her blue armor. “That,” Gold says slowly, “is the Way. Mistake or not, Din Djarren is one of this clan and he will have help. Whether he asks for it, or not,” she adds. 

Wendi crosses her arms over the dented chest plate. “This is the Way,” she agrees, although begrudgingly. “—but we do have other pressing matters, like it or not. This little girl just adds to the mess.”

You hadn’t realized that was what you were til now. 

A little mess of a girl, as Wendi had so vehemently put it. You stub your toes against the cobblestone, feeling your chest pain grow as Wendi’s accusatory finger pointed you out. 

While you failed to speak up, Din’s leather bound hands clenched. “She needs our help,” Din growled. 

“Your help. You failed to think of your people,” Wendi snapped. 

“I wasn’t going to let an innocent woman die,” Din replies. To his credit, he remained calm and level headed, which was not the same for you. Tears gathered in your eyes as you realized Wendi meant you had put her and her people in danger. 

These people—these Mandalorians— all live underground for a reason. 

You’re an outsider. 

You quickly rub your tears away. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you clear your throat. “I’m truly sorry,” you choke out, “for the trouble I must have caused.”

“You have not caused any trouble,” Gold soothes. “There are many ways we can ensure your safety. Anirians are vicious and they use their laws as their weapons. You were born into servant ranks and thus are considered an object of the court. Taking you off planet is the equivalent of taking their money or jewels. Each day that passes wears their patience. They are more likely to negotiate today than they will be tomorrow.”

“So?” Wendi asked, circling her hands around impatiently, trying to draw a conclusion in the air. 

“So we don’t have a lot of time left for dallying about,” Golden concludes, her voice firm. “Before anything, Y/n needs proper clothing. Shoes even, if it’s not too much to ask for, Djarren?” 

Din stayed still for a moment longer than you’d expected. “…Fine,” Din says, flatly. “You’ll be safe with our Armorer,” Din says to you. His voice lowered as he stepped closer, looking down at you with what you hoped to be tenderness. “I’ll be back soon.”

You nod, releasing the tension in your hands. You didn’t want Din to leave you here, not with these strangers. 

You are sheltered, yes, but you are not stupid. You know you must remain unattached from Din Djarren. He saved your life without much thought; including the lack of thought concerning where you’d live and who you’d depend on. You don’t think Din had intended for you to be his friend at all. You’re actually not his friend in any way, shape, or form. So even though you felt ill at the thought of being left behind by Din, you did nothing to object. 

“Okay,” you murmured.

You brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. 

You tried not to watch Din while he exchanged hushed, last minute words with Wendi. Both helmets tilt to look at you. Wendi finally looked to Din and nodded. 

“Will you stay with her?” Din asked. 

The Golden Mandalorian nods. “She is safe here. This is the Way.” 

You’re not certain of what the Way entailed, but it evidently provided you with your own lodgings. 

You followed Gold out of the furnace room, struggling to not look over your shoulder and search for Din’s retreating figure. His armor blended with the rest, becoming lost in a sea of Mandalorians. You returned your attention to Gold. She doesn’t earn as many greetings as Din had on the way in; rather she got nothing. You couldn’t tell if she was disliked among her community or not. Given her well polished armor, you guess she could be in charge. It might be respect keeping her left alone; respect and maybe even some fear. 

The sway of her hips and the sword that bobbed with them left you a little bit speechless. You’d never seen such armor. Aniri forbade women from being much of anything aside from servants; women were fortunate to be born into the court, where they were treated equally as men just because they’d been lucky enough to be born into rich families. Even those women, however, were not allowed to do certain things. They could not join guardian ranks; they could not leave the planet. Seeing that Mandalorian women can be so strong willed plants the smallest seeds of hope inside you.

As much as you’d love to be as strong and capable as Gold, you still feel so small. After all, you fidget your hands, unsure of how you’re supposed to hold yourself together as you follow behind Gold. Surely the servant position isn’t expected of you, with your head tilted down and your hands folded neatly by your lap. 

You struggle to be comfortable in your own skin. You’re not entirely sure you enjoy living day to day without your makeup. 

On the ship, with Din, it was alright. Except now you’re off the ship, where people are able to see your face. It’s strange to think you’ve been given freedom by people that don’t show their faces to anyone, either. Perhaps it’s just irony you’re experiencing. 

Gold brings you to the end of the tunnel, which is just one stretch hallway. After all of the walking, you’re shocked to find that there is still more to the tunnel beyond the bedroom you’re being given. 

The wooden door creaks open. Before you is the best room you’ve ever seen, despite its lack of space. There is a wardrobe, a mirror, a single cushioned chair, and a bed. 

“This room will be yours until we have secured a home for you,” Gold says. She makes two paces across the room to the wardrobe. The old thing only has linens to offer.  

The room is a bit small; the new brick walls and cobblestone floors give off an even smaller illusion. 

“The covert does not conjoin for meals,” Gold continues, prim and perfect as ever. She puts the stack of linens in your arms. “There is a common room with food portions directly down this hallway. If you need anything, someone there can help. I am usually in the furnace. Din and Wendi have gone to collect for you clothes, shoes, and other such things. The women use the washrooms every night. Men use them in the mornings.” 

She almost left before pausing, then turning to look at you again. Her golden visor aimed at your eyes. She says, “There is one rule. Do not leave the tunnel. Above ground are Imperial guards. They will arrest you without hesitation. If you find yourself in trouble and in need of help then yell for it. Din will be back soon.”

Gold departed, shutting the wooden door behind her. You were tempted to follow, but she didn’t seem like the type that wanted company. It must be a Mandalorian thing. Sighing, you hugged the linens to your chest. You’re eager to make your bed, even if it was small and lumpy. It’s soft; above all, safe. 

Your linens smell old, but it’s a pleasant smell. It feels nostalgic of a time you couldn’t have known. You smooth the quilt over the mattress, trying to pat out any wrinkles with your fingers. It’s a bit strange knowing the bed is yours to really relax in. 

You aligned the quilt to the corners of the mattress. 

Satisfied with the work, you gladly crawled under the blankets. Cuddling into the mothy pillows, you lay on your back. 

The ceiling has a few cracks in it. 

How had this tunnel been built? Why did the Mandalorian people not have their own village? These questions you had no guesses for; the new world you’ve been invited into is curious, and becomes curiouser every waking moment. It frightens you but excites you all at once, a feeling you’ve never felt before. 

A knock on the door awakens you from your dreamless sleep. You sat up, vision blurry and mouth dry. Hours must have gone by. You stand, your bruised feet once more being pressed by the cobblestones embedded to the floor. 

Your hand stretched for the creaky handle. Beyond the door was Din. 

You didn’t know how to greet him. 

Awkwardly struggling for the right pose proved difficult. Would he expect respect? Gratitude? Would he want something in return for what he had done for you?

“Hello,” you murmured, averting your eyes from the T of his helm. 

“I woke you,” he said. 

“You did,” you acknowledged. You glanced into your small room before shuffling back. “Come in,” you said. 

Din entered. It must have been hours judging by the creakiness in your joints, but Din hadn’t changed out of his heavy armor. He set down a large laundry box on your lumpy bed. “This is for you,” he said. 

You peered into the box. You were confused to find rolls of velvet tightly wrapped and stacked on top of each other. It reminds you of birthday presents, of the neatly wrapped boxes the princes and princess would receive yearly. You’d watched the opening from afar, never once imagining you’d have the chance to do the same thing one day. 

With wary hands, you scooped up a roll of velvet, not looking at Din as you unfolded the cloth. 

Shiny cuffs of metal shone at you from their soft blanket. “It’s pretty,” you say, stunned by the perfect roundness of the cuffs. 

“They’re yours,” Din said, voice a bit stiff. “Armor.”

Puzzled, you cast a questioning glance. 

Din approached, his leather bound hands wrapping around the metal. He slid the first over your arm. The cuff fit perfectly around your forearm, casting upwards to your elbow and ending at your wrist. You stared at the piece of armor in shock. Your face looked back at you from the sheen of the heavy metal. 

“How does it feel?” Din asked, his hand still adjusting the cuff around your wrist. His fingers are warm even through the leather gloves. They rested on the inside of your palm as he examined the fit up close. Your ears burned at the feeling of his touch. Each little tap on the delicate skin of your palm tingled. 

“It feels nice,” you said. “This, I mean,” you add. 

Din notices you staring at his hands on yours, and he drags his hand away too slowly. The pads of his fingers left spots that burned on your skin. 

“There’s more,” Din added, tilting his head up to gaze at the ceiling. He looked around at your small room before cocking his head to you. “Are you comfortable?” He asked. 

“Of course,” you say, tucking hair behind your ear bashfully. A smile peeled over your lips as you glanced around your very own sanctuary. “I love it very much.”

“It doesn’t bother you how horribly plain and undecorated it is?” Din asked. He was clearly joking, but you became serious. “I have privacy and the luxury to do what I want,” you say. “That’s all I could have asked for.”

If Din was surprised, he didn’t say anything to display it. “I’m sorry,” Din finally let out. 

You had been pushing around the box for other goodies and upon hearing this, you became startled. “You’re sorry?” You guffaw. “I’m going to be eternally grateful for what you’ve done for me,” you continued. You clutched the other arm piece close to your chest, glad to have something physical to keep you down to the planet. 

“That’s just why I am sorry,” Din grunted out. “I’m not a good person to become attached to.”

You blink. Shocked, you slide the arm cuff off and set it loose on the bed. “I never meant to ‘attach’ to you,” you mumbled. “Thank you for the armor, and for everything else. I can sift through in private if you’d like to leave.” 

Din left as you’d suggested. 

Curious; Din is very curious. You wonder what he meant by the apology. Perhaps you had grown attached…it would be hard not to! After all, Din had saved you from Aniri. You’d only meant to show your gratitude. Like he had on the Razor Crest, Din once again rejected your gratitude. You suspected he would rather pretend nothing happened at all. He’d rather live his life without you in it. 

The thought slashed your heart in half. A world without Din? You’ve known him for four days and he’s taken such care of you. 

Being reminded of care, you returned your attention to the box on your bed. Enveloped in rolls of velvet were sets of shoes and new clothes. Among that, there were other pieces of metal formed in a way you could only imagine to be armor. Every piece shone and you suspected they were all brand new from the smell of slight smoke that lingered on them. But they were polished to perfection, allowing you to see every detail of your own face in them. 

The soft tunics and the fitting trousers were a miracle to receive. Comfortable and, dare you say it, a bit stylish. 

What truly took the cake were the pairs of boots. They rose above your ankles and laced up with red string that stood out against the black leather. You almost loved the shoes more than the socks! And the socks you immediately slipped on. They cushioned your skin against the cobblestone a bit better, but starting tomorrow you’d get to wear shoes like any other person in the galaxy. 

The next morning you rose early and dressed neatly. You’d missed your opportunity to use the washrooms last night. They were reserved for the men to use in the morning, so you’d have to wait until night came to shower. 

This did not worsen your mood, as you were very excited to wear new clothes for a change. You paired a baby blue tunic and plain trousers.

Wearing the cuffs and shin guards felt strange. You almost didn’t want to wear it as you feared the sort of attention it would bring, but you did remind yourself that the rest of the covert wore full body armor, including the helmets, on a daily basis. 

If anything about you was to be found weird, it wouldn’t be your outfit—it would be that you are an outsider. 

Over the tunic you shrug on the leather jacket, cuddling into the butter soft fabric. You stretch your hands through the sleeves, and the shiny cuffs are just barely visible from the cuffs. 

You venture out of your room with a heartbeat that thunders in your ears. Drifting along the tunnel path are Mandalorians who casually wield weapons like blasters and blades that are taller than even you. Cautiously avoiding their gaze, you creep along the walls in search of the furnace. You hoped to find Din among the covert, but he isn’t anywhere to be seen. A clock would be nice to have. You can only assume it is morning. When you’d entered the tunnel yesterday, the sun was on its way down. Would Din be sleeping now? Would he be out, above ground?

The furnace only housed Gold, who currently wielded a knife and cloth, with which she polished the blade so it gleamed brilliantly. 

“Good morning, miss,” you say softly. 

“Good morning,” she greeted. She didn’t turn to face you, but she did set down her work. She cleaned around her work space, and you simply stood by watching in awkward silence. “You can have a seat,” Gold suggests. “Unless you’d rather stand.” 

You took a place in the chair which Wendi had occupied yesterday, where she lazily played with her sword.

You shrugged out of your leather coat as you felt the heat begin to bother you. As you draped the jacket over the back of your chair, the Armorer glanced over at you. 

“Do you like them?” she asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“The armor,” she says, gesturing to your arm and leg plates with a heavy glove. “I made them the minute Djarren transmitted the message of your arrival. How do they fit?” 

“Perfectly,” you say. You look at the metal that wraps around your forearm. “What is it?” 

“Beskar,” she replies. “I do apologize for the lack of any other pieces.” 

“Well, I should thank you for what you have given me,” you say, as you tuck hair behind your ear. The locks of hair gathers sweat on the back of your neck. You dab your forehead with the back of your hand. “I am confused, though. Why did I get armor in the first place?” 

“You are in the care of the covert,” Gold explains. “This means we are responsible for your safety until you can be relocated. It’s only natural we give you a bit of armor to keep you safe. Although Wendi did give me hell for it.” 

You crinkle your nose. Wendi must not be happy about your arrival. You suspect many would not be. 

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Gold asks. You shook your head. “Would you like to join me in the meeting hall?” she then suggested. “It would give you a chance to meet the others.” 

You supposed it would have to happen eventually. 

Following the Armorer to the main hall, you fiddled your thumbs together.

Exposure to Mandalorians, to actual people, made you sick to your stomach. You’d never worn such tight fitting clothing. On Aniri you’d be called an enemy of the court, condemned to trial for indecency. It seems no one minds, though, as they all dress similarly. The Mandalorians that don’t wear armor wear trousers and tunics, often, however, donning some sort of safety plates on their backs or arms like you. While you feared being judged for indecency, the rational part of your brain knows you will be judged for the lack of a Mandalorian helmet. Every planet has those who fear outsiders. You don’t know the word for it, but it breaks your heart. The royal court hated outsiders. They joined forces with the Empire because the Empire feels similarly. How could someone hate another living being just because they were born on a different planet? You couldn’t understand, as you’ve never felt that way even after living your whole life on Aniri. 

The question really dialed down to this: would the covert hate you for being an outsider, or would they fear the trouble an outsider might bring? The difference may be subtle, but it’s there no doubt. 

The meeting hall did have several people filling it out. Most bore tunics and trousers like you, but still bore leather belts and cuffs. You recognized Wendi immediately from her helmet bobbing on the corner of the room. It had a delicate touch to it, the carvings of the metal curly and wispy. She didn’t have her blue armor on today, instead a black tunic with long sleeves and tight trousers that rose to her waist. You’d never seen such trousers before but you suddenly long to have simliar types. It was a marvelous outfit to wear, and the black danced with her gold wrist cuffs and knee pads. 

Din Djarren is nowhere to be seen. 

You wanted to see him and ask him what he meant, last night, about attachment. For some curious reason, the comment bothered you all night. It even haunted your dreams. Perhaps he rejects your reverence towards him. You couldn’t simply make the feeling go away. You’d feel that way forever, because Din had done something you could never do for him. You would never be able to repay him no matter how hard you tried. You want to thank him one last time, even if he didn’t want to hear it. He single handedly saved your life. Of course you’d want to thank him, right?

Gold offered you a seat at the main table. A large basket overflowed with food that made your mouth water. This differed much from the stale bread and leftover poultry you’d been allowed to eat back in the ranks. 

You reached for a block of white cheese, tossing it over in your hand before taking a deep sniff. It smelled delicious. You took a tiny bite and lo! how your mouth watered. You had never tasted such flavor in your life, and this had been a single bite of a single square of cheese. You anxiously nibbled around the edges, trying not to let on how impressed you were with just cheese. Embarrassing, really. You’d be bullied no doubt. 

The Armorer made conversation with the warriors around her while she supervised you as you ate. You were encouraged to eat as much as you wanted, but you hesitated to do that. Even when your belly felt filled, you wanted to keep on eating, half out of the fear you wouldn’t get an opportunity to again. 

“So,” a voice drew behind you. “This is her?” 

You froze. The hair on your neck prickled when Gold said, “Yes, although I believe she can speak for herself.”

You turned to look who had inquired about you. The Mandalorian that had given you a hard time yesterday towered over you in his crimson armor. As you looked up at him, he crossed his arm over his strapping chest. 

“So she’s staying?” He asked. 

The tips of your ears burned with embarrassment as Gold appeared to be glowering. “Ryder,” she snapped. “I’m certain that you were at the meeting last night. Don’t waste your breath with nonsense.” 

You swallowed back the anxiety that plagued your chest. “Ah, yes, the meeting,” he said thoughtfully, as if he had just remembered. Although you had a feeling he was being sarcastic. “Where we all voted on killing the little girl.” 

You buried your head down to your chest, chin quivering with tears as you felt guilt and overwhelming anxiety boil in your blood. 

“I’m not a little girl,” you muttered, just quietly enough that you hoped Ryder hadn’t heard. 

“What was that?” He mocked. 

Something savage spurred across your brain as you rose to your feet, the chair you’d been in falling to the ground. “I’m not a little girl,” you said again. The quiver in your mouth had transformed into a sneer as you kept your chin raised to look Ryder in the eye. Maybe the anxiety you’d been feeling wasn’t anxiety at all. 

It was anger. 

With no one to punish you for “stepping out of line” you could express said anger all you wanted, and you started with Ryder. 

A mistake, it might have been, as Gold had to use an hand to brace Ryder back by his chest plate. 

Searing across your body was the wave of regret and mild, mild fear; in that mixture was a pinch of satisfaction. Standing up for yourself felt good. But you imagined a punch in the face from Ryder wouldn’t feel as great. 

“Your vote was cast, Vizsla,” The Armorer reminded him. “I won’t remind you who the deciding vote was. You are obligated to follow your brethren in protecting Y/n or you can join Boba Fett and his fascist friends on Nevarro. This is the Way.”

Ryder seemed like he could be seething behind his mask, but you had no way of really knowing. “This is the Way,” he grit through his modulator. 

Anger issues, you think as he stomps away. To the Armorer you quickly apologized. “I’m very sorry, Miss,” you tell her with a bob of your head. 

“Do not be,” Gold said dismissively. “Vizsla needs to be put in his place, and you need to continue standing up for yourself. It is imperative if you want to survive.” 

Stunned, you nodded. You see the honesty in her words, and while she might have been blunt about it, she was very, very right. 

How curious the Mandalorians have turned out to be…

“I suppose now would be as good a time as any to walk you through our way of life here.” 

You held out a hand, though it wavered, to stop Gold from continuing. “Before that,” you stutter, “could I ask just what ‘meeting’ you refferred to with Ryder?” 

“Ah,” Gold hummed. “Last night the covert convened a meeting in which we all voted to keep you with us or to send you away. Ryder voted against it. The deciding vote was his elder brother, Paz. He voted for you to stay and I suppose Ryder didn’t like that.” 

You sighed. You looked down at yourself, at the baby blue of your tunic and how it splashed like the ocean against your beskar cuffs. “I ought to thank you again, Miss. I am forever indebted to the covert.” 

Gold tipped her helmet forward, leaving it inclined for a second too long. “This is the Way.”

The Way is what you will be grateful for even after life. Gold brought you along to the furnace after you grabbed one more block of cheese. She showed you the set of her metals. In sheets or in bars, she had a collection of beskar, palladium, ruthenium, and other metals you couldn’t keep track of. 

“You make the armor for everyone?” You asked. You grazed the metals with your finger tips. What does Din wear? You resist the question as you thank Gold for her help today. 

“I am grateful for the armor and for everything else,” you say, inclining your head the way she had done to you earlier. “Could I ask…where is Djarren? Din, I mean.” 

Gold, while taking a thick apron down from a hook, replied, “I am unsure. I think he might be asleep. I haven’t seen him since the vote last night.” “How did he vote?” you asked. You hated the question as soon as it left your lips. But you yearned to know. 

“He was very adamant that you stay,” Gold responded. “In fact he made a very moving speech. It’s the most I’ve heard him say all his life.” 

Your heart fluttered with assurance. “Thank you.”

“If there is anything else you need, you might find it from me or in the gathering hall. Good day, Y/n.” 

“Good day, miss.” 

Shyly stepping out of the furnace and back into the hall, you kept your gaze strictly on the floor. Mandalorians threw lingering glances your way, but they didn’t seem to last as long as you feared. A long table lined the eastern wall, and over it was a stack of books. You’d never seen so many before. You’d never actually held one, either. As much as you wanted to pick one up and read it, you couldn’t; you’d never learned to read before. From where you’re from it’s common to hear that, but you suspect it’s not so common amongst Mandalorians. Another factor for them to ostracize you for. You approached the table to get a closer glimpse at the books. 

Lingering around the book table was a taller man, in dark blue armor, and he inclined his head towards you as a greeting. 

“Hello,” you stuttered. Your intial reaction is always to bob a curtsey when someone greets you, but those days are behind you. 

“You’re Y/n,” the Mandalorian says, “aren’t you?” 

You nodded. “I am.” 

“It’s a pleasure,” he says in his deep voice, “to meet the famed madame. I am Paz.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Paz,” you returned his greeting. “Are you guarding these books because they might run away?” You asked. You half meant it, considering the heavy weapons the were strapped along Paz’s back and belt. 

“Something like that,” Paz said. He laughed. It was strange to hear it! Din hadn’t made such pleasant conversation with you in the two full days you’d been on the Razor Crest with him. The Armorer was very formal and upfront, so she didn’t seem like the conversational type. Wendi and Ryder? They’re non-starters. 

So you were sort of stunned to find that Mandalorians were, in fact, capable of laughter. 

“What do you do here?” you asked, feeling breathless. Finally, someone you could talk to. You’ve never gotten to truly talk to anyone, ever! You’re filled with questions and hope that Paz could answer some. 

“Among the covert we have our respective jobs. Titles, almost. I’m apart of the covert’s makeshift infantry. I usually guard and protect, that is.”

“And so the books are under your watch?” 

“Sure. Not as prisoners, but as…well, they’re a bit like you. I protect them.” 

“Why?”

“Because they were in my family for a long time. Most of them, anyways. Some have been bought by other Mandalorians here. Consider this the library of the covert.” He waved a hand across the table. “Would you like one?” 

Gnawing on your lip, you shake your head “no.” 

“I can’t read,” you admit. It was easy to say it to Paz. Paz did not laugh or mock the way Ryder or Wendi might have. Paz looked through the books on the table and picked one out for you. 

“This is generally for children,” he admits as he holds it out. “The first pages are the alphabet. Memorizing those letters is the first step to literacy.”

Bashful, you look to the floor. “Oh, thank you. I can at least know the alphabet.” 

Paz shakes his head. “If you’d like help, I will help. Before the covert I taught foundlings who were also illiterate.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t bother you,” you say, hugging the book tightly. 

“It wouldn’t bother me. But I won’t bother you,” Paz says. “You’re welcome to come here at nights, if you want. An hour each day would surely catch you up.” 

With a fuzzy feeling in your chest, you slowly nod. “I suppose it wouldn’t bother me if it wouldn’t bother you,” you admit. “I do want to learn.” 

“Learn, you will,” Paz promised. 

You could hear the smile in his voice. 

next chapter

[moonlight-prose]

“your hand is tiny. look at the size different.”

“i can't keep lying to myself, or to you. it's not fair to either of us.“

could i get these with a paz version of your choosing? this is definitely not from your esposo 😌🖤✨

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐝

a/n: so i went with the second one and wrote wayyy more than i honestly expected, but i couldn't stop. i really hope you like it, because i'm in love with the falling in love with a ghost concept. literally i could write so many. i set it kind of in a victorian era, but i don't think you can tell honestly.

summary: you would do anything to remain with him, but he only had one wish that night for you. live.

word count: 2.1k+

pairing: victorian!paz x reader

warnings: not explicit, angst so much of it you should be ready, heartbreak, ghosts, spirit world, mentions of death, haunting. let me know if i missed anything.

They say that to give your heart over to a spirit is to damn yourself to an eternity of heartbreak. To love a person beyond the realm of this world is to place pain in your soul with no way of allowing it to break free. You had known that since you were a child; walking the halls of your home as the stories and echoes of years past spoke to you. As the people of a time before you called your name and welcomed you with open arms.

Your family called you special, witch, unlike anyone in your bloodline. Except you knew that to be a lie, because the same gift you possessed your grandmother held just as her mother did. A way to access beyond the veil that separated your world from the one beyond this one.

Something that you knew to be dangerous if done incorrectly, but you couldn’t stop yourself from entering that realm. Couldn’t bar the dreams that broke through your mind as you slept soundly in your bed, protected by the emptiness of your room. Guarded by a man who had lost his life against the very wall you slept next to, and so he took it upon himself to be the soldier he was tasked as years before the family moved in. Kept the house safe, even as he wandered the halls alone at night.

A shadowy figure lost the hold reality had on him and forever damned to the world unseen. The world unknown.

That is until you…

Until you broke through the barrier and wandered onto the wrong side, eyes innocent enough to show you were quite sure what you were doing, but heart and mind strong enough to understand where you were. You’d been there before; walked the halls of your home at night in your sleep. Projecting your life form into a world that seemed to be barred to everyone else but you - kept a secret from the rest of your family...except you.

“Who are you?”

It had felt like centuries passed since he was last spoken to - and perhaps it had been that long, he’d have no way of knowing - yet there you were. Softly asking for his name, his story. Entering the dark realm of a spirit world fully unknown to even him and inquiring about more. Hungry to learn about the fallen warrior that wandered the halls of your beneath the candlelight, alone in his journey but aching for something to fulfill the emptiness in his soul.

He had no body to call his own anymore, no way to fill the hunger he felt for mundane things again, but you satiated all of it. You brought him back from the dead and breathed life into a soul that had been damned long ago. Only you had no idea that to remain in a world you didn’t belong in for so long would strip your own soul of it’s life. That to stay with him meant to give yourself over to death’s awaiting hands before you even managed to live a life of your own.

He leaned against the wall of the house outside, staring up at the moon that seemed to always look underwater. Everything looked underwater in this life - dark, dreary, hopeless in a way - and it drove him mad. Well everything except you, the person who seemed to have light encasing their body wherever they went. Shining like a star amidst the treacherous waters of the souls that forgot how to be human, amongst the ones like him.

Paz wished more than anything to touch you, to feel how soft your skin was or even how warm you were, but sadly he passed right through you. Leaving nothing but chills down your spine as if you had merely walked through a breeze.

“I wish I could bring you something,” you said as you walked along the rocks that barricaded the grassy area outside of your house. Although you wouldn’t call it a house, it was more a castle that your family had inherited from a grandfather you knew nothing about.

He smiled, instinctively reaching a hand out to help you, only for it to drop down by his side seconds later. “What would you bring me?”

Leaping down onto the ground beside him you smiled, eyes shining bright that the moon above you. “I’m not quite sure. A candle maybe, to light your way through this darkness.”

You are my candle. Words that would go unsaid, because he refused to give you more reason to want to remain here. You shouldn’t remain here and yet he was being selfish, awaiting your arrival each night like a man calling upon his lover. Only he would never get the chance to be your lover, never get the opportunity to kiss you to hold you until the morning rose.

He would simply be this. A man lost to the depths of a sea you could not dive into.

“I can see well enough through this,” he said, walking alongside you as you led him towards the shore of the ocean that was on the outskirts of your property.

“Somehow I don’t believe you!” you exclaimed, running ahead - the light going with you.

Things always remained colder as you walked away, the warmth you emitted leaving with you and he sprinted to keep up. Wishing with all his damned soul that he could scoop you into his arms, swing you around, and show you how a man could love you. How he could give you everything and more. He wasn’t blind, he could see how much of a beautiful person you were - how you would bring in more attention that one could stand simply by smiling at someone.

He knew that you would not remain alone for very long and part of him dreaded the day when you’d leave for good.

Never to return for the man you once knew as a friend.

Settling on the sand that seemed to feel empty underneath you, he joined right beside you. Gazing out onto the ocean that looked darker than the night sky, bottomless yet never empty. He wanted to hold you, whisper his love for you and yet he couldn’t. Not like this, not when you were merely here to keep him company.

“My mother thinks I’m ready to leave,” you whispered, staring at your own hands before meeting his eyes. “Marry someone.”

If he had a heart he knew it would seize in his chest, but he felt the phantom feeling of it still cause pain and course through his body - as if he was being stabbed once again. He would take death again and again over seeing you leave him, and yet there you were - whispering that you would be gone soon. Explaining that the person she chose for you was someone you didn’t like.

That you wish you could stay with him.

He froze, replaying your last words in his mind. “You want to stay with me?”

You nodded, eyes glassy with tears that you refused to let fall. “I’d do anything to stay with you Paz.”

If he thought your previous words were painful, these were far worse. He couldn’t allow this to happen and yet there you were saying things that would result in a fate worse than his own death. Yours. He scrambled to his feet, walking away from you and running a hand down his face as he tried to calm the phantom nerves that were thrumming an aggressive beat beneath the skin he didn’t have. You couldn’t stay here - in a world that was not ready to claim you.

“You can’t,” he said, turning to face you.

“Paz-”

“You can’t stay with me!” he shouted. “What we have is nice, it’s kept me from being pushed further into the shadows, but you are still alive my sweet. You’re as far from death as a human should be.”

Huffing out a laugh you crossed your arms like a petulant child, and maybe in this moment you were just that. A child that wasn’t getting what they wanted. Angry at the world for ruining your fun. Except you felt things for Paz you’d never felt for another - feelings that ran deep enough to hurt.

“What we have is more than nice Paz. It’s more than anything I’ve ever known,” you said, hoping to shift his thoughts. “I want to remain with you.”

“Why?”

“You know why. We’re good companions.”

He scoffed. “Why would you waste a perfectly good life for a damned man like me?”

“I can't keep lying to myself, or to you. it's not fair to either of us!” you exclaimed, tossing your hands in the air. “I love you! My heart, soul, body, it belongs to you and if I must live a life without the man I want to call mine then I refuse to live at all.”

His eyes shifted - kindness now being washed away by a fury you’d never seen before - his demeanor of gentleness gone. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what?”

“You will live-” he gripped your arm for the first time - dragging you close “-for me. A life that I did not get to have is waiting for you and you will take it with open arms, because you have to.”

“But-”

He shook his head, leaning his forehead against yours. “I will not vanish from this world, my sweet. This is my home now, but you have to find yours. Live for me and when you’re ready - I will see you again.”

Pressing his lips lightly to yours he felt a shock of warmth go through him, your love encompassing him in a warmth that would slowly burn out the longer you stayed away. Yet even he knew - this was the last time he’d see you for a long time. The last time he’d hold you like this. So he kissed you softly, pouring every ounce of love he had for you into it, before letting you go and walking away.

For good.

He breathed out the cold air of the ocean - glancing up at the watery sight of the moon as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. Going to shine on another part of the world he would be unable to see. He could not recall the time, nor the year, because things had faded into one another. Blending together until he even had a hard time recalling his own name and yet there he remained. At a house that held a new family and watching the sky in the hopes that you were falling asleep soundly in a bed you called your own.

His memories had faded with time, dropping away just as everything else, but he refused to let go of you. His candle - his warmth within this place of darkness.

“My sweet,” he whispered, a smile playing on his lips as the moon continued to rise - stars sparkling alongside her.

“I’m here my love.”

Spinning around he nearly dropped to his knees at the sight before him. You, standing in a gown that looked similar to the one you wore on the night he said goodbye, face as young as that very day. Only no light glimmered around your body, no life remained in your soul, because the time had come.

You were ready.

“How long has it been?” he asked, tears spilling over onto his cheeks.

Smiling, you reached a hand out and a soft skin slid against his, just as warm as he remembered. “I lived for you my love. A life that was wonderful.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked.

“I did.”

“Then why come back here?”

Wrapping an arm around his neck you brought yourself onto your toes to reach his lips, lightly brushing them against his. “I came to find my heart. I tried to fall in love again and I did...but he was not you, my love. No one could ever be you.”

“Does that mean you are going to stay here?” he asked, knowing it was selfish of him to wish for that, but the smile on your face assured him of your answer.

“Yes,” you breathed, dragging him closer to press your lips against his fully and stealing whatever breath he held in his lungs. A kiss that you had yearned for since the day you bid your goodbyes and parted ways - a love that would remain eternal until time faded away.

One that was given to two damned souls, no longer lost in the darkness.

tagging those who might be interested:

@ezrasarm @mandocrasis @luxurybeskar @agirllovespancakes