#reader as paz vizsla's sister

[intothemurkwood]

MIGHT OF MAND'ALOR

AO3 Chapter Link: MIGHT OF MAND’ALOR - Chapter 2

Story Summary: Guided by your late father's teachings, you've learned that your powers transcend the conventional divide, showing that things aren't as clear-cut as the Sith and Jedi doctrines suggest. When Moff Gideon seeks your capture and Bo'Katan Kryze defies him, the Great Purge of Mandalore unfolds, setting the stage for a clash between light and darkness, with you trapped in between.

Chapter Summary: The Death Watch Enclave on Concordia is over run.

Word Count: 4K+

Might of Mand'alor Series on AO3

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, ideations of death, self sacrifice, violence toward children, war, genoicide. Arranged Marriage.

Author Note: Terrible things happen in this chapter, but I promise it gets much worse before it gets better.

Tag List: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

==EXPLICIT CONTENT: 18+ ONLY==

CHAPTER 2

Concordia - Death Watch Enclave

“Vizsla,” Theghti calls, drawing you from your thoughts just in time to catch the yai’yai (field ration) before it beams off your helmet. “Good, thought you were sleeping.”

“Pining, that one.” Vurr’s modulator cracks with a laugh as he unwraps his yai’yai. You wait until he has it unwrapped before quick-drawing your blaster. The low powered round hits the knuckle plate of his shun’bur, knocking the yai’yai from his hand to the floor. The four verda (warriors) all turn to look at you as you holster your blaster.

“Osi’kyr—Vizsla! (Fuck—Vizsla!)” Vurr feigns a scoff, as if he wouldn’t lick the floor clean if no one was around.

“Have the children eaten?” You ask, tilting your head at them. Vurr snatches up his yai’yai and hastily crams it up under his helmet before you can fire off another shot. He says something unintelligible as he waves his gloved hand at you. You watch him head into the great hall to attend to the children. Nearly two hundred children huddled inside the base.

“That man could eat a bantha and not gain a single pound.” Theghti mutters, watching Vurr toss a small child into the air.

“Any word from Paz?” Skajert asks.

“No.” You slip the yai’yai into your pouch and lean back on the crate, propping your boots up on the handle of your Z-6 rotary blaster cannon. Now you contemplate sleep. You’re not sure when the next opportunity might arise. 

When Darth Maul defeated your father, claiming the title of Mand'alor with a decapitation that was both brutal and necessary, the universe shifted. Bo’Katan Kryze's refusal to serve Maul led to the splintering of the Kyr'tsad (Death Watch), but you saw the truth. You and Paz chose the old ways, the Way of the Dark, and rallied thousands.

Your heart was steadfast as civil war broke out on Mandalore. Destruction was not chaos; it was the universe's will. Houses, clans, and truces were torn down, and in their place rose something purer. Your father's death was not a loss but a transformation. Paz arranged your marriage to Baaran Lok at seventeen, a union not of love but necessity. Lok wasn't cruel, but distant. The arrangement serves a greater purpose, a testament to the One Truth: "Only power is real, and the only real power is the power to destroy. Existence is fleeting. Destruction is eternal." The arrangement was the very sacrifice of love, and it served you well.

All you can think about is the purpose behind every act, every decision. It is an unavoidable truth… how the Way of the Dark can guide even the most tender moments. You had meant to wish your riduur jate’kara (husband good fortune) before he departed, but his attachment held you back. He clung to you for a long silent moment, helmets pressed together. His chest shook in silent sobs, with the weight of understanding. You both know that violence, destruction, even death—they are but steps in the path to power. It was supposed to have been you on the front lines, but Paz needed certainty that the children would be safe.

“Bi cuyi ner Mand’entye. (It is my debt to carry.)” You whisper the words as verda (warriors) hustle past you on the tarmac. He’s silent for a moment. A million words hang between you and he says the last thing you ever thought he would say.

“Jorso'ran kando a tome. (We shall bear the weight together.)” Lok’s fingers tightened around your neck.

“Ibic jareor. (This is reckless.)” It had been the unspoken truth until you had uttered it. 

“Ibic Manda. (This is the way.)” Lok released you and you watched as he walked up the gangway, never looking back. Paz stood at the edge of the cargo hold, his shoulders low as he held your gaze, bearing the weight of your father’s deeds.

“Nayc, cyar’ika (No, sweetheart),” Theghti’s sharp tone startles you awake as he snatches a youngling up. You drop the vibroblade from your shaking hand and flop back against the crate, huffing out an apology. You can’t recall reaching for your blade, it’s reflexive now. ”Never wake a sleeping warrior by hand. Call us, and we shall wake.”

“I am very sorry,”

“What did you need, sweetheart?” Theghti crouches down with the young girl, and you lazily retrieve your blade from the floor, sinking it back into your sheath.

“I wanted to sleep with Nynir so that I am safe.”

The laugh escapes you before you can contain it. You can’t see his expression under his helmet, but you know for certain Theghti is glaring at you. The image of yourself cradling a youngling seems so foreign to you. Your husband had never made an attempt to have children with you. He simply took you to bed once a year just to maintain his duties to you. A divorce would have been scandalous.

Once you’re on your feet, you lock your blaster cannon beside your jetpack and scoop up the youngling, cradling her against your waist. Theghti seems surprised and you’re grateful he keeps the comments to himself. You try to quiet the heavy steps of your magboots as you head into the makeshift barracks.

“Have you been named?” You ask. Of course she has, she’s wearing a helmet, but it’s polite to ask.

“Khiggi Eldar.”

Eldar… You’ll be gentle with this one, or face the wrath of the Eldar House.

“Why do they call you Nynir if it is not your name?”

“The boys…” You hike her up above your utility belt and glance at her, “They like to tease. My gun is big and scary, but when I fire it, it makes a very silly sound. Nee-neer, nee-neer, nee-neer.” You poke her side with a gloved finger and she squeals. “They say my gun speaks as it fires. Do you know what it says?”

“Nynir, (Strike,)” Khiggi giggles and you can’t help but smile.

“My gun only speaks when there is danger. Tell me, Khiggi, what do you hear?”

“I think she is sleeping.”

She. What a blessing this one is.

“Yes, she is sleeping, and you must sleep too.”

“Nynir,” Sath’s whisper stops you in your tracks. She holds her arms out expectantly, leaning up from her cot. You glance at the rows and rows of cots, most with two or three children curled up on them. You pass Khiggi down to Sath, knowing that she is capable of keeping Khiggi contained.

“Jate ca, (good night,)” You clench your fist over your heart and Sath gives you a nod; Her arms are occupied, it will do.

“Jate ca, Nee-neer.” Khiggi manages, before her modulator cracks with a sharp yawn. The other children are all in various states of sleep as you exit the barracks. Theghti offers you a nod, before slipping a pipe under his helmet. The smell of cassius flowers permeates the hangar. 

The air is still, and a strangeness quivers in the shadows. As you step outside of the hangar and look up to the night sky, the devastation unfolding on Mandalore becomes clear. Imperial ships loom. There had been no call to alert your base. Your heart pounds with a terrible understanding. Tie bombers drop fusion bombs that bathe the planet in an infernal glow.

The Great Purge of Mandalore does not shock or dismay you; it confirms what you've known all along. Destruction is not merely an end; it's a purification, a necessary culling that makes way for the new. You see in the annihilation of your planet the embodiment of the Dark. Bo-Katan Kryze's refusal to follow the true path, her refusal to join you, was more than a betrayal; it was a sign of her unworthiness to lead. Her obstinacy had brought about the very destruction she sought to prevent. And now, you feel a renewed strength in your convictions, knowing that what has been destroyed will give rise to something more potent, more aligned with the natural order of power and chaos. This is the Way.

A sharp crackle over the comms stills your heart. The line buzzes as the transmission fluctuates. “Ner vod’ika— (My little sister—)” The garbled transmission breaks your attention and you turn away from the sight of Mandalore’s destruction.

“Ori’vod? (Big brother?)” You ask, hustling across the tarmac in hopes of getting into better range of the signal out in the open.

“Tion’vaii gar? (Where are you?)” Paz’s voice comes through loud and clear and you freeze mid stride.

“At the enclave.”

“Vod’ika, I’m not going to make it.” Paz’s words send your heart into your throat and you can hear your pulse start to race in your ears.

“Nayc! (No!) You swore to me!”

“I know.” He whispers, his voice soft, too soft.

“Ba’slan— (Retreat—)”

“Nayc!” You yell, tears welling in your eyes. He wouldn’t dare order you to leave, not unless... “Swear to me, Ori’jag (big guy), that you will make it out and you will find me.” You whisper. Pain grips your chest as you refuse to believe that this is the end for him. 

Static washes over the private channel, but his voice comes through crystal clear, “I promise I will find you… Haat, Isaac, haa’it. Ke nadir haar’ke’gyce ba’slan shev’la. Tion’waii mar’eyir—? (Truth, honor, vision. Execute the strategic disappearance. Where will I find [you]—?)” The channel cuts out as a blinding flash of light washes over you. You look around the tarmac that now appears bathed in daylight. The blinding flash strobes in the night sky, a massive explosion on the surface of Mandalore. Sundari, the capital city where all the verda had gathered… It’s blown open. Mangled pieces of the super structures erupt high into the atmosphere.

“Ni pare gar shal ashi eso. (I will wait for you at the other side.)

The brightness of the night sky only grows. You filter through your channels checking your comms to find that they are all empty. Raising your hand to shield from the radiant glow bathing Mandalore you catch sight of a shadow. Footsteps thunder beneath you as you draw your blaster, ready to take out any enemies. Something is off about their trajectory. It’s a verda, wounded, about to crash headlong into the tarmac. You clench your right fist, the gesture activating your jetpack, taking a split second to bring your weight off the tarmac. You give full throttle. 

The verda crashes into you and you wrap your arms around him. He at least has his wits enough to cut off his thrusters. Both of you crash down to the tarmac, drawing the attention of Thegti puffing on his pipe inside the hangar.

“Droids—the comms are—we need to…” The verda is barely making sense as you drag him up to his feet. Theghti rushes over, medpack in hands. He has some sort of twisted shrapnel sticking out of his abdomen, but there doesn’t appear to be an exit wound. It’s the sort of wound you only see when heavy ordinances are being used.

“Stims, he’s in shock. Abdominal shrapnel wound.” You mutter and Theghti is quick to pull out his stimpack.

“Talk to me, Vod. What happened?”

“Droids—they’re coming.”

“It’s alright, vod.” Theghti readies the stim and pulls down his cape, sinking the needle tip of the injector into his neck. “Breathe.” The man groans, continuing to ramble on about droids. You and Theghti exchange a look.

“I spoke to Paz, right before this one flew in. He ordered us to retreat off Concordia.”

“The droids are coming. They—the whole base is gone. Everyone is gone. Gone. There were so many—” The sharp plink of your helmets slamming together silences his rambling. You hold his head, staring straight at his visor. 

“Everyone is not gone, there are still 200 hundred children that need to be evacuated. What base were you stationed at, vod?”

“Ruus’kan, (Rock fortress,)” The man’s voice was becoming steady as the stim permeated his system.

“Ruus’kan?” Theghti gives you a long stare. If Ruus’kan was under siege, it would mean you wouldn’t have a lot of time to evacuate the children.

“We didn’t stand a chance. They obliterated the base. It’s gone. Gone. It’s a crater—nothing left but the exposed mineshaft.” His words hit like a punch to the gut. Ruus’kan wasn’t under siege, it’s already gone. You didn’t have time to think of what that meant. Not for what was coming, but what had been lost.

“Droids? Ships?” If the Imperial ships shift their target to Concordia, millions more will die.

“A whole brigade of KX enforcer droids. Viper droids. They called in an airstrike. Thousands of droids are heading this way. His name was Paz. He told me to find his sister and evacuate her children. I have to find her.” The man sucks in a ragged breath. 

“You found her. You did good.” Theghti says, tilting his helmet toward you.

“I did? I found her?” He scans the hangar before he twists out of your grasp. He catches your shoulder before kissing your helmets together. Theghti raises his hands in shock, reaches for the man but stops when you wave him off. Paz sent this man to you, the least you can do is hear what he has to say. “Paz made me swear on the pain of death that I would protect and take care of you and your children.”

Theghti waves his hand catching your attention as he makes a gesture to suggest that he’s probably a little high on stims. Your hand drags up on instinct, your fingers grasping the back of his neck as you acknowledge his vow, but you don’t get the chance to respond.

“What’s goin’ on, Vod?” Puck calls from the hangar and the man releases you to gaze around the hangar with a heavy head.

“Ba’slan Shev’la.” Your order rings hollow in the hangar and for a moment the other warriors stare at you in disbelief. It was a direct order to escape to a predetermined safe haven. The only issue is that there are only five ships, and over two hundred children hunkered down inside. The vast majority of which had yet to earn the title of Mandalorian Apprentice. Some of whom hadn’t earned their first helmets yet. You release the man and he steps back allowing you to take in the sight of him. “Tell me, Vod. What is your name?”

“Din Djarin, sir.” He says. You don’t recognize either of them as being a formal House or Clan name. He bears no emblem to designate a clan, and still has pieces of armor from his service in the Fighting Corp. Paz wouldn’t have just sent any man to you. He would have picked the strongest of the men to send to you… and he didn’t send Lok.

“I need you to go wake the children. Tell them to file into five equal lines, and board the ships for evacuation. Can you handle that?

“Yes, sir.” Din Djarin nods, and you belt the back of his helmet, sending him sprinting into the hangar.

“A whole brigade…” Theghti whispers, glancing at the other warriors and keeping his voice low. “How far out?” Ten to fifteen thousand droids are heading this way. Even five of the best verda wouldn’t stand a chance. It will be a bloodbath unless you get out right now.

“I don’t know. We need to make haste. The children must be evacuated.” Together, you swiftly organize the evacuation of the children, waking them from their sleep and herding them towards the waiting ships in the hangar.

In the urgency of ushering the children onto your own ship the air shakes around you. It’s a feeling you’ve only felt once before. The thrusters of thousands of droids in flight disturbing the air pressure. It’s a horrifying sensation to feel the air quivering around you, and the children can sense it too. 

The heavy landing of a droid just outside the hangar signals the arrival of a formidable foe. You wade through the children to watch as several more KX Enforcer droids drop down from the outcropping above. A lone Viper probe flutters down and turns toward the hangar. A red wave sweeps across the hangar as it scans for available targets. There is no other choice but to protect the ships while the children finish loading.

“Get the ade on the ships, now!” You bark the order at Din Djarin and he rushes back toward the barracks where children are still filing out. The children hasten their steps, the urgency in your voice heightening. Without a second thought you grab your heavy blaster cannon, charging around the gangway, prepared to protect the children with your life. It will give the children precious seconds to board the ships.

The clash is swift and fierce, but you and your fellow Kyr’tsad verda are quickly outnumbered as more enforcer droids land on the tarmac. You make the difficult decision to order a retreat, urging the other verda to make their escape to their waiting ships while you provide covering fire. The ade are far more important than your home, or your own life. Laying down heavy fire will give them a chance to escape. Rounds glance off your armor. Beskar armor might be impenetrable, but the force of each shot sends shocks to your body. You’re struggling to stay upright—out gunned, and outnumbered.

The hangar rumbles as one of the ships full throttles out of the hangar. You watch in disbelief as Skajert’s ship blasts from the hangar, the gangway of his ship still open, children slip out, crashing down to the hangar floor. There is no time to scream as you charge toward the children. Droids turn, taking aim.

As enforcer droids close in, anger rises within you. Your homeworld lay in ruins, your people wiped out in the blink of an eye. Bitter rage, for your friends, your family. Your way of life is being robbed from you, your identity, your husband—your brother. 

An all consuming rage surges through your being, empowering you with an otherworldly strength. That strength manifests as your fist connects with the durasteel plating of the Viper probe. It explodes, sending it flying across the hangar, the concussive shockwave taking out four other droids. A ferocious roar tears from your modulator as you bash through three more KX droids. This burst of rage draws the attention away from the children and you raise your arms, deflecting blaster bolts with a terrifying precision. 

As blaster rounds ricochet off your armor, pain jolts through your body as several rounds graze soft flesh. Pain transcends sensation, becoming fuel for your rampage through the droids. You bulldoze a path straight to the screaming children

Theghti blasts past you, crashing into two droids, while Din Djarin snatches up the two children. You grab the other two, hugging them to your chest and fire rockets. Rounds whizz past your helmet. Theghti is waiting, grabbing the children from you and rushing back to his ship.

“Hukaat! (Cover me!)” Theghti yells. You whirl around pulling out both your blasters, rapid firing rounds to provide cover as the men retreat with the children. There are too many droids to count and they are swarming the entrance to the hanger.

Summoning your remaining strength, you fight your way back to your ship as the other Death Watch ships begin to launch from the hangar. Blaster fire singes the air around you filling the air with the unmistakable smell of ozone as you retreat. You are a solitary figure standing against an overwhelming force.

With a jerk of your head you signal the ships to leave. 

“What are you doing, Nynir? Get the kriff on your ship!” Theghti’s voice cuts in over a private transmission. You glance at Din Djarin firing up your ship. Your holster your blasters, sparks showering around you, and you reach for your heavy blaster cannon.

“This is the way.” You cut off the transmission before Theghti can respond. This is why Paz had you stay. To clear the path for the next generation.

“My orders supersede yours.” Din Djarin’s voice is barely audible over the scream of blaster fire. You glance at the ship, the barrels of your blaster cannon are already starting to glow red hot. Paz swore to you. He swore to you that he would find you. He swore it. 

The last of the other ships disappear out of sight. Your own ship is taking heavy fire from the relentless enforcer droids. For a moment, you fear they’ve left without looking back, until a rocket explodes in a blaze of destruction, obliterating several droids.

Seizing the opportunity, you sprint towards your ship, every step weighed down by the encroaching threat. With a surge of adrenaline, you stagger up the side gangway, smashing your palm on the control panel to raise both the side and rear gangways. The children squeeze tight together to get out of your way. Up the ladder and into the cockpit of the Razor Crest. Din Djarin slips into the co-pilot seat, clutching Khiggi Eldar to his chest. Alarms ring on the dashboard as the ship's deflectors rapidly deplete. You demagnetize your back plate, your jetpack and heavy blaster cannon dropping to the floor as you sink into the pilot seat. 

There is no avoiding the flood of droids, so you punch the accelerator smashing through their tight formation. Your deflectors fail, but you’re able to make it out of the hangar. The ship struggles to climb, the readouts on your screen flash warnings about weight capacity. There was no time to clear the ship of cargo. You maneuver your ship low through the canyons as you reunite with the other ships waiting for you. 

The ships fall into a natural V-5 formation, with Skajert and Puck taking the lead. You cling to the tail end of the fleeing Kyr’tsad verda, your ship weighed down by its cargo and struggling against Concordia's gravity. The radio crackles with the chaotic chatter of the other warriors, their voices filled with urgency as they try to agree on a destination planet.

“Ke'duum koori serim taap. (Let's agree on an exact place.)” Skajert’s voice cuts in on the comms. The sound of his voice makes you sick. He will pay for his cowardice, but not now. Not with the safety of the children at stake.

“How many children made it on board?” You ask, glancing back at Din Djarin. He glances back to the wide open cockpit door. Sath’s purple helmet scans the children piled in the storage room.

“I counted 82 the first time, and 81 the second time.” Sath says. “Oh—Khiggi.”

“I got scared.” Khiggi says sheepishly.

81 children. Five Verda, and a little over two hundred children. Your hand tightens around the throttle, coaxing the ship to climb from the atmosphere. Skajert left in such a hurry, dumping the children in his cowardly escape. You wonder exactly how many children were on the other ships.

“Tion’vaii? (Where?)” Vurr asks, his voice cutting over the comm.

“Tion’Ossus? (Ossus?)” Puck asks, though he doesn’t sound sure.

“Nayc, Dathomir. (No,)” Skajert says.

“Ne’gebi Manda'yaim. (No, too close to Mandalore.)”

Your eyes widen in horror as Puck’s ship explodes, the shockwave jolting your senses as you bank hard, pushing your ship to its limits. The strained engines howl until they fade into an eerie silence as you breach the threshold of space.

“Take her!” Djarin yells, practically throwing Khiggi into Sath’s arms.

The clicks of the missile approach warning system grow to a terrifying scream, warning you of an incoming lock-on. You yank the yoke, executing a tight maneuver to break away from the pursuing enemy. Your voice rings out in the cabin, issuing urgent commands, but the Verda remain divided as blaster fire glances off your ships. Djarin is already on the offensive and returning fire but it’s not enough. The holoview star map whirls, spinning too fast for him to make sense of it. You are being herded, kept in tight formations to prevent you from making the crucial jump into hyperspace.

With calculated precision, you jettison a cargo pod from beneath your ship, watching with grim satisfaction as an enemy vessel vanishes from radar. Leveling out the ship, you push the throttle forward, desperately accelerating, your heart pounding in your chest.

A blinding flash erupts from your starboard side as a direct hit strikes your ship. The scream of children mingles with the acrid smell of smoke. It’s possible that your ship will rip itself apart at light speed, or that your blind jump to hyperspace will vaporize you and the children as you atomize straight through a star. The moment you clear the gravity well of Concordia you level out, punching the throttle forward, forcing the ship to accelerate to light speed. Kriff pre-light checks. You have no choice but to make a quick hop. Undeterred, you activate the hyperdrive, plunging into the unknown.

[maybege]

217 with paz pls🥺

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Summary: You visit Paz at one of his conference after not having seen him for a long time.

Pairing: sugar daddy!Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 9.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!Paz, sub!Reader, a whole lot of size kink, hints of exhibitionism, unprotected sex, idiots in love, kind of a fake relationship agreement not really a sugar daddy arrangement, lots of checking in and pausing due to size difference (Paz’s BDE is real), crying during sex (from pleasure not pain, Paz makes sure of that), just pure fluff and happiness but also they are idiots in love so remember that

Prompts: #3 “I'd hold onto something if I were you.” + #32 “I just wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it.” + #217 “Can you help me with this zipper?” + “There we go.”

Thank you, anon and @adancedivasmom for sending in these prompts! I know it has been a very long time in the making but inspiration strikes when it strikes and I wrote over half of it in the last 48 hours. It drifts from fluff to pure filth back to utter fluff and I just love how idiots in love I can put in with these two. They have the most unconventional relationship (again, a reminder that this is not an actual sugar daddy dynamic, it is just a kind of very unusual meet cute) so of course they will also have an unusual way of perceiving and revealing their feelings for each other. You can find the Masterpost to this AU here (including some hcs). I really had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you have a lot of fun reading it as well. Pretty please let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog, they really do mean the world to me and motivate me so much when it comes to writing and sharing my little brain babies. ❤️

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

gif by @bernthality

“How is my favourite cat?”

“She is busy knocking over the flowers you sent over.”

Crash!

You sighed.

“Maybe we should really invest in these break-safe vases your sister recommended,” you murmured, trying to sit up so you could peek over the edge of the sofa. Safe enough, Snowball was sitting on the sideboard in the entryway, peering down at the shards as if it was as much a mystery to her as it was to you.

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” Paz chuckled, rubbing his chin, “I will text her tomorrow.”

The sound of his laugh seemed to get Snowball out of her thoughts and she bounded for the sofa you were currently laying on. With a loud meow, she jumped onto the armrest, laying low so she could butt her little face next to yours, in plain view of the camera.

“Look who has come to say hello,” you smiled, tilting the phone so he could see her more clearly. Your other hand reached up to scratch her little chin.

“New York’s most important cat,” he agreed and you hoped the phone would pick up the purr she let out as she leant into you.

“She misses you,” you murmured, “She hardly stopped staring at the door yesterday.”

As soon as the words left your mouth you wanted to take them back. You had sworn to yourself, in the early days of your fake relationship or whatever it could be called, that if there was one thing you would do it was to lift Paz up. And if that required you to hide how much you missed him (ridiculous amounts, really) then so be it.

“I miss her too,” he sighed, “And you.”

“How is the trip so far?” you asked, trying to sound more chipper, “Are the investors as happy as you’d hoped?”

“They are as boring as I expected them to be,” he shrugged before a slight smile formed on his lips, “But I cannot wait for the shareholder’s dinner on Saturday. Are you still planning to come?”

“Of course, I am,” you said indignantly, sitting up at the, “We haven’t seen each other in three weeks!”

Paz laughed, “I am sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean any offence,” his face softened, “Briggs will pick you up on Friday for the flight so you have time to relax. There shouldn’t be a lot of appointments I made sure –“

“Mr Vizsla? There is – oh.”

You could see one of his assistants in the background, clearly only now releasing that he was in a private conversation. There was a quick flash of displeasure on Paz’s face that disappeared as soon as you noticed it and you were sure that it was only because you knew him so well by now that you had recognized it.

“It’s all right,” you soothed him, already seeing the apology on his face. He had once said he hated goodbyes, especially because they were never his choice, and you could see it now, too, the way he seemed to be searching for the right words to appease you.

“I will see you in a few days,” you smiled, “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he sighed, “Give Snowball some kisses from me, yeah?”

*

You spent the week feverishly preparing for your trip. It was funny to think that the part of your relationship that you found the most luxurious was the one that was actually at the core of your arrangement. Paz was lonely and on many occasions, his advisors advised, would work in his favour if he had a female companion to fulfil the picture of the man who had his life together. So somehow your accidental match on a drunken night had led to you being his travel companion. And the platonic companionship had quickly developed into something … not quite platonic.

To think that a stupid drunken idea by your friend had led you to sit on your bed, surrounded by the prettiest dresses you had ever seen and contemplating which one to take.

The doorbell rang you out of your thoughts and you laughed when Snowball skittered over the wooden floorboards to greet her second favourite man in the world.

“Briggs, you are early,” you greeted the older man with a smile and no venom in your voice. If there was one person on Paz’s team that made you feel welcome, it was him. Paz’s most trusted advisor and, quite tellingly, also yours.

“Good morning, Miss,” he nodded at you, straightening his tie before bending down to pet a purring Snowball, “Good morning, Miss Snowball.”

“You know you can call me by my name,” you reminded him as you made your way back to your bedroom and your half-packed bag.

“Old habits die hard, Miss,” the older man called from the living room, “Are you quite ready? I have arranged a car to take us to the airport, it should be here in five minutes.”

You rushed into the bathroom and picked up your already prepped toiletries bag and stuffed it into your suitcase. It might just be a weekend trip but if there was one thing you had learned when travelling with Paz Vizsla for business it was that it was always safe to pack two fancy outfits for every occasion – just in case.

“Five minutes should be enough,” you answered, “I got most of the packing done yesterday, I just need your help with something.”

When you popped your head through the door, you spotted Snowball rubbing herself against Briggs’s legs as the man primly sat in an armchair. He turned to look at you and the two dresses you were holding up. “Which one do you think –“

“The dark blue one,” the man decided with a nod, already knowing what you were going to ask, “Mr Vizsla has his dark blue tie with him, that should harmonize nicely.”

“Thanks,” you sighed a breath of relief, carefully folding the dress on the very top before closing the bag, “I can always count on you to make the best choices.”

“And to be on time,” the man added, standing up and running his hands over his jacket, “Which means that we should get going if do not want to miss our plane.”

*

The conference meeting Paz was attending took place on the coast, in one of those fancy beach hotels that looked like it was a luxury that had survived from the last century. It was stunningly beautiful and you found yourself admiring the golden accents and hand-painted wallpapers before you could even start to really appreciate the tastefully quiet piano player in the corner.

“Welcome, are you checking in?” the receptionist greeted you as another employee loaded your suitcase on a golden luggage trolley.

“Uh yes, I am here to join Mr Vizsla,” you answered, always feeling a little nervous when you had to make your connection to him known.

Recognition dawned on her face. “Ah yes,” she typed something into the computer before handing you a key card, “Mr Vizsla told us to be expecting you. Here’s your key card, you’ll need it for the elevators and all the amenities which you will find on the second floor. Just around the corner here,” she leant towards you and pointed towards a little nook, “take the elevator up to the eighteenth floor and you will find your room on the right side of the hall. Do you need anything else?”

You nodded, taking the card in hand. “That would be all for now, thank you.”

“Should I have your bags brought up?”

“That would be kind, thank you,” you smiled at the young man who hurried your bag away.

Briggs, who waited behind you for his turn to check in, cleared his throat. “Mr Vizsla is still in some talks, I’m afraid but if you like I could organize a dinner reservation for you.”

Shame filled you when you remembered what time it was. You hadn’t even thought about food. “I think, I will be fine, Briggs, thanks, I will just get some room service.”

The older man nodded, “Then a very good night, Miss. I shall see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Briggs.”

*

The suite Paz stayed in was, not to anyone’s surprise, absolutely gorgeous. The bedroom was large and the bed the largest you had ever seen. You smiled when you saw one side completely untouched – your side – and his clothes neatly folded on one of the armchairs. The wall opposite the bed was dominated by a flat-screen TV and the little desk by the window could barely be seen through piles and piles of paperwork.

After tipping the bellboy, you immediately took off your shoes and buried your toes in the soft cream carpet. You always dressed for comfort when it came to travelling but there was still nothing better than unpacking your suitcase and putting on your pyjamas for a comfortable night in.

You had just checked your cameras at home (Mrs Marigold had been so kind to volunteer and check in on Snowball every day) and made sure that Snowball was comfortable and taken care of when your phone vibrated with a new message.

Paz: Talks take even longer than expected. Don’t wait for me.

Then,  just a moment later, another message popped up.

Paz: I am glad you are here.

You: Should I order some food for you? Gonna get some room service.

Paz: Got dinner here but I can recommend the tacos on there, had them yesterday and they were delicious.

You smiled at the screen, sending him a quick heart emoji. Already feeling closer to the. And so, you ordered yourself the tacos, watched reruns of The Nanny and lounged on the bed, already knowing that tomorrow you would wake up with Paz beside you.

*

You flinched up, eyes wide open as something woke you. You just didn’t know what. It took you a moment to realize you were in a hotel room and not at home. Someone was beside you and your heart stopped in fright for a second before it resumed beating in your chest.

It was Paz.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered in the dark, scooting behind you, “I missed you.”

You smiled, relishing in the heat of his body against yours. He was shirtless and his mouth on your shoulders made you giggle. But your smile faded when he shifted away from you and the bed lifted with someone taking their weight off it.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, reaching your arm behind you only to find cold sheets.

“I need to shower,” he grumbled, “I stink.”

“Don’t go,” you pleaded, “We can shower tomorrow.”

You could hear the grin in his voice, “We?”

The blanket was lifted again and he was back behind you, so close not even a sheet of paper would have found space between your bodies. In the back of your mind, you wished you weren’t as tired, that you could appreciate his presence more. But then his arm wrapped around your middle and his breath fanned over your neck and you felt the happiest in weeks.

“Yes,” you murmured, closing your eyes again and allowing your body to drift back to sleep, “We.”

*

It was barely light out when you woke again.

“Paz?” you asked, sleepily, reaching for him only to find the space beside you empty. Again. You sat up, afraid that perhaps all of it had been a dream. What if Paz hadn’t come last night? What if something had happened?

Blinking, you finally found your focus and heard the water shut off in the bathroom. Moments later, Paz came in, a towel wrapped around his hips and you bit your lip. In the curtain-clad twilight of the room, it seemed he had not noticed yet that you were awake, sneaking his way to the wardrobe and taking out a new dress shirt.

You let your eyes roam over the broad expanse of his back, how the muscles bunched and flexed as he moved through the room. There was that spot just under his shoulder blade that you loved to run your hands over and if he just turned around – ah yes, there was that tattoo that you traced with your fingers.

“I thought we would shower together?”

Paz looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours and even in the dim light, you could see the smile on his face. He let the shirt fall and with two big steps, he was at the end of the bed, crawling towards you as you let the blanket fall from your chest and wrapped your arms around his neck. He breathed in deeply, his nose running over your jaw. And then his lips were on yours and you got to kiss him for the first time in weeks.

You hummed, smiling against him as your fingers played with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, still a little damp from his shower. His mouth was gentle on yours and the stubble on his chin let you know he hadn’t shaved today.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” Paz whispered between kisses, his mouth wandering to your jaw. You closed your eyes, your arms loosening around him as you tilted your head to the side to give him more access. “Did you miss me too?”

“Uh huh,” you brought out, his large hands cupping your face, his entire hand spanning your jaw to behind your ear, “Missed you so much.”

“Can’t wait for the dinner tonight,” he said, turning your head so he could kiss you on the mouth again, his tongue slipping between your lips. You shuddered, your fingers combing through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. You loved seeing him in his professional get-ups with his hair slicked back and his sharp-cut suits. But there was something to say about how different he looked when he was just freshly showered. He looked much lighter, brighter and overall softer. Like a truer version of himself that you knew he hid when he attended meetings like these.

“Briggs helped me choose the dress,” you murmured, leaning more and more into him, “You will love it.”

“I’ll be sure to thank him,” he whispered back, pulling you against him and leaning back until you straddled him, “I have a meeting this morning as well. I am afraid I won’t have more time for you until tonight.”

“When will you need me?” you asked, taking in how soft he looked. There was no frown between his eyebrows, and he looked so … peaceful and relaxed.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes fluttering as you traced your finger over his jaw. “I always need you,” he whispered and closed his eyes, turning his face to the side and pressing a kiss to your palm, “I swear I don’t know how I ever got through these things without you.”

“I am sure you did fabulously,” you assured him with a smile, kissing the corner of his mouth, “And it will all be over tonight.”

“It will all be over tonight,” he repeated in a murmur, “And then I can show you how much I missed you.”

*

Hours later, the ringing phone woke you from your dreams.

“Hello?” you asked groggily into the speaker, feeling even more tired than when Paz had left you this morning to attend the very last meetings.  

“Good morning, Miss, this is the reception calling,” a woman chirped from the other end, “Mr Vizsla asked us to remind you of your spa appointment in an hour.”

You huffed with a smile. That was so typical of him.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “I really would’ve forgotten about it.”

“Would you like to order room service for breakfast?”

“Uh, yeah,” you asked, looking frantically around for the menu, “I, uh, I don’t know what I want yet …”

“May I suggest our breakfast special?” the woman on the line suggested candidly, “It has some fresh pressed orange juice, coffee, pastries and eggs however you want them.”

“That sounds good,” you nodded, “Could I have them scrambled please?”

“Of course, I will have it brought up shortly.”

*

When the afternoon was nearing its end, you felt more relaxed than ever in your life.  

Paz had booked what felt like the entire spa menu for you and after all kinds of massages, treatments and relaxing sauna visits, you felt like you were living on a cloud. But truly the best thing about your spa visit was that it distracted you from the entire day you had without Paz. Because as soon as you opened the door, you were greeted with your very favourite sight.

Paz Vizsla was clad in only briefs as he unglamorously hopped into a new pair of slacks.

His face turned up and a blinding smile came onto his lips. A smile you could only reciprocate.

And before you knew it you hurried into his arms and he hold you against his chest, stumbling from how his feet were tangled into the piece of clothing but you couldn’t care less when he kissed you like a man starved.

“Remind me to never go this long without seeing you,” he grunted between kisses, “I always hate it.”

You couldn’t answer from how his tongue was playing with yours, your core clenching at how close he was. Stars, you wanted to do other things than preparing for dinner.

And it seemed that Paz wanted that too because his hands cupped your ass, pushing you against him and there was definitely a prominent bulge pressing against your hip.

“When’s the dinner start?” you asked breathlessly, running your hand over his warm chest before tracing your fingers over his lower stomach.

Paz’s hips surged forward, urging you to touch him and you could feel your cheeks and frankly your entire body heat up with want. “Too soon,” he answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling you between his legs. His hand shifted to your hips and he looked up at you.

The bathrobe you had worn to the spa gaped open at the neck and you watched him tug at the fuzzy belt with a smirk. The cool air caressed your bare skin and could feel your nipples harden under Paz’s admiring gaze.

You lifted your knee to the bed right next to his hip, hoping to look as enticing as possible. “Don’t you think we have enough time for a –“

“I am not going to have the first time I fuck you in weeks be a fucking quickie,” Paz complained, though his hands did pull you closer for a minute, “I want to take my time with you, make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good.”

“I could make you feel better.”

“Paz,” you whined when he pushed your leg off him, making you stand again, “Please.”

But the large man was not to be swayed, even with his erection too prominent to ignore, “Not yet, sweetheart, just let us get through this dinner first.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

You pointedly looked at his crotch.

“Don’t you worry,” he grinned, “I am going to take care of that and then I am going to take care of that tuxedo Briggs got me to bring.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me for it.”

And the sad truth was: You did.

*

“Can you help me with this zipper?” you asked, turning your back to a just-emerging-from-the-shower Paz, “I can’t reach it.”

Paz did not let you wait, immediately stepping behind you, the heat of his body radiating onto your back. “You look so beautiful,” he said, his fingertips grazing your bare skin before getting a hold of the zip. It was a dark blue silk dress, one that accentuated and hugged your curves and made you feel irresistible with the deep back and swooping neckline.

“We’re in partner look,” you joked, glancing at the dark blue tie he was wearing, “You look very handsome, Mr Vizsla.”

He grinned, turning you around, “And I am sure no one will notice when I am accompanied by a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

And you were proven right because the first words you heard when you entered the hotel’s restaurant that had been booked for the occasion were: “Mr Vizsla, what a beautiful companion you have brought with you this fine evening.”

“Mr Organa,” Paz greeted the man in front of you, “A pleasure to meet you again.”

He introduced you to him and you shook the man’s hand, reciprocating his friendly smile. “I do hope we get to talk again, Mr Vizsla,” the man said when the bell rang, “But now I think it is time to eat.”

Spending the evening with him once more reminded you of how much you loved him – even when you tried your hardest not to. Paz made sure to scoot as close to you as possible, his chair touching yours and it did not take long for his arm to settle comfortably on the back of your chair.

He laughed with his business partners, talking numbers and making jokes and it took everything in you not to spend the entire time just staring at him like a love-struck teenager. Mrs Organa, who was fortunately sat next to you, involved you in a conversation about the most recent restoration projects of a Mr Boba Fett and so you spent the evening with Paz’s fingers brushing your shoulder and the occasional kiss on the cheek and talking to an incredibly interesting woman.

And still, all you wanted was for Paz and you to be alone.

“When do you think it would be not too early to go?” you asked him teasingly as the dessert was served. It was a delicate chocolate-y creation, served on a giant plate with what looked to be mango sorbet beside it.

His arm left your shoulders but his hand immediately landed on your knee, fingers drifting even higher. Paz chuckled, “I’d suggest now but the way you’re eyeing that chocolate soufflé has me thinking otherwise.”

You glared at him for his joke but the man just grinned, his dark eyes twinkling with joy as he took a bite of his own portion. The conversations around you continued and you watched as almost everyone went out to the dancefloor and the lights dimmed on the dining tables.

But all you could do was admire Paz out of the corner of your eyes. He was relaxed, leaning back in his chair as he observed everyone and even when he was lacking any tension in his shoulders or on his face, he looked so much in control of everything.

Stars, he was handsome.

His hand crept up on your thigh and you shifted, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks as he planted a kiss on your bare shoulder. “What are you thinking about, love?”

You loved when he called you that.

“You,” you replied, tilting your head to the side and smiling when his hand came up to turn your face towards him, pulling you in for a kiss.

“What are you wasting your precious thoughts on little old me?” he teased you, his big hand cupping the side of your neck.

“Old? Maybe,” you grinned, “But little? I don’t think so.”

He growled playfully, surging forward to kiss you again. Hard. His teeth grazed your bottom lip and you opened up for him, letting him control the kiss. When his free hand slipped down your side, his fingers passing your chest dangerously close, you squeezed your thighs.

“Paz,” you whimpered against his neck, gasping for breath, “I haven’t felt you in weeks.”

He growled, his hand landing dangerously high on your lap before discreetly squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, his fingers so close to your core you were surprised the fabric of your dress did not come back with a wet spot. “Believe me,” he said, “I am more than aware of how long it’s been.”

Eternally grateful that the other guests had left your table to join the dancefloor, you opened up your legs the tiniest bit for him, needing his fingers just that much closer. Way closer than they were now. The grin on Paz’s face made your heart (and pussy) pulse and you swallowed thickly.

“I just missed you so much,” you said quietly, trying to bite your lip seductively.

“Did you now?” he leant forward, his nose brushing against yours. His fingers flexed, brushing higher on the inside of your thighs.  

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, cupping his cheek to hold him closer. The stubble was rough under your fingertips and you remembered that time he ate you out in his city car in bright daylight. Stars, the things this man did to you ….

Paz chuckled darkly and kissed you again, soft and gentle while his fingers brushed over the thin fabric of your panties. His teeth tugged on your bottom lip just as your hips bucked against his hand and all shame left you.

If he wanted to fuck you out in the open you might just allow it if it meant you could finally feel him again.

But suddenly Paz was standing up and you were standing up and he was holding your hand, thick digits wrapping around your wrist as he dragged you towards the exit. You stumbled after him, a little confused but more excited than anything.

“We’re leaving now,” he grumbled, pushing the elevator button, “Waited weeks to see you again, I am not waiting any longer.”

The doors opened and Paz let you in first. You watched as he pressed the button at the very top and then turned to you. The look on his face made your breath catch in your throat. He had his hands in his pockets and the dark suit looked so good on him and then he had that slow smile on his lips as he approached you.

Your back bumped against the wall of the small room and your hands behind your back grabbed onto the waist-high bar they had installed on each wall.

“That’s right,” he murmured, his big hands caging you in, “I'd hold onto something if I were you.”

“Paz,” you said, your voice barely a whisper between the two of you.

“What?” he mocked you, his nose dragging along your shoulder, “All speechless now that you finally have my attention?”

You did not reply, probably proving his exact point but stars you were so turned on you just did not know what to say. Especially not when his large hand drifted along your thigh before grabbing your knee and lifting it up to his hip. He slotted his body against yours and his bulge pressed against your core. XXXX

“Don’t worry, I won’t take you like this,” he assured you, slowly grinding against you, “Can you tell me why?”

You whimpered, trying to move against him to get that pressure on your clit that you so badly wanted but his hips had you pinned in place.

“Tell me why first,” he instructed, “Then I’ll let you move.”

“Because-cause it’s too big,” your cheeks felt flush with warmth, “You don’t fuck me without preparation because you – you don’t want to hurt me.”

“Good girl,” he grinned, showing his teeth before using those same teeth to drag down the strap of your dress. Your head fell back and you regretted wearing a bra that night because it meant your nipples were rubbing against the lace instead of the cold fabric of Paz’s dress shirt.

The elevator pinged and you froze, your eyes immediately flitting to the little number over the door. This was not your floor.

Paz had a steel grip on your knee, preventing you from taking it from his hip. You could hear the door slowly opening and your heart raced for reasons other than the sheer excitement that Paz caused in you.

You watched as the dark-haired man slowly turned around, uncaring about the mess of his hair or your half-naked form in his arms.

“Take the next one,” he said and pressed the button for the doors to close. Then he leant back to you, one hand cupping the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your jaw, while the other wandered from your knee to your hip, gripping at the naked skin.

You did not even catch a glimpse at the people he had spoken to. Paz’s body was completely shielding you from their view and somehow that did not help the wetness between your thighs.  

“I swear sometimes all I could think about was what it would be like to fuck you again,” he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss just underneath your earlobe, “

The way from the elevator to your room was a blur of wet kisses, wandering hands and hot skin. Somehow, Paz managed to find the key card in his jacket and you both fell into the room more than you walked, refusing to let go of each other.

Paz walked you back to the bed, one hand reaching for the lube on the nightstand while the other opened his belt. Your breathing felt heavy and you were sure your panties must have been completely drenched at this point. Your hands found the hem of your dress and you pulled it up to your hips, not having the patience to get completely undressed.

Stars knew you had the time tonight. You could take it off later.

Paz pulled out his cock and you watched mesmerized as he put a generous drop of lube in his palm before wrapping his hand around his shaft. The cocky smile on his face told you that he had caught you watching but you were. At this point, your relationship with Paz was nothing new – especially not your physical one – but his size always left you feeling nervous.

He was not only long but also thick and while you knew.

“Could stare at your pussy all day long,” he murmured, his fingers tightening around his shaft before rubbing his fingers carefully over your folds. You squirmed, the lube making you feel. One finger entered you and shortly after another one.

Paz pumped his fingers inside you slowly, his eyes mustering your face for any sign of pain but all you did was whine, trying to push your hips against his. Your walls clamped around him and when his thumb rubbed over your clit ever so slightly, you swore you already saw stars.

“Feels like you are ready,” he determined, the pace of his fingers picking up before slowing down again. Until they barely moved.

“Oh, stars why’d you stop?” you threw your head back, arching your back so you could take them deeper, “Don’t stop, Paz.”

A third finger appeared at your entrance and Paz pressed a kiss to your hip. “It never gets old,” he murmured against your skin, “Watching you take my fingers.”

“Would be much rather taking your cock right now,” you replied breathlessly, moaning when he pushed his fingers a little deeper.

Paz did not answer in the form of words but he pulled his fingers out and stood up. Having him look down on you gave way to another rush of wetness from your core. He looked so dishevelled and sexy, half-dressed with his cock hard as a rock.

“Spread ‘em for me,” he growled, taking his cock in his hand while the other pushed on your inner thigh. He stepped closer between your legs, his hand warm on your thigh.

“Good girl.”

Your walls clenched around nothing at his praise.

The feeling of his cock against your pussy brought back that little nervous voice in the back of your head. What if he would not fit?

But Paz knew how to calm you down. The heat of his body against yours paired with his forearm resting next to your face and his fingers tracing your hairline as he looked at you was the perfect combination for you to focus just on him. On the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of his heavy breathing in your ear, the scent of his cologne in your nose.

When the tip of him pushed inside you, you gasped. He was bigger than you remembered and you were thankful for the amount of lube and your wetness that eased his movements.

Your breathing got faster and you could feel your walls stretch to accommodate his size. Paz’s fingers and you. His brows were furrowed and though his eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, they always met yours and you knew, you just knew, he was trying to see if he hurt you.

It felt like he was pushing all the air out of your lungs and you found yourself holding your breath, feeling his small thrusts stretch your walls more and more. Your belly fluttered and you felt so close to him that it made your heart sing.

“How – how much more?” you asked in a gasp, pushing your chest against his shirt to get some sensation on your nipples.

The large man looked down between you, his hand absentmindedly coming up to pinch your nipple, making you squeeze around him. 

He chuckled, his nose brushing against yours when he looked up again, “It’s barely in, love.”

Your smile fell and panic took over for a solid second. You could see the moment Paz took in your change of heart because his smile faded as well and his hand came up to cup your jaw. “What is it, love? Are you all right?”

“What – What if it is too big, Paz?” you asked shyly.

Paz frowned, though you did not get the feeling that it was because he was displeased with you, and slowly pulled out. “Then I will make it fit,” he said, “Or I will make you come on my tongue. Whatever you want, my love.”

You whined, immediately missing the feeling of him inside you. He peppered kisses along your neck, his hands under your dress, gripping your ass as he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. His eyes focused on your core and the sparkle you saw in there made your heart flutter and your pussy clench.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you tried to give him more space. “I want you to make it fit,” you decided, feeling a little embarrassed at sounding so needy, “Please.”

Paz hummed, “Always so polite.” His shoulders pushed against the back of your knees as he looked at you. His eyes were so intense and, at that moment, you were convinced he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Deep breaths,” he reminded you, his thumb circling your clit as he rubbed his cock all over your folds, “I know you can take it. You know you can take it.”

You nodded, more to assure yourself than him. Because he was right. You had taken him countless times before and you could take him now. And if you couldn’t then it would not be the end of the world.  

Noticing you relaxing back into the sheets, Paz rested more of his weight on you. “Do you remember our safe word?”

You nodded quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“I do,” you confirmed, “You won’t hurt me, Paz.”

“I know how stubborn you can be,” he reminded you gently before pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “I want you crying because I gave you too many orgasms, not because I am hurting you.”

You smiled at his comment but that smile quickly turned into a silent Oh when he circled your clit with his cock. Then he tapped his shaft against your pussy again and again and again. He felt hot and heavy and the wet sounds only spurred on the fire inside you. Stars, you wanted this man so bad.

The change in position helped a lot because this time he got the tip inside you like it was nothing.

“You are doing so good for me,” he murmured, his hips moving against yours in slow and small thrusts while his finger kept playing with your clit, “You are such a good girl for me, love, you deserve the world.”

There was nothing you could answer. Your throat was full of words but all you got out were breathless gasping sounds as you felt him get deeper and deeper. In your search to hold on to something, anything, you found his hand. You gripped his fingers so tightly, you were afraid to hurt him but Paz only squeezed back, his dark eyes searching yours and probably finding nothing but utter devotion in them.

Just like his.

His lips landed on yours so gently, it distracted you from everything. There was nothing but you and him and the way you felt so connected.

“Feel that?” he asked you quietly, his breath mingling with yours. You blinked, not really knowing what he meant. Paz smiled, his eyes softened when he laid his hand on your lower abdomen. “You took it all, sweetheart, you took all of me.”

“Oh,” you murmured, a little astonished, “Really?”

He laughed, “Really, love. How are you feeling?”

You thought for a moment, trying to take in all that you were feeling. “Full,” you answered truthfully, “But good.”

“Good, huh?” Paz started to move again, slow at first, making sure there was enough wetness and not a single trace of pain on your face, “It feels good to have me fill you up like this, huh?”

You nodded, too shy to repeat his words. Something was just how filthy he could get. And how he loved to fluster you with his said filthy words.

“Fucking dreamt of your pussy gripping me,” he grunted in your ear, his pace picking up, “Next time I am taking you with me. There is no way I am going to fly anywhere again without you sitting in my lap and taking my cock like a champ.”

“What – what about your advisors?” you asked, your body moving up the bed with the force of his thrusts.

“They can watch for all I care,” he murmured, “I already know the only one who can make this pussy stretch is me. I am the only one that can make you feel like this, aren’t I? The only one who can make you come and still beg for more.”

You nodded helplessly, feeling like you were about to burst at the seams. And then Paz changed the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly and you were done for.

“P-Paz, fuck, I’m –“ you gripped his shoulders, the tingling in your belly getting stronger and stronger, “Paz, I think I’m coming.”

Normally, that would only get him to move quicker, to have his fingers work on your clit in a way that was sure to get you over the edge before he came inside you. So, what you expected from your breathless announcement were Paz’s encouraging words while he slightly pinched your clit and bit your lip. What you didn’t expect him to do was simply stop his thrusts with an uttering of “Not yet you aren’t.”

Completely dazed, you looked at him as he pulled out. “Stand up,” he instructed. His voice was stern but not unkind and you blinked, watching him take off his tie and quickly unbutton his shirt. Your body ached with the lack of him and you weren’t sure if it was a tremble in your muscles that only you noticed but stars you felt like you were shaking.

Paz completely undressed and you tried your best to put your weight on your legs, your hands gripping the edge of the bed. But sitting up after having your thoughts fucked out of you by one Paz Vizsla seemed to be a bad idea because it just wasn’t working.

Paz seemed to notice your struggle, his hands pausing on his belt and he tilted his head, watching you fall back on the bed with a sigh.

“Do I need to call you Bambi?” he teased you, his hands coming up under your elbow and gently helping you up, “Or are you that fucked out already?”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to think of a good reply. Only you could not come up with one because, stars, did he look good and, stars, did it feel good to be fucked by him. And it felt good to be with him and to touch him and to be touched by him and –

He stepped closer until his chest was pressed against yours, not saying anything. Your hand gripped his forearm and you waited with bated breath as he leant slightly over you. His fingers brushed over the nape of your neck, down your back until he found the zipper of your dress and slowly pulled it down, his hand tracing over your spine in the process.

When he reached the end, you shimmied your hips, the dress pooling at your feet. His eyes roamed over your figure, noticeably stopping at the way your panties were still pushed to the side.

“Beautiful,” he said, more to himself than to you but it warmed your heart nonetheless. Wordlessly, he helped you out of your underwear as well, his hands caressing your skin every chance he got. You had never felt so desired in your life.

His hand closed around your elbow and he started moving across the room.

“What are you doing?” you asked, following him away from the bed. You still felt uneasy on your legs but you knew you could trust Paz to hold you up and when he noticed your difficulty, he slowed down before stopping at the window front overlooking the city.

“I just wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it,” he explained as if it was no big deal.

You paused for a second and so did he, taking in your reaction.

“There is something about fucking you for everyone to see and knowing that no one gets to see you like this,” he elaborated, “Because I want you to look out at the world when you cream around my cock and recognize how fucking perfect you are.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

His smile lit up the entire room and he took your hands in his, positioning you exactly how he needed you. His calm but dominant demeanour made your pussy pulse again, reminded you how fucking confident he was when it came to your pleasure and how happy it made you to be able to fulfil some of his desires as well.

“There we go, put your hands right here and – beautiful,” he murmured, his hands intertwining with yours against the glass, “Now just spread your legs and there we go.”

The glass was cold under your palm and you could see the fog forming around your hand where the temperatures collided. Behind it, you could see the colourful lights of the city that a million people called their home. You were so high up there were barely any buildings that even reached your level but it did not help your nervousness to know that behind each little light there was at least one person.

There were hundreds of lights in your view.

You turned around, wanting to look at Paz for guidance. He slid his hands down your back before groping your ass, pulling your cheeks apart. He was unmistakably looking at your pussy and you shifted, feeling exposed under his gaze and in this position. Your movement made him look up, meeting your eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” he said, his hand gently pushing you to turn back, “Look outside.”

Easy to say when he wasn’t the one whose knees would get weak once he started to get going.

“The whole city is awake and yet no one can see us,” he whispered, pushing his cock slowly back inside you. You sighed, resting your cheek against the glass. The cold air and arousal had caused your nipples to harden and you were highly aware of how your tits swung with each movement.

“Stars, imagine all the places I could take you, all the places I could fuck you,” he mused, one hand coming up to cup your tit, his finger and thumb rolling your nipple. You moaned, tilting your head to the side. “I want to have you with me everywhere I go,” he continued, “I don’t want to wake up another day with the knowledge it’ll be weeks before I can see you again.”

“Paz –“

“There we go,” he hummed, pressing a kiss against your shoulder blade, “That turns you on, hm? Knowing there is nothing I wouldn’t do to feel your pussy come around me. I could get us the room with the best view in the whole city everywhere we go,” he pulled on your nipple and you cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, “And then I would fuck you against that view and still the only thing I would want to look at is you.”

Your heart and your pussy clenched at sheer adoration in his words. “You are so fucking beautiful, love.”

“Paz, please, I –“

“What is it?” he asked you, his voice just on this side of mocking and why did that make him even hotter now, the way he made you feel a little too out of control, “What do you need, sweetheart?

“I need you to come in me.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” he reminded you, his hips not stopping their movement. Instead, his hands tightened on you just the tiniest bit and you whimpered, “You know I am the one who decides when I come in you. And it is only ever after I feel this,” he tapped his fingers on your clit, “tight pussy clamp around my cock.”

“I know, I know, but I,” you trailed off in a whine, pushing your hips back against his to try and work with his rhythm, “Please, Paz, I need it now.”

“Then beg me for it.”

You bit your lip, whimpering when he did not cease his ministrations on your clit. It pushed you even closer to the very edge and you could have cried from frustration. You just needed – You wanted – Why wouldn’t he just –

“That’s what I thought,” he mocked you, kissing your neck, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how shy that little mouth of yours is. You can’t wait to have your pussy stuffed with my fat cock but my innocent little sweetheart cannot even say the word cock. Or come,” he groaned, grinding into you, his fingers tugging on your nipple again, “Or pussy.”

“So, if you want my come before I planned to give it to you,” he breathed against you, “You have to beg for it, love.”

His rough tone made your cheeks burn and your pussy clench. Of course, he had noticed, Paz Vizsla was a ridiculously attentive man and there was a reason he was as successful as he was. You just had not thought that it would turn against you at some point.

“I am waiting,” he teased you, his cock once again hitting that spot that literally made you see stars.

With your hands slipping on the now warm glass and your pussy getting wetter and wetter, you knew there was only so much you could do before you would come.

“Please, Paz,” you cried, “Please come inside me, I need you to come inside me. Please, I – “ you hiccupped, tears stinging your eyes, “I want to feel you come inside my pussy.”

“Fuck, you really are that needy,” he stated, “Who would’ve thought.”

“Please,” you whimpered again, a single tear making its way down your cheek, “Please, Paz, I will do anything you want.”

You could barely stand, trying to keep your hands on the window and your knees from buckling. But that only got harder with each thrust of him inside you. And he was getting closer too. You could feel it in the way his breath hitched, or how his mouth sought out your neck, something he liked to do before he filled you up.

“Hm,” Paz mused, one hand coming up to hold yours against the glass. His entire body pressed against yours, holding you up and making you feel. “Anything, you say? What an enticing offer that I will certainly get back to. But for now, I think you begged prettily enough.”

His words should not have relieved you as much as they did but they did. More tears streamed down your cheeks and you let your head fall, trying to focus on how good you felt, how your entire body tingled with him close and how he.

While one of Paz’s hands stayed on yours, the other arm reached around you and found your clit. “You ready to get filled up?” he asked you, playing with that bundle of nerves, “You want to feel my come inside that tight little pussy. Want me to make you that pretty little mess I know you like to be?”

You nodded eagerly, “Uh huh, p-please, I want that.”

Paz groaned, the sound pure heaven to your ears, and his pace picked up. His thrusts got harder and deeper and ended with him grinding even more into you like he wanted to reach places you did not even know existed. And it made you feel that much better.

“Good girl,” he praised you, “If there is anyone who deserves my come, it is you.”

Clamping your walls around him and trying to move your hips against him, you did your best to make him feel as good as he made you. It was when he got quiet that you knew he was close and not even a moment later, he pulled you straight up, pressing you completely against the glass and him inside you.

You gasped at the cold feeling on your skin, but there was something undeniably erotic about having your tits squeezed up and Paz behind you. He buried his face in your neck, sucking a mark into your shoulder while he ground into you again and again. And it was that feeling of him coming inside you, paired with his fingers still very much circling your clit that made you come around him as well.

And it made you almost black out. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth opened in a silent gasp. You could feel your walls squeeze uncontrollably around him, milking him for all he was worth and you were pretty sure you had lost all control over your limbs. You were just hanging there, mouth open, pussy overflowing and legs trembling with the love of your life right behind you.

“Oh shit,” Paz laughed, feeling you tremble between him and the glass, “It’s a big one, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t really answer but you also knew you did not need to. Because Paz was there to take care of you.

For a little while, he did not move at all, simply letting you ride out your climax while he slowed his strokes over your clit. Time and again you could feel him twitch inside you and you thought to yourself that big one didn’t only apply to you – he had come so much inside you, it was already dripping out around where he was softening inside you.

“You are doing so good for me,” he whispered finally, pressing another kiss to your neck and you turned your head, trying to get him to properly kiss you. And he did, his lips gently landing on yours while he, very carefully, pulled out of you.

The feeling of his come flowing out of you made you grimace and shift on your feet.

“Bathroom?” he asked you quietly and you nodded weakly.

The hotel bathroom was all white marble and had fancy lights and even though Paz only switched on the mirror light, it made you squeeze your eyes shut and whimper. Why was everything so fucking bright?

“Shhh I know I know,” Paz murmured, wrapping his arms around you and leading you to the shower nook, “But I know you will want to clean up, right?”

You nodded against his chest, relishing in his body heat. “Forgot my shower stuff though,” you remembered with a frown.

Your big man chuckled, turning on the rain shower to the perfect temperatures. Not loosening his arms around you, he turned you both so you could tilt your head back and let the water flow over your body. “That is okay, love,” he said, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on your back, “You can use mine.”

The thought of smelling like him made you smile and, feeling a little more like yourself, stood up on your toes to kiss him.

Paz did not wait for a second to reciprocate but you noticed he held back.

“What is it, Paz?” you asked him, running your hand over his wet hair and wondering if he would ever consider leaving it as curly as it was, “Did you not like it?”

He shook his head with a smile. “It was more than I could ever dream of, love,” he smiled, “I was just thinking …”

You tilted your head, watching him consider his words.

“I meant it when I said I want you to accompany me on my travels.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “So you can fuck me everywhere you want?” you joked, trying to hide the very real fear that his feelings did not run as deep as yours did. Sure, you had started your arrangement on quite superficial terms but it had been a long time since anything you felt for him had been superficial.

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean, yes, that too, but … I missed you, sweetheart, a lot and I don’t think I want to spend my time away from you when there is a way that we could be together.”

“I mean we also spend a lot of time together when you are home,” you argued, drumming your fingertips on his chest, “I thought maybe you would like to have some alone time once in a while?”  

“About that …” he rubbed the back of his neck and seeing him made you realize something very fundamental.

You could not contain your smile, leaning a tiny bit back from him to really take in all of him. The way he avoided your gaze, how he shifted on his feet as if he was nervous, how he.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“You can keep your city apartment, of course,” he assured you immediately, “I was just thinking, I mean … I have this big place and Briggs keeps pointing out it is due for some redecorating and I …” he interrupted himself, drops of water falling from the tip of his nose and lashes, “When I am with you and Snowball I feel more at home than anywhere else in the world. And I am wondering if you feel the same way?”

Of course, I feel the same way, you wanted to scream at him, I have been in love with you ever since you asked me to take care of Snowball.

But you remained silent on that front, not wanting to scare him away. Instead, you reached up to pull him closer. His nose brushed yours and the tiny frown between his brows betrayed his insecurity. How rare it was to see Paz Vizsla insecure.

“Yes, Paz,” you smiled against him, kissing him slow and thoroughly, “I would very much like to move in with you.”

The look of complete happiness on his face, when you pulled away, was only echoed on yours. You were sure your grin could only ever be rivalled by his and you squealed when he pulled you up and spun you around, water flying everywhere.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he set you down. His hand found its way to the side of your neck, his thumb and finger spanning your jaw. He did not let you go and his grin faded, replaced by a look on his face you could not quite pinpoint except for how warm it made you feel, “You have no idea how happy you make me.”

“I might have an idea,” you replied shyly, feeling your heart beat against your chest. Was this the moment you could tell him? Was this where you confessed your undying love and revealed just how much you would do to see him happy? How you wanted to wake up with him every morning and fall asleep with him every evening and spend your weekends with him and Snowball curled up on the couch?

But when Paz rested his forehead against yours, you convinced yourself that the moment had passed. Sure, he wanted to move in with you but did that really mean anything? Maybe he just wanted to put another layer of security on your fake relationship arrangement?

“So …” you murmured instead, “How are we going to tell Snowball she is going to move again?”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Hi, so I read the entirety of your “Fresh start” fic instead of sleeping last night.. (I have NO regrets!!)

And….. holdup.. if you haven’t seen all of season three yet, LOOK AWAY!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!

 Overt THINE EYES!! SPOILERS!!

….

…

..

Okay so I keep thinking on how after Paz is rescued from the imp base on Mandalore, he’s brought straight to Reader/Y/N for healing..

And he just pretends to still be passed out, because the Doc responsible for his life at the moment is nonstop mumbling on how she’s going to beat the Kriff out of Din’s ass the second he gets home…

Paz: … *heh.. I think I like this girl already...* (halfheartedly wishing his stubborn dumbass of a brother luck for when he finally gets back.. and also hoping to get a front row seat to his new Soon-to-be-Sister’s wrath on Din.. you could never convince me Paz Vizsla doesn’t enjoy watching Drama unfold.) 🤣

🥺I LOVE HEARING WHEN PEOPLE CHOOSE READING MY WORK OVER SLEEPING. Such high praise, thank you so much!

Yeah, I am in such deep denial about what happened to Paz that I never even mourned? My brain just went "meh he's fine, walk it off dude". AND YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW EXCITED I AM TO WRITE DIN AND PAZ BEING COMPETITIVE BROTHERS. Your scenario is absolutely perfect and it's in the same ball park as what I have planned for y'all👀

[kpopnstarwars]

His Song Has Been Written: Din Djarin x Reader

A/N: ok so paz is gone now and I NEEDED TO WRITE A TRIBUTE CHAPTER TO HIM - this follows the plot for episode seven season 3 but i tweaked some stuff

tw: SPOILERS FOR MANDO EP 7 SEASON 3, swearing, pain, death, violence, they really gave us ragnar just to orphan him, not proof read one bit, sad asf,

Translations: vod = brother/sister, vod'ika = little brother/sister, di'kut = idiot,

wc: 1930

You realise now, how fucking blind you were.

There was no reason for the Stormtroopers wearing beskar to retreat; they were overpowering you, killing at least a quarter of your group. They'd cut and run, anyway, and you'd been too blinded with rage that these people, these Imperials, had been squatting in your home planet all this time, spreading rumours that its atmosphere was unbreathable and the land was poisoned, to realise. The fires of the Great Forge had been extinguished, and the air was cold and empty, barren and lacking the clang of hammers, but kindled at the sight of it was a deep rage towards the Imperials; Imperials that you now chased blindly through the caverns of the once shining Mandalore, right into their trap.

Now, you stand, between one of the Nite Owls and Paz Vizsla, surrounded by dirty, Imperial walls, built in the rock of your planet, as if they own it. As if they own the beskar they use, as if they own the metal that your people are built around, lurking in the shadows of your rightful home as you and the other children of the Watch fled from Concordia, if only to preserve the Creed. You're certain Gideon's behind this - you've clashed with him many times while you travelled with Din, protecting the child you now come to think of as your son.

You grit your teeth, widening your stance as you shoot at the Stormtroopers, Paz to your right, gunning them down with his heavy infantry gun. Somewhere to your left, Din fights too, and although you can't currently see Grogu in IG-12, you know Din must have an eye on him, because the way he stays in a certain radius of you informs you that he's acting as a sort of beskar shield around your son.

'Watch out, vod'ika,' Paz calls.

The sound of more jetpacks sound ahead, and you feel him grab the back of your shirt, tugging you backwards as a new wave of troops enter the hangar. Glancing at him over your shoulder, you retreat with him as he returns his hand back to his blaster, the deeper, rhythmic sound of his infantry gun almost comforting over the high whine of the Imperial blaster bolts and the familiar resonance of your own shots. Scanning the battle for Din, you catch him at the head of the retreat, his armour shining under the harsh lights, his back to you. A quick look behind you confirms that the third, smallest but probably oldest member of your clan is sheltered by a group of Nite Owls and members of your tribe, his eyes squinted against the light of the blasters.

'Din,' you yell, shooting a few of the troopers around him. 'Fall back!'

He turns his head; the red light of blasters reflects off his armour, like smears of crimson blood. Another jetpack sounds, and you yell Din's name again, dread settling in the pit of your stomach, heavy as a rotting corpse coming to rest on the murky sea floor. You balk at the sight of a man, clad in all black, a cape on his shoulders and a mockery of a Mandalorian helmet on his head; the cheeks are stained vermillion, the visor tinted in the same colour, Zabrak like horns rising from the top - there's no doubt who that is. Rage seethes within you: you knew it was him, you knew it was Gideon. Raising your blaster, you lurch forward, ready to protect your riduur, ready to -

The blast door slams shut, a few inches from your face.

Shock filters through your system, and your momentum carries you forward, slamming you right into the blast door, your helmet smashing into the glass window built into it. Curses leaves your lips, and you ram your fist into the metal, fear sending frigid chills down your spine; Din's out there, alone, with Gideon and about twenty Stormtroopers, all wearing beskar sacred to your people - the irony of it is almost as cutting as the self satisfied smirk on Gideon's face once he removes his helmet. You see the way Din's chest heaves, the way he clenches his fists, lifting his chin: he knows he's fucked, but he's ready to fight anyway.

The troopers on his right lunge for him, and he cuts them down, spinning to take on the next batch as they pile up before him. The smile on Moff Gideon's face grows wider and wider. You slam your fists against the blast doors, blood red oozing into your vision as rage warms your bones and burns away at your fear until all you want to do is cram the Imperial's face into molten beskar. Paz grabs your wrists, pulling you back from the blast doors and holding you firmly in his grasp, his arms tight around you, unescapable, and you growl, struggling, but he doesn't let go, his voice low in your ear.

'Don't - don't do this to yourself, vod'ika,' he says, his own anger prevalent in his voice. 'You're hurting yourself. I'd rather you break your knuckles across Gideon's face than against Imperial metal.'

You sigh, falling limp in Paz's arms. 'Okay. Let me - let me go, vod, I - I'm fine.'

'We'll think of something,' he assures you. 'We always do.'

Paz embraces you tightly, and you gladly wrap your arms around his waist, your fingertips barely touching from around his broad back. He knows you need this, he knows that you need something to anchor you, to calm you before you can think of a rescue plan. You've known him and Din as long as you can remember, and while Din became your riduur, Paz became your closest friend; he's as close as a brother, someone who would listen to your lovesick rants about his vod, someone who never failed to make you smile with his bold quips and bolder laugh. Peering up from his shoulder, you glance through the window in the blast door, and your heart drops. Gideon smiles on, smug as ever, as the troopers shove Din to his knees, and he continues to struggle, taking another down in a last attempt to break free.

'No,' you whisper, tearing yourself from Paz's grip. 'No!'

'Vod'ika,' Paz says measuredly, laying a hand on your shoulder. 'He's - ' You shrug him off, an idea forming in your mind. 'That's my riduur there,' you growl, voice low and wrathful. 'That's my fucking riduur. I know what to do, vod. Don't try and stop me.'

Amused, he huffs. 'That's my vod'ika.'

You turn to Bo-Katan, and you swear that the strength of your glare melts the beskar straight off her face. 'If you don't use that fucking Darksaber to get through the bloody door, I'll challenge you for it. Right now.'

She cocks her head; maybe she's surprised by the venom in your voice, or maybe she senses the undercurrent of desperation, but she obliges your words, cutting through the blast door. Darkly, Paz chuckles, cracking his knuckles, ready to fight again as the troopers turn their attention back to you, some of them jumping a little as if they forgot that there's a small army of wrathful Mandalorians behind the blast doors, their honours smarting from the sight of Imperials in their home world. Glancing at Paz, you give him a nod - he knows what to do, he's seen your stupid manoeuvres during the hunts you've been on together. He returns the gesture, and once you turn back, Bo-Katan has a hole through the blast door.

'Ready, vod?' You ask, checking the whistling birds on your vambrace. 'As always,' he answers.

You don't hesitate. You know he's got you covered, so you just dive straight through the hole, activating your whistling birds in a heart beat as Paz sticks the barrel of his blaster out, taking out any remaining troopers as you advance. Vaguely, you're aware of Gideon pressing a few buttons on his vambrace and shooting upwards, borne by his jetpack; you're aware of Paz slipping through the hole behind you, but you're not here for them. You're here for your riduur.

'Din,' you gasp, skidding to a halt in front of him.

'Cyar'ika,' he greets, and you hear the gratitude in his voice as he clutches you tightly to his body. 'He's calling for back up. We have to go.'

You turn your head to Paz. 'Vod?'

'Behind you,' he replies.

Bundling Din through the opening in the blast doors, you turn to follow him, but something tells you to glance back. Your heart drops. Paz stands there, his infantry gun ready, and you recognise the determined set of his shoulders with a settling feeling of dread drifting over you; you grab his arm, tugging him backwards, but he's stubborn as always, shaking you off and jerking his head towards the others.

'Go.'

You snarl. 'Not without you, vod.'

'You won't make it unless someone delays them,' he answers, tilting his head up at the sound of more jetpacks. 'They're almost here.'

'Who fucking cares,' you snap. 'I'll stay with you, then. We can hold them off.'

'Din waits for you, vod'ika. Go to him.'

'And leave you? My vod? Nice try.'

'He's my vod too,' he replies, voice level. 'I do this for both of you. Better me than you two, for your kid's sake.'

'And what of Ragnar?' You ask, desperation leaking into your voice.

'Tell him I love him.'

'Vod,' Din calls. 'Get back here, di'kut. What do you think you're doing?'

Suddenly, Paz grabs you, and you yelp in surprise as he physically shoves you through the opening in the blast door and into Din's arms. He stands in front of the hole, blocking it with his legs and body, and you grunt in frustration, knowing that he's won but not ready to let him go; you know he's right, you know he's doing this because he loves you and your riduur, but it still fucking hurts. It still hurts as he begins to fire at the first Stormtroopers coming into land, it still hurts as Bo-Katan begins to usher the other Mandalorians back, it still hurts as your riduur's arms tighten around you, holding you back.

'If you love me, don't let them go,' Paz yells at Din. 'I love you, my vod. I love you, my vod'ika.'

He hurls himself into the midst of the Stormtroopers, and as he does, he takes a bleeding piece of your heart with him. You hear Din's shuddering breath, feel the way his grip strengthens around you, and you swallow thickly, eyes smarting - it's like digging shards of glass into your heart to take your riduur's hand and run, but you do anyway, tears streaking down your face from under your helmet.

His song's been written, you tell yourself. His song has been written.

You find that you're saying it out loud, and maybe Din is saying it along with you, his fingers clenching around your own as the two of you run, away from your vod, a brave man who fights with deadly strength and honour, a loving father who protected his son with his life, and a brother, in spirit if not in blood. Grief blends with the burning hatred in your heart; you curse Gideon for orphaning Ragnar, for taking away your friend and your brother, for spilling yet another Mandalorian's blood.

Once you stop running, you vow with Din that you'll avenge him. His death will not be in vain.

Paz Vizsla's song has been written.

But yours has not.

[absurdthirst]

MasterList:

** Indicates Smut

HeadCanons

Requested Scenerios

Sex Pollen MasterList

NSFW Alphabet

Kinktober 2020

Kinktober 2021

Quarantine AU - Marcus Moreno

Weekly Writing Round Up

Writer Wednesday Blurbs

Monster Fucking/Loving List

Early Morning {PP Character of choice x F!Reader}

Banging Time Machine {Multiple Character x F!Reader}

The Mandalorian:

Hidden Desires Series MasterList

Frozen Series MasterList

Stress Relief ** NSFW

Midnight Excursions ** NSFW

Muffled Sounds ** SLIGHT NSFW

Prey  ** NSFW

Just Pleasure ** NSFW

Chemical Feelings ** NSFW   (Sex Pollen)

Body Heat ** NSFW

Gut Wrenching ** NSFW   (Sex Pollen)

Secrets ** NSFW (Virgin!Mando)

Tradition ** NSFW

The Cave ** NSFW   (Sex Pollen)

In the Darkness ** NSFW

Unusual Situation ** NSFW {Mando x Reader x Ezra}

The Box ** NSFW

The View ** NSFW

Riduurok ** NSFW

Riduur ** NSFW (Part 2 of Riduurok)

Bred ** NSFW Alpha!Din

Needs ** NSFW

Me’dinuir (Share) ** NSFW {Din Djarin x Reader x Paz Vizsla}

The Deal ** NSFW {Mando x Reader x Cobb Vanth}

The Hot Springs ** NSFW

Close Quarters ** NSFW

Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Beskar ** NSFW

The Face Beneath The Beskar ** NSFW

Kar’ta ** NSFW

Bittersweet Goodbye ** NSFW

The Path (Soulmate AU) (3000 Follower Give Away Fic) 

The Throne ** {King!Din AU} NSFW

Cantina Copulation ** NSFW

Le Trio de Fleur ** NSFW {Din Djarin x Reader x Paz Vizsla}

Aliit ** NSFW {Mando x F!Mandalorian Reader} NSFW

Beskar Bordello ** {Mando x F!Mandalorian Reader} NSFW

Dreams vs. Reality** {Mando x F!Reader} NSFW

Blue Crush ** NSFW

Do It Now ** NSFW

The Mand’alor ** NSFW {Mando x Mando!F!Reader}

Carbonite Cyar’ika ** NSFW {Mando x F!Reader x Poe Dameron}

The Mand’alor’s Riduur ** NSFW {Mando x F!Mando!Reader}

The Return of The Mandalorian ** NSFW

Dosed ** NSFW

Bacta Bonding ** NSFW

Winning Stakes ** NSFW

“Catfish” Frankie Morales:

Tipping Point

Endorphins **

Addicted ** (Part 2 of Endorphins)

Home Series {Catfish x Reader x Pope}

Friendly Competition Series {Catfish x Reader x Pope x Will x Benny}

Hateful Glares Series 

No Smoke Without Fire ** (Sex Pollen) {Catfish x Reader x Pope x Ironhead x Benny}

The Advent Calendars

The Last Mission ** {Catfish x Reader}

The Cabin and the Coup ** {Marcus Moreno x Reader x Catfish}

The Hunt {Catfish x Reader} **

Second Chance **

Finding Family **

Oh, Brother ** {Catfish x Reader x Pope}

Happy Birthday, Mr. Garcia ** {Pope x Reader x Catfish}

Money, Money, Money ** {Catfish x Reader x Pope x Will x Benny}

Fangs & Fur ** {Werewolf!Catfish x Reader x Max Phillips}

Moonlight Madness ** {Werewolf!Catfish x Reader x Benny}

The Baby Making Team ** {Catfish x Reader x Pope}

Thankful For You **

A Very Dirty Christmas ** {TF boys x F!Reader}

Francisco’s Wife ** {Marcus Pike x F!Reader x Catfish}

New Year’s Resolution ** 

The Dark Side of Francisco Morales **

Wake Up Call **

Fatal Break In ** {Catfish x F!Reader x Dave York}

Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels:

First Time **

Blossoming ** (Part 2 of First Time)

The Mission **

Whiskey ** (Part 2 of The Mission)

Chapel of Love **

Fera Flores ** (Sex Pollen)

Whips and Chains Excite Me **

Experimental Love ** (Sex pollen)

Birthday Morning Wake Up **

Say My Name **

The Man With The Golden Whip **

Christmas in Cabo **

Whiskey’s Sugar **

Role of a Lifetime ** PornStar!Whiskey

Pero Tovar:

The Spaniard Series (Oberyn Martell x Reader x Pero Tovar)

Where Am I? Series {Time Traveling Tovar}

The Wolf Series {Werewolf!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Xìngjiāo **   (Sex Pollen)

The Inn **

All I Want **

El Baño **

Damnation or Salvation **

The Blizzard **

Blooms & Thorns **

Journey to the East **

La Esposa del Granjero **

Wedding Night **

Christmastide **

The Primal Prize ** (Alpha!Tovar x Omega!F!Reader)

The Lady’s Mercenary **

Javier Peña:

Yours **

Deseos Profundos ** (Sex Pollen)

Deseos Admitidos ** (Part 2 of Deseos Profundos)

Pureza **

Everything She Wants ** (Maxwell Lord x Reader x Javier Peña)

Celos **

La Apuesta **

Finally Home **

Whatever It Takes **

Comatose **

Working My Way Back To You **

Unexpected Family Man **

Murphy’s Sister **

El Milagro de Navidad **

His Little Family **

Picture Perfect **

Airport Hookup **

Oberyn Martell:

The Spaniard Series (Oberyn Martell x Reader x Pero Tovar)

The Best Little Whorehouse in Bravos ** (Sex Pollen)

Ménage à Quartre ** {Ezra x Reader x Oberyn x Ellaria}

Artifex Enim ** 

Hotel Dorne ** {Modern!Oberyn}

The Throne Room ** {Modern!Oberyn}

Ezra (Prospect):

Respite **

Helping Hand **

Laced **   (Sex Pollen)

Dreams **

Delightful Discovery **

Heat ** Alpha!Ezra

Balneum

Solatium **

Salvation ** TRIGGER WARNING

Unusual Situation ** {Mando x Reader x Ezra}

Starvation ** (Sex Pollen)

Ménage à Quartre ** {Ezra x Reader x Oberyn x Ellaria}

Illa Paulo **

From Green to Grange **

Verba Amoris **

Worth More Than Aurelac ** {Alpha!Ezra x Omega!F!Reader}

Marcus Pike:

Missing Information Series

Agent Pike Series

Love is Love Series {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader x Marcus Pike}

Trying **

Phone Call **

Lujuria **   (Sex Pollen)

The Favor **

Halloween Party ** (Sex Pollen/Breeding Kink)

Insatiable **

Pie & Professions **

As Time Goes By **

Palpable Memories **

The Raunchy Raid **

What Happens at the Cabin, Stays at the Cabin ** {Dave York x Reader x Marcus Pike}

Locked Up Love **

Unfortunate Mistakes, Fortunate Outcomes **

Love in an Elevator **

Sell My Soul For You ** {Possessed!Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

A Princess For Christmas **

Francisco’s Wife ** {Marcus Pike x F!Reader x Catfish}

A New Years To Remember ** 

Sugar, Sugar **

Inconvenient Heat ** {Alpha!Marcus Pike x F!Omega!Reader}

Home Invasion ** {Marcus Pike x F!Reader x Dave York}

Tequila 

The Donor ** {Marcus Pike x F!Reader x Dave York}

Just Friends **

Happy Mother’s Day **

The Nightingale Effect **

Max Phillips:

My Office, Now **

Birthday Treat **   (Sex Pollen)

Noaptea Vampirului (Night of the Vampire) ** TRIGGER WARNING

Chains ** 

An Unexpected Forever **

Training Session **

Just a Taste **

The Evaluation **

Destiny Sucks **

Unholy Sacrifice ** (virgin reader)

The Bloodsucking Bond **

Vibe Check **

Unexpected Raise **

Gold Star Pussy **

Fangs & Fur ** {Werewolf!Catfish x Reader x Max Phillips}

Plus One **

Wife For Life! **

Courtroom Courting **

Sugartits ** 

Dave York:

Stormy Secret Series

Fine Line Between Love and Hate  **

What Happens at the Cabin, Stays at the Cabin ** {Dave York x Reader x Marcus Pike} 

Adulterous Intent **

Family Fun Series {Dave York x F!Nanny!Reader x Carol York}

Surprise 

Running Towards Death **

Take Control While You Can **

Ghost of a Lover ** {Ghost!Dave York x F!Reader}

Mr. & Mrs. York **

A Nanny For Christmas ** {Plus Sized F!Reader}

Protect You At All Costs **

Late For Valentines **

Family Business ** {David York x Spanish Princess!F!Reader}

Home Invasion ** {Marcus Pike x F!Reader x Dave York}

The Donor ** {Marcus Pike x F!Reader x Dave York}

Fatal Break In ** {Catfish x F!reader x Dave York}

Family Feud ** {Dave York x F!Smith!Reader} - Mafia AU

Under His Skin ** {F!Nanny!Reader} - Sex Pollen

Marcus Moreno:

Good To Me **

Mishap in Mission Control **

Libidine ** (Sex Pollen)

The Cabin and the Coup ** {Marcus Moreno x Reader x Frankie Morales}

Yes Sir, Mr. Moreno ** 

First Date **

Max Lord:

Heart of Gold **

More Than A Wish ** (Sex Pollen)

Everything She Wants ** (Maxwell Lord x Reader x Javier Peña)

Lessons In Love **

1985 **

The Masked Initiation **

The Right Formula **

Zach Wellison:

A Room With A View Series MasterList

Dieter Bravo:

Love is Love Series {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader x Marcus Pike}

In the Bubble with You ** 

Telephone Games **

Not An Alpha ** {Omega!Dieter Bravo x F!Alpha!Reader}

Daddy Dieter **

Sex, Drugs and....Tacos **

Javi Gutierrez: 

Forgotten Love **

Co-Written work Post on @wardenparker​ ‘s Page:

The Alewife (Co-written)

Wish You Were Here (Co-written)

[fandom-blackhole]

The 5 Marriage Proposals of Clan Leader Vizsla

AN: I apologize that I didn't get this out last week, but work has been sooooo stressful for me and it is driving me nuts and taking away all motivation. From here on forward I still plan to get one-shots or series parts posted on Wednesdays, but instead of trying to do THOT asks on both Tuesday and Thursday, its probably going to one or the other, most likely Thursdays, each week, and as always Sinful Sudays will always be on Sunday! As always love you guys!!!!!

Pairing: Clan Leader!Paz Vizsla x Reader

Words: 4.8k

Summary: Having a Mandalorian clan settlement not far from your small village was never a problem, they were quiet, they scared away any potential threats, and they came to trade meat they had hunted for items they could not acquire themselves. But their leader seemed to have his heart set on making you his spouse...

or 5 times Clan Leader Paz proposes to you and the 1 time you accept

Warnings: none really, just fluff and pining, Paz not taking no for an answer, mentions of hunting animals, UNEDITED

First Attempt.

It was the first time you had met him. You had been helping your father run his tailoring booth at the market square in the village. The two of you didn’t set the booth up every day the market was open, having a shop on the other side of town made it so you didn’t have too, but you did set up and open the booth about twice a month so you could offer smaller, quicker services as well as sell more already premade clothes, anything from dresses to underthings to handkerchiefs with small embroidered designs. For the most part that is what you did, was the selling of the already made clothing as well as taking small mending orders that you could finish in five minutes or less, your father on the other hand mainly managed from behind the scenes, and talked with barter’s wanting to sell their fabrics, furs, leathers, or what not.

The days that you set up the booth usually managed to collect a handful of customers but never a ton of them. Most would come and browse through your items, ask questions, and then leave empty handed. You didn’t mind, for you you liked the change of scenery from just sitting in the shop all day every day. You didn’t mind the fact that there were always other people to talk to during these days, you didn’t mind talking to your father but he was only your father and sometimes just hearing the town gossip from the elderly women in the neighboring stalls was nice.

Today was like any other market day. You and your father went out and grabbed your usual spot early so you would have time to set up the awning and the tables and racks before laying out clothing. Nothing was new or special about the day, it passed slowly and you walked over for tea at lunchtime with the other women and just sat and listened to the gossip. It was halfway through your first cup of tea that you had heard and saw many of the other women rushing to get up and giggling excitedly as they all rushed back to their booths. As the Syn sisters walked past you you heard the eldest say, “Gosh I hope the mandalorian’s clan leader is with them this time. I would leave my husband in a heartbeat to be with that man.”

It was then that it finally clicked with you that today, of all days, the group of mandalorian hunters were coming in to make trades and buy things for the rest of their people. Some how, in the past you had always managed to miss the warriors. You would say your father did it on purpose, but it is not like the mandalorians let you all know when they were going to be showing up, they just always appeared out of pretty much thin air and leave just as quickly. You knew from your stock at the shop that your father dealt with them in some way, shape, or form because of the nice stock of furs and fleeces your would have replenished at least every other month. All you knew was that this was going to be the first time you would see their kind in person, and not just from rumors and stories that you had heard about through out your life.

After it had dawned on you, you had also gotten up with a giddy nervousness and walked back over to your stall. At your stall you had made yourself busy by tidying up the clothing items and making sure things looked nice as you watched the group of four enter the square and start at one of the farmers’ stalls. From the looks of it, it was pretty easy to tell who was incharge among the group. He was taller than the other, so much taller, towering over even Farmer Jani who was six foot some inches himself. The leader also had an impressive aura about him that just oozed power and control, a demeanor that all but dared you to speak out of turn or try and rip off him or his people. The last real defining feature of the man you assumed to be the leader was his armorered helmet, while the other three’s were plain maybe only having paint on theirs’, his was decorated two sets of horns, the lower pair were thicker and curved around the bottom of his helmet and started roughly behind where you would expect his ears to be, the other set were smaller and less thick and sprouted from the sides of his temples curving straight up before tampering out in a slight curve near the points almost in a bull like fashion.

You had not realized that you had been staring until his helm slowly turned towards you, and you were almost certain that the two of you had made eye contact purely from the chill that traveled down your spine when his head had frozen. While holding your gaze, you saw him tilt his head, followed by his closest associate, a man in complete silver armor, to glance over as well and you could only assume the two were exchanging words. Then he mandalorian in the horned helmet turned completely to you and started walking your way, making your mouth go dry. The only thoughts running through your head was, “did I offend him” and “oh maker please don’t let him do anything bad”.

When his hulking figure stopped in front of you, your panicking mind would only let a singular thought through as you stared up at him, “Kriff, he’s even bigger up close”. Taking a deep breath you smiled up at him, still worried you’d upset him and you meekly asked, “H-hello, is there something I can help you with, sir? Some mending or new clothing perhaps?”

He replied with a grunt, looking around the stall, as if just noticing where he was at, before he gently reached for your left hand, grabbing it and bringing it to the center of his chest and saying, in a voice that was unfairly attractive, “Marry me.”

It took you a whole minute to process what he said, and your face immediately dropped, staring at the horned mandalorian, you shockingly said, “Excuse me?”

Attempt two.

The second time that the man, who you now knew for sure to be the mandalorian clan’s leader, Paz Vizsla, tried to propose to you was in a different situation, but at the same place. Your father had fallen ill for the past week and you had been forced to go to the market by yourself while he slept so that you could grab some medicines as well as replenish your food supply that was starting to get very low. You hadn’t wanted to go, waiting until you absolutely had to go. After your strange encounter with the mandalorian clan leader that ended with him declaring, to everyone in the market, that he was going to get you to say yes to his proposal even if it took him his entire lifetime, well you had understandably been avoiding anywhere and everywhere he may be.

It had been about a month since Leader Vizsla’s first proposal and since that time, you have had your father do most of your shopping as well as staying back at the shop on the days he wanted to set up the booth at the market. He knew and understood your reasoning behind avoiding the market, but he also had been joking with you that have a mandalorian son wouldn’t be so bad, that he would be a better spouse than many of the boys in the village. You couldn’t exactly disagree with him on either point, but you just couldn’t except the proposal with it being the first time you both had met, and neither of you knowing a thing about the other. It just didn’t feel right at all.

Today though, you had shown up at the market, trying to come at the latest possible second hoping that if the mandalorians had come that day, they would have already gotten their things and left. The downside was you were forced to pick through the picked over vegtables, fruits, and meats that the others had not wanted throughout the day. You wouldn’t complain though, because at least at this time of day the evening breeze was blowing and the startings of an orange sky from the setting sun gave everything a beautiful glow.

You had talked with many of the women you were friends with, catching up on all of the news that you had missed in your absence. Many of them saying that they missed you coming to the market, and to your relief no one brought up the events of your last market visit. Though it did seem like each and everyone of the booths you had gone too had the owners shooting glances over your shoulder, but each time you checked there was nothing or no one there. It didn’t change the fact that you also were feeling like someone was watching you, but you tried to just chalk that up to it being one of the villagers in the market, there was always someone watching someone as they walked around the booths.

It was as you were picking out your meat cuts to take home, that you felt someone come up behind you. Thinking it was just another customer, you moved to the side slightly to allow them to look as well without being in the way. You had been talking to the butcher when the person had walked up, and he had excused himself for a second before coming back with a large cut of fresh meat and added to the few items you had already picked out.

“Um, Simon, as lovely as that looks, I cannot afford that cut. Plus I am sure there is someone else here in town that could use that more,” you said with a kind, but confused smile. He acted like he was going to reply, but then the other person at the booth spoke up and you froze as you heard the deep familiar rumbling voice.

“No, mesh’la, that is for you. I caught and cut the animal myself. I wanted to bring you a gift.”

You turned your head to look up at him, realizing he was standing directly next to you. You had to close you eyes and take a deep breath. The gesture was definitely not one you were expecting, and honestly it was hard to argue you didn’t want it when your resources were so lacking at the moment, but a the same time you feared that if you accepted such a gift, than he would use that to twist you into making you marry him. Your doubts must have been crystal clear on your face, because he then said, “The gift is just that, a gift, mesh’la. Though I had hoped that it would show you that I could provide for you and our family. You would want for nothing if you married me.”

‘Clan Leader Vizsla, I cannot accept such a gift when I have nothing to give you in return…”

“I ask nothing of you in return, if not your agreement of marriage, but I will not force you hand. I will be persistent and ask you everytime I see you though because I do know that you are the one I want by my side,” then he turned to Simon and nodded before pulling out the credits for the meat there, passing it to Simon as you tried to protest again. Then he turned to you as he slipped the meats into your basket and said, “So?”

“Leader Vizsla, please. We don’t even know eachother, I can’t marry you.”

Attempt Three.

The cold had crept into your small village, leaves turning from greens to oranges, reads, yellows, and purples, by the time you saw him next. This time you had given up on avoiding the market, especially after learning that Clan Leader Vizsla had been showing up before the sun rose with his other warriors and staying until the market closed by himself having sent the others ahead of him, and just staying and waiting for you to make and appearance. For some reason after you had been told that you had flushed and had to bite your cheek so to try and force down the smile that ept trying to pop up on your face. You still did not know much about the man, but you did know that his actions had proven that he was serious in his pursuit of your hand.

With the weather getting cold, your father, now fully recovered from the illness he had struggled with, had decided he did not want to sit in the cold and risk getting sick again so the two of you stayed in the shop. Your father had run upstairs to your small home for something when you heard two people enter the back door, as you were mending a dress. Gently setting everything down you made your way to the back of the store, coming face to face with the Clan Leader once more, as well as the silver mandalorian from the first time you had met him. You could see Leader Vizsla perk up, straightening his back and almost trying to show off his size and power the second you walked in. The action almost made you laugh, almost. The man beside him gave off a sigh, before saying, “Your father is he here?”

“He is. He just ran upstairs, may I help you with something,” you answered the mandalorian as you watched his leader almost look fidgety with you there, or maybe it is because you were talking to the other mandalorian and not him.

The silver mandalorian nodded in reply, and said, “We have brought in the furs of our hunts, in trade for some new, warmer clothes for the children of the clan.”

You smiled and replied saying, “Of course! May I see what you have brought in?”

As the silver man turned to grab the furs, you watched as the clan leader turned quicker and set them on the table next to you, and said, “Here, mesh’la.”

You only smiled kindly at him, as you took your time looking over the furs, only really stopping once to run your fingers through a beautiful and softer ginger colored fur, which caused Leader Vizsla to step closer and say, “Beautiful, isn’t it? It came from a smaller beast we had been tracking for weeks. Her beauty reminded me of you, especially with how she fought.”

This time you couldn’t help but to laugh at his attempt at flirting, before you said, “Of course, nothing is more romantic than telling the person you want to marry that you thought about them as you killed a creature.”

Behind you you heard a barking laugh come from the silver mandalorian who had been looking through clothes and listening to your conversation. Without turning around or stopping his task, he said, “I like this one, vod. This one I can see keeping you in check.”

Said mandalorian just slumped slightly in embarrassment, before he turned to you and said, “I guess now would not result in a yes to my proposal either?”

You only shook your head, immediately sobering up and pushing your fingers though the soft fur again, brushing against his finger accidentally, before saying, “You are a good man, I can tell, but it just doesn’t feel right for me to accept your offer. I am sorry.”

Attempt Four.

Not as much time had passed since you had last seen the mandalorians in your shop since you had been asked for the third time to marry their leader. In fact it had only been about a week when he showed up at your shop again, with a small bunch of fall flowers and a bag on his side. After getting over the initial shock of seeing him there right at closing and so soon after the incident with the furs, you took the flowers with a smile and a quick thank you, as that familiar heat started rising in your face once again.

“I wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me, mesh’la.”

“Dinner?”

The man nodded, and after a second of thought, you allowed your gut to overrule your head, and you agreed. After telling your father and leaving the flowers in some water you walked back to where he stood patiently and asked, “And where exactly are we having this dinner?”

He only tilted his head down to look at you, and you got the feeling that he was just smirking at you before he held his hand out and only replied, “It is a surprise, mesh’la.”

Cautiously, you laid your hand in his own before, which as soon as it was in his grasp he lifted it to his chest right above his heart, before lacing your fingers with his own larger ones and leading you away from the shop. During your walk to where ever you were going you both were silent for the most part until he lead you to a smaller building on the outskirts iof the village. On the outside the building didn’t look like much at all, but the second you walked in you found that your armorered companion most likely decorated the place for this dinner. There was a nice fire going in the fireplace against one wall keeping the place warm and casting the singular room in a soft orange glow. Next to the fire stood a small table, short enough that you both could sit comfortably of the furs laid out on th ground as you ate. On the table sat a couple of candles for more light, as well as plates and utensils. The remaining open space was filled with more of the flowers that he had brought to you, there petals scattered around and in the light they look even more soft and delicate.

The mandalorian lead you inside and helped you down onto one of the sides of the table, before settling next you you and pulling off the bag he had been carrying.

“I did not know what your favorite foods were, mesh’la, so I just made a bunch of traditional mandalorian foods so you could try a little of everything. If that is okay with you?”

“That, actually sounds amazing, Leader Vizsla, but your helmet? I thought your people couldn’t remove it in front of others,” as soon as the words left your mouth, he tilted his head down, before replying, “Please, mesh’la, call me Paz, and… there is a loophole. We are not to show our faces to anyone but our spouses or children, so that just means you cannot look at my face. I had thought…”

“Thought what, Cla-... Paz,” he looked up at you when you said his name, it felt heavy and sweet in your mouth and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that you could get used to saying his name. Softly, Paz raised his hand and brushed his knuckles against your cheek, before lowering his voice and saying, “Mesh’la, I thought that I may blindfold you and feed you, if you were okay with that of course. I would be satisfied just to sit here and watch you enjoy the foods that I have brought.”

Your silent for a moment as you think about his offer. You trusted him, he had never given you a reason not to, and you fully believed he was a good man, that he would not harm you in anyway. So with your heart thundering in your chest, you nodded and watched as he pulled out a smooth cloth and placed it softly over your eyes and carefully tying it there. When he finished, you could only see the the outline of his shape being lit by the fire through your blindfold. Shortly after he had the cloth secured, you heard a slight hiss and watched as his outline lost the bulky horns, then he whispered, his voice now clear and soft, but some how even deeper than with the helmet, “Okay, mesh’la, what would you like to start with? I brought all kinds of flavors and dishes…”

Dinner progressed with Paz tentatively feeding you a bite of one dish, explaining anything and everything about it. Some dishes he talked about the significance of it in their culture, other dishes he would talk about a memory he had that was linked to the dish, or even just giving you a bite and waiting for your reaction before saying that it was one of his favorites to eat and make. By the time the food was eaten and you were fuller than you could ever remember being in your life. You were content and happy and warm, and a feeling of something else was starting to creep into your heart, something that made you want to just smile constantly, something that made you feel warm and fuzzy with every word Paz said.

Once he finished a story about Din, the silver mandalorian and his brother, the two of you sat in content silence for a second before Paz leaned forward, placing his forehead against your own, and said, “Mesh’la, this was nice, I am glad you agreed to this….but I must ask again, because each day without you next to me hurts, love, mesh’la, please, marry me…”

You looked down at your lap with a sigh, and started playing with your fingers. Taking a deep breath and said, “Paz, you know that I can’t… it just-”

“Doens’t feel right. I know mesh’la, but you know I had to ask.”

Attempt Five.

Since your dinner with Paz, you haven’t been able to get off your mind. His voice, or image always floating at the edges of your mind. Months passed and you hadn’t seen nor heard from him or the other mandalorians since that night. You told yourself you weren’t worried, that you were just curious, but it was always half hearted, and never fully convincing. Your father even picked up on your change. Noticing you whip around everytime someone walked into the store only to slump over, he watched as you walked around the market, always looking around for some thing or someone even while chatting with others.

Then your father started getting sick again, and instead of getting better his health just continuously kept slipping further and further away from you. One evening as you were helping him he his dinner he said, “My darling girl, why do you never say yes to the mandalorian? It is obvious you have feelings for him, and I just want you to be happy. I want you to be with some one who will keep you safe, that will never leaving you wanting for anything, and he can do that for you.”

“Dad please, I...I don’t know what I feel for Paz. He is a great man, and I know he would take care of me, I just. I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right…”

Your father other nodded and then told you he was tired, smiling you kissed his forehead and wished him a goodnight, walking over to the kitchen to clean up dinner.

Your father’s condition stayed much the smae for a couple of weeks, until one evening after you closed up the shop and walked upstairs to check on him before making dinner. At a glance it looked like he was peacefully asleep on his, back, but something nagged at you to go in and check on him and you are both happy and sad that you did. Just brushing your fingers along his cheek and seeing the color gone from his face let you know that he was gone. Biting your lip, you walked downstairs crying and commed the doctor asking him to come over. In the time while you were waiting, you had sat down in your sewing chair and started crying. You sat there for you didn’t know how long watching ass the doctor came and confirmed what you already knew. You turned your head as the doctor took him away from the house with a singular, “I am sorry for your loss.”

You stayed down in the shop for hours, just crying and watching the sun disappear from the sky. Time passed and flowed with you unaware, only able to watch out the window of the shop emotionless and mourning.

It was only when you felt a hand on your shoulder, that you moved, and even then it was only a slow tilt of your head upwards, where you found the now safe and familiar horned helmet looking down towards you. You only sighed and shook your head, having run out of tears either minutes or hours ago. You heard Paz faintly whisper your name, but you didn’t acknowledge him only staring out the window. Paz then moved, so that he was kneeling in front of you and grabbed your face.

“Mesh’la, please. I know you are hurting, I came to see you and I saw them take him away. Please, let me take you away, come with me to the clan, where I can take care of you…”

And for some reason, even though his words were only meant with the best of intentions, but they just made you angry. Now was not the time for this little game you both had been playing, now was not the time for him to be sweeping in here and trying to play the doting lover. Pulling away from him, you stood up and walked away from him with a pained expression, wanting to get away from him, but his reflexes being too quick to fully getaway. By the time you had reached the other side of the room, he was already right next to you, and you just turned and pushed against his chest, trying to punch at him but he kept catching your fists, trying to tell you to stop so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“Go. A. Way. Paz,” you turn away from him and wrapped your arms around yourself, “PLease just leave, I… I can’t do this right now,” then you walked upstairs, leaving him there and locking the door behind you.

Last Attempt.

It had been a month. A month since you buried your father and a month since you had seen Paz and your heart ached. You missed your father, the person you were closest within this galaxy, but you also missed Paz and felt guilty for the way you had reacted. He had only been trying to help you, he wanted to take care of you in your time of grief and mourning. And you had just tried to hurt him, you pushed him away and now, you hadn’t seen or heard from him. You knew that the mandalorians, including him, had been visiting the market, Din had come by a couple of times to trade furs for clothes and mendings. You always wanted to ask about Paz, but you never felt brave enough. Always thinking that you have finally just managed to push him away for good, and just as you were starting to allow yourself to feel things for him.

Days passed and you found yourself feeling lonelier and lonelier. Some days you couldn’t pull yourself from bed long enough to even open the shop, and your market trips all but stopped, not being able to handle the pitying looks that were shot your way. But you still needed food, so trips were necessary, but now you went first thing in the mornings. The mornings always empty and you had the place to yourself besides the booth owners. You chatted and shopped and tried to seem happy, but it always seemed like there was a deep underlying sadness you couldn’t shake.

Then, one morning, as you were standing by the butcher’s booth, you felt someone come up behind you and much like the first time you watched Simon pull out a nice piece of fresh meat, and you heard the voice you had been aching behind you say, “Mesh’la I hope you won’t fight me this time. You look tired and like you haven’t been eating. I am sorry for what i did and said during our last meeting but I miss you.”

You turn to look at him with a soft smile and sad eyes right as he says, “I will only ask you one last time, meshla, will you please stand by my side and let me give you everything in my power, let me make you happy?”

“Paz...I,” and you saw him slump, before you reached up and cupped the cheek of his helmet, “Paz, I am sorry for how I overreact. Maker I have missed you, how my heart has been broken without you...Yes, Paz, yes.”

Tags: @ollovaemisc @kikiinden @bunny-fair @shellyc9 @just-someone11 @elinedjarin @zukoyonce @nativeomega369 @equalstrashflavoredtrash @itsnottilly @haapeaness @jennacide02 @space-kates @lovecatsnotpeople @rubyuris @boomtownboy @misguidedandbeguiled @kgbtardis @beskarprincessjenny @bluewritesao3 @goblinsimp @phoenixhalliwell @stargazingthenightaway @aeuna1 @joculatrices @soggy-platee @loudicrous @themaskismyface @maybege @alittletosalted @mysticalgalaxysalad @pucksart @blondecity @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @tacticalsparkles @shove-an-ass-up-my-stick

(Thank you all for reading! I hoped you enjoyed the story and all LIKES and/or REBLOGS are super appreciated! Love you guys!)

Also I am planning on making a google form so I can make up some taglists so keep an eye out for that!!

[ohheyitsokay]

found

pairing: Paz Vizsla x reader

wordcount: 3.3k

warnings: brief mentions of cannon typical violence, the general awkwardness of writing a new character, fluff

summary: you're someone surprisingly good st finding lost things, and you find a Mandalorian - who's looking for home

<<

Trying to get over my need to over explain things by leaving random plot holes. Don’t think about it too hard.

The charred remnants of the base were in tragic, disorganized, smoking piles all around you.

Feet still, you breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, too tired to be in awe of what had taken place, too overwhelmed to realize that you were unscathed.

When a figure stepped out from behind one of the heaps, only your eyes moved, impressed in spite of yourself that they had managed to stay silent. It was a being barricaded in armor, solid like they were carved from the mountain around you, but blue, shockingly, wonderfully, beautifully blue.

You wondered if you had it in you to fight him.

It hadn’t been so long ago, that you’d met other Mandalorians – their helmets so full of pompous you wondered how they could fly. As he walked closer, you noticed that he did not look like them, did not hold his chin so high it begged to be knocked with the blunt end of a weapon. There was pride in his shoulders still, but no more than was in yours, and he approached you with empty hands.

“What happened here?” his voice had a rumble but he seemed curious, not disbelieving or angry.

“I tricked them,” you told him, and you were surprised to find yourself unafraid of telling him plainly. “I was looking for a missing flock of sant birds, and found them plumping the bellies of imperial troops.” You gestured loosely to a sparse gaggle of silly little beaked creatures tied a string toward the edge of the rubble. “I muddled the communication signals until they believed there was an incoming attack, and their would-be rescuers believed their own troops were the enemy.”

The Mandalorian's back straightened slightly and his helmet tilted.

“You did that for sant birds?”

“I have no love for imps or those who take what is not theirs,” it came out defensive, although he hadn’t belittled your choice. “It was more effective than I expected, but there were not many living who are not anymore, just droids.”

“You are one who finds what it lost?” there was a question there, but not one spoken aloud, and the subtext screamed.

“Can I help you find something, Mandalorian?”

His shoulders rose slightly - just a hair, really - and you couldn’t sworn his helmet dipped.

“Yes.”

-

Your fingers danced along the buttons and levers of the ship’s control panels, waiting for a command from your mind that would never come. They moved when you thought, searching for a memory – you couldn’t help it.

Next to you, Paz watched, amused as your sharp eyes were unfocused, mouth open just slightly with unspoken words.

“What are you thinking of, little one?” he asked, as quiet as he could manage, snapping you back to the present.

“When we first met,” you turned to him with a smile that made him fidget in his seat. It baffled him, how good you were, and how steady you’d been by his side.

Paz didn’t respond with words, just a thoughtful hum as he watched the stars race by in streaks. You didn’t know, but he was a little embarrassed by it – how enraptured he’d been by you, how quickly he trusted you.

After being separated from his clan, injured and angry, he had spent months stewing and brewing plans for finding his brethren again to no avail. Paz even hitched rides with strangers and picked up less than ideal work, hoping for something of his people to point him in the right direction.

Still healing, he settled on a little planet known for its rumors, known for spreading and sharing information so fresh it hadn’t had time to be twisted. It was there that he waited for words of Mandalorians, met the… other clans, and it was where he heard of you.

On the surface you weren’t remarkable, the whispers said, just a traveler with an uncanny ability to find lost things, and just smart enough to bend the world to your will and just slippery enough to stay one step ahead of genuine trouble. They said you were caring and cunning and clever and had a knack for judging a person’s character. From word alone he liked that, liked you.

The farmer who owned the barn he was sleeping in told Paz that he had asked you to find an old necklace of his mothers. A day later, both the necklace and a long lost sister were joining them for dinner, and you shrugged off both the thanks and the payment with a smile. Paz knew, because he had heard you distantly, through the weathered slats of the barn, and it stayed with him.

The dismissive words reminded him of home - the first reminder that wasn’t painful - evoking moments that were sweeter than the ache of loss. He would have said the same thing, when the Mandalorian’s who were not warriors requested his help. It wasn’t strict custom, but the way, to accept meals instead of money, stories instead of useless metal. Your actions, words, and far-away laughter reminded him of his home.

And when he found you, uninjured, a glint of satisfaction in your eyes and pride in your shoulders as you spoke casually about justice he couldn’t go back. You were almost glowing in the light of the still smoldering embers, gorgeous and determined and he knew he only had one choice – one shot take you with him.

Paz wasn’t in the habit of making promises he wasn’t absolutely sure he keep but he made himself one that day, buried it like a time capsule somewhere in his chest.

And then immediately put it to the test, by testing you.

He looked over at you, your hands now fiddling with your chair, and he fought the urge to mimic the movements. “I evaluated you,” he hoped you could hear that he was smiling.

You snorted, an impolite noise that made want to laugh.

Standing, you widened you stance comically lifting your limbs in an effort to be bigger, mocking him and saying “If I hire you, little one, I must know that I can trust you,” in an exaggerated tone. The exact words he’d told you after his test was over, something you teased him about often. Paz was laughing, but he wondered if you liked how deep his voice was – it was the key change to your mimicry. Looking satisfied with yourself, you settled down again, reminiscing.

The test had been to accompany him on a mission he’d picked up for extra cash – there were plenty of opportunities to be reckless but you gambled with neither his life nor your own. It was one of those circumstances where you were moving and guarding cargo for a rich young diplomat. He told you afterwards he wanted to see if you’d pocket anything beyond your payment, and of course you hadn’t.

“I passed with flying colors.”

The mission had veered left, when a misinformed bounty hunter pressed the tip of a blaster against your throat. At the time you were nearly strangers, but you didn’t give him up, even when you realized the bounty hunter was looking for a woman.

Paz was as in awe of you then as he was now. You agreed to help him the remnants of his clan, and to travel with him, and his promise to himself remained intact.

He nodded.

-

When he was young, Paz had a sweetheart, a kind Mandalorian girl with whom he enjoyed spending time with. It fizzled as apprenticeships and training were traded politics and responsibilities, and he had always had fond memories of that time.

It paled in comparison to how he felt about you.

You had been searching on your own for something you swore would help your search, and had been gone for days. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was certain now – what you were to him was infinitely more than anything else he had ever known. Still, he felt like a schoolboy, missing you, glancing at the door to the ship with eagerness every time he heard a creak.

He had thought for weeks it was because you felt like home, had been sure it was your ease with mando'a and his culture that made take to you like a duck to water. It made sense, he reasoned with himself. Of course he missed his family, those he was raised alongside, the very people who gave him purpose in life - of course he was looking for any scrap or taste of that wherever he could get it. Nevermind that your smile made him feel like he’d been stunned, it was just because your personal culture fit his like pieces of his armor.

Anyone would have been pleased, half smitten with someone who allowed then onto their ship, especially one as functional as yours. It was perfectly reasonable that he was comfortable with you, since you were always so thoughtful and honest and caring.

And you were talented, useful, that was all. The reason he valued you so highly was that you made his life easier, matched him step to step and balanced out his strength.

But that was all over now. It was special, how well you fit with him, and not to be taken lightly the vulnerability you gave as you shared your space and rations and time with him. All those other things were true, certainly, tenfold the longer you stayed in his company, but he could no longer explain away how much lighter his heart felt when you trotted into the ship, windblown hair and triumphant eyes.

He wanted you to be by his side, preferably if you wanted to be there.

Standing, he moved towards you, wishing he could hug you as you unceremoniously dumped your supplies on the floor. Instead, he picked them up, piling them or putting them back where they belong as you both filled each other in onto the days passed.

Eventually, the suspense overflowed, your excitement bubbling out of you.

“I got it!” your voice did something when you were excited that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it made him smile.

“Got what?” Paz swallowed a cyar'ika.

Eagerly, you produced a small drive and plugged it into the display, saying, “A map!” with pride.

“We already have a map,” That time, he nearly choked on the mesh'la his instincts insisted on, looking at you with genuine confusion.

When you grabbed his gloved hand, he thought he might never let it go.

“Not one like this, Paz.” You turned to the floating miniatures, and he only watched your face under their glow a moment longer before he tore himself away to look as well.

It was distracting, how close you stepped to him as you pointed, but your words were thick with value.

The map had details of Mandalorian sightings and rumors and stories. Even more than that, many of the planets had extra information tacked on, about resource numbers. Paz drank them in, your excitement finally making sense as he realized you were starting to highlight the ones where imported goods didn’t match the populations reported. Your voice was telling him you’d find them soon, that for him, you would do whatever it takes. His longing had become yours, in this little ship half buried in the dirt, under the expanse of the sky.

His hand found your shoulder, gently turning you and carefully, carefully, he hugged you.

-

The first three planets they chased were driven by pure, unadulterated excitement. He was eager for his brothers, eager to go back to protecting those who raised him and those who were being raised alike. Eager to be home, wherever that may be.

But as the weeks wore on, a realization settled in his mind. Finding home would mean your job was complete – his loss would be you, instead of his tribe.

And he did not like that thought at all.

It became a harsh contrast to his eagerness, as jarring as cool water cracking over heated metal, raising a stink that made his eyes threaten to fill. With each lead the two of you chased, there was a twist in his gut, anticipation suddenly less solid in his heart.

Your ship was nice, cozy and reliable, and he had filled his bunk with anything he found in the markets that reminded him of home. In between searches, you always managed to find the littlest work for the highest pay off – and really, work for a Mandalorian and his lovely, cunning companion was more than available. It was nice, filling your little kitchenette with foods you had introduced to him, and whatever he could get his hands on of the ingredients from his memories.

It wasn’t the same as his old home, with the people and culture who had shaped him, but it was something, and he… liked it, a lot.

He had gotten used to you, the way when his frustration built how you’d match it when he needed to, or lock him in a room with a pile of rations, or slip your hand between the gaps of his armor and rub circles with your thumb. Once he’d gotten in his head about the Mandalore, gone so far he wanted to fight everything that moved, maybe even stop some of them from breathing. You walked right up to him, wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your weight on him until he remembered to breathe. And he didn’t really think anyone else in the galaxy would’ve done that.

So how could he give that up?

-

There was an elderly woman, Kori, who had missed the battle. Paz told you excitedly that she was fierce and had fought the armorer for the right to travel, unaware of the trouble that followed his brother-in-arms and the child.

You had set up the meeting at a little cantina you knew, and watched as Paz paced around your ship in his newly polished armor.

The last few months with him had been like a dream – and you had never been more selfish. When you’d met this Mandalorian you had been in awe, despite the previous encounters with the beskar-clad race. More than his formidable size, he cared fiercely, almost seeming larger by the passion that filled his frame.

And the more time you spent listening to his stories, why it all mattered so much to him, and having him listen to you in turn, the more thankful you were that he found you, and continued to let you help him in his search. He didn’t need you, not really. The man was resourceful and intimidating and held himself with the confident grace of a predator - it would have been just as easy for him to take what he wanted and be on his way.

It was strange, how his blood was equal parts humble and proud, but you were drawn to it, intoxicated by him. No one had ever made you feel as protected as he did, as… valuable as he treated you, and you ached for him. You couldn’t bear not to help him as much as you could, but you already knew you would miss your long nights spent talking or the way his gloved hand would grab yours like it was his second nature.

When it was time for the meeting, you had put extra care into your appearance, as if it would matter, wanting to make a good impression. Your companion stopped, and looked you over, and your feet shifted on the bumpy ramp of your ship.

Paz rumbled, as he had the first time you’d met, saying, “What is this?”

It made you laugh, sometimes, that someone so powerful and in control could be so awkward at times.

“Is it bad?” you quipped, trying to sound as though you did not care what he thought. In truth, he was the only one you had ever wanted so badly to think you were attractive.

Paz made a small noise, one you thought you recognized as annoyed, and you turned in time to see his helmet shaking and his shoulders tense.

“Mesh'la,” his voice was lower than normal. Logically you should’ve expected it, but it was amazing, almost overwhelming how his hand enveloped your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. It was warm, and you felt selfish for wondering how much moreso it would be without his gloves.

And then a moment later the touch broke and he was hurrying to the cantina with you at his heels.

Kori was there, and they embraced. She greeted you kindly, but you kept your distance as they talked.

You settled at the bar, trying not to mourn a relationship that was hardly more than friendship, as you felt the eyes of someone on the back of your neck. It was a familiar feeling, and you turned, assuming it was Paz – but finding a man making his way over to you instead.

He was handsome, too tight clothes stretched over the muscles of his chest and a sweet, crooked smile. It made you think, maybe a distraction wouldn’t be so bad – and it wasn’t, at first. The guy was nice, attractive and charming and respectful enough that you let yourself actually enjoy his company. You almost didn’t feel the Mandalorians watching you – and you certainly didn’t see your Mandalorian's hands clench on the table.

-

Paz had hardly said a word to you since he dragged you back to the ship. He knew it was making you anxious, knew you were already waiting for him to start packing, knew you deserved some type of explanation as to what was happened but he just couldn’t.

For the very first time in his life he was petrified of getting the words wrong, desperate to say everything as right as be possibly could.

He wasn’t trained in this – they would say it was the way and move on, or have heated conversations driven by what they knew was right. Mandalorians weren’t … tactful, tentative, tender people, but Maker, did he want to be, for you.

You, in your nice clothes, settled in a crate, watching him and waiting, looking just touch guilty.

It’s not your fault, he wanted to say. It was his, for not being honest sooner. For letting you think he wasn’t head over heels in love with you, for letting you believe he would, could leave you. But he was angry, at himself and at the karking boy for thinking he had any right you make you smile like that.

Angry that it took Kori one look to know what he had spent weeks denying, to unearth the promise he'd made himself about keeping you close.

Angry it took her hand on his fists, and her quite, “Home is where the heart is, adi'ka,” for him to realize.

And when Paz was angry, words slipped past his tongue back down his throat like bitter medicine, and he couldn’t make it stop. He was a man who had spent years of his life in absolute control over every muscle in his body but he always failed with one, the one that seemed to matter most.

In the end, he remembered to do what he wished you would do – he pulled you into him, pressing he forehead of his helmet against yours.

In a moment, he could explain himself, tell you he loved you, ask you to let him stay. In a moment he would thank you for finding him.

But for now, he watched as the confusion cleared from your eyes before they closed and your mouth pulled into a smile, and didn’t run from the pride that filled him from head to toe.

<<

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[dancingwiththeplanets]

Relief

Paz Vizsla x fem!reader 

     masterlist

Summary: “I know that we’re strangers but something really awful has happened to me and I need you.”

A/N: highly recommend listening to “everything i wanted” by billie eilish before reading because that is just the vibe.

Warnings: angst, ruminating, lots of dialogue, mourning the death of a parent, deals with depression and anxiety, soft!paz, a big brute with an even bigger heart

Word Count: 11k (oops)

---------------------

“Death changes people, it brings some people together, pushes other people apart...” You remember your buir’s words as if they were spoken to you just yesterday. They were the words he said on the day of your mothers funeral. “...but you and I, we do not let such things hurt us. We are stronger together, my ad’ika, we can only get through this together. Yes?”

“Okay, buir.” You said. Your wide, 5 year old eyes not fully comprehending the situation.

He nodded, pained, and whispered, “That’s a good girl,” before leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead and departing to the ceremony, your small form in tow.

He was right, death did change people. You remember seeing him in pure agony, as much as he tried to hide it from you. Your aunts and uncles would always be over, consoling him, distracting you, oftentimes just having you stay with them so your father could grieve away from your eyes.

But he never let it hurt your relationship. No, he was the best buir anyone could dream of. Your buir.

He was a proud man, respected and admired by all the warriors in the covert. Fierce, honorable, diligent and selfless. He would and did do anything for anyone. And the tribe respected him immensely. They even elected for him to be the Alor on more than one occasion, and he practically was. But he refused the title again and again, preferring to do all the work without carrying any official status. Even so, he certainly inherited the same amount of respect that the actual Alor had.

“All of the privilege and none of the responsibility.” He would tease, winking at you as the two of you would sneak out of the kitchens or any other ‘off-limits’ part of the covert, everyone turning a blind eye to your buir and ad’ika antics. Mainly just because they respected him too much to chastise you.

Truly though, he was a very respectable man. He trained the little ones, led hunts and security protocols for the covert, found lost Mandalorians and brought them home to the tribe. He dedicated his life to building the strongest and most operational covert that Mandalorians had seen in years. And he did it all for you. All so that you would have a safe place to grow up, so that you would lose as few brothers and sisters, and as few aunts and uncles as possible. So that you wouldn’t lose anyone just as suddenly as you’d lost your mother.

But he never prepared you for the day you would lose him.

The two of you were unimaginably close, so close that now you regretted ever developing a relationship that strong with him even if he was your father, because look at what it got you.

How were you supposed to go on? What was your life without your buir? What was this covert without your buir?

You look around the room, dozens and dozens of armored warriors here to pay their respects to your father, his body already having been buried.  The tears leak out of your eyes without reserve as you hold tightly to your friend's hand, scanning the room for the comfort of your boyfriend. “He’ll be here soon” She whispers, though you sense doubt in her voice, “I’m sure of it.”

------------------------

You’re not sure what time it is, only that you’ve spent yet another restless night collecting tears in your pillow. Your booted feet pad down the deserted hallway of the covert. It’s aboveground, hidden beneath the treelines of a dense forest on a nearly desolate planet. It’s beautiful, unlike most every other secret covert that exists, though very few do. It has bulletproof glass paneling all around to allow for light to peek in through the trees. It’s warm and inviting instead of cold and gloomy.

“We need a home. Not a prison.” Buir had said.

You wince, face contorting in pain at the memory of him sharing the design with you. He had a dream. He wanted to live the way he used to, on Mandalore. Embracing nature and training warriors in the traditional way. He wanted your small tribe to grow into the hundreds. And that it did, well, to just over a hundred at least.

The most recent tribe came in from Nevarro, about seven months ago. He’d managed to track them down and get into contact with their Alor. Though some members of their tribe were reluctant to merge- they always are- they soon decided to join forces with your own, strengthening your numbers. Plus, they got to move to a much more beautiful, safe, and spacious planet.  

Regrettably, you hadn’t gotten to know many members of the new tribe still. They were...different. Still pleasant from the interactions you’d had with them at least, good sense of humor and all, but they were devoted to the old ways of Mandalore, conservative, reserved, passionate. Most unusually they didn’t arrive with any women in their tribe, aside from their Alor. For some reason odd, universal reason, Mandalorian women were hard to come by. It was a troubling issue that distressed many people in the tribe, in any tribe. It felt like a curse on your people. But this tribe literally had only one. They obviously cherished and admired her immensely, they made her their Alor.

Also, their creed didn’t allow for them to remove their helmets, a drastic difference from the one you had sworn that didn’t even require you wear your armor all the time, though you and most everyone almost always did. You were still Mandalorian; Training, honor, armor...they were still as big a part of you as your soul was to your body. But everyone around here knew your face, and vice versa, even if you did spend most of your life behind the shield.

This week however, you couldn't bring yourself to put it on once. Hell, you didn’t even bother with your flight suit. You just stayed locked up in your tiny room all day and night, only leaving when you were forced out by your friends. “It’s for your own good,” they would say. You suppose they were right, but no matter how good of friends they were to you right now, their company seemed to make it all worse.

A part of you wanted Collin, your boyfriend of two years, but he seemed to disappear from sight every time you caught his eye, an action that made your friend, Brie, chase after him in a rage the last time. He had been so blatantly obvious. You were in tears, yet again, mourning your father, yet again, when you caught the flash of his grey armor slip past your crying form in the common room. The hurt you had felt was unimaginable. The betrayal. You know that your relationship was strained as of late, but this, the death of your father, how could he not be around for you? Even if just as a friend?

So here you were. Another sleepless night, another late hour gone by without the noisy comfort of the of the tribe at work. Your head was pounding from the tears, the dehydration and the pain. The kriffing pain.

This time you couldn’t do it. You couldn't stay trapped within the dark walls of your room any longer, quickly pulling on something decent to wear in the late night or early hours of the morning- you didn’t know what time it was- before mindlessly wandering the covert.

Empty. It must be smack in the middle of the night. Well, at least you could sulk freely, allow the tears to escape without worrying about what a blubbering mess you must look like. A part of you was thankful, this was...kind of nice? There was nobody hovering around you. No visors following your every move in pity or concern, waiting to catch you when you break. You did pass one or two guards patrolling the halls, but you avoided them as best you could, hoping to avoid being questioned.

You finally take a moment to sit, hiding yourself beside some phony shrub in the corner. You’ve wandered to the dining hall. You look around, hoping to distract yourself with the silent chatter of the five or so warriors lounging around, probably on break from late night duties. Your eyes finally resting on a group of three of your vods sitting around, talking. They’re from the new tribe, well, most recently new.

You don’t know any of them particularly well, least of all the heavy infantry warrier whose figure commands your attention. He spends most of his time with the higher ups or teaching the foundlings, and you fall somewhere there in the middle. But he’s broad and robust and by maker if he doesn't captivate your attention.

You listen to the quiet echoes bouncing around the spacious dining hall. There’s hardly anybody here, it must be so early. You groan, to you it just feels unbearably late.

You don’t know how long you sit here, hidden behind the leaves of the plant, hazy eyes focused on the blue warrior. You just sit, staring, he’s...peaceful to observe. His arms are crossed over his chest, leaned back comfortably against his chair.  He huffs at something one of his brothers says, you can barely hear it, but you see the shake of his shoulders before he adjusts his posture and a small smile pulls at your own lips for some reason.

You shake your head. Is this wrong? You think, averting your eyes away from Paz’s form. You feel guilty for some reason, you mind reminding you of Collin. The guilt impacts you painfully for a moment, adding to the feelings of loss and exhaustion before you shake the thoughts away.

No. You think, eyes squeezing shut at the new wave of emotion hurting your already distraught mind. I’m just people watching. Not admiring. This is allowed. This actually feels...kind of nice, it’s allowed.

You permit your gaze to return to Paz and his friends, watching them nod at another couple of Mandos who pass by.

There was something so...comforting about Paz. You don't even know how you can think that? You don’t know him.

You watch his attention shift to his boots which are sprawled out in front of him, heels resting on the hard floor. He kicks his feet out a little bit, watching them wiggle from their movements. His action again tugging the teeniest of smiles to your lips.

You feel a small and brief glimmer of warmth in your chest, though quickly replaced by a pain that pinches from your gut to the back of your throat. Tears gloss over your vision before you’re able to fight them away with slow, deep breaths. It feels as though your body is chastising you for daring to feel a degree of happiness so suddenly.

No. You cower away from the invisible being hurting you, eyes squinting shut again.

You yearn for the slight relief and warmth to return. You need it. It just...feels so damn hard to breathe like this.

The anxiety, the fear, the distress. It just won’t leave you alone.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until you’re already out in the open. You’d abruptly stood from your hiding spot and started walking toward the source of relief, before nearly choking on air realizing what you were doing.

Holy shit, you gasp, It’s too late to stop walking. You’re already out in the open, and you’ve made it well into their field of vision. If you stop, they’ll notice you.

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff.

The anxiety is burning in your chest again. Your steps falter before you stop, you’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore.

What you do know is that now you’ve caught the attention of the Mando sitting next to Paz, whose visor now watches your frozen form in the middle of the hall. Your heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand there motionless, eyes wide and breathing faltering at having been detected.

You must look absolutely deranged.

But of course, it had to get worse. Noticing the stillness of their friend, the other two shift their attention to see what’s silenced him.

Three visors. There are now three visors on you. Staring down your shaky, frozen form.

You can’t walk this off, you can’t play it cool. They’re already looking at you, you’ve stood still here now watching them for now who knows how long.

What do you do?

Kriff.

You recoil slightly, crossing your now shaking hands in front of you, hoping they wouldn’t notice your trembling palms.

What the hell is wrong with you? Relax. You’re a Mandalorian, just think.

What is the least horrible way out of this?

Carry it out. Whatever it was that you were doing, whatever mission your subconscious had led you on, just execute it.

You breathe in a shuddery breath, placing one foot out in their direction and hesitating before allowing the other to follow its movements.

Geez, walk much?

It’s so quiet in the empty hall, only 5 or 6 other Mandos out on the other end, so each tap of your feet is as audible as that of a bantha on crackling ice as you make your way to them.

“Okay, vod’ika?” One of them asks kindly. You recognize the maroon helmet from up close. Ramsey?

Ramsey, you think.

You nod slightly, suddenly remembering how out of it you must look. Eyes puffy and red, lips swollen, hair in disarray. You feel even more anxious to desert the mission than before, resigning to just get it over with and face the object of your desire.

“Paz,” you say, internally groaning at how pathetic and fatigued your voice sounds. “May I please speak with you for a moment?”

Kriff, what’s the plan now, di’kut?

The question directed at him takes him aback, but his posture instantly straightens. “Of course,” He says, rising from his seat.

You blink back a little as he stands to his full height. Have you ever been this close to him? Surely not, you would remember the feeling of being towered over like this. Paz hesitates, waiting for your instruction. Osik, were you just brazenly sizing him up right there? Great, and now he must think you’re intimidated by him.

Abort, abort, abort.

He tilts his helmet at you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You move for him to follow, which he does. You try to move as far away from the others as possible without being terribly obvious in hopes that they won’t overhear your conversation.

“Is.. everything alright?” He asks once you’ve guided him a safe distance away.

“Yes.” You say instantly, eyes locked on your hands. “I-I mean, n-no.”

This is weird.

What have you done?

You force your gaze up to meet his, noticing his visor tilt in concern. He no doubt already knows what’s troubling you. Everybody in the covert knows about your father’s passing, there was a ceremony for kriffs sake. Paz was probably there.  

Your lip trembles suddenly, embarrassed, and instantly you’re cursing yourself for having put yourself through this. With everything in you, you squeeze your eyes shut and look down, the only way you know you’ll be able to ward off the tears, though you know your conduct is a dead giveaway as to what you’re trying to do.

He says your name, and there it is again, relief. Fleeting and short-lived, but making that one small breath easier to inhale than the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper in frustration. Opening your eyes to see his feet having moved closer to you than they were before.

Always concerned with the wellbeing of his tribe. You remember. That’s what this big brute is known for anyway, right? You can trust him.

“No,” He says, his tone soft spoken, a sharp contrast to his intimidating form. “Take your time.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head at the floor before forcing your eyes up once again.

Always maintain eye contact. It’s a show of respect. And you always show your superiors that you respect them. Your dad's words remind you to keep your head level to Paz’s. Or...at least as level as it can be to Paz’s.

The reminder that you are indeed speaking to an alor’ad stirs up new nerves in your belly, you were falling apart in front of a captain. Worse, a Vizsla, Mandalorian royalty.

“Um,” you eventually sputter out, collecting your thoughts. “Well I...I kind of have a weird request.” Your murmur.

Are you going to faint? It feels like you’re going to faint.

“Okay,” He nods to indicate you have his full attention, “What is it?”

“Um,” Your voice wavers, suddenly feeling very shaky and lightheaded again, and incredibly annoyed that you didn’t just opt to put on your helmet for the sake of hiding your face. Only...it makes it really hard to breathe when you already feel like you can’t get enough air. And pulling it off every five minutes to clean your face of newly gathered tears was difficult.

He says your name again, this time slowly raising a hand to your shoulder. You exhale in relief when you’re met by his touch. “Hey,” He says, “It’s okay, what do you need?”

You take another calming breath, soothed by the weight of his hand that hasn’t left your shoulder. “Well first, are-are you busy today?”

What a stupid question, you think. He ranks high up in the chain of command, of course he’s busy. Not to mention, it’s probably, what, 5 a.m. right now? And he’s sitting in the dining hall. He certainly didn’t wake up this early because he didn’t have something to do.

“Not at all.” He assures with a shake of his helmet.

Sure.

You dismiss the obvious lie, staring his blue visor straight on. You can see your pathetic, teary-eyed reflection staring back at you in the space where his eyes would be.

He wants you to tell him what’s wrong, you remind yourself, just do it.

Using what remaining courage you have, you open your mouth to speak. “I...I know you don’t know me that well. I don’t really...know you either. I-I don't even know why I’m here asking you this right now. But, um,  my-” you choke on your words, confidence diminishing “-my dad is dead, and I’m hurting and afraid and feeling completely unlike myself. I don’t know when the last time I slept was or if I’ve eaten anything in the last couple of days. I just know that-that something really awful has happened to me and I know y-you and I we-we’re practically strangers but right now I just n-need someone and I r-really want that person to be you-”

You hadn’t even realized the flood of tears gushing down your cheeks or the defeated sobs suddenly shaking your body until you were pulled into a pair of arms, his arms.

Strong, protective, shielding arms.

You hear the gentle sounds of Paz shooshing you, his hand pressed to the back of your head and cradling you in a comforting manner.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika.” He hums, voice light and sweet like honey.

You almost don't mind the heavy sobs racking your body for a moment.

Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart.

You feel his body stir above you, either looking around or else...motioning something to someone. “Hey,” He whispers, keeping your head tucked into his arm, “Come over here with me.”

He guides you away from the dining hall where no doubt, despite your best efforts, whoever was in there had both seen and heard you throw your fit. At the very least catching your sobs at the end.

Ushering you around the corner to an empty hallway, he helps you down on a bench, sitting next to you. Your sobs slowly subsiding to small sniffles under the gloved hand moving soothing circles up and down your back.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, allowing you time to gather yourself. Once the wobbliness in your breathing evens out to a calmer, drawn out, pace, he asks again, “What can I do, vod’ika? I’ll help you, just tell me what you need?”

You nod your head, electing not to rub the abused skin around your eyes that was being continuously irritated by tears. “Could you maybe, stay with me today?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” He responds instantly, “Yes, of course. Wh-what would you like to do? How can we...divert your attention?” He attempts to sidetrack the word distract, acknowledging that his word choice probably doesn’t make much a difference. “Is there anything on your agenda today?”

“N-no.” You sniff. “All my responsibilities this week were redistributed to other people. I have nothing to do.”

He hums, considering your words.

“But um,” you offer, “I suppose it would be good to take a shower.” You chuckle lifelessly, tugging at the unwashed ends of your hair.

You see his form tense beside you, and your eyes widen in horror in realising your error.

“O-oh maker, no. I was kidding, cause I’m a mess and all that’s - kriff - that’s not at all what I was insinuating-” You panic, fumbling for words.

He chuckles lowly beside you, raising a hand up to ease your stammering, “No, it’s okay. I understand. Allow me to...escort you then?”

“To the-” You swallow, cheeks no doubt pinkened by the encounter, “You really don’t have to I wasn’t seri-”

“Self-care is important.” He says, rising to his feet. “It’s the start of a new day, and it’s early enough that you’ll likely have the entire washroom to yourself. C’mon,” He extends an arm out to you. You contemplate taking it for a moment, briefly, again, considering Collin.

Who isn’t here.

“Really?” You ask, stunned both by his willingness to wait outside the washroom while you shower and his consideration of your privacy.

He lifts his elbow again in response. You rise from your seated position, hand hesitantly grabbing a hold of his arm as he lowers it back towards his side, making the gesture less obvious to prying eyes.

You hold onto the crease of his elbow, your other hand mindlessly joining your other so that you practically hang onto him. He tugs you forward, and you begin walking at a comfortable pace.

“Thank you,” You say, sounding stunned again. “I...I can’t imagine that when you woke up this morning you thought you’d be babysitting a stranger.” You mumble, embarrassed.

He huffs, “You are not a stranger,” then he says your name, again. Honey, pure honey.

“You are a member of my tribe,” He continues, “Even though we do not know each other well, I still care about you.”

You blink back your surprise at his words. This man truly is honorable. Caring and considerate and selfless. A big brute with an even bigger heart. You can’t stop yourself from looking up at him, nearly gaping at his words. “You care about me?” You ask.

He hums, looking at your wide eyes staring up at him. 

“You don’t even know me.” You mutter as he looks away. You can’t possibly care about someone who you don’t know. 

“I’m observant.”

You hesitate, feeling another foreign feeling flutter in your belly. 

“Observant?” You challenge.

His visor looks back down at you, your puffy eyes swimming with curiosity. You want him to prove it. 

He takes a tentative breath, hoping you’ll allude his suspiciously observant behaviors of you with the fact that he was trained to be hyper aware of his surroundings. He speaks slowly, “Your favorite food is vegetable pie, probably because it’s a main course, but also sweet. You like to busy yourself with your hands, often tinkering with whatever small, broken objects you manage to find around the covert. Every morning, you head to the training room early to run your own drills and stretch before everyone else arrives. You have a boyfriend, Collin I believe, who you like to align your chores with so you can do them together, except for cleaning the kitchens, which you always try to switch off with somebody else.”

Your eyes stare unblinkingly at his profile. “How-how do you know that?”

“Because kitchen duty is always crossed out under your name on the chores chart, and a different chore is always handwritten underneath.” He says, unable to contain an amused laugh. He opts to only remark on the last of his observations.

You slow to a stop, feeling suddenly incredibly ashamed. “Wow,” You say in admiration. “I-”

You can’t think of anything to say in response, you don’t know anything about him. And here he was telling you that not only does he care for you simply as a member of his tribe, but he actually knows things about you.

You’re overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, “Paz- I’m...I’m ashamed to say that I don’t even know what your favorite color is.”

He barks out a laugh, surprising you. “Are you concerned with what my favorite color is, cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” You answer, perhaps a silly amount of gravity. “Upon hearing all the things you know about me that most others don't, I mean I’m...I’m touched Paz.”

His tilts his head, visor lingering on your face a moment, and you’re sure that while it was a somewhat silly conversation, he can see the annoying little pools of water that gathered in your eyes again.

He’s silent for a moment. “My favorite color is brown,” He says.

“Brown.” You reflect.

He nods, “It’s warm, soothing.”

“Okay,” You say, hand reaching for his elbow again. “Brown. I’ll remember that.” You squeeze his sleeve in promise.

“I’m sure you will,” He smiles. Or at least you think he does. It sure sounds like he does.

You continue walking on in silence, only passing one other vod in the spacious hall. You’re fairly certain that the Mando approaching does a double take as he sees you clinging to the heavy infantry warrior, but Paz just gives him a nod as you pass in silence. It’s still terribly early. Or late, to you at least. For it to be early you would have had to have slept in the first place.

Your pace is slow, and you wonder if Paz notices the utter exhaustion plaguing your body.

Oh. He must, you think upon catching a reflection of yourself.

Kriff, you look about as good as you feel.

He stops outside your room so you could run in and bag some clothes, before you venture down to the washrooms. You walk comfortably in silence, despite having enjoyed some distracting conversation with him, it feels like the most you’ve spoken all week, and it was tiring, though not unpleasant.

“Could I, ask you something?” He hesitates, clearing his throat. Noting that you keep your eyes glued to the space in front of your feet. “Where is your...uh, Collin?”

He should be doing this. Paz reflects. Taking care of you.

You raise your eyebrows at the floor. “Sleeping I’m sure.”

“Well yes,” He says, “But why hasn’t he been, you know...around?”

His brows furrow at his own words. Well done Paz, you di’kut. First the poor girl’s dad dies, then you offend her by asking why her boyfriend hasn’t been taking care of her. Let alone the fact that you just made it known you’ve noticed his absence. That did not come out at all how he wanted it to.

He’s surprised by a little laugh emitting from your lips. Small and half-hearted and barely audible, but by maker if even then it isn’t one of the prettiest sounds he ever heard.

“Cause..” you sigh, searching for the answer. “-cause he’s an asshole.” You mutter, blunt as the truth leaves your lips.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have overstepped-”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, “what’s one more thing in my life..”

Paz is silent for a moment. You’re surprised your eyes haven't welled with tears again. Lately it seems like they prefer looking through a blurry lens rather than a clear one. But maybe a part of you expected this with Collin. Your relationship isn’t what it used to be. For the last six months it seems as though his interest in you has slowly diminished. It takes having something fun and interesting for him to seem excited about spending time with you. Cause maker forbid anytime you try to just sit and hang out with him you enjoy yourselves, he’s always got some excuse on hand to get him out of it.

“No,” Paz insists, interrupting your ruminations. “I’m sorry. Perhaps he thought space is what you wanted?”

I think space is what he wanted.

You don’t answer, arriving to the washrooms. Being the only two people in at this hour, the echo of his heavy armor clinks around the wide space. You pass door after door of the enormous shower rooms. Kriff, this is weird. Why was the first thing you thought of when he asked you what you would normally do to shower? I mean sure that was true, but certainly you could have forgone this item on your agenda for the sake of being...proper?

You glance at your passing figure in a mirror and flinch.

Although.

Maybe you...need a shower.

You must have showered within the last few days, right?

“Okay,” Paz says, breaking the silence. “I’ll wait out here.” He says, standing in the communal space with sinks and benches. “You just, take your time vod’ika. Let the water...freshen you up or, soothe you or..some shit.”

Your frown abruptly turns into a wide smile as you giggle.

Victory. He thinks.

His breath hitches behind his own helmet. Kriff, you have a lovely smile. How had he never noticed your smile before?

“Thank you, Paz.” You say, retreating to a random facility and briskly closing the door.

You lean against the door once it’s shut, the ghost of a smile still on your cheeks.

He’s really just going to stand out there. Just so that you know he’s there, that you’re not alone.

“Wow.” You whisper, soaking in the warm feeling in your stomach. It feels like forever since you’ve felt that, giddiness.

You move to turn on the water, slowly stripping yourself of your clothes. You were still wearing your nightshirt from your fruitless sleep endeavors. It was nothing indecent, just a plain, black, elbow-length shirt. Luckily, you had had enough sense in you to pull on a sports bra before you abandoned any notions of sleep, lazily just slipping on some green cargo pants over your leggings before wandering aimlessly through the covert.

You look comfortable but...certainly not like a fierce Mandalorian.

You try your hardest to wash the gloom off your face, focusing your attention on the mission at hand in hopes of keeping distracted. Now you remember why you’d been putting off showering. For some reason, whenever you’re buried under the protective warmth of the loud, secluded shower, at least since it happened, you started to-

The first sniffle comes before you sense its approach, and within seconds your body is shaking in silent sobs.

“Shit.” You whisper.

Pull it together, it’s okay, just breathe. Paz is out there, you don’t want him to hear you.

Your tears blend together with the water running down your body from the shower, making it impossible to discern what is the result of your own pain and what procured it.

You let out a silent whimper, quiet enough that thankfully, you’re sure Paz couldn’t have heard.

Breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay.

No. I’m not okay.

I’m all alone.

“Stop it.” You scold yourself harshly, your soft breath echoing only in your ears.

You are not alone.

Someone is here for you.

Paz. Paz dropped everything to take care of you.

He’s right outside that door, waiting for you.

You take another moment to compose yourself, allowing the last few suds to wash down your form before turning the water off. You quickly dry yourself off and pull on your change of clothes, now wearing a blue sweater and leggings. You didn’t even bother bringing a flight suit. What’s one more day of not suiting up. But at least you’ve still got your boots.

You walk to the mirror, sighing once you get a good look at yourself.

Great.

Swollen, red, angry eyes stare back at you with a red nose to match.

Fuck. You shove all your things back into the sack, giving your hair a final few shakes with the towel before moving towards the door.

It swings open, and you’re met with the sight of Paz leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed, one foot propped up against the wall. His visor turns in your direction as you emerge from the chambers. He hmphs, observing your appearance.

“What?” You ask, hesitating to step closer.

“I like the color.”

You look down at your sweater, unknowingly having sported a blue in the exact same shade as his armor. You hide your gaze in your chest, mumbling a half-amused, “Oh.”

“It signifies reliability, did you know that?” He asks.

You still don’t meet his gaze, but smile. Makes sense.

“It is very fitting for you.” He finishes.

You finally look up at him. For you? He believes you to be reliable? “Oh, th-thank you.” You stutter, feeling truly flattered by his compliment.

His visor tilts silently back and forth on your features as you step up at him. He notices your freshly irritated eyes.

“Are you-”

“-it’s nothing.” You interrupt, shaking your head.

“I um,” You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to lighten the mood with an obviously forced smile. “I tend to emerge from showers with angry eyes, at least, as of late.”

Paz’s hand surprises you as it reaches up, gently cupping your elbow, so swiftly you’re not even sure he meant to do it.

“Not angry, mesh’la,” He mutters, “sad.”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, not having expected such a remark from him. He seems slightly distressed by his own slip of the tongue as well, immediately tensing.

His mind is reeling, guilt flooding over him like a tidal wave in a storm. He feels as though he crossed a line. He’s supposed to be caring for you, distracting you, not calling you beautiful when you already belong to someone else.

“I’m-”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Both your gazes snap up in the direction of the source.

Standing under an archway, halfway between the entrance of the washrooms and you, is Collin.

Your breath hitches, “Collin.” You breathe out.

Paz’s hand jerks instantly from your elbow, hanging tensely by his side.

Collin says your name questioningly, taking another step towards you. He’s wearing his armor, but his helmet hangs down by his side. Blonde eyebrows furrowed suspiciously at the two of you.

“I said,” he repeats, “what is going on in here?”

“Nothing.” You say instantly, taking a step away from Paz.

Well that was a suspiciously guilty maneuver.

Collin eyes Paz for a moment, whose form hasn’t moved even an inch since Collin interrupted you both. He closes the distance between the two of you, but still stays a generous space away.

“What are you doing down here at this hour?” He questions, eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

“I..I couldn’t sleep.” You say.

“Again?”

Again? Your father died not one week ago, does he really expect you to be sleeping soundly?

“Yes it’s- been difficult to find the right headspace for rest.” You answer. “I thought perhaps a warm shower would help alleviate the uneasiness.”

His eyes flick to Paz before quickly landing back on your own, suddenly morphing his face into one of concern. His posture loosens slightly and he reaches towards you, showing you more affection than he has in months. “Well, are you okay? You don’t look very good.” Collin says.

Your frown deepens, suddenly you feel very offended. 

“Yeah? Well I look the way I feel, wise guy.” You snap, startling both of you by your outburst. His hand retreats from your space, moving to clench and unclench by his side.

“I’m sorry,” He scoffs after taking a tense breath, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Collin-” Paz’s voice breaks his role as an audience member to your discussion, polite but still warning in his tone.

“-No, I am not speaking to you.” Collin spits out, “I’m speaking to my girlfriend. My girlfriend who you were getting awfully close to in the privacy of this empty washroom.”

Your heart is thumping in your chest. He’s right, this certainly was not a good look. It was highly irregular for you to be up so early. And here you were alone at an ungodly hour with a man who wasn’t your partner. Kriff, how could you be so stupid? You should have known that Collin would stumble in here at this time, he does early morning flight training every week, today must be his lesson. It must have slipped your mind, or maybe you’d forgotten his schedule. Had he even shown you his schedule?

No. No, he hadn’t. When was the last time you even saw him? Surely a few times a day but had you even shared a moment of substance together since the funeral? You’ve gone to him for comfort yet you can’t remember how any of those interactions went. He dismissed you, or offered you a peck on the forehead before changing the subject.

Come to think of it, how dare he come in here angry with you for anything. If anything, you should be the one who’s angry. Paz was right, where has he been?

“You’re right.” Paz says, shocking you and Collin both, your gaze quickly snapping in his direction. “I shouldn't have reached for her. But I was only trying to comfort her, I swear to you that is all. Regardless, you need to relax.” He speaks calmly, the warning back in his tone.  

Collin huffs, taking a menacing step in Paz’s direction. He always was arrogant. 

Your eyes widen, “Collin-”

He rasps out his next words in with a snarl, cutting off your attempt to de-escalate the situation. “Listen here, vod-” He spits, but not before being cut off by a startling quick grab to the front of his chest plate, yanking him forward.

Collin’s heels barely graze the floor as he looks directly up at Paz’s visor, who seems to have grown another six inches, the two quite literally helm to helm.

“You do not address me as your vod in such a manner of disrespect.” Paz growls, his voice sending a harsh shiver down your spine, slightly in alarm, slightly in...something else.

Your breath hitches, frozen as you watch the scene unfold. If you’re too frightened to move, you can’t imagine how Collin feels. Although...maybe a small part of you wishes you did.

“Jare’la,” Paz scoffs, shaking his head. “I am your alor’ad. And I do not tolerate a lack of respect. If you are confused about your place, then I will gladly show you where it is. Tayli’bac, vod?” He spits the words out menacingly, challenging Collin to oppose his authority.

“Elek! Elek, alor’ad!” Collin stammers, “N’eparavu takisit!”

Paz huffs, visor staring Collin down a moment longer before releasing him, shoving him back in the process.

He stumbles to catch himself, grabbing onto the side of the sink for leverage. You’ve never seen him look so...cowardly.

He looks to you, taking a moment to gather himself. Your eyes are still wide, mouth agape as you just stare at him in disbelief. He wets his lips with his tongue, seeming to swallow down another remark, eyes darting to Paz before returning to you. “So, that’s the way it is, huh?”

You’re speechless, “I- I don’t..”

You contemplate the severity of the moment, what’s at stake. Your silence is answer enough, you decide, before opting to look down, relinquishing your chance to speak. With it goes your willingness to explain, to try and salvage whatever pathetic excuse of a relationship you thought you had had with him. “I’m sorry, Collin.” You say, unsure of the words as they leave your mouth.

You hear only the sound of heavy breathing. Two sources of heavy breathing, and neither of them are coming from you. Then, a sound akin to that of a growl. You look up to face him again, only to see his focus on the man beside you. Paz looks back at him, unmoving, domineering, daring him to overstep.

Was Collin challenging you, or Paz?

Was Paz simply defending you or...challenging Collin? And for what?

You feel another spike in anxiety, suddenly feeling as though you were observing a mating duel, a challenge over possession of a lioness, a female...not...terribly uncommon in Mandalorian culture, though nonetheless offensive.

“That’s enough.” You whisper, though with enough exertion to be heard by both males.

You see Paz’s visor turn to face you out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t move, keeping your gaze averted to Collin.

He stares Paz down for another moment before meeting your eyes, saying your name with a stiff nod, and uttering a “Goodbye,” before briskly leaving the room.

You let out an exhale once he’s rounded the corner, catching your breath. That was it.

You’ve lost him.

You stare at the empty door, at the ghost of the shadow where he once stood, waiting for the tears to fall. You feel heavy, you feel distressed, but perhaps not anymore than you already had. There’s not a swirl of emotion in your gut nor rising in your throat that compels tears to swim in your eyes again.

You hear your name being called once, twice. The third time, you look up, much higher up than you’d expected to, at the imposing figure now standing directly above you.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly.

You hold his gaze, watching your reflection blinking up at him. He doesn’t move, waiting for your response to his question. Your gaze drifts down slightly and to the side, staring at the plain wall behind him, before reconcentrating your focus.

“What um,” Your voice comes out somewhat both hoarse and mellow, quiet as you continue, “What should we do next?”

------------------------

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Paz was guilt ridden. Surely he could have let the little brat mouth off to him one time to spare you from getting hurt. But no, he just had to go and threaten the kid right in front of you. It was just instinctual. He would have done it without restraint any other time to any other member stepping out of line, but upon reflection, maybe the whole thing was his fault. Collin had walked in on you two nearly close enough to embrace. Of course he was pissed. And then, he degraded him, ordering him into submission right in front of your eyes.  

You didn’t blame him. Not in the slightest. I mean, what did Collin expect? He straight up challenged the alor’ad. It was foolish and insulting, and quite honestly Paz wouldn’t have been out of line to clock him then and there. But you suppose he was holding himself back for the sake of your wellbeing, not wanting you to watch your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - get pounded on while you were already in such a state.

“Yes.” You say, emitting a heavy exhale. You really were.  

The halls have started filling with armored warriors, the covert finally beginning to come to life with a sunrise shining through the trees and early risers popping up.

“Vizsla!” Someone shouts, the two of you turn to see Stephan jogging towards you.

“Hey,” He says, walking once he reached a comfortable earshot, “We missed you on that perimeter run. Was surprised you didn’t show up, is everything-?”

His voice trails off, visor finally ticking in your direction. He seems a little taken aback by your presence, or rather that you were within Paz’s company.

“Vod’ika,” He finally says. “What are you doing with- uh, I mean, how are you?”

“What am I doing with Paz?” You smile, “You don’t think I could handle a perimeter run, Steph?”

His helmet ticks back in surprise at your banter, “N-no, vod’ika.” He says, looking at Paz and huffing in amusement. “We’ll gladly have you join us on the next one.”

“Sure.” Paz nods.

“So…” Stephan continues with uncertainty, “How-how are you?”

Couldn’t make it thirty seconds in without having that question thrown out at you.

You hesitate, the frown slowly returning to your face. Should you answer truthfully? Lie? How are you? 

“I’m…”

You seem stuck on the word. Did you choose a word? What word are you even looking for?

You’re still talking. You remind yourself.

Shit, now you look like you’ve shut down.

You feel a hand rest on your back, blinking forward from your gaze that had somehow been drawn down towards Stephans boots.

“We were just heading to the kitchens.” Paz responds, you tilt your face in his direction without raising your eyes, keeping them glued to the space in front of you, ashamed.

“Okay, yeah.” Stephen says hastily, “Well, uh, Jay made some really good morning muffins, vod’ika, and they’re still warm I bet.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, offering a pitiful smile, “I’m sure.”

Poor Stephan, it’s not his fault you were like this. He’s just checking in on you, and here you are making him feel bad for asking about your wellbeing. It’s just a question.

Kriff, why are you so weak?

You conceal yourself back in your thoughts, sure that you look absent with glazed over eyes. But you can't bring yourself to care. That’s the weird thing about feeling so desolate, you just don’t have the energy to hide it sometimes.

You hear the foggy exchange of words between the two warriors, simply choosing to retract yourself from the conversation and instead focus your attention on the gloved hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Stephan’s modulator rises to a more upbeat tone before stepping forward and offering Paz a light slap on the arm as he passes, evidently dismissing the two of you to carry on with your business.

Paz’s form shifts to watch Stephan leave before turning to you. “Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.” You nod.

He hums, sounding unconvinced as he lightly nudges you forward again, letting his hand drop from its place on your jumper.

No... come back.

You walk side by side in silence, trying to get him to walk a step ahead of you so you can follow. But anytime your step falters purposefully to give him the lead he slows his own, silently insisting you walk side by side. Instead, he steers your direction with fleeting contacts. A hand pulling your arm, his gloved fingers tapping your shoulder. You’re happy to let him guide you, appreciating the delicate touches in direction.

Feeling a sliver of life breathed into you at each one.

The touches stop far sooner than you need them to upon arrival to your destination. You notice you’re heading towards the mess hall again, feeling discomfort at the idea of seeing more of your vods, or worse, having a repeat of your public meltdown you’d had just a few short hours ago.

You’re more alert now, having picked up on the light buzzing from the dining hall. There’s probably quite a few people out there now. And you’re not sure you’re ready to face another wave of concerned and attentive brothers and sisters.

“Paz-” You say, ready to object, but not before you’re steered off to the side, scarcely missing exposure to the hall full of bustling Mandalorians.

Instead, Paz opens a door and gestures for you to walk through, which you do.

Oh. The kitchen.

You’ve been in here many times, but not often during the day. Jay keeps a tight lockdown on the kitchen, only allowing his apprentice to be in here during the working hours of the covert. He’s got a considerable number of Mandalorians to feed, yet he prefers to tackle the challenge alone. Usually kicking anyone out who pops in to help, scolding them for messing up his rhythm.

He has no problem allowing people to make their rounds of kitchen duty though, but that only consists of cleaning up the space once it’s shut down for the night. Mopping, washing, organizing...he tends to lock up all the good treats and hide away the key, making the task totally not worthwhile for you.

Of course, being the daughter of the unsanctioned Alor and all, you had special privileges. One of them being you could hang around the kitchen without Jay kicking you out every time. He still did, but he gave you more leeway than the others if you stayed out of his way and only snacked on the scraps he wasn’t saving.

The door swings shut behind you and you round the corner, the clink of your armored warrior just behind you.

Whoa, whoa. You stop yourself. Your?

You catch sight of a red Mandalorian viciously attending to something on the stove. “What are you two doing in here?” Jay shouts over his shoulder, turning back to his frying.

Paz looks around the empty kitchen, “I heard a rumor about morning muffins.” The deep rumble of his voice saying the words prompts a breathy giggle from your lips, catching his attention, before he continues to glance around for the treats.

Jay huffs, motioning with his wooden spoon to the corner, “Over there. Take one and get out.”

“Thanks,” Paz says, his hands lightly resting on your shoulders from behind and nudging you forward. “Nice attitude.” He mumbles for your ears, an amused smile still lingering on your lips.

“Nice signet.” Jay scoffs, evidently having heard, “Or lack thereof.”  

“Nice apron.”

“Okay- get out of my kitchen.” Jay says, looking up from his dicing.

You surprise yourself by letting out a lively laugh. Paz’s hands tighten over your shoulders at the sudden sound, feeling damn near enamored by Jay for having caused it.

He looks to Jay and gives him a grateful nod, who nods slightly in return, so as not to be caught by your gaze, before returning to his work.

You make your way to the tray of muffins in the corner, boldly sitting down on the couch in front of the fire. Exactly where you and your dad would sit and enjoy the freshly baked cookies or cake made by Jay that morning, the small area being off limits to everyone else in the covert.

Paz is certain Jay would have snapped at them to get away from his personal space if it weren’t for you. You’re sat next to him, gazing at the fire that Jay lights every morning to warm the frigid kitchen.

“For you.” Paz says, handing you a small muffin with a napkin wrapped protectively around it.

You smile at him, accepting the gesture, just allowing it to slowly warm up your fingers in your lap. The movements of the fire captivating your attention as the flames dance in the soft lighting.

“Cyar'ika.” He says softly, the word sending a shiver down your spine. “You really ought to eat something.”

You look to your side again, taking in Paz’s appearance on the tiny couch. Its small size having forced you to sit right up against each other. The leg closest to you is propped up and over the other comfortably, his knee resting elevated slightly above your own.

You wonder if you clink your knee against his own if his hand will slip off it and land on yours.

A silly thought, you think, amusing yourself.

His tilting visor alerts you that you’ve been shamelessly gawking at him. Twice in one day.

“I- um,” You stutter, averting your gaze. “I’m not terribly hungry, Paz.”

He hums, “Well it’s a good thing you’re not terribly hungry because all you’ve got there is a teeny muffin.”

“Yes, it would appear so.” You smile, still making no movement to eat it.

Paz breathes in a slow, contemplative sigh. Guilt starts to flood your senses again, he’s done so much for you today, why can’t you just do this one thing for him?

“Tell you what,” he offers, your eyes rising to meet his visor, “You eat that muffin, maybe have a little bit of tea, and I’ll tell you about the time your vod and I went to Jabba’s Palace.”

Your eyes widen, and you boldly swing your hand down to grasp his arm as you straighten. “The Hutt story?” You choke. “You’ll tell me the Hutt story?”

Paz’s modulator rumbles as he chuckles, knowing he’s got you entrapped by a golden exchange.

He nods, “I’ll tell you the untold and widely sought-after story about the time Devin and I went to visit the Hutts-”

“-Deal!” You squeeze his arm, still gripping tightly from earlier.

“Yeah,” Jay utters, his looming figure now standing directly behind you both, “Kriffing deal.”  

“Get out of here.” Paz huffs, shoving Jay back over the arm of the couch. He doesn’t argue, but you see his retreating form adjust the volume settings on his vambrace.

Paz shifts back cheekily with his arms spread around the couch. He gestures to the uneaten muffin on your lap, waiting for you to uphold your end of the deal.

You sigh, unwrapping the baked good. But the thrill of getting to know the story that caused such an uproar in the covert shoo’s away the discomfort, replacing it with a slightly giddy feeling.

You take a bite, looking at him expectantly. He just scoffs, gesturing again to the tiny muffin in your hand. “C’mon, that thing is like the size of a whistle bird, you finish that before you get the story,” He says, with much emphasis on the “before.”

Fair.

You down the muffin faster than you thought you could, much too excited to finally hear the secret tale. You were going to have bragging rights around this place forever. Paz shakes his head at you, lightly laughing, “So that’s all it takes, huh?” He nods to the empty napkin in your hand.

You ignore him, knowing he knows full well the value of this information. Whatever it was that happened when those two visited Jabba’s Palace, Devin had come back damn near afraid of his own shadow. It took months for him to pull himself together. Your vod would literally jump at the sound of an egg cracking open, reaching for his blaster and slipping up on his grasp. It was kriffing hysterical to you and everyone else in the tribe. And you assumed you weren’t really being malicious. Paz had been there too and returned unscathed, and laughed all the same. And even though he teased Devin to no end about it, he swore he’d never tell a soul what happened, so up until this point, nobody knew what it was. But here you were.

Paz turns over his shoulder, “Hey Jay,” He says politely. “How about a cup of tea for your vod’ika?”

“What am I your maid?” Jay retorts.

“You are the cook.”

Jay mutters something under his breath, but you don’t pay him any mind, having heard him fill up a pot of water immediately upon Paz’s request.

You avert your gaze from Paz’s helmet as soon as he turns to face you again. You look to the fire, biting your lip as a smile slowly grows on your face. It crosses your mind that you feel not only okay in this very moment but actually...happy. The fleeting moments of relief you’ve been feeling all morning, small moments of peace jumbled in with all the sadness and the anxiety, were all because of him. This man who you did not even know three hours ago. Who let you cry in his arms, who stood guard outside the washroom while you showered, who defended you, called you sweetheart, made sure you knew he was always there with you. The same man who now sat next to you on the couch you weren’t allowed to sit on in a kitchen you weren’t allowed to be in. Your smile grows wider, and in your peripheral you’re very aware of his visor still staring at you.

“What?” Paz chuckles.

“Nothing.” You giggle, tears gathering in your eyes. But for the first time today, first time all week, forming not in pain but in relief.

“What is it?” He insists, still playful in his tone. His knee nudges you as if to prompt a response.

A tear slips down your cheek and he leans forward instinctively, his hand finding yours in your lap without hesitation. “Mesh’la, what is it?” He asks again, this time void of all silliness, concerned.

You shake your head, your small smile still present, but certainly reflecting more of the emotion you were feeling.

You place your other hand on top of his own that covers yours, trapping his gloved fingers in your two hands, before looking up at him.

“Just, thank you Paz.” You say, admiration and gratitude dripping from your voice.

------------------------

He likes your voice, he decides, it sounds so sweet, like pure honey.

His eyes are lost in yours behind the visor, watching another tear slip down your delicate cheek. He can hear the relief in your voice. The pure relief and admiration. Admiration? Do you feel admiration for him? He sure hopes you do, otherwise you might find it weird that he’s staring at you for so long. Kriff, he should stop staring at you. But look at those eyes. Those wonderfully expressive eyes that aren’t looking angry or sad or pained, but warm. He feels ensnared by your gaze, a light smile trailing your features, a sprinkle of tears sliding down your cheeks. He watches one slip down the shape of your cheek, rounding your nose and lips before forming a teardrop on your chin. He watches it glisten, unable to bear letting it fall. Mindlessly, he raises a gloved finger to catch it.

Your breath hitches at the contact, and his finger hovers under your jaw before sliding up to catch another.  

Your eyes flit back and forth along the dark shade of his visor, searching, wondering what his eyes look like, head tilting unconsciously into his glove.

He takes the gesture as permission, slowly lifting his thumb, his palm, his whole hand up against your cheek.

You both feel suspended, his hand frozen caressing your cheek. Your eyes have dried up now, carrying a glow of wonder in them. His head tilts slowly and unknowingly to the side, almost like he can’t hold up the weight of his helmet a second longer.

The sound of approaching footfalls brings you back to reality, Paz’s hand drops from your cheek and your faces turning towards the source that dared to interrupt your moment.

“Geez, no need to cry about it, I’ve got your tea.” Jay quips, perfectly deescalating the tension of the moment. Making it a point to show you he was minding his own business.

“Um, thank you.” You mutter, still coming back to the present.

“It’s sleepytime tea.” Jay says, “Ground with dandisonyl.”

“Dandisonyl?” You ask, more alert, “That stuff is rare and expensive.”

“And strong.” Paz huffs.

“And expensive.” You insist again, looking down at your tea. “Jay, why would you waste this on me?”

He leans down against his forearms, now looming over your shoulders. His smug nature radiating off his posture alone, “Now, and this is just an observation, but you look kriffing tired. And that there,” He gestures to the cup of earthy smelling tea you’ve placed on the table in front of you, “That’s sleepytime tea. And you, vod’ika, of all people, look like you need some serious, quality, sleepytime.”

His statement ends with a pinch to your cheeks, and it’s your turn to aggressively shove him backward, causing Paz to let out a sweet laugh.

“Paz,” You say, looking to the only superior present, “He wasted good, expensive herbs on me. That stuff can be used medicinally.” You say with reprimand in your voice.

Paz surprises you by shrugging, “He kind of did use it medicinally.”

“Oh, alor’ad.” You chastise, using his official title to remind him of his role here.

He shrugs, using his whole body for the movement, before picking up your cup and placing it back in your hands. “I suppose you’re right, alor’ika.” He teases, “So you’d better drink it all so as not to let it go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the tea. With your nose nestled into the cup you miss the silent exchange of approval Paz gives Jay.

Readjusting your position so that you’re facing the fire again, you turn your head towards Paz, taking another sip of your tea, it is surprisingly good. “Get on with the story then.” You command, grinning at your victory.

“Okay.” Paz says, grunting as he adjusts himself to sit comfortably once again on the small couch, opting this time to keep one arm swung over behind your head. You smile in content, looking down sheepishly at your tea and having a bit more.

“Well, it all started on the ship. I mean before we even got to Tatooine. Devin, being the utreekov that he is, forgot to bring the kriffing-...”

You listen intently to his story. He’s using his hands as he talks, passionate and perhaps a little dramatic. He’s taking extra care to include all the details, probably indulging in the fact that you and, undoubtedly, Jay, are paying him your absolute, undivided attention. You sip at your tea, the taste warm and comforting alongside Paz’s sweet voice. Your eyes are getting heavier, and you blink at the burning feeling stinging your eyes from the light of the fire, deciding that you’ll be able to listen better with your eyes closed, and gently placing the empty mug on the table.

“So, finally we get to Jabba’s palace. And Devin’s already a nervous wreck after that encounter with the Trandoshans, and-”

His voice carries a hint of thrill in it. You wonder if he feels exhilarated in finally getting to tell this story. Your lips twitch slightly, content that he’s trusting you with it. 

Feeling heavier on one side, you allow your head to swing slightly in his direction, snuggling more into the embrace of the couch.

You notice his words trailing off, realizing you weren't paying much attention. Hearing only the sounds of the crackling fire in front of you, you slowly force your eyes open.

Paz’s head is turned down as much as it can in his position. And though you can’t see his visor, you’re certain he’s staring at you.

“Keep talking.” You mutter, resting your head back again.

You hear the sweetest breath of a chuckle sound from beneath his helmet, which you suddenly realise you're very near to. “Close your eyes again.”

“No, I wanna listen to the story.” You mumble, your low energy blending the words together.

“You can only evade sleep for so long sweetheart.”

“We’ll see.” You challenge, eyes fluttering closed against your will.

“Yes, we will.” He whispers. He’s silent another moment, admiring you and your peaceful expression with a smile on his face before carrying on with the story, speaking much more softly than before. The light humming of his voice is soothing, and you notice it growing quieter and quieter, yet the feelings of security and warmth and relief all stay with you.

Paz looks towards the fire as he speaks, trying to draw out the story as long as he can. He feels the light weight of your head resting against his shoulder, not daring to move a muscle and disturb your peaceful slumber.

It’s still early in the morning. Behind the fireplace and through the density of the thick wall, Paz can hear the covert coming to life. And while their days are just starting, yours has finally come to a peaceful end. He listens to your serene breathing through the long pauses he takes in his story, knowing that really, he’s only telling it to Jay now, who notably moves through the kitchen swiftly and with as little clicking and clanking as he can muster.

“-And so, that’s what happened on Tatooine.” Paz whispers, looking at your parted lips and lightly closed eyelids.

The fire casts a harmonious glow on your face, making your features look warmer, livelier, serene.

You look utterly angelic.

He remembers how you crumbled in his arms not five hours ago, pained and distressed and lonely. You sought him out even though you didn’t know him, not knowing how much he’d admired you from afar. To see your normally light and radiant face masked with such despair, he couldn’t bear to see it again.

He watches your sleeping form take a staggering breath, your body relaxing into its position, nudging your face further into where it fell on his shoulder. He dares to let the arm wrapped around the couch lower slightly, so that it rests comfortingly around your form.

“Sleep, cyar’ika,” He whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He hopes his silent promise is enough to soothe your sleeping form, listening to your breathing even out to a more peaceful rhythm.

“I’ll be here for as long as you need.”

---------------------

Translations:

Alor - chancellor Vod’ika - little sister Osik - shit Di’kut - idiot Jare’la - stupidly oblivious of danger / asking for it. Alor’ad - captain Tayli’bac, vod? - Do you understand, mate? (menacing) Elek! Elek, alor’ad! - Yes! Yes, captain! N’eparavu takisit! - I’m sorry (lit. I eat my insult) Alor’ika - little leader Utreekov - fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)

---------------------

a/n two: They both think the other person’s voice sounds like pure honey.. 🥺

also we need more Paz x reader content on Tumblr my dudes. 

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Taglist: @wandsmith​ 💖

[lordabovehelpme]

AHHHHHHH! I just read A Day at the Lake!🥺😭 I swear that was the cutest thing I’ve ever read!😭 I need to go reread it!

Other than thaaaat... if u make another part... what if it’s twins?! Like a boy and a girl bc Din would lose it and it would be so freaking adorable! Ahhhh! I have baby fever now thank u😂

Delivery Day- Din Djarin x Reader

A/n: Please, you can’t do this to me. I kinda went overboard but I hope you like it!!! I am so happy you liked Lazy day and a day at the lake. I had so much fun writing them! Also yes, baby fever is deadly! So your welcome for infecting you ;)

Amazing moodboard by @jedi-jesi I love this one!!!!

Warnings: Pregnancy, birth, and children 

This is the third part to my Lazy day fic. You can find part one here and part two here. :)

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

You twist and turn in front of the mirror. A frown is plastered on your face as your hands trail over your swollen stomach.

“Din, do I look bigger than usual?”

The mandalorian looks up from where he was cleaning his blaster. His helmet tilts and soon he arises from his seat. Two large hands press and rub over your taut skin. “Cyare, you’re pregnant.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.” Glaring at him through the mirror, you sigh, “No, I just feel like… I don’t know… bigger.”

His hands leave your stomach to quickly pull off his helmet and attach his lips to your neck. “Hmmm, well I think you look amazing.” The vibrations from his voice travel down your spine and send tingle throughout your body.

Smiling, you turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks love.”

“It’ll be alright, don’t worry.” Stopping his attack on your neck, he rests his chin on your head and peers down at your stomach. “I’m so excited for him to arrive.”

A loud laugh breaks from your lips at his certain belief of your unborn child being a boy.

***

Reeza, your daughter, has sat herself on the counter near the sink. She peers out the small window longingly at her father and her brother.

Din has decided that Myles, your firstborn son, is finally old enough to begin his mandalorian training. Most mornings are now spent with you, Reeza, and Grogu setting up breakfast while your husband and Myles will train outside.

“Mommy?”

“Yes dear?” You look up from your sizzling pan of vegetables.

“When do I get to start training? I want to be a warrior too.”

Sighing, you wipe your hands on the towel that was draped over your shoulder. Walking over to her, your hand cups her cheek and you press a kiss to the top of her head. “Well, it's up to your father, but probably next year.”

“Next year!” Her arms fly up into the air in distress and she buries her head in your chest. “I can’t wait that long.”

Looking down, your brush through her long brown hair. Both of your children are carbon copies of your husband. “Maybe if you ask nicely, Myles will tell you what exercises he does and you can copy them. Then maybe Daddy will notice and he’ll start you early.”

“Good idea Mommy!” She releases you and turns to carefully watch them again.

Smiling, you go back to your pan and add some species. “Ree, could you go tell them that breakfast is ready.” She nods and jumps off the counter, running outside the hatch.

You set five plates down on the small table, and walk over to Grogu who was focused on memorizing his metal ball. He looks up and coos at you, arms lifting into the universal sign for “up.” Frowning, you peer down at him.

“You know if I get down, there's no way I’m getting back up.” His arms lower and he walks over to his seat at the table, before pulling himself up onto the chair. He looks at you and babbles something. Shaking your head you jokingly wave a finger at him. “You just wanted to see if I would fall for your tricks, didn’t you.”

Before he can respond, arms are wrapped around your middle and a helmet is shoved into the crevice between your head and your shoulder. He chuckles at your soft squeak of surprise, “Smells good, mesh’la.”  Giving you one last slight squeeze, he releases you and sits down at the head of the table.

Smiling, you start dishing up three plates and setting them in front of your children. “Thanks Mommy.” “Thank you.” and “Gaa!” Reeza and Grogu sit next to each other while Myles sits across from them, your husband sits at the head and you sit at the other end.

Reaching for Din’s plate, he swats your hand away, “Go sit down, I’ve got it cyare.” Taking his helmet off and setting it on the floor next to his chair, he smiles and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Ewww, stop it!” Myles complains and Reeza makes a gagging sound, Grogu just giggles at them.

Breaking away you look at your children who all look disgusted. “How do you think you little rascals were made?”

“DIN!” You slap his chest with your towel and he just grins at you. Turning to your children, you exclaim, “Don’t listen to your father!”

“Mommy, what does Daddy mean?” Sweet little innocent Reeza asks.

Glaring at your husband you walk over and brush her hair away from her forehead, “You ask Daddy that in a few years, okay?” You can tell she is confused by the way her head tilts, mirroring the frequent habit of your husband perfectly. Albeit, she just nods and shoves another spoonful of vegetables into her mouth.

Sending Din one last glare, you sit down and start at your own plate. “Myles, stop playing with your brother. Eat your food.”

His head whips to meet your own, shock written all over his face that you caught him. Recently, Myles and Grogu have been playing the game of “levitating food.”  Myles will point at a specific piece of food and Grogu will try and lift it into his mouth. Pouting, he looks down at his plate and stabs an unsuspecting pepper.

Silence is a foreign term in the Djarin residence, and today is no different. As soon as everyone settles down, the child gives a hard kick to your ribs. A whine falls from your lips as your hand flies over your stomach. The mandalorian instantly is at your side, rubbing and massaging whatever skin his hands can reach.

“Sorry, they’re just kicking hard.” Giving your worried family an apologetic smile, you try and laugh it off.

Your husband’s eyes frantically watch your features, checking to see if you are in any pain. When he finds no signs, he places a hand over your stomach in a protective manner. Turning to his children he sighs, “Your mother and I have made a decision.”

All three children stop eating and look at him. They all look so serious. You have to bite back a smile at how they all sport the same serious face their father uses, even Grogu has started making the same expressions as his father.

“We’ve decided that we are going to travel and spend the next month and a half at the covert. That way the child will be born safely there and Myles you can get your first helmet.”

“I want a brother!” Myles shouts before the idea of his own helmet even processes.

“Not fair, you have Grogu. I want a sister!” Reeza sticks her tongue out at Myles.

“Wait!” Myles turns to his father, eyes as large as the moon. “I get my own helmet?” With a proud grin, your husband nods and Myles yells out in delight. “When are we leaving? Can we go now?”

Din turns to look at you and asks, “Well should we go now?”

You nod your head and everyone jumps into action. Reeza grabs plates and brings them to the sink. Din and Myles practically run to the cockpit and start the procedure for liftoff. Even though it’s only been seven months, your stomach has already surpassed the size of your last pregnancy. They do say that every pregnancy the child is bigger than the last, but this is alot bigger than you expected.

***

“Din? No way. How have you been? I haven’t seen you in years man.” Paz Vizsla envelopes your husband into a large hug and they both pat each other backs. They talk back and forth for a while before Paz finally sees you walking down the hatch. “I see you’ve been busy.” He throws your husband a glance before walking over to also hug you.

You stand at the base of the hatch, Grogu attached to your hip while Myles holds your other hand. Reeza, a tad shocked at the size of the man, hides behind your legs and clutches your skirt. “Fancy seeing you here.” You toss the familiar helmet a wide smile and he walks over to hug you.

“My my, Reeza you’re so big! Last time I saw you, you fit in the palm of my hand.” Still unsure of the warrior, she slowly makes her way from behind you. “And Myles, I heard you are coming for your helmet. I’m so proud of you.”

Your son smiles at Paz and lets the man pick him up. “Thanks, I’m super excited.”

“You should be, you’ve been the talk of the covert recently.” Din walks over to your side and Reeza runs over to him, wanting to be in her fathers arms. Picking her up, you all walk into the covert.

As soon as you make it through the doors, everyone is greeting you. Women coo at the large swell to your belly and the men pat Din on the back, your children have run off with the other covert children.

Shortly the armorer greets you, “Welcome back. Your room is ready, right next to the med bay.” She gives you a nod and goes back to her duties. It took awhile for her to warm up to you since you are not mandalorian. But as the years have gone on and the more children you produce, she seems to have now taken a liking to you.

The women pull you away from the main group to sit by the fire. “You look like you could pop any second! How far along are you?” Beti, one of your friends, asks.

“It’s only been a little over seven months.” All the women gasp in shock and hands fly over your stomach.

“No way, the baby is supposed to grow the most in the next couple months! You can’t grow much more.”

“I know!” Seeing Beti’s look of question, you sigh, “Yes, I’m sure it’s only been seven months.”

She throws her hands up in defense. “You know, Mirta was huge, about as big as you are, and she had twins.” Women nod and make sounds of agreement.

All the sudden, the dots start connecting. You thought you remembered less activity from your other pregnancies and now it makes sense. Your hand flies to cover your mouth that has hung open in shock. But your mind rejects the idea and you shake your head. “There’s no way.”

***

The bed dips as your husband crawls under the covers with you. “Hey handsome.”

He nuzzles up against you and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Mmm cyar’ika.” You let out a giggle as his scruff tickles your neck. All at once, pain erupts from your stomach. “Cyare?”

“Din…” A pathetic wail falls from your lips and you roll off the bed, standing and clutching the edge of the bed for stability, “the baby.”

His features flood with panic before they fall back into his stoic facade. “Alright, let’s get you to the med bay.” Nodding, you grab his shirt and clench your teeth as another wave of pain passes through your body.

Your eyes widen when water runs down your thighs. “Din, my w-water-” A groan interrupts your own voice.  

He scoops you from your feet. “It’s okay, cyare, I’ve got you.” His voice soothes your nerves a little, but there is little you can do to a woman in labor.

As you enter the med bay, the doctor instantly starts informing you both on the procedure and plan however you can’t focus on what she’s saying. Din lays you down on the medical bed and moves to clutch your hand.

After many excruciating hours of pain and yelled curses you finally hear the wail of a child. You catch your breath as the doctor informs you that you’ve had a healthy baby boy. Handing your son to you, she nods before closing a curtain around you both.

Din rips his helmet from his head and instantly presses a kiss to your forehead and then to his new son. “Oh mesh’la.” His voice cracks with emotion and a tear falls onto his cheek.

But before you can respond another wave of pain travels through your body. “DIN!” Handing your son to him, you clutch the blanket. Instantly, he throws his helmet on and flings open the curtain to find the doctor.

“Somethings wrong!” You can hear the panic in his voice as he beckons her back to you. “This has never happened before. Please, help her.”

She takes a look at the spot between your legs before glancing at your husband. “She’s having another.”

“Kriff, another?!” You should have known, Beti told you so. A nurse walks over to Din and takes your son from his arms, needing to clean him.

“Alright cyare, you got it. I’m right here. Come on, cyar’ika.” You don’t miss the way he grimaces when you squeeze his hand.

After what seems like seconds and yet hours, another cry is heard and finally the pain subsides. Din gasps as he leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of his child leaving your body. “Congratulations, you have a healthy baby girl.”

The nurse arrives back with your son, handing him to Din, and the doctor hands your daughter to you. Once again, she nods before closing the thick curtain.

Pressing a kiss to her head you peer up at your husband who hasn’t moved since the nurse offered him his son. He seems frozen, you’re not even sure he is breathing. “Din?”

It takes him a second to slowly turn his helmet to meet your gaze. One shaky hand lifts up his helmet, his eyes as wide as saucers and swirling with unshed tears. The helmet makes a loud bang as it falls from his grasp onto the floor. That same hand reaches over to your daughter and caresses her head. “They’re perfect.” A tear falls from his eyes, “Kriff, you’re perfect.”

He falls to his knees, but makes sure to keep his new son secure and safe. His head leans on your shoulder and finally all his tears fall. Loud sobs echo throughout the small enclosed space.

“I’m so happy.” The twins have both fallen asleep, one on your chest and the other in his embrace. He chokes on a tear before offering you a kiss, teardrops falling from his eyes to mix with the ones you are now shedding. “You’re amazing.”

One of your hands moves over to lightly trail over your son's figure. You meet his eyes and a loud cry breaks from your lips at the twinkles of love and softness in his.

“I love you.” He rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes. “You’re too good for me.”

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

Next Part: Daylight

Okay so now I have the deadly case of baby fever. (because I obviously didnt have it before) 

Anyway, I had alot of fun writing this one and I hope you guys liked it!

Love you all, Lordy :) 

Masterlist

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space

If you want to be added to my taglist, just give me a holler! :) 

[intothemurkwood]

MIGHT OF MAND'ALOR

AO3 Chapter Link: MIGHT OF MAND’ALOR - Chapter 1 (Prologue)

Story Summary: Guided by your late father's teachings, you've learned that your powers transcend the conventional divide, showing that things aren't as clear-cut as the Sith and Jedi doctrines suggest. When Moff Gideon seeks your capture and Bo'Katan Kryze defies him, the Great Purge of Mandalore unfolds, setting the stage for a clash between light and darkness, with you trapped in between.

Chapter Summary: Moff Gideon meets with Bo'Katan Kryze to discuss the terms of Mandalore's surrender.

Word Count: 771 (fairly light, but it is the prologue)

Might of Mand'alor Series on AO3

Warning: Threats of genocides, violence, all things Moff Gideon. A fairly vanilla chapter with all things considered.

Author Note: For the sake of this fic, Pre Vizsla was Paz Vizsla's father... I'm sorry, I was 41k words deep before I realized the screw up.

Tag List: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

==EXPLICIT CONTENT: 18+ ONLY==

CHAPTER 1 (PROLOGUE)

Mandalore - The Great Forge

In the smoldering ruins surrounding the Great Forge of Mandalore, Moff Gideon, a formidable figure clad in black armor, stands with an air of authority at the far end of the high vaulted chamber. Bo'Katan Kryze, the Mand’alor, enters the room, her helmet tucked under her arm. Tension fills the air as their paths converge.

Gideon's lips curl into a sly smirk as he addresses Kryze, “Bo'Katan Kryze, the self-proclaimed leader of Mandalore. How delightful to finally meet you.” He relishes in her worn appearance.

Kryze holds her head high, refusing to let Gideon's presence intimidate her. “Moff Gideon. Have you come to surrender?” She asks, her voice hollow and light. All of Mandalore was burning under their siege. There was nothing left for the Empire to surrender to.

Gideon clasps his hands together, his gaze fixed upon Kryze. “I've come to discuss the terms of your surrender, Kryze. A chance for Mandalore to avoid further bloodshed. Surrender to the Empire, disarm your forces, and all Mandalorians, as well as your cities, will be spared,” his words a venomous offer. For a Mandalorian to disarm would go against everything they stand for.

Kryze's eyes narrow, her brows furrowing with determination. She understands the gravity of Gideon's words, but the cost weighs heavily upon her honor. “Spare our lives? Submitting to the Empire would bring shame upon our people.”

Gideon's smirk widens, “Survival often requires difficult choices, Kryze. Sacrifices must be made. And you, as a leader, have the power to make that choice. Your defiance will only lead to more destruction.”

Kryze pauses, her mind wrestling with the weight of her decision. In a moment that holds the fate of her people in balance, she finally relents, placing the Darksaber—a symbol of Mandalorian strength—in his hand. The act of surrender, though heavy with shame, bears the hope of sparing her people from further suffering.

A triumphant glint flashes in Gideon's eyes as he claims the Darksaber. “Wise decision. Mandalore will be spared... for now.” Gideon's haunting words echo around her as Kryze comes to a stop just short of the door. “There is one more thing.”

She turns to look at the menace washed in the cool glow of the darksaber. He swings the blade gently at first, testing its balance. Kryze turns to watch as the darksaber whirrs, slicing through the air with a heavy drag.

“What more?” Kryze asks, watching as the gifted blade grows heavier in his hand.

“I seek the force-sensitive Mandalorian. Bring them to me, alive and unharmed, or the Purge of Mandalore shall persist.”

Kryze's gaze flickers with disbelief, her mind struggling to reconcile Gideon's claim with her knowledge of her fellow Mandalorians. She moves toward him, her steps more confident than they had been in days. “There is no force-sensitive Mandalorian among us. Tarre Vizsla is no more.”

A sardonic smile plays at the corner of Moff Gideon's lips, “Oh, dear Bo-Katan, you underestimate how deeply I have infiltrated your forces. Bring me Pre Vizsla's daughter,’ he growls.

Bo-Katan's brow furrows, her mind racing to reconcile your image, a steadfast warrior she had known for years, with the concept of you being force-sensitive. "No, that cannot be true. I have fought alongside her, stood shoulder to shoulder with her, and never witnessed her harnessing the Force,” she argues, her voice filled with a mix of doubt and confusion.

As the echoes of their conversation reverberated within the Great Forge, silence settles upon the chamber, allowing space for contemplation. Gradually, Kryze's memories began to align, shattered fragments weaving together, unveiling a hidden truth about you that had eluded her for so long.

Moff Gideon swings the Darksaber, relishing in the power that he wields. “The Force has a way of concealing itself, even from the most discerning eyes. The more you reflect, the more you shall come to accept the truth. It wouldn’t surprise me if she wiped your mind on more than one occasion,” he says, his words dripping with sinister malice.

Determined and unyielding, Bo-Katan solidifies her resolve, “I do not know where she is. As I am sure you know Mandalorians are divided, fractured. If you choose to go back on your word, so be it," she raises her head, holding his gaze. 

Moff Gideon's eyes narrow, slicing through her lies. His patience has worn out. “I offered you a deal, and you agreed to disarm, now you have gone back on your word by refusing to hand over Pre Vizsla's daughter. You have one hour to turn her over or I will lay waste to this planet and all your people.”

[maybege]

“Only got to see you at the dinner, that one time, remember?”

Summary: You meet Paz Vizsla for the first time.

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.9k | Rating: M

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics

Wrote a little something today based on a line in Marital Favours and deeply inspired by 3x01. I hope you enjoy it ❤️

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

gif by @themandaloriandaily

“I can’t wait for this dinner to end.”

“You’re only saying that because you cannot wait to go back to a certain alpha I saw buir talk to.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re only jealous because buir doesn’t allow you to meet that alpha boy from the kitchens.”

“Of course, I am! Look around! All these alphas and we aren’t allowed to talk to them – what a waste, if you ask me.”

“Only that nobody asked you.”

You took a long sip from your wine cup, hiding your smile at your sisters’ antics. Their endless bickering had been your constant companion ever since you were little and today was no different. Only that it was much more bearable because today was the day you had been looking forward to for months now.

Every other year, the three major clans of the region came together for peace negotiations. It was a big event, considering the clans never came together on any other occasion, and everyone who was anyone came along.

This year, after six years, it was your parents’ turn to host and it was the first time you were old enough to mingle with the high-ranking guests. They never allowed you to travel with them outside of clan borders so it was pure and utter luck that you could attend tonight and see all these different people.

You spotted your parents at the far end of the hall and you were relieved to find that they did not seem to be too worried about you and your sisters now. Which meant you could roam your eyes over the guests, letting them linger on the alphas in particular. The bustling crowds were so colourful and so different from your sheltered everyday life, you could hardly sit still, wanting to gather the courage to talk to every single person and ask them about their travels and their life and the way they thought peace could finally be reached.

Sometimes you wondered if your life would have been different if you and your sisters had not turned out to be omegas. Because as soon as your brother had presented as a beta, it seemed like the world and its opportunities opened up just for him. Meanwhile, Moira, Zifre and you just spent your days whiling away in the palace, yearning for the day you were allowed to actually talk to people without them having been chosen by your parents.

Your parents were very protective of you and your sisters. Always had been and probably always would be. You were sure that they must have some kind of reason for keeping you in the palace like some kind of prison but the more time passed, the more you felt like one of those banthas kept in the fields to be petted and cooed at by the foundlings.

Moira, the eldest, had just been engaged to one of your buir’s counsellors and it had been fascinating to see how your usually stoic and straightforward sister had tuned into a puddle at the sight of the tall alpha. You had never met an alpha before and you had not been very impressed by the polite, yet arrogant, man your sister had fallen for. But, still, in the dead of night, you allowed yourself to dream what it might be like to meet someone who just intrinsically … fit.

And what better way to actually know what alphas were like than to meet them?

As one of the daughters of the clan leaders, it had been your job to organize the festivities and what had cost weeks of stress and work and several close calls to nervous breakdowns, it had turned out phenomenal. The guests were mingling on the open terrace of the main building of the covert. It had taken ages to find the right lanterns but now that you saw them glittering on the docks, colouring everything in a warm light, you knew all the effort had been worth it.

“Ugh, what is he doing here?” Zifre huffed and pulled you from your thoughts.

You followed your sister’s gaze and she did not say anything more.

“He is a clan leader, he was invited,” mocked your older sister but her voice sounded oddly far away.

Paz Vizsla was a name you had never associated with anything pleasant. Quite the opposite actually. The Vizsla Clan bordered yours and you did not remember a time when your clan were ever at peace. Even during your great-great-great-grandmother’s reign, your clan had been at war with the Vizslas and maybe even before.

There were only a few things you knew about the man. You knew that he was younger than your parents, his buirs having died just a few years prior and leaving the seat of clan leader to him. You knew that he was “a beast on the battlefield” according to your father and “too arrogant for a man of his intelligence” according to your mother. And you knew that if you wanted to sour the mood at the dinner table, you just had to utter his name.

But now, seeing him for the first time, you noticed many things you had never considered before. You noticed how tall he was, and how broad. He positively towered over the people around him and you were sure that even without his dark blue armour, he would be an impressive figure. You also noticed how regal he looked in his cape designating him as the clan leader. And that he smelled incredible.

His helmet turned to you and your sisters and although his visor was black, you got the feeling that he was looking straight at you.

Your heart jumped into your throat and you quickly looked down, trying to pretend like you had not been staring at him anyway.

“Is he toasting us?” Zifre asked, completely shocked, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks. Maybe if you just kept looking down

“C’mon, girls,” you heard your father’s voice from behind you, clearly displeased, “Let us go. It is time for the walk.”

*

The night air was brisk but not unpleasant and you enjoyed the view out on the deep waters. The moon was standing high and the lanterns that adorned the way just added to the cosy atmosphere of the night. Several of the guests complimented you on your work in organizing the dinner which you accepted with a wide smile.

Then the world fell away from you.

There was a lot of screaming and you could hear water splashing as the dock gave out from underneath you. For a fraction of a moment, you saw what you could only describe as a giant crocodile breaking through the water and crashing partly on the dock before you fell into the water yourself.

You were too stunned to do anything. It was cold. It was really really cold.

A hand reached through the water, grabbing yours and hoisting you up to dry land. You hardly saw anything, you barely knew how to stand for a second and instead just clung to the body that was in front of you.

“Are you all right?” a deep voice rumbled and you shivered, your clothes sopping wet.

And then it all came crashing down.

“The young ones!” you gasped, trying to blink against the water in your eyes, “The foundlings!”

“Where are they?” you didn’t recognize the stranger’s voice but something about it made you feel safe. His big hands held you by the shoulders but you could also feel his body right in front of yours. You had never been that close to a stranger before.

“That way,” you pointed to the right, where the docks had collapsed, “What if they – What if –“

The warm hands fell from your shoulders. He shouted a command you did not quite understand but it made more people in the. “Stay,” he said to you, “I will take care of it.”

“No but what –“

“Stay here, omega,” the man said, and you froze, a warm feeling rushing through your body, shocking you to your core.

Omega.

Nobody had called you omega before.

The realization that the man had been an alpha hit you out of nowhere and the panic of

“What are you standing here?” Zifre shouted, panic laced in her voice, “Let’s fucking go!”

She took hold of your hand and together, you ran down the shore, hurrying to where the children’s quarters were located at the edge of the water. In the darkness, you could hear and see the blaster shots and explosion and the warrior on the shore and in the air, doing their best to take the monster down.

Your feet pounded on the sand and your clothes felt heavy from the water. But the fear that something could happen to the children of the clan spurred you on and you were not the only ones making their way down that side of the shore. You just needed to make sure they were safe.

By the time you had reached the foundling’s quarters, you were completely out of breath and terrified at the sight of the humongous scaly … thing that was attempting to snap at anything in reach.

“Get the little ones inside!” Paz Vizsla called and you saw him fly up in the air, shooting straight into the open mouth of the beast.

You could see the hesitation in the warriors of your clan at having received an order of the enemy clan’s leader. You did not know what had gotten into you but you stepped closer to the battle unfolding in front of your very eyes.

“You heard him!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, hoping to be heard over all the noise, “Get them inside and keep them safe!”

And they did.

It did not take long for your parents arrived and soon enough, the shore was filled with every warrior that had been at the dinner, some of then still dripping from their involuntary dip in the water. You watched with wide eyes as the monster gave a final attempt and then it fell back into the water and all of a sudden, the eerie silence swallowed everything.

You saw your parents coming back up the shore again, together with the other clan leaders, Paz Vizsla among them.

“Well that is not how I thought this evening would go,” Moira announced from behind you and you turned around to see her right next to her fiancée, his arm around your shoulders.

“I’d say none of us expected it to go like this,” Zifre replied drily.

When you turned back around, your parents had just passed you, walking straight to their circle of advisors. Everyone just kind of … hovered, and you were highly aware of a certain clan leader that stood next to you. And when Zifre made her way to Moira, you saw your chance to say something to the burly alpha.

“Thank you,” you whispered, convinced your parents wouldn’t hear you, “For saving them.”

Paz Vizsla did not look at you and for a moment, you feared that he had not heard you as well. And you weren’t sure if you were brave enough to speak to him again.

“Make no mention of it, princess,” a warm, deep voice said and it took you a second to realize that it was him, the man from the shore, “Little ones are precious all over the clans.”

[dollscircus]

Masterlist’s

Not what I expected

Summary: You lived on earth your whole life with your younger sister unaware of your father's past and more extraterrestrial life until you are both taken from your home but someone is looking for your father. Your and your sisters' saviour comes in the form of someone who wears the same armour your father own.

Paring: Din Djarin (The mandalorian) x Earthling!F!Reader and Din Djarin and Oc (platonic)

Includes: Canon typical violence, swearing, Din seeing a child and turns into a dad. Eventual smut, din being a softy bc that’s my jam, more canon typical violence. Angst.

Tag list is open! Just send in an ask!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Adenn Baar’ur

(Merciless Medic)

(Inspired by Stubbychaos Paz x Nurse!Reader fic)

Summary: Finding an injured Mandalorian wasn’t how you expected the night to end; surprisingly forming a strange friendship with “Big Blue” however he begins to realise that you have a connection with another mandalorian which was unknown to you.

Paring: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader. F!Reader & Din Djarin (Siblings)

Includes: Fluff, Character death and angst. Eventual smut. Paz and Din fighting like a married couple.

Tag list is open! Just send in an ask!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

This fic’s next part will not be posted to tumblr but to A03, find it here!

[outercrasis]

Always You

gif by the incredibly talented @bestintheparsec

Pairing: Din Djarin x Mandalorian F!Reader (Paz’s sister)

Rating/Word Count: M / 4.3k

Warnings: some fighting, tiny bit of sexual references/language

Summary: The Covert is ransacked and you and Paz are looking for other Mandos who might have made it off world. You don't expect to find him.

A/N: What’s this? Another fic when I should be working on the other two? Yep because my brain said “I want Din to have a Mando lady & she’s Paz’s sister” and wouldn’t let go. See end of chapter for some additional notes. Reader has no name other than her last name and is petite - otherwise there are no other physical markers for her.

Series Masterlist + Next Chapter

Part 1

It's dim in your chosen corner of the cantina. Most don't even notice you tucked away in the back booth and those who do avert their eyes quickly. It's better that way and despite the fact that most have never seen a Mandalorian, it's clear that the stories of your people's abilities have not been forgotten.

There's no food or drink on the table before you, but the droid bartender won't be kicking you out anytime soon. They know you'll leave when you're good and ready, taking some food and drink to go. If you're feeling generous you'll even grab some for your ori’vod, providing him with something more than ration bars as fuel for his oversized body.

Not today though. Today you're in the cantina doing your very best to hide from him. Paz has been driving you up a wall, insistent on leaving Tatooine and going to a different outer rim planet to try and locate other Mandalorians. You don’t want to leave. All things considered, Tatooine isn’t bad. Well it is, but that’s what makes it great for the two of you.

Tatooine is home to all kinds in addition to being a popular waypoint for those with less than legal interests. That means most people keep to themselves and keep their mouths shut. It’s an ideal situation for two Mandos running from unknowable enemies. Not to mention that if other Mandalorians come through this area, you’ll be sure to know about it. A few well-made connections have left you in a position to be informed if a situation arises.

Why Paz can't see that Tatooine is the perfect place to be is beyond you. You have the feeling he just doesn't like the heat and grit of sand between his beskar'gam and kute. Despite appearances, he can be a real baby when it comes to things that make him uncomfortable. It's part of what makes the cantina an ideal location to hide from him. Paz hates the cantina, not seeing the point of it since he's unable to eat or drink inside its cool stucco walls. You're pretty sure when it comes down to it though, he just gets bored.

You're enjoying yourself, noting the regulars that make a daily appearance in the little watering hole and the ever rotating cast of newcomers. No one looks particularly dangerous and you find yourself fairly relaxed all things considered. The sensors on your helmet are continually scanning the enclosed space, so if something starts to happen, you’ll notice.

Another half and hour floats past, nothing of real note occurring other than a shouting match over a lost game of Sabacc. The sore loser had left before anything close to a shootout happened. A pity, as it could have been entertaining to watch.

That’s where you are, feeling calm and as close to tranquil as you can get when you hear it. A single name that no one else should know. Spoken in a hushed tone and picked up by your helmet’s audio sensors. Djarin.

You feel your blood run cold, pounding loudly in your ears. You look around the room for who said it when you hear something else that makes the panic in your chest rise. Laser sword. In context to one another that can only mean one thing. The Darksaber.

You’ve grown up hearing whispered stories about the Darksaber. The near mythical weapon first forged by one of your ancestors, destined to one day fall back into the hands of Clan Vizsla. The weapon that marks the wielder as the Mand’alor. It hasn’t been seen in years, not since The Great Purge when you were all forced to scatter or be killed. You shudder thinking back to that time, how you and Paz had barely made it out with your lives and all of those who hadn’t. The broad stripe of dark red paint on your left pauldron acts as a constant memorial for them.

You shake your head free from those dark echoes of the past and tune back into the conversation. Scanning the room, you discover the speaker to be a loose-lipped Duros chatting with two of his friends.

“I got out of there, I’ve never seen one Mandalorian let alone two and I know better to get caught up in that mess.”

Two Mandalorians? Who was with Din? Last you knew it had just been him and his foundling. You try to ignore the pain in your heart, thinking of the possibilities of who a second Mando could be. After all, he has a foundling now. Maybe he came across another Mando while he traveled and decided to make it a larger family unit. Frustrated but wanting to know more, you push yourself out of your booth and make your way over to where the Duros is sitting.

You know it won’t take much to intimidate the group of them, but your temper already flared at the thought of another Mandalorian being with Din. It’s difficult to resist putting on a little show. The cantina had been too quiet today anyway.

Striding over to the table, you watch his friend’s mouths run dry and eyes widen with fear, unable to voice your appearance to the Duros you’re about to demand answers from. You grab the back of his shirt roughly, spinning him around to face you. His red eyes widen impossibly larger once he registers the sight of your expressionless visor looking back at him.

“How do you know that name?” you grit out, slamming your hand on the table next to him.

His voice is shaky when he replies, barely able to get his words out. “It- it’s what the-the oth-other one called him. I d-don’t k-know anything else I sw-swear.”

“And the sword he had?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. It was b-black, had some fancy handle it came out of. I’ve never-never s-seen anything like it.”

It has to be the Darksaber. There’s no other explanation. You’ve never known Din to wield a sword anyway, always preferring his guns, hands, and flamethrower to anything else. As far as the other Mando knowing Din’s name, well, there’s probably an explanation for that too. You push down the way your gut churns, clenching your fists to keep from taking your anger out on this blameless alien. “Where did you see them?”

“Jab- Jabba’s old palace. I took off when they attacked. I didn’t want to end up d-d-dead like the others.”

You don’t bother to thank him, not having the patience for it. Sure he probably didn’t deserve that treatment from you, but the white hot heat of emotion had overruled your decision making. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to bolster the reputation of Mandalorians as a fierce and dangerous people.

Storming out of the cantina, you don’t even bother with the low profile you and Paz have been trying to keep, soaring into the air towards the ship with your sen’tra. You know Paz will try to ream you out for using it but this can’t wait.

Paz wants to find other Mandos? Two just fell into your lap and despite your own personal feelings about it, there is something to be said about strength in numbers. Not to mention the sudden reappearance of the Darksaber. Osik. Why did it have to be Din?

15 years ago

“Come on Djarin, you can hit harder than that!” you yell across the training mat. You’d barely even felt his last punch, glancing off of your side where the beskar doesn’t cover.

Din mimics your movement, walking in a wide circle, waiting for another opportunity to throw out an attack. “I don’t know an’edee, you sure you can take it?” You can hear his smile from under the helmet.

You watch the way his feet move. He’s quick and you know it, but if you can just get him to misstep once you’ll have the opening you need. “Please, one of the initiates could hit harder than you, mir’sheb,” you tease back.

“Remember you asked for this,” Din says before lunging towards you. He expects you to dart to the side, or maybe charge back against him, both options that would allow him to use his heavier weight against you. Instead you roll, easily diving underneath his outstretched arms and quickly kick out at one of his legs. The beskar covering your shin connects against his leg hard, causing him to stumble and misstep as you hoped.

Taking advantage of his momentary loss of balance, you quickly push up from the floor and tackle him to the ground. Beskar clangs together loudly at the impact and as you both fall to the floor you’re thankful for the soft mats that cover it. A fall like that on solid ground would have hurt the both of you.

Din is pulling out of the sudden daze you’ve put him in faster than you would like, but you manage to grab hold of one of his arms, tossing your legs around it, and pull him into a tight arm bar.

“Tap out, cyar’ika?” you taunt. His helmet turns to look at you and you can tell he's weighing his options, trying to figure out how to get out of the hold. You pull on his arm a little harder - not enough to cause real damage but enough to send a message. You watch him deflate, the fight leaving his body as he accepts the position you’ve trapped him in.

He taps the floor twice with his free hand and you immediately release him from your hold. You get up from the mat and look down over Din, who is preoccupied with the slight twinge you left behind in his elbow. Offering a hand, you assist him in getting up from the sweat streaked mat.

"That shouldn't have worked. You're getting slow old man."

Din scoffs but doesn't say anything more. He doesn’t need to see your face to know how pleased you are. It radiates off of you, a lightness to your movements that makes the heavy beskar on you seem weightless. You tap his pauldron and walk away, leaving him helpless to watch the sway of your hips. It’s not right that a flight suit should hug your curves so perfectly.

He’s thankful for the protection his helmet grants, eyes snapping away from your ass when he sees who you’re approaching on the side of the training room. Paz. It’s probably best to not let your older brother see him very obviously checking you out.

“So? What did you think?” you ask Paz, still riding the high of endorphins from your victory. He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest in a posture that would probably intimidate anyone but you. You know your brother. He’s not angry, he’s probably just bored. Or possibly hungry. Those often coincide for him.

“You still need to tighten up your form vod’ika. He got in a few hits he shouldn’t have because you were too open.”

You nod, genuinely listening to what it is he has to say. His criticism isn’t an insult, it’s notes. You can’t improve yourself without the honest feedback and you know he’ll give it to you, even if sometimes it isn’t what you want to hear. “Remember what I taught you, use your size to your advantage. The roll was a good move.”

You can’t help but preen under his praise. Despite being full-blood siblings, you and Paz couldn’t be more different physically. The two of you like to joke that he took all the big and tall genes with him when he was born, dooming you to a life lived at a considerably lower perspective. Paz utilizes his massive size in fights, dominating opponents before they even step into the ring with him. You’ve been working on improving your own technique, trying to use your seemingly disadvantageous size to your benefit. If Paz noticed, it meant you were doing something right.

Din finally makes his way over to join the two of you and stares right at Paz. He knows the older Mando will have notes for him too. Paz has stepped into his role as a teacher in the Covert fully, constantly analyzing to help others improve. “Say it already,” Din sighs.

Paz shakes his head slightly and gives Din a friendly shove to the shoulder. “You need to stop getting distracted by a pretty face, di’kut.”

You'd like to punch Paz. Maybe go a round on the mat and finally manage to lay him out on the floor. He knows full well about your feelings for Din, having pointed it out before you realized it for yourself. He knows and he's purposely trying to embarrass you with them. It’s the worst kind of sibling move and you very much regret stealing half of his muffin this morning. This is not equal payback, but you should have expected this. Paz doesn’t always play fair.

You expect Din to laugh, make some comment back that you're already trying to tell yourself won't crush your heart. Instead he replies with a simple shut up in Mando'a, looking as embarrassed as you feel. It feels like the air has been knocked from your lungs. Surely you're reading too far into things.

Unsure of what to do with yourself and feeling uncharacteristically timid, you mumble something about the showers and walk away from the two men. Your mind is racing, trying to figure out what Din's response means – if it means anything at all. You're well aware of the pain you could end up in if you're wrong, and yet you can't fight that small, inescapable hope.

After showering, you head towards your bunk, looking forward to resting up more after your spar with Din. The water was soothing on your muscles, but they're still sore. Taunts aside, Din can hit hard and has a talent for finding the spaces between your beskar. Paz was right – you do need to tighten your form.

Looking down the hall, you're surprised to see Din leaning outside your bunk door. It's impossible to tell whether he hit the showers too or has been waiting here since you left the Training Room. Either way, you can feel your heart begin to pound under your chest plate. It reminds you of a mallet striking against a gong. You do your best to tamper down your excitement, trying to seem unaffected, and you continue down the hall.

"Need me to teach you another lesson, Djarin?" you ask. If you tease him maybe you can maintain an effective facade. You know your shield of beskar won’t give you away, but your mannerisms will. He knows you too well for them to go unnoticed.

He pushes himself away from the wall as you approach, drawing himself to his full height, and you feel yourself go weak in the knees. Maker, he’s big. His shoulders are broad, taking up more space than you think any man ought to be able to. The dirty red of his chestplate fills your vision, making you wonder about the wide expanse of soft flesh underneath it all. The taper of the plate only draws further attention to the way his waist cinches in, dragging your eyes further down than you should be letting them travel. Thank the Maker you hadn’t given yourself away by dipping your helmet down to look too.

“If that’s your idea of a lesson, I think you need some tips from your vod on how to teach.”

You laugh, opening the door to your bunk and gesturing Din to follow. It’s not the first time he’s been in here, but something definitely feels different about him entering this time. For one, he hesitates for a moment, a slight action that you’d miss if you weren’t already hyper aware of his movements. Clearly whatever’s on his mind is important and you’d rather the whole Covert not overhear what you can only imagine will be his gentle rejection of you. It’s an embarrassment you’d rather not have publicized.

The bunk is small - designed for single occupancy unlike the larger rooms suited for couples and families. You’re thankful you at least had the forethought to clean up this morning. The prospect of Din rejecting you and seeing your underwear is a bit more than you can handle.

Normally when you return to your bunk you would strip yourself of your beskar’gam, relaxing into your bed with a holovid or a book stored on your datapad. There are also the nights where you would ignore those activities in favor of relieving your tension in a different way, but you’re trying not to focus on that when the man who often makes an appearance in those daydreams is standing right before you.

You’re not sure of what to do with yourself. The table only has one chair and you could offer it to him, but then where would that leave you? The bed? Not an option. Simply standing will have to do.

It’s only been a few seconds since Din entered the bunk but it feels like minutes and you’d like to die with how awkward this has become. You curse Paz for opening his stupid mouth. He just had to say something and now your friendship with Din was ruined forever. Lovely.

“Listen, about what Paz said earlier...”

You can already feel your heart sinking. This is it. This is the moment where Din casts you aside and you lose your crush and best friend all in one go. You brace yourself for impact, knowing that it will hurt but hoping you can keep a strong enough face until you can get him back out of the room.

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I never meant for you to find out like that.” You’re pretty sure you heard him wrong. Or maybe you had spoken and heard it in his voice for some reason. Whatever the explanation, you’re pretty sure Din didn’t say that because why would he? Paz had been picking on you, not him.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

He shifts on his feet before answering. “You rushed off to the showers before I could say anything. I get it if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine and I’ll still gladly be your friend, but I thought I should at least explain myself.”

At this point, you’re pretty sure this is all just a dream. A really vivid, tangible dream. You can’t even form words anymore, in Basic or Mando’a, for fear that nothing but foolish nonsense will tumble out. Unfortunately, your prolonged silence also sends Din into a full blown panic, unsure of anything going on inside your head. He plunges forward in desperation, determined to explain things even if it costs him his heart.

“I like you, Vizsla. I have for a long time and I never said anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we have as friends.”

You could kiss him. The thought rips through your mind and your fingers itch to reach up and tear your helmet off your head just so you can put your mouth on his. You don’t though. That’s a choice for the both of you to make together, not one you can thrust upon him so instead you do the next best thing.

Carefully, you step towards him, reaching up to pull his head down to meet yours. There’s the small tap of metal on metal once your foreheads gently meet. “I like you too, Din. I think I have from the moment we met.”

Your confession is easy after his. He’d basically stolen the words from you, voicing the exact same concern you would have cited. You had decided long ago that having Din in your life but not knowing the full extent of your feelings was far better than not having him at all.

It’s surprising how quickly he can act despite the shock running through him. In a flash, his arms wrap around you tightly, pressing your body flush against his. The only other time you’ve ever been this close to Din is while training, but the two are like comparing meiloorun to jogan fruit. This is something tender and raw and you’re not quite sure either of you are built for such a fragile thing, but you know that you never want to let Din or this feeling to leave you now that you have it.

“Din?” you ask.

“Lek, ner karta?"

“Can I show you just how much I’ve wanted you?”

“Only if I can show you too.”

From there the two of you are inseparable. Not that you weren’t before – you used to look for any excuse to be near one another, but now there’s a certain quality to it that wasn’t there before. It’s the lingering touches and stares, not needing any reason to seek the other out except for the need to be close, the intimacy of it all. You try to keep it relatively low-key, but it’s the Covert and after a few less than discrete instances, everyone knows.

Most nights are spent in each other’s bunks. It doesn’t matter that you have to spend the night sleeping in your helmet. Any excuse to feel the wide expanse of Din’s body pressed up against yours is well worth the mild discomfort. Your faces remain a mystery to each other, but it doesn’t matter, not when his fingers are pressed deep inside you or your hand is wrapped firmly around his cock. It doesn’t matter when he palms your chest or teases your nipple while splitting you in half. It doesn’t matter when you hold him tight against your body, feeling him spilling out from between your thighs as you drift off into a satiated sleep. You don’t need to see his face to know that you love him.

Time slips by and then finally, on the day that you decide to repaint a piece of your armor, to show your love as well as speak it aloud to him – he’s gone. Slipped away from you like some phantom. Gone not only from the Covert but the entire planet and the only thing that the alor will tell you is that Din chose to leave on his own, working as a beroya now for the Tribe. Alone.

It’s a pain unlike any other. It’s one that cuts deep, cleaving you in two and leaves you broken on the floor of the Forge, unable to anything but cry out in your suffering. Paz is the one who comes for you. There to help you pick up the pieces the same way he did when you were kids during the Purge. After all, what is family for?

That decision, made without your input or knowledge, changes you irrevocably. You’re not sure you’ve ever truly come to peace with it. What you do know is that despite it all, despite the pain and sorrow, your heart still skipped at the mere mention of his name. Soaring through the skies of Tatooine, you curse the Duros that spoke the name Djarin within your earshot.

You land hard on the sand outside of the Guardian, the ship you and Paz managed to commandeer. The grains shift below your feet, forcing your one knee to give out and drop into the dune, nearly causing you to tumble over completely. Before you can even try to get up on your own a firm hand wraps around your bicep and pulls you to your feet.

“Di’kut! What did you fly here for? Do you want our enemies to find us?” Paz shouts at you. His temper is predictable and rolls off of you. You ignore him, walking up into the ship and making a beeline for the cockpit. There are more important things to attend to than your hot-headed brother's attitude.

He follows close behind, ready to continue the argument about whether or not you’ll be staying on Tatooine. You cut him off before he can start up again. “We’re not staying here.”

Your sudden agreeableness gives Paz pause, but he’s not going to push it any further. Your risky flight makes him think that something happened while you were in town making a quick departure necessary. The two of you fall into your preflight rhythm, each going through your own checklists.

“Finally decided to see things my way?” Paz asks as he checks the fuel levels.

“No,” you reply, pressing a few buttons to your left to warm the engines. You can feel his hackles raise. “We’re going to a place called Jabba’s Palace on world. Din is there.”

The tension in the cockpit is thick, heavy in the air, but it’s no longer directed between the two of you. It evaporates Paz's anger towards you, catching on quickly to the gravity of the situation. It's been months since Paz has seen Din and years for you. You only know of Din’s foundling through the whispers of the Covert and weeks of irritating Paz until he broke down and told you himself.

You stare resolutely out the cockpit window, waiting for Paz to take his co-pilot seat. You’ve already decided not to tell him about the Darksaber. You don’t want him freaking out if you’re wrong and if you’re right, well, he can deal with the shock of it then. The other information you can’t hold out on though, despite how badly you don’t want to hear it in your own voice.

Paz sits and you keep your eyes facing forward, unable to deal with his reaction to the next piece. “He’s with another Mandalorian.”

You punch the engines, blasting the Guardian into the dusty skies of Tatooine. There’s no guarantee of what you’ll find at Jabba’s beyond Din and you only hope Paz doesn’t take his head off before you can get your answers.

Additional notes: We are playing fast and loose here with the Mando rules because this is my fic and I can play with the not fully fleshed out rules if I want to lmao - basically it comes down to this - immediate blood family (parents, siblings) can see you without your helmet, otherwise you need to be married. Others can see any other part of you (wink wink) but the helmet stays on until you enter Riddurok (marriage) with another. There may be some other little changes and things but.... work with me here 😅

Also, this will be a three part series, but I am all for chatting about these two/writing some drabbles or headcanons for them. So if there’s anything you’re curious about drop me an ask and I’d love to talk about them! Also thank you to @escapades-to-rivendell for the beta and to @honestly-shite and @castleamc for listening to me ramble about these two

Everything Taglist: @librariantothejedi @janebby @spideysimpossiblegirl @roxypeanut @paperbag33 @danidrabbles @honestly-shite @sharkbait77 @stevie75 @tintinn16 @doin-stuff @hdghty @salome-c @greeneyedblondie44 @snow30285 @fic-appointment @kirsteng42 @athalien @missminkylove @niki_xie @tothejedi @readsalot73 @castleamc @nakhudanyx @quietpainter @spanishmossmagnolia @kirsteng42 @dihra-vesa @sergeantbannerbarnes

Din babes: @dodgerandevans @5pectre @jinxxy-bby @anastasiyax @escapades-to-rivendell @hmarsattacks @luthien-t @thisshipwillsail316 @lellowberry @adriiibell @max--phillips @quietpainter @kotemorons @fanficmybeloved @andiesturgss @djarinsimp @let-the-imaginationflow @girlofchaos @eclipseminjiu @perksofbeingivyy @seventhskycorps

[ohwaitimthewriter]

Shev’la (Silent)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x earthling!reader

Rated: Mature (+16)

Warnings: mention of abuse (implicit), mention of violence (more or less explicit), mention of rape (implicit), homesick feeling, concussion, angst? if you see anything else let me know! 

Words count: 2.7k

Summarize: Three years ago, The Empire got a grip on Earth resulting in an event called The Purge. The aim was to kidnap earthlings to enroll them as stormtroopers and those who didn’t fit in the quality of being soldiers, ended up as slaves. When the owner of a bar on Nevarro bought you from the Empire, you knew you’d never see a glimpse of your home ever again. But you could never forget the face of your last hope.

A/n: Hi! So here’s chapter 1! I’m quite nervous about it simply because there’s a lot of NON-sweet stuff happening in there 😂 This chapter just drained my energy last night and I had the same feeling while translating it today. So yeah, I hope you’ll like it! Enjoy your reading!

Shev’la Masterlist. // The Mandalorian Masterlist. 

This was not the way you had hoped you would one day discover the immensity of the universe. And you never thought you could do it in your lifetime. You had imagined this world to be a little softer than the one you had lived in for most of your life. How could you have been so naive? How could you have thought that the universe would be different? Less violent? More tolerant? It was a doomed hope from the beginning. It was just so earthy to think that.

And today, here's where you were. Getting shoved around while you were cleaning a table. Being insulted for a wrong order when it was the owner himself who had made a mistake. And if one of those humanoid creatures discovered that you were an earthling, and it was an outburst of hatred.

You didn't understand why the people of the galaxy have such a deep hatred for the people of Earth. Before the Purge, Earth was on the fringe of the universe. In both senses of the word. Too far from the farthest parsec to include it in the galactic world and too... 'full of ignorant people' to want to include it in the galactic world. You weren't too sure what had suddenly awakened the Empire's interest in Earth either.

But what you understood perfectly well was that the earthlings were nothing more than common gnats squashed on a windscreen.

It wasn't that life was better on Earth. The planet itself had some small inconveniences that often made us dream of a better place. And although the memories of your past life began to dry up, you missed it, you missed this blue planet.

It was always at the end of your day, when night had long since fallen, that you missed it the most. You always put on your coat. You hid inside and if after all these years the smell of your home had finally disappeared, your brain always managed to make it up. It was amazing what a simple chemical reaction in the brain could do. The illusion of a delicate perfume. The illusion of the smell of a good fire in the fireplace mixed with the sweet smell of marshmallow roasted over a wood fire. These were the only smiles that could make their way through. Sad smiles. Little smiles that said that you had experienced beautiful things, but not anymore. Smiles that, when they appeared, only left an even greater emptiness in your heart. And it was hard to think that they would certainly be the last.

And then you heard a slight knock on your bunker door. You knew who was behind it. Every night she came to visit you. Xgrid. Another slave. One too young slave. She must have been twelve or thirteen years old. It was when you first met her that you realized that the galaxy spared no one. What a rotten thing to do to a child.

You bend over to reach the opening button to let her in. Xgrid was a Togruta. She had told you about being sold by her own parents when she was only 8 years old. Poor child. So the world never had empathy.

Xgrid found comfort in you. You no longer spoke but you listened to her express her fears and anxieties. You let her snuggle up to you. You knew that reassured her. She had found in you what it was like to have a real family and you were certainly the only person she trusted. Xgrid was like your little sister.

The Empire had taken away much more than your home and your freedom. And you found in Xgrid certain traits of character that your own little sister, your late beloved little sister, had.

"I was told I would have to work at the bar tomorrow." She said and you frowned. "Bara says I'm old enough now.”

What a scumbag.

You showed with your hands the pad you used to communicate with her and Xgrid took it out from under her parka.

You quickly tapped on the screen and a robotic voice read out your sentence.

"Did he tell you why?"

"No. Just that I had to be good.”

And you already knew what Bara was thinking about. A wave of anger bubbled up in your chest. It was out of the question. You wouldn't let him. Not to a child.

You tapped again on the screen, this time not to be able to communicate with Xgrid but to send an encrypted message to Bara. "Put me on Xgrid's watch tomorrow." And his reply was soon: "You'll take two shifts then.”. And you double your first message. Xgrid won't be alone tomorrow.

"I will be with you." You told her.

Xgrid cuddled up a little more to you and you could feel her shaking. She was scared. And how can you not be afraid at such a young age? Until now, Xgrid was in the kitchen. She was more or less safe there. But the bar. The bar was the merchandise display. And there was one thing you had vowed to do since you had met Xgrid: to protect her. No one, no creature in this galaxy would ever get its dirty hands on her. You clenched your teeth in anger. You didn't want to show Xgrid how much it affected you. She was a child, she couldn't go through that. No child should have to go through that.

You tighten your arms around her and tapped on the pad again.

"Tomorrow I want you to do everything I tell you. I don't care what Bara wants from you, whatever he says, come and talk to me first. Do you understand?”

"Yes, I understand.”

You put a kiss on her forehead, and you felt her being carried away by sleep little by little.

Life could be so unfair. Your head rested against the wall behind you and you closed your eyes. You did something you had never done before. Even on Earth. You prayed. If in all this vastness there was someone, something close to what could be called a God. You prayed that nothing would happen to Xgrid that you couldn't stop. You had long ago condemned your body to the trauma of violence. But you couldn't condemn a child. And you prayed so hard that someone would hear you. That someone could save her. You prayed until you fell asleep.

And when you woke up the next morning, it was because of the vibration of your bracelet. Yes, you had a long day ahead of you and Xgrid was already gone. Probably in her bunker, not far from yours. You took off your coat and you weren't surprised to see Xgrid waiting for you at your door.

"I don't feel like going. I don't want to go," she said.

Your hand rested tenderly on her cheek. A compassionate smile appeared on your lips and you did your best not to make it seem forced. Because you didn't feel like smiling anymore. Because you couldn't smile in this kind of life that wasn't a life at all. But for her, you could make that effort.

You asked her for her pad with a wave of your hand and she gave it to you quickly.

"Neither do I." The robotic voice answered for you. "But I’ll be right here, I'll look after you.”

She nodded and you told her to go ahead of you, keeping the pad with you. There was one thing you had to do before.

Bara was never at work before her slaves. So you carefully walked down the corridor leading to his luxurious flats.

You knocked gently at his door and when he opened it, not without an annoying grumble, he arched an interrogative eyebrow, a look that overflowed with disgust for your person.

"What do you want from me, earthling?" He grumbled between his teeth.

You quickly tapped on the pad and as you read the sentence again, you hesitated for a second, taking your time to get fully aware of what you were going to ask him. Yes, there was no other choice but this one. And you clicked on send.

"No matter who is asking for Xgrid, send me instead." You said and Bara laughed.

"Send you instead? But what exactly do you believe?”

"She is too young. You can't do that to her.”

The robotic voice didn't put as much emotion into it as you could feel. And seeing Bara give you a vicious smile, the kind of smile that gave you a chill, you couldn't hide your dismay.

"Earthling, did you think for one moment that I would treat Xgrid the same way I treat... you?" And the 'you' came out as bitter on his lips, the disgust was on his face, but you are now used to it. "Don’t you think that earthling, only your species has the right to special treatment." He said, and what made you grind your teeth was that he was proud of it. "Now that things have been cleared up, you can go to work.”

And without another word he closed the door.

To tell the truth, you felt reassured. Sort of. You were reassured to know that Xgrid would not go through what you had gone through.

Morning time had been like a morning could be spent as a slave. Let's say that for once, no harm had come to you or to Xgrid. You still had your eyes on her. And especially, on all the customers in the bar who, under one pretext or another, might want to hurt her.

It was not until around noon that the incident occurred. A small group of Quarren had come in a little earlier and Xgrid was kindly taking care to bring them everything they asked to be brought.

You kept an eye on them. You were no longer watching the main entrance and you didn't notice the Mandalorian that had just walked through the door. No you, all you cared about was the safety of a child.

Ever since these Quarrens had taken their place at a table in the middle of the room, you had a bad feeling. The kind of feeling that twisted your stomach. You were watching their every move while you continued to serve and clean the other tables.

And you hadn't seen the Mandalorian, this giant of man had leaned against the bar and was watching in silence. He had come to look for someone. He had come on a mission and you didn't know it, but he was aiming at the same creature as you. But certainly not for the same reasons.

When Xgrid approached their table again, you pretended to clean the table next to theirs. You were nervous. And you had every reason to be, because no sooner had the little girl been next to this Quarren than he suddenly stood up and his gaze could not lie. You knew it by heart and what was coming next was often painful.

He barely had time to raise his hand on her when you stepped in, grabbing the Quarren's arm forcefully to stop him in his tracks.  

And you didn't have time to regret your move. In a split second, you felt the violence of the elbow hitting your skull and all you could see were stars dancing in your eyes.

The Quarren, furious, spoke a language you didn't understand, and your knees had slammed against the ground so hard as you had been knocked out from the impact. The pain paralyzed your body and no matter how hard you tried to come back to your senses, you couldn't recover from it.

And between the fog that clouded your vision, you saw the Quarren's feet suddenly leave the ground and a crashing noise echoed a few seconds later.

Xgrid had knelt down beside you, trying with all her might to get your attention but your head was spinning and spinning and suddenly you felt nauseous before you threw up the poor piece of bread that you had for breakfast this morning.

What you couldn't see was the Mandalorian who had just beaten up the Quarren that had hit you.

This was not what the Mandalorian had intended. No, it wasn't even exactly part of his mission. Yes, his target had been this Quarren specifically, and yes, the purpose of his mission was to put him where he couldn’t do any harm, but no, he had not planned to do it in the middle of this bar. But he couldn't have help it.

He couldn't just stand there and watch you defend this child, and not worry about what might happen to you afterwards. He simply couldn't be insensitive to the courage you had mustered. And wanting to attack a child in the first place in the presence of a Mandalorian... it was surely the stupidest idea ever. And if you hadn't stepped in, it would have been a joy to dislocate this Quarren’s jaw.

But you had stepped in and that made two brave people he had to defend. You had given him quite an impression and he probably wouldn't forget it for a long time.

And you, kneeling on the ground, your skin was shaking. Your body was slowly recovering from the impact but you knew you would need medical treatment. The concussion needed special attention but you really wondered if Bara would allow this. You felt Xgrid's little hand on your bare shoulder. It was soothing to have someone close to you but soon it was replaced by the shadow of a giant.

The Mandalorian had knelt before you and without asking your permission, he raised your head in his gloved hands, observing your eye movements attentively. It took several seconds to focus on his helmeted face and he seemed to be sufficiently satisfied with this eye response before he slid his arm under your shoulders and lifted you up.

You staggered on your legs, your inner ear struggling to follow the movement but the Mandalorian had foreseen this. He held you firmly but with a bewildering softness by your shoulders and waited patiently for you to regain your balance.

Your hands had found support on his forearms and when your body found enough strength to allow it, you suddenly became aware that you were touching a man and that a man was touching you... without hurting you.

Your hands quickly fell to your side and you wanted to take a step back to put a little more distance between you and him, but he only allowed you to do so once he was sure that you would stand on your feet with no need of assistance.

"You should show this to a doctor." He said, his voice still muffled from the helmet.

And you said nothing. You could never say anything. Your head hurt, but you risked looking around the room and your eyes widened before the monstrous mess that awaited you to clean up. Bara was going to kill you.

Bara. Your gaze panickily escaped towards the bar to see Bara appear at the entrance to the corridor leading to the kitchen. And he was furious. But he held back. You could see it. He was holding back with all his strength because the Mandalorian was there. And he was the only one who could stop anyone from taking action.

"I'll take care of it. " The Mandalorian told you. "Take care of yourself instead.”

And you thought his last sentence was... stupid. How could a slave take care of herself? He didn't seem to know. He didn't seem to know what you were. But he simply leaned over to Xgrid and you were already ready to step in again until you noticed his hand resting tenderly on the little girl's cheek, one knee on the ground to be at her level.

"You were brave." He said.

Then he stood up, grabbed the dead Quarren by the ankle and dragged him to Bara. Words were exchanged, but again you couldn't hear them, and the headache didn't help either.

And when you saw him leave, his victim dragging on the ground behind him like a common mop, you didn't know that this Quarren was not his sole target.

For a long time, this bar had been in his sights. For a long time he had known that Bara Qongg was not as clean as he pretended to be. And he knew that you and Xgrid had been deprived of freedom for far too long.

This Mandalorian had just saved you and you didn't know that he was planning to free you.

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

Chapter V

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blooms.

warnings: none? i think?

word count: 2.5k

Han Solo could be punctual when he really wanted to. He really didn’t care to be, though. Leia had told him they had guests, and she’d like him back on Hosnian Prime in time for brunch. Han Solo didn’t care to have brunch with what he’d assumed were diplomats or royals. And diplomats and royals didn’t really care to dine with Han Solo. 

“I’m sorry Han is so late,” Leia said, sitting next to you on the couch as you wrapped a braid around the crown of her head. “I should’ve known, I guess.”

You laughed a little. “I counted on him being late. I don’t know Han like you do, but I know him well enough.”

Leia smiled. Of course you knew Han well enough to count on him being late. Leia blames her forgetfulness about you on pregnancy, but she knows it was the time apart. She’s more than excited to bridge those gaps. 

“I don’t want Mando to feel disrespected,” she said. “I know he’s important to you.”

You smiled at the mention of Paz. “He won’t feel disrespected, Leia, I promise. He knows who Han Solo is, you know. He’s a bit of a hero to those who do, uhm, illegal things.”

“Mando does illegal things?”

You shrugged. “He has.” Paz had smuggled things when the Tribe was really struggling and bounties were low, he had told you as your conversations got deeper. 

“Well, I guess we have, too, technically,” Leia says. “And Alderaanian girls like bad boys. That’s what my mother used to say.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Let’s go ahead and eat. I don’t think Han would be mad if we started without him.”

“Alright, I’ll go tell Threepio we’re ready,” she said, standing up and smoothing her grey dress. “You go get your Mando, if he’d like to join.”

“I’m sure he will,” you say, standing up as well. Earlier that morning Leia had brought some comfortable lounging clothes to you, and you’d chosen loose grey pants and a matching crop top. You’d slipped on some house shoes to go with them. You and Leia had been braiding each other's hair while waiting for Han, something sisters on Alderaan held sacred and learned to do for all hair types and lengths. The braids both of you wore in your hair carried a deeper meaning today. 

You caught a glance of yourself in the hallway mirror as you went to get Paz. You looked like a woman from Alderaan again. It was bittersweet, reminding you of years past. But it was also comforting, being wrapped in Alderaan again was daunting when you first arrived, but maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

You knocked on the door of the aptly named Blue Room. “Paz? Can I come in?”

“One second,” he calls, voice unmodulated. You could hear him walking across the room to put on his helmet. A moment later, his voice rings through the vocoder telling you it’s safe. 

You open the door as he’s strapping on his thigh plates, cuirass and pauldrons already in place. “I don’t think all that’s necessary,” you say. “Leia says it’s very secure here.”

“Maybe it’s not,” he says, fiddling with the clasp. “But this is the Way, kebiin’ika.” You nodded. You still didn’t know much about this Way, and you doubt you’ll ever fully understand it. 

His visor is trained on you, he’s looking you up and down. Paz’s face grew warm as he admired your clothes, new and soft and classic Alderaan white. And your hair, kriff, it’s beautiful and intricate. You look very different to how you looked on Dantooine when he first met you, but just as beautiful. And even more relaxed. “You look very nice,” he said, silently cursing himself for saying something awkward.

Your face grew hot now. “Thank you, Paz,” you smile up at him. “That’s very sweet.”

“Just telling the truth, mesh’la,” he says.

“We’re going to eat breakfast, if you want to join,” you say, changing the subject away from yourself. “Han isn’t here yet, though.”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll join you,” he says, motioning you to go out the door first. Paz was relaxed today, and you wish his clothing could reflect it. He deserved to wear soft flowy fabrics so he could feel the breeze of Hosnian Prime and feel the soft fabric of Leia’s many couches and chairs. But maybe that wasn’t what he wanted, what he wanted was to wear his armor.

Leia was sitting in the sunroom at the back of the house, plates of small sandwiches and eggs cooked all types of ways and plenty of other foods lay out on the table before her. She stood up when the two of you entered the room, royal protocol continuing to persevere after all these years. “Good morning, Mando,” she says.

“Goodmorning, your highness,” Paz says with a bow of his head. 

“Good!” C-3PO says as he brings in a kettle of tea. “You’re catching on, Master Mandalorian.” 

Leia shakes her head with a laugh. “Don’t worry about the protocol, Mando. I don’t want to be too proper in my own home.”

Paz just nods, moving to sit in the chair next to yours. He’s eyeing the sandwiches, wishing he could have one, but in his four decades he’s gotten used to the temptation of food and to the long days without food. 

You pick up a sandwich, some fruit, and some eggs to start with. Leia is working on doing the same when the sound of a ship gets deafening above the house. “Han!” Leia exclaimed, setting her plate down. 

She went to the door of the sunroom that led into the back yard, watching as Han Solo’s Millennium Falcon settled down in the yard. As the ship hits the ground, Leia throws open the door and runs outside. 

Han emerges from the hull, and you’re shocked to not see Chewbacca with him. Han and Leia hug and kiss, and Leia starts explaining something. You know Leia’s tells, the woman explains with her hands. You assume she’s explaining your and Paz’s presence, probably giving him a heads up that Paz is a Mandalorian, like Boba Fett. 

Paz watches you watch your friends. A smile grows across your face as you watch Han’s hand splay across Leia’s pregnant belly, telling the baby something. His mind drifts as you start to eat, he imagines the two of you on Yavin with little Vizsla foundling running around as his hand splays across your belly, telling your baby something. 

“Why if it isn’t my favorite mechanic!” Han says as he walks in. 

He pulls you into a hug as you say, “You only flatter me when the Falcon needs fixing.”

“She’s good for now,” Han says, letting you go. “But if she ever isn’t, I know who to call.”

“Where’s Chewie?” You ask. Paz doesn’t know who Chewie is, but if he had to guess, it was the Wookie that always appeared with Han in holos. 

Han took a bite before answering, but Leia was tired of scolding him for talking with his mouth full. “Back on Kashyyyk, helping them rebuild.”

“Good, that’s good,” you smile softly at the fond memories of the Wookie. “And congratulations, Han. On the baby.”

He smiles and his eyes flit to Leia’s stomach. “Thank you, it’s hard work for me, this baby.”

Leia slaps Han’s shoulder with one hand while the other caresses her stomach. “Oh, hush,” she says. “Hard work,” she mocks with a roll of her eyes. 

“So, Mando,” Han says, turning to face Paz. “You’re with our prized mechanic, or so Leia tells me.”

Paz turns to Han. “I am.”

“Man of few words, this one,” he says, pointing his thumb over to Paz. “You know if you hurt her in any way, you’ll have pissed off almost all of the New Republic, right?”

Paz nodded. “I don’t plan to hurt her, Han Solo. I plan to keep doing the opposite.” 

“Good, good,” Han says. “She’s like our sister, that one.”

“You know I’m right here, right?” 

Han scoffs. “I haven’t lost that many brain cells.”

You laugh, taking a drink of some water. “Can never be too sure with you.” 

The brunch went well, Han’s banter was a welcome change to conversation. Han even got Paz to talk more, engaging in conversations about racing and smuggling stories. It was nice to hear Paz converse, not as natural as he was when he was alone with you, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. 

Now you and Leia sat on the couches in the study again, and Paz was out with Han, being shown the Millennium Falcon. You knew Paz probably didn’t care as much as he let on, but Han was always excited to show off his ship. 

“They seem to be getting along,” Leia says. 

You nod. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think Han would like him.”

“Han can get along with anyone, if he wants to,” Leia says. “He’s really excited about the baby, you know.”

You nod. “I can tell,” you say. “Though I figured he’d want to name the baby Falcon or something.”

Leia lets out a belly laugh, throwing her head back. “You know,” she says between laughs. “He did consider the names Millie and Falcon.”

“Maker, of course he did,” you laugh with her. 

Once the laughter dies down, Leia speaks. “I’m not wanting you to leave,” she starts. “Just wondering how long you’ll be here. The senate session starts again in a week, and I’m going to be gone a lot.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t really have a plan. I’m sure he’ll be wanting to get back to Yavin IV soon, though. His tribe will need him. Maybe we’ll leave tomorrow.” 

“I don’t want you to leave so soon, you could stay here, if you wanted.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know…I want to be with my Mando. He told me last night he planned to marry me.”

“You know I love you, right? I care about you?” You nod. “Ok, good. Because you barely know this man, and you’re going to marry him?”

You felt yourself getting defensive. “I’ve known him for a week, I know that it seems insane, but I am getting to know him. He’s very sweet, Leia. And it’s not like we’re getting married now.”

“I know, I just worry,” she sighs. 

“I know, and I’m glad,” you say. “We spent three days alone in hyperspace, he’s an open book if he wants to be.” 

-

The rest of the day was relaxed, but you could tell Paz was exhausted from Han’s talking when the two of you finally retired for the evening. Paz was stripping his armor off and stretching when you came out of the fresher in a nightgown Leia gave you. It was white, somewhat sheer if the light hit you right. And it took Paz’s breath away. He still had his thigh plates on when he approached you, hands falling to your waist as he looked down at you. His gloves were off, and you saw the small scars that covered his deep brown hands as they rested on your hips. “This is really pretty,” he says.

You giggle. “You like sheer things. Noted.” 

He chuckles a little, too. “You’re just really beautiful is all. Especially in that,” he’s looking you up and down again, the helmet moving dramatically as he takes you in. “I really wish I could kiss you, you know.” 

Your hands find his forearms, rubbing circles with your thumbs. “I wish you could, too.” The two of you are standing so close. Sure, you’d cuddled, you’d reclined between his legs, but this feels so much closer. 

Paz must’ve been thinking the same thing, and it must’ve scared him, because he took a few steps back. “Sorry,” he apologized quietly.

You tilted your head, brow arching. “Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, even quieter. He turns around and goes back to the chair where he had stacked his armor, moving to unclasp the thigh plates and add them to the pile. 

“You don’t have to be sorry about wanting to kiss me,” you tell him, walking over to the bed and starting to pull the duvet back. “Or telling me you want to kiss me. It’s not strange, it’s hot.”

He laughs a little at that. “It’s not weird?”

You’re shocked at this forty year old man asking you a question like a teenager. “No, Paz, it’s not weird. It’s good, giving people a heads up.”

He’s nodding, obviously not completely convinced. “Told the droid I needed our clothes washed,” he says. “Don’t have my sleep pants. Is it ok if I wear shorts?”

You’re a little confused, but you try not to show it. “Yeah, love, that’s fine. I don’t care.”

He enters the ‘fresher, shorts and sweatshirt in hand. When he returned, it was your turn to ogle. His thighs, kriff, his thighs. Paz was a big man, obviously his thighs would be big, too. But seeing them without the armor or the sweats was something else. 

“You look nice.”

He laughed. “Haven’t had my legs out in a long time.”

You smile. “I like it. It’s hot.” He makes his way to the bed, sitting next to you. You look at his legs, and they’re littered with a few deep scars, blaster wounds, and a few smaller scars. 

“I’ll tell you about them someday,” he says when he realizes that you’re staring. “Not tonight though.”

You nod. “You know what you should do tonight?” He hums. “You should kiss me.”

“Kebiin’ika,” he says. “You sure?”

“Paz Vizsla, you told me last night that you planned to marry me. I’m sure,” you say. 

“Close your eyes,” he says, and you obey. You hear the lights click off and the helmet land with a clunk on the nightstand. You feel his hand on your cheek, large and warm and comforting. “You’re so pretty, mesh’la,” he whispers.

You smile. “Just kiss me, Vizsla.”

He’s the one who obeys this time, closing the gap between the two of you. His lips are large and soft and warm, and they fit so well between your own.

Your hand wanders to his cheek, feeling his stubble under your palm as your lips find a rhythm with his.

He breaks the kiss first, resting his forehead against yours. “We call this a keldabe kiss in Mando’a,” he says, a little breathless. “Because Mandos can’t kiss with their helmets on.”

You smile, your hand still on his cheek, thumb slowing caressing him. “I wish I could see your face.” Your thumb stops, you freeze, scared that you’d offended him. 

“You will, mesh’la, you will,” he whispers. “Someday.”

tags: @remmysbounty @snipskixandbeskar

[dantesunbreaker]

Next Time

Paz Vizsla x Reader

*Angst and fluff, with a happy ending*

“Next time,” comes Paz’s modulated voice as he stands up from his side of the bed. Paz  begins gathering his clothes, sliding them back on before snapping the rest of his beskar back in place without sparing a glance in your direction.

Staying in the bed, blankets pooled haphazardly around your waist, you watch him and wish that for once the Mandalorian would give in and crawl back into the bed with you. It’s always next time when it comes to Paz. Never is there time for the post orgasm cuddles, no basking in the afterglow, or just taking the time to enjoy each other’s presence. You can’t blame him, knowing that the life of a Mandalorian is busy, but you wish that that life could include you more.

“Yeah, next time,” you’re frowning,  but you try to keep your tone positive. Your eyes stay glued to Paz as he puts on the last of his beskar, wanting to memorize every detail so at least you can imagine him beside you after he is gone.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” once again fully covered in his beskar, Paz finally turns back to you to see the look of sadness cross your face. In only two strides he is back at the bed brushing the back of his fingers along your jaw before cupping your cheek. “I have to go,” he leans in to press his forehead against yours and holds you there for a few seconds. “I’ll contact you via comlink when it is safe to see you again.”

“Be safe, Paz.” 

There is a modulated chuckle as  the hand at your cheek slowly pulls away. And then the giant of a Mandalorian disappears from your bedroom once again, leaving you to lounge in the slowly cooling sheets. You’re left waiting for however long it takes for next time to happen.

But then Nevarro happens. You are off-world when news begins to filter in from multiple sources about some big shoot-out that left part of the town in ruin. Something about a bounty hunter breaking the code by going back on his word, and thus the Guild going after him. But at the mention of dozens of Mandalorians taking to the streets to help aid the bounty hunter’s escape has a cold chill clutching at your heart. You were heading for Tatooine for a job, but suddenly that is unimportant as you're punching in the coordinates for Nevarro. The moment you land you fumble with the comlink Paz had given you with in desperation to get the device turned on.

“I just landed on Nevarro. Where are you?” silence follows your question. Tears well in your eyes as your hands tremble around the comlink. “Paz, your location please? Please?” desperation is clear as day in your wavering voice at this point, tears flowing heavily down your cheeks. “Please... just tell me you’re okay. Tell me anything... just please?”

You know that you won’t be getting a response, that you will never hear that deep rumbling voice crackling over the comlink ever again. Yet, still you cry into the device you clutch to your chest as if it were a lifeline, screaming Paz’s name and pleading for him to come back to you until your voice goes hoarse. When your tears have dried up and you are no longer able to shed another, you manage to drag yourself out of your ship. 

For the next few hours you scour Nevarro, examining the damage left behind by the battle. As you turn every corner you hope that you will see him. You imagine that Paz is waiting to surprise you, to tell you it was all just some cruel joke as he pulls you flush against his chest. But you don’t find any sign of your Mandalorian. You would like to at least find a body, something to give you closure. But there is nothing. You have nothing left on Nevarro. Though you long to cry, your eyes remain painfully dry as you realize you truly never will get that next time.

Having nothing left for you on Nevarro, you decide to leave. There are too many painful memories left behind there that you can’t bear to face. So you pack up everything to your name and set out to wander space until you can forget about a certain blue Mandalorian. 

For the better part of a year you travel the galaxy, never settling down long enough to call any one place home. You stay somewhere maybe a few months, just long enough to find some odd jobs to pass the time and line your pockets before you set off once again. Staying too long means you will get comfortable, and getting comfortable means you will think about him again. Even with the amount of time that has passed since your last day on Nevarro, the pain of  your loss still hits just as hard.

That is how you now find yourself navigating through the busy streets of one of the many towns of Tatooine. For the last month you had been helping a local farmer prepare his harvest for market, and today you were finally paid out for your work and free to move on to the next job. It’s already late into the night when you walk past a bustling cantina on the way back to your ship. Normally, you would just keep walking, too eager to finally set out again. But something is different tonight, and you decide why not stop in for some hot food and a drink for once. You’ve earned a moment to relax after everything.

A waitress slides a bowl of Bantha steak soup and a glass of blue milk across your table as you hand over the necessary credits. It has been a long time since you ate anything other than rations, so the first spoonful you have makes you nearly moan in delight. You focus on your meal, ignoring your surroundings as you savor the soothing warmth brought from the soup. That is until you catch a glimpse of blue out of the corner of your eye. Lifting your gaze from the table you make a quick scan of the room until you spot something that makes you drop the spoon from your hand.

It must be your eyes playing tricks on you. There is no way... 

Standing against the bar counter is none other than the blue Mandalorian you had spent the last year trying to forget. Painfully your heart begins to thud so hard that you are certain the other patrons can hear the sound of it hammering against your ribcage. A dryness takes over your mouth as you step away from the table and take a shaky step forward. Step by slow step you approach the counter until you stand only two arm widths away from the Mandalorian. At that moment you can see him visibly stiffen as he finishes conversing with the bartender. Tears are in your eyes before you can even process what you are seeing. You open your mouth to speak, but you are immediately cut off before you can make a sound.

“Not here.” It is the same rumbling voice that you remember, that you have only been able to dream of for the last year. Paz doesn’t turn to face you as he pushes off the bar and makes his way out of the cantina. 

In numb silence you follow after him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. You don’t walk far before you arrive at what you can only assume is his ship, seeing the way Paz trudges up the ramp once it touches the ground. As soon as you are inside, the ramp promptly rises and shuts behind you. With a deep sigh, Paz drops himself onto a bench along one wall as he rests his elbows on his knees while you continue to stand across from him with tears still burning your eyes.

“You’re alive,” your voice is little more than a whisper, but you know Paz hears it by the way his head sinks lower. 

The desire to reach out and touch him, to gather more tactical evidence that this is in fact not a dream, has your hands trembling. But you keep them firmly at your sides. For if Paz has been alive all this time... Then why did he never come back for you?

“You’re alive.. You’ve been alive this whole time.. and you didn’t come back for me,” at this that point your voice finally breaks, the soft tears turning into full gut wrenching sobs as you wrap your arms around yourself. Paz lets out a choked sound that you can’t decipher, but he refuses to look in your direction. “Do I really mean so little to you?”

“Cyar'ika... no,” Paz’s head snaps up as he hears your words, finally looking up at you, his voice sounding almost equally pained. He reaches out for you, hand hanging in the empty air for a moment before he drops it back at his side. “I heard you,” he is the one to whisper softly this time. “That day on Nevarro.. I heard you crying for me on the comlink.”

“Then why didn’t you answer?”

Paz reaches out for you once again, silently begging for you to close the gap between you. But you only take one step forward, not quite close enough for his hands to wrap around you. 

“I wanted to.. please believe, I really wanted to,” Paz stands back up to his full height, stepping forward to lessen the distance between you and himself. But he doesn’t touch you. “But it wasn’t safe. For me or for you. When the fight ended the Imperials came after the Mandalorians... They hunted down and executed my brothers and sisters. Please understand, I had no way of knowing who was listening. I couldn’t tell you then where I was.”

This is the most broken you think you have ever heard your usually strong, unbreakable Mandalorian. It makes your heart want to shatter more than it already has. But there still are so many questions left unanswered.

“But.. after? You could have found me after,” your sobs have quieted, but your eyes are still rimmed with red and watery. 

One of Paz’s hands moves to hover just a hair’s width away from cupping your cheek, wanting to touch you but waiting for you to give the okay. 

“At first, I was going to follow you,” there is a pause, as if he doesn’t want to continue. “But listening to you cry... knowing how you would respond to my death... I knew I did not want to put you through that again. With me, there is always the risk that I won’t come back one day. My lifestyle isn’t exactly safe and comfortable,” as he continues, you finally let yourself lean into his touch. “I thought I could protect you by staying away.”

Your eyes close as you softly nuzzle into his palm. Though his words hurt, you can understand the process of Paz’s thoughts. But that doesn’t mean you agree with him. You should have been given the opportunity to make your own choice.

“I did not take into account how much it would hurt me though,” Paz admits after a long moment of silence, causing your eyes to snap open and gaze into his visor. With a sigh he rests his forehead against your own. “I spent so long trying to stay away, but yet here I am. Even now I know I should leave... but I am a selfish man.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You are a foolish man if you think I would let you leave again,” you chide playfully, happy to hear his soft chuckle as you loop your arms around his waist.

Paz wraps his arms tight around you and nearly crushes you against his chest, a hold that tells you he is almost afraid to let you go. Eventually his helmet shifts so that you're resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Would you like me to finally follow up on that promise of next time?” Paz whispers next to your ear.