*Beeps Provocatively*

She/her. My main Tumblr / Masterlist 18+ Only!!! The name's Amber and I'm honestly just a big bisexual hoe that likes to write self-indulgent fics about fictional characters I'm hyper-fixated on AND YES I WEAR SOCKS TO BED >:(. I may be a Cancer, but pls don't underestimate my chaotic dumb personality and my ability to cry at anything and everything

[stubbychaos]

Wants and Needs

Chapter 12 of Saviin’ika

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7|Part 8|Part 9|Part 10|Part 11|

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Fem Nurse!Reader

Summary: While you become more used to your role in the tribe, the others show you different aspects of being a Mandalorian and what it means to provide. Later, Paz shows you just how he feels for you.

Word Count: 15,500 (Listen, I’ve given up on apologizing with these long word counts lmao, I know I get carried away)

Rating: E for sexual content (Don’t read or interact if you’re under 18!)

Warnings: Oral sex *fem! receiving*, penetrative sex, it’s implied that there’s loss of virginity but it’s not explicitly mentioned, also uh👀 hints of overstimulation and cockwarming. Paz is basically a horny bastard the entire chapter I’m not used to doing warnings for smut, so please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hey y’all! As always, thank you for being so kind and patient with updates, I really appreciate it! Like I said in the sneak peek, since there is smut in this chapter with a few explicit words, I decided not to make this chapter too plot heavy since I know not everyone who reads this story cares about smut, which is absolutely okay! As always, thank you @datmando​ for putting up with me slowly descending into madness while writing the WAP chapter <3

“I am assuming you have never held a blaster before?” Paz questions, choking back a laugh when he sees your narrowed expression, “It is not a bad thing cyare, I’m just seeing what I need to go over with you. I know you are not used to using weapons.”

Your eyes flicker to the familiar vibroblade sheathed at his hip, though you quickly try to play it off with a lighthearted comment, “I will have you know I’ve wielded many scalpels and taken men your size down with sedatives before, Mandalorian.”

His laughter rings loud and clear through his modulator and you grin at his next words.

“Then remind me to never cross you when you’re holding a scalpel or a needle.”

You smile fondly as he unholsters a smaller blaster on his hip that you’ve never seen him carry around the covert, usually only wielding his heavy cannon and a bigger blaster whenever he ventures to the village above. You observe his hands with curiosity as he flicks an oval-shaped switch downwards just above the grip before holding the blaster out for you to take, though you hesitate a little. After rubbing your sweaty palms on your leggings, you steel your nerves and reluctantly wrap your fingers around the grip.

The blaster is a lot lighter than you thought it would be, actually weighing less than you remember his heavy vibroblade weighing in your hand and you’re quite surprised as you peer down at the matte black weapon. You let your fingertips graze along all the ridges and divots, feeling a strange sensation bubble in the pit of your stomach at the thought of holding something so powerful--something that could take away a life within the blink of an eye.

“Typically, Mandalorians would use a WESTAR blaster in battle,” He informs you, earning your attention as you stare at him thoughtfully, “But it tends to be a little heavier in the hands and has more of a recoil, so I thought this might be better for you. It’s a DC-Seventeen--very light and hardly has any kickback when you shoot it, but it’s also extremely reliable and is good at incapacitating your enemies if you know how to properly use it.”

He points to the little switch he had flicked moments ago, “The safety is on right now, and it should always be on when you’re not using it, okay? It’s common sense but you wouldn’t believe how many accidents we’ve had with some of the younger ones shooting themselves because they forgot to turn the safety on,” You nearly roll your eyes at that, thinking of one of the teens that had managed to graze her thigh on one of your first days with the tribe, and Paz chuckles, “Or maybe you would believe it.”

“How do I…” Your face grows warm at the way his visor jolts to gaze at your bashful expression, noticing that you’re clearly feeling out of your element, “What is the proper way to hold it?”

The heavy-infantry warrior seems pleasantly surprised with your curiosity and eagerness to learn, his fingers gently wrapping around your elbow as he helps you up from the stone ledge, leading you towards the shooting range. The targets propped up on the floor and hanging in various spots and heights in the room are made of thick wooden blocks to prevent any shots ricocheting and causing unnecessary injury.

“Come here--in front of me,” Paz urges you forward until the tip of your boots are behind a little line that someone drew with white chalk and you try to focus on his words, rather than the warmth in your ears as he stands directly behind you, “I’m not the best sharpshooter in the tribe since I’m used to using my cannon, but one of the most important things when you’re aiming for an enemy is your stance and your grip, so let’s start with your feet first.”

You let out a sharp squeak as he swiftly nudges your boots into a wider stance until they’re aligned with your shoulders and an intense heat fills the pit of your belly as he moves his hands to your hips and barely shifts them to the side. As the Beskar covering his chest and abdomen dig into your back and his leather-clad hands cup your elbows, you feel as though you're about to combust at any moment. You’re suddenly aware of his massive stature as he easily cages you in around him, the stark contrast of the heat in the cracks of his Beskar and the cold bite from the blue steel making you shiver a little.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything and urges your elbows up until they are nearly level with your chin, your dominant arm locked straight while the other one is slightly crooked.

“There,” He murmurs, dropping his helmet until the chin of it is nearly resting on your tense shoulder, “This is a good stance because your shoulder is at a slight angle from your target. Now, put this leg back a little bit,” He gently taps your thigh and you move it until he lets out an approving hum, “And then lean forward a bit--I always tell the little ones ‘nose over toes’.”

If you weren’t so focused on the way his fingers are wrapped around your hips, thumbs digging firmly into your back, you would have laughed at the thought of him giving you adorable advice that he'd typically give to the little Mandos in training.

“This seems like a lot of steps to remember in the middle of a battle,” You whisper, hoping he can’t hear how shaky your voice is, though it is no longer from fear of holding a blaster, but rather his close proximity when he’s wearing all of his armor.

“You will get used to it after practicing more,” Paz promises, his voice so low that you can hear the rawness of it beneath his helmet as he gives your hips a tender squeeze, “Though I will make sure you won’t have to use it. This is all just precaution, okay?”

You give him a jittery nod, still slightly wary about carrying such an intense weapon, but you know that you need to face your fears if you really want to be part of the tribe, so you listen closely as he brings his leather hands up to yours, “Always try to hold it with both hands--it’ll help with the recoil and your aim, as well as if someone tries to disarm you.”

Your breath hitches when he urges your dominant hand around the grip, along with the fingers of your other hand, “I’m gonna turn the safety off and you're going to bring your index finger to the trigger.” 

You watch as he swiftly flicks the safety off and you let out with a deep, shuddering breath, “Okay… okay, now what do I do?”

“Aim for your target--let’s go for that one that’s closest to us on the floor, straight down the middle. Sometimes it helps if you close one eye to center your target,” He encourages you, murmuring a soft praise as you listen to him and bring the barrel up a little higher, trying your hardest to aim for the target on a larger wooden block that’s clearly seen better days, “Okay, this blaster is quieter than most of the ones we traditionally use, but it’ll still be a little loud. Try not to let the noise or the recoil get to you too much.”

“I have heard blaster fire many times before,” You quietly remind him, earning a soft little grunt from your blue warrior, “Do… do I just pull the trigger?”

Paz breathes out a small chuckle at the nerves evident in your shaky voice, “That’s typically how it works, ner cya--”

Before he can finish the lighthearted quip, you squeeze down on the trigger, your elbow jutting backwards from the force of the blast and into the Beskar covering his sternum, causing a light sting, but nothing too serious. You don’t even realize you’ve fired the weapon until you hear Paz let out an impressed hum, finally lowering his hands from yours and it’s then that you realize while you didn’t hit the target, you still clipped the corner of the wooden panel.

“I missed the target.”

Paz snorts, his hands moving to your hips as you turn your head to gaze up at him, “It is rare for anyone to hit their target the first time--some don’t even hit the wood at all. You’re already off to a good start.”

You open your mouth to say something, but the feeling of his hand sliding along your hip and over your belly has your mouth growing dry; you feel the firm pressure of his gauntlet scraping against the thin fabric of your dress. Heat blooms and spans in the pit of your stomach and up to your chest as he idly drags that hand up your ribs, his helmet dipping lower until the chin of it is lightly resting against the slope of your neck. Your breath hitches when you hear the deep sigh he takes underneath his helmet as his cold Beskar cheek bumps into your warm one, every rational thought leaving your brain as his other hand tugs you a little closer to him.

“I don’t think this is supposed to be part of the training,” You whisper, trying your hardest to not think about the way you had straddled his hips last night when the two of you had been talking about the future and riduurok. In response, his fingertips that had been gliding up your ribs graze past the side of your breast and up to the frantic pulse at the base of your throat, a chuckle leaving his modulator as he urges your head backwards until it’s pressed against his chest plate.

“It’s not,” He agrees, voice sounding slightly raspier than usual as he brushes your hair over your shoulder, completely exposing your neck to him, “I just like seeing you with one of my old blasters in your pretty hands.”

The deep rasp of his filtered baritone makes you shudder, a strange, aching feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. Judging by the way his thumb glides along your bottom lip, his other hand trailing up your hip and to your sternum, he must feel the same, intense sensation in his own belly.

“I… I want…” You find it increasingly hard to speak as his fingers gently squeeze your jaw, urging your head further to the side so he could gaze down at your flustered expression; you want to kiss him so badly, but you know this is more of a common part of the covert and anyone could walk in at any moment, “I want to hit that target, Paz.”

His fingers twitch against your jaw as he lets out an amused chuckle, his gruff voice only making the heat in your core grow hotter and more intense, “Of course you do, cyare. Why don’t you keep practicing? I’m sure you’ll hit that target by the end of the hour and then tomorrow we can move on to some of the ones that are further away and higher up.”

You beam at the confidence he seems to have in you, a large grin stretching along your lips as he lets out a quiet chuckle before moving to sit on the stone ledge you two had occupied before. You watch with curious eyes as he pulls out a small wooden block from one of the pouches attached to his utility belt, along with his vibroblade, though he doesn’t activate it as he skillfully chips away at the corner of the block, all while keeping his visor trained on your form. He juts the chin of his helmet up a little, urging you to keep practicing and you immediately turn around, still all too aware of how warm your skin is.

For the next hour or so, you continue to practice, sometimes getting closer to the center of the target, while other times you barely clip the wood at all. The task becomes a little more difficult, what with the soreness from holding your arms up for so long and the intense buzzing sensation working its way up your wrists and forearms because of the slight recoil. It gives you a newfound appreciation for the little ones in training that do this for hours on end, especially when they learn from such a young age.

After what feels the millionth attempt, you watch with wide eyes as the wood near the center of the faded white target chips away with the force of the shot you just took. It takes you a second to realize that you had nearly hit the center of the target, but when you do, you quickly turn the safety on and turn to Paz with a wide grin on your face.

His helmet is tilted to the side as he slowly stands up, leaving his vibroblade and the misshapen block behind in favor of a strap of brown leather that has a big pouch attached to it, his attention now solely on you. The way he slowly approaches you has you feeling all warm again, his helmet lowered and his shoulders hunched as though he’s trying to appear smaller. The thought of him being small in any way, shape or form, has the corners of your lips twitching up into an amused smile.

“I managed to find a holster for your thigh, that way you could hide it under your dress if anything happens,” He stands as close to you as his Beskar will possibly allow, holding the thick leather up for you to see, though you can only focus on his visor, “Do you want to try it on, cyare, see how it fits?”

He offers the holster out for you to take as you speak in a small, shy voice, “I don’t know how to put it on.”

“There are a lot of straps,” Paz acknowledges, voice dropping into something more gruff, “I’ll show you.”

Before you can say anything, he slowly sinks to a knee and you briefly remember days ago when he had gotten down on a knee to apologize to you after the whole incident with Din at the forge, but this is completely different. No longer is he frantic or pleading for your forgiveness, but now he’s slow and calculating as he politely asks you to hold the hem of your dress just above the waistband of your leggings, his leather-clad hands now brushing along your bare waist as he brings a brown leather belt around you. His visor never leaves your face as he securely buckles the thick, wide strap over your belly button and you let out a shaky sigh when he tests the tightness of it, giving it a slight tug, and your free hand immediately lands on his pauldron to steady yourself.

“You seem flustered, cyare,” Paz hums, sounding utterly amused as you squirm a little under the unforgiving guise of his visor, “Are you feeling warm?”

You let out a petulant huff at the smugness of his tone, “I’m sure no more than you are under that bucket, Mandalorian.”

Paz chuckles, a deep noise that makes your stomach tighten into pleasant knots as he gets to work on strapping the actual holster around your upper thigh and your fingers curl painfully tight into his blue pauldrons as he slowly slips one of the thick straps between the apex of your thigh. You’re aware of how close his eyes must be to your hips as he leans forward to bring the strap around the back of your thigh and all the way around to the compartment where the blaster would go.

You know he’s taking his damn time as he makes a small, restrained noise of approval, tightening the buckle until the strap fits snugly against your thigh before slowly repeating the process with the second strap as well.

Once he’s finished buckling all the thick straps and testing the tightness of them, he leans back, as if making sure everything looks fine and before you can take a step backwards, the warrior tenderly traps your thigh between his large hands, keeping you in place. Your chest heaves with nerves and anticipation as he peers up to look at you, one of his hands trailing up the back of your thigh as your fingers curl against the blue Beskar covering his shoulder.

“You were right,” He murmurs after a few moments of silent contemplation, “Seeing you shoot that target and wearing this holster--I am feeling kind of warm underneath my helmet right now.”

“Are you telling me I am making you nervous for once?”

“Yes,” Paz breathes out a small, incredulous laugh and leans his helmet forward until it’s pressed against your hip, his thumb stroking the back of your thigh with reverence, “Kneeling down in front of a beautiful, strong woman would make any warrior nervous. I am not afraid to admit that the thoughts I have of you right now are not… pure.”

A soft groan escapes the suddenly vulnerable man as you practically dig your nails into his cowl and even though your heart is pounding at the thought of what he could possibly be thinking, you can’t quell your own curiosity anymore.

“And what may those thoughts be?”

“Mm,” The deep puff of air he lets out leaves his modulator in a sharp crackle, his hand moving to skim along the strap he buckled around the apex of your thigh, “How easy it would be for me to unbuckle this holster, pull those leggings down, and taste how sweet you are.”

Suddenly, there’s a soft ache in the pit of your belly.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the images he fills your mind with and despite never really being intimate with anyone, the thoughts leave you feeling unbearably hot and not necessarily uncomfortable, but… excited. It’s a strange feeling to have this huge Mandalorian at your feet, expressing these kinds of thoughts that you’ve only heard in murmurs and soft giggles from some of the other women who worked the front desk at the infirmary.

Paz seems to mistake your thoughtful silence for hesitance and he murmurs a soft apology, “Forgive me, mesh’la, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfor--”

“No,” You quickly interject, stilling the warrior before he can remove the firm grip he has on your thigh, “I… I want that--I want you, Paz, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I’ve never done this though, I’m not… I’m not experienced. I just...”

“It’s okay,” He murmurs, slowly releasing your thigh and standing up as you drop the hem of your dress, his hands instead coming up to tenderly cup your cheeks, “Talk to me.”

“I just want us to be somewhere more comfortable,” You admit timidly as he brings his helmet down to press against your forehead, “Like um, maybe your room?”

“Of course,” Paz exhales deeply, the ridges of his helmet rubbing against your skin as he nods fervently, “You know you don’t have to keep calling it my room, right? It’s our room that we share together as partners. It’s been that way since the first night I brought you to the covert. What’s mine is yours, okay?”

A fond smile stretches your lips until your cheeks hurt, one arm curled around his neck while your other hand rests on top of his cuirass, “I may not have a lot, but whatever I have belongs to you as well, Paz.”

“I know,” His voice drops so low that you almost don’t hear it through his modulator, though you certainly hear it from underneath the lip of his helmet, “You gave me your flowers that morning after I took you to the waterfalls, picked them right out of your hair and everything because you thought you had nothing else to give me, even though your company was more than enough.”

Perhaps one day you will be able to put your thoughts into better words, but for now, you pull away as you hear excited footsteps running down the corridor and you instantly know who they belong to before the colorful teenager pops through the black drapes.

“Savi--” She instantly cuts herself off, looking between you and the heavy-infantry warrior that are only standing inches apart from one another, “Oh uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt… whatever is going on between you two. The alor told me she would be here and I wanted to get an early start to her self-defense training.”

“Of course,” Paz says, that smug rasp returning to his filtered voice, “I was just going over some of the basics of using a blaster with her--showed her how to put on a holster and everything.”

“Oh,” Ima sounds utterly amused as she crosses her arms over her chest, helmet cocking to the side dramatically, “I’m sure you did.”

Bashfully, you tuck a stubborn lock of hair behind your ear and reluctantly pull away from your Mandalorian; Ima shakes her head with what you are certain is incredulity and perhaps some sort of disgust that she had clearly caught you and Paz in an intimate moment.

“I will see you later,” You murmur, firmly squeezing his elbow and you hope he’s grinning at you as he sharply nods at your soft, smiley expression.

“Of course,” He says quietly and you freeze at his next words, “In our room.”

You grow warm from the promise of his words and make your way to Ima, trying to get used to the holster strapped to your thigh, though it’s still a strange feeling. You smile fondly as Ima wraps an arm around your shoulders, as if it’s instinct, and you try not to zone out as she excitedly tells you of all the things she’s going to teach you. She seems to be excited to train you and you’re grateful that she doesn’t feel like she simply got stuck doing this.

It’s not until you get to the sparring room that your nerves bubble uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach, the feeling only growing worse when you realize there’s a few others lingering in the room, perhaps having just finished their own training session. Ima grabs your hand as she leads you into the fighting pit, a circular area that’s barricaded by a short, stone ledge, and you can’t help but to feel incredibly out of place as the teenager slowly begins to shed her armor.

“Hey, if you want you can use my tunic,” Ima gently nudges you once she’s only in her underclothes, peeling away her tunic so she’s left in a black, long-sleeved shirt, “It’ll be more practical to fight in that than your dress.”

“Oh, I don’t--” You look nervously at the two Mandos that are currently leaning against the small barricade, their backs both facing you and Ima, and your voice drops into a lower whisper, “Is there maybe somewhere I can change? Um, maybe somewhere private?”

Ima turns to face the other Mandalorians as well, sensing your discomfort, “Hey, you two--get lost.”

Immediately, they acquiesce, their visors both trained on you as you try your hardest to ignore the warmth that floods your cheeks as they leave you and the teenager alone.

“Th-Thank you,” It comes out as a nearly inaudible whisper, but Ima simply nods, her visor lingering on your face before turning when you begin to peel away your dress. You quickly replace it with her tunic that’s more form-fitting than the one Paz gave you to use as a nightshirt, the sleeves ending about halfway up on your bicep.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, y’know?” Ima sees the confused expression on your face and explains herself further, “Your scars or whatever it is you hide from the world. I get why you do it though and I can’t really judge or anything, not when we all get to cover our own wounds from others. We all have our insecurities though.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as the two of you begin to stretch, you mimicking her actions and touching your toes. For a few moments, you’re silent, simply contemplating her words with reverence, not used to hearing such warriors admitting that even they have their own faults or times of uncertainty.

“What are you insecure about?”

Ima giggles at your innocent question and you can’t stop yourself from grinning at the eccentric teenager as the two of you sit down to stretch your legs, “My ears.”

“Your ears?”

Her giggles grow louder as she playfully nudges you, “Yes, saviin’ika, my ears. They’re huge--I basically look like a Gungan underneath this helmet. Not to mention half my body is covered in burn scars from a fire I got trapped in when I was young. It’s probably for the best that I’m stuck wearing this bucket around others.”

She says the last part with a sort of bitter undertone and even though you have so many questions, you know it’s not your place to ask--not when she hasn’t inquired about your own past. Briefly, you wonder if she’s a foundling as well, though you think it doesn’t really matter all that much, as it seems that the foundlings in the tribe are cherished just as much as the children born into it.

"Well, you have a beautiful heart and you’re a good person,” You inform her with a tender smile, watching as she grows uncharacteristically shy, “That’s all that matters, no? Besides, Paz has told me before that looks don’t really matter to Mandalorians--it’s all about spirit.”

“Stop it,” Ima scoffs, shaking her helmet in an exasperated manner, “You really are something else. No wonder why Paz is so excited for riduurok with you--he’s always telling me how pretty you’ll sound with his last name.”

A strange fluttering sensation grows in the pit of your stomach and your face grows hot from her words as you nervously tuck a lock behind your ear, her visor tilting to the side as she stops stretching and stares at you. “That big idiot hasn’t even told you his last name, has he?!” Ima realizes with a gasp, no longer caring about self-defense training as she shuffles closer to you, always excited to gossip.

You continue to lean forward, stretching your calves and thighs as you brush off her excited tone, “I just assumed it wasn’t my place to ask about it. I would never want to offend the creed in any way and it wasn’t something that felt like it mattered all that much. I just... I just know that I love him and that will always be enough for me.”

“What if he has the ugliest last name you’ve ever heard? Still gonna love him, saviin’ika? Oh Maker, what if you finally get to see his face and he’s uglier than you expected?”

You can’t stop yourself from giggling at how dramatic she is, covering your mouth as she continues to stare at you with what you’re sure is curiosity. You’re certain she must not have a lot of opportunities to speak to others in the tribe in such a carefree way and you find yourself growing more comfortable around the teenager, grateful to have another female you can talk to about such topics, especially since she’s known Paz longer than you. It feels like you’re bonding with a female relative, and the thought has your heart fluttering with absolute joy, as you can’t remember what it feels like to have this kind of relationship with another.

You have to force yourself to stop thinking about your little sister that you had spoken about just the night before and wondering what your life would be like had she not died in your arms. Perhaps Ima notices the bittersweet expression on your face, because she gently squeezes your bicep and brings you back to the current topic of interest. “C’mon, I’m sure you’ve thought about it--what he looks like underneath that stupid bucket,” Ima snorts, and you shake your head at the eccentric teen.

“It does not matter to me what he looks like,” You answer, eventually uncovering your mouth, though you can’t stop yourself from giggling again when she playfully nudges you, “Just like you, Paz has a beautiful heart and that’s what matters most to me,” Ima scoffs at your gentle tone, helping you to your feet so the two of you can begin training, “That is the reason why I fell in love with him.”

“Okay, okay,” Ima waves her hand in a nonchalant manner and you can just envision her rolling her eyes underneath her forest green helmet, “Enough with all of this... love talk. I can only handle so much of it before I get the urge to gag.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, finding it humorous that she no longer wants to talk about it when she had been the one to bring it up in the first place, though you suspect she’s smiling as she shakes her head.

“So we’re just going to assume that if you do get in a bad situation, it’s not going to be with another Mandalorian,” Ima chuckles, wrapping your hands with a thick layer of bandages to reduce the risk of your skin cracking open, “Pretend I’m some sleemo at a cantina that won’t stop bothering you, what’s your first instinct? What do you do?”

“Um, tell you to leave me alone?”

Ima scoffs, placing her fists on her hips as she tilts her visor in an amused manner, “You’re telling me that if a creep was disrespecting you and saying gross things, you would just tell them to leave? No, saviin’ika! You punch them in the throat and slap them while they’re winded, kick them in the balls if they’re a guy! Don’t even give them the chance to make you feel uncomfortable,” She leans down the tiniest bit, just so she’s eye-level with you, “Punch me in the throat.”

Your eyes widen at her blunt words, “W-What? Isn’t that kind of starting things off too quickly? Maybe we should--”

Before you can finish, a sharp snap against your cheek instantly shuts you up and it takes you a moment to realize she slapped you.

Your mouth falls open in shock, though the slap hadn’t been enough to cause that much pain or anything, more so a slight sting that has your face growing warm, “You slapped me!”

“Exactly, now punch me in the throat,” The teenager insists, though you still hesitate and she sighs in exasperation, “Look, this is just for self-defense, okay? Chances are you probably won’t even have to worry about a thing if Paz and Din are going to be there with you. They’re the two strongest members of the tribe. Now c’mon--hit me.”

You nod, letting her show you how to properly curl your fingers into a tight fist so you won’t break your thumb in the process, along with where to punch her. Even though you don’t like the thought of hurting someone you view as a friend, Ima seems relatively unfazed by the time you manage to land a solid strike to the center of her throat. Though she’s slightly out of breath, she offers you a thumbs up, sounding proud as she compliments you before showing other places to hit your hypothetical assailant to take them down.

She doesn’t take it easy on you, bringing you down to the soft mat several times as she counters your swings and patiently corrects you, always helping you back up to your feet. Despite feeling slightly embarrassed that you’re awful at this, you’re grateful that she remains as encouraging as ever and doesn’t grow agitated when you struggle with certain moves or tight holds that she puts you in. Instead, she shows you how to use your smaller stature as an advantage and how to easily slip out of a tight choke hold using your elbows and legs.

It’s not until what feels like the hundredth time your back collides with the floor that another voice speaks up from the other side of the short barrier that separates the sparring area from the rest of the alcove. A sigh of relief unintentionally escapes you when your head rolls to the side to immediately spot an amused Ezir who’s slowly making his way over to you and Ima.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you and that training mat are best friends.”

It’s a playful jab that makes you giggle, Ima easily tugging to your feet as she barely nods her head at the elderly man, a clear sign of respect towards him before she’s turning to you again, “We’ll continue again tomorrow, okay? Today was more of a warm up, saviin’ika.”

You force yourself not to groan at the thought of the exercises getting more difficult, reminding yourself that you’re doing this so you can protect yourself against those who might want to hurt you, and you nod with a meek smile. After giving the teenager a quick hug and tossing your dress back on, you follow Ezir out of the training room and let him lead you to your little office--the infirmary. You notice his hands seem less shaky today, one gently gripping your elbow, while the other skillfully uses his sharpened staff to help him walk a little bit faster, though you have no qualms about taking your time.

“Paz was able to help me find most of my old books and datapads” Ezir informs you, making you beam at him as the two of you get closer to your office, “Though it is good to have them for reference, a lot of what you read are procedures that you will have to experience and learn from on your own. I wish I could teach you myself but...”

You shake your head with an understanding smile, knowing all too well why there were certain things he couldn’t show you and he simply squeezes your elbow in response. The second you step into the little infirmary, your eyes widen and you gasp at all the books neatly stacked in a crate on your desk, along with several datapads that are stored with all kind of information. Immediately, he lets go of your elbow and watches as you excitedly shuffle through all the books, only ever have using datapads in the past.

“Are you really sure you don’t mind letting me borrow all of this?” Your fingers graze along the leather bind of an older, worn book, making sure to be careful as you slowly flip through some of the pages with a small grin.

“Borrow? You can keep it all, little one,” Ezir scoffs, shaking his head when you turn to him in shock, your fingertips faltering along a page that’s stained with what you think is caf or tea, “I have no use for them, not when my hands are useless now. I have accepted that I am no longer the tribe’s medic.”

You purse your lips as you continue to flip through the large book, considering his words carefully as you land on a page that goes into great detail about amputation and you can only pray to the Maker that you won’t have to perform such a procedure anytime soon. Ezir’s eyes are still pointed at you when you finally face him again, the chipped away emerald trimmings around his familiar t-shaped visor and geometric cheeks glimmering in the dim lighting of the room, the dull gray of the rest of his helmet a stark contrast. There’s a grave, deep dent in the right side of his helmet and you’re certain that whatever had hit him there must have been only centimetres from piercing into his actual skull. Your mind races then, trying to come up with some correlation between him having a head wound and severe hand tremors and you can’t help but to shudder as you ponder what kind of lethal weapon could leave such a mark on seemingly impenetrable steel.

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out to lightly graze the warped Beskar with the utmost tenderness, as if he’ll somehow be able to feel it, though he simply shakes his head and places a firmly hand on your shoulder, “A long life I have lived,” He tells you quietly, slowly making his way to the entry-way, the sharp steel of his cane tapping against the ground as he seems eager to make his exit, “And I will only know peace once I’ve exhaled my last breath.”

Your heart breaks at how tired he sounds and you can only imagine what he’s seen being a field medic during a civil war on his home planet.

You anxiously tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you watch him take his leave, though your curiosity gets the better of you, “Ezir!” Immediately, he freezes and turns to you with a questioning hum, “Why does everyone act strange around you? Everyone treats you just as much of an outsider as they do with me.”

“That’s because I am.”

With that, he leaves you to your deafening thoughts, pondering what he could possibly mean by such a thing when he had clearly served a fairly big role in the tribe. Even when you delve into all the materials he had selflessly given up, you find it difficult to process everything that’s already happened today--between gun practice and self-defense training, as well as Ezir’s ominous words--and you’re grateful that it’s a relatively calm day. Only a few Mandos filter through your little alcove, most of them for minor bruises or bumps, or even some just to say hi, as they’ve gotten to know you better over the last week.

Vhan, the young teenager who sprained his wrist just days ago, shows up about three hours after your own arrival with his older brother, Khai, and you immediately dread whatever it is they have to tell you.

“So um--” Vhan hesitates to tell you what’s wrong and Khai roughly shoves him forward; immediately, the two boys have you feeling exasperated, a dull ache already forming in your temples, “I hurt my wrist... again.”

You give him an incredulous glare as he sinks onto the cot with what you’re certain is a sheepish grin, taking off his glove and rolling up his sleeve to let you inspect the swollen, already bruised flesh. “Well now you did it,” You admonish the teenager, making him groan as you get up to retrieve a folded towel from one of the crates underneath your desk, “Now you get to wear the splint and the sling.”

Khai is in the middle of taunting his little brother--only making the situation worse when Vhan threatens to stab him in the gut--when the three of you hear a soft squeak and a gasp from the entryway. You’re only somewhat surprised to see little Odisian running towards you as fast as his legs will take him, his glimmering brown eyes nervously peering up at Vhan as the teen immediately sheaths his knife upon seeing the child. 

At least he has some common sense.

Rosie is close behind, yipping and squealing as she nips at Vhan’s shoelaces and dodges his uninjured hand whenever he reaches down to pet the crystalline vulpine. Odi clutches the skirt of your dress, shyly peering up at the Mandalorians he’s yet to meet, though the brothers are too enthralled with the playful vulptex that seems all too amused to mess around with them.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” You comfort Odi when Vhan’s visor eventually lands on the child, the gauche teen simply waving at the timid boy in an awkward manner, though he only shifts further behind your leg, “Hey, you want to help me patch him up? I could use a little assistant to help me around this place.”

“Really?!” Odi’s eyes widen with excitement and you grin at him, carefully hoisting him up onto your lap as you nod. “Of course! This place gets hectic sometimes,” You’re surprised when Vhan and Khai both grow quiet as you explain some of the supplies in the large kit to the child, even giving him the stethoscope that Paz had bought for you weeks ago in anticipation of your arrival to the covert. His curiosity warms your heart as you place the metal drum on his chest, big brown eyes widening as he listens to his own heart beat with an excited expression.

You show Odi how to put the brace on Vhan’s tender wrist, helping him when his little fingers fumble with the buckles, before getting the sling ready for the disgruntled teenager. Odisian watches you as you tie the knot at Vhan’s nape, making sure the sprained wrist is elevated against his chest, all while ignoring his irritated grumbles about not wanting to wear it.

“Please,” You place a comforting hand on Vhan’s shoulder, hoping you can get the stubborn teenager to listen to you, “Keep the sling and splint on and keep it iced, okay? I don’t like seeing good people get hurt and you two both mean a lot to me, like brothers I’ve never had before.”

Both the boys grow silent, nodding their understanding as Vhan gives you a gentle headbutt before moving to ruffle Odi’s already unruly locks, though the child flinches severely and curls into your side. Your blood runs cold as he holds tightly onto you, watching with wide, fearful eyes as the boys decide to take their leave then, Vhan giving you and the boy one last glance as you gently stroke his curls. 

Now, you’re desperate to know about his past, certain that if he’s flinching like this around sudden movements from strangers, the two of you must have more in common than you initially thought. Forcing your curiosities and fears away, you give the child a small, comforting smile and you hoist Rosie onto the cot so you can check her healing wounds as well, though they’re nearly all completely healed a week after her own trauma with the Trandoshan. She’s a stubborn little thing as you check the scarring around her neck, wiggling around fiercely and you nearly snort when her back legs nearly slide off the cot in the process.

Once she’s all checked out and you’ve finally taken off that pesky wooden splint you placed on her days ago, Odi quickly pulls her into his arms, happily hugging her close to his chest as he carefully shuffles off of the cot. With a tender smile stretched along your lips, you watch Rosie and Odi play with one another for a while, the vulptex doing most of the work as she chases the child around the small room. It has to be one of the most adorable sights you’ve seen in a while and Odi’s piercing giggles and little squeals leaves your heart feeling warm and full of love, grateful that Rosie is so gentle with him.

It doesn’t take long for the young boy to grow tired and you notice the exact moment when he’s done for the day--his eyelids drooping as he slowly approaches you with a yawn. You smile, putting down the book you had previously been reading, and carefully gather tiny Odisian into your arms, trying your hardest to ignore how little he weighs for a child his age. “I want to be like you when I grow up,” He mumbles blearily, his arms slowly wrapping around your neck as you carry him out of the alcove, Rosie following close behind you.

His sleepy confession has you melting even more as he rests his cheek on top of your shoulder with a tiny smile of his own, “If that’s what you want, I am certain you would make for an amazing nurse someday. Right now though, I would say you’re the best assistant I could ever ask for.”

He giggles at the compliment and you fall silent when he relaxes completely, his head lolling further to the side as he finally gives in to exhaustion. You hear that familiar baritone as you round a corner, feeling flushed when your Mandalorian’s visor lands on you and he immediately straightens his posture upon seeing you carrying Odisian. Whatever he had been talking about before dies on the tip of his tongue and you feel even warmer when the two other Mandos turn to face you as well, visors tilted to the side as you try to hide your flustered expression against Odi’s soft curls. His fingers curl into the hair covering your nape just when Paz mumbles your name, reaching out with a massive hand to gently grasp your elbow, though whatever he’s about to say becomes nothing more than a strange, choked noise.

“Good job, vod’ika,” The Mandalorian with a dark gray helmet says quietly, so as not to wake up the sleeping child in your arms, and you give him a questioning glance, “You managed to shut up the biggest loudmouth in the tribe.”

Paz gives him a rough shove as you let out a tiny giggle, grinning as you simply shake your head and continue on your way to the nursery with your little companions in tow. You’re several feet past them when you hear your blue warrior grumble something to the other Mandos who are still taunting him. “What? You’re not going to go after your riduur like a lost puppy?” The other Mandalorian jests and you have to force yourself not to roll your eyes when you hear metal scraping against metal, your warrior no doubt shoving him into the wall.

The caretaker lingering around in the nursery greets you with a firm, comforting pat on your shoulder as you carry Odi further into the warm alcove, Rosie wasting no time in curling up against his side as you tuck him in. “Good girl, you watch over him, okay?” You gently scratch her chin and grin when she snuggles up against the tiny child, a smile stretching at his own lips as he holds onto the crystalline vulpine tightly against his chest. You linger for a few moments, making sure Odi falls asleep completely before you place a kiss on top of his curls and take your leave. 

After checking on the infant in the smaller part of the nursery, you make your way back to the room you share with Paz, taking your time to shower and wash away all the sweat and grime from your long day of training. You feel that familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach when you hear your warrior enter the room that you two now share, quietly shuffling around just as you shut the hot water off and dry yourself.

With his tunic covering your torso, you make your way out of the refresher, your wide eyes meeting his visor as he removes the mismatched armor covering his calves, one of his hands already bare. He freezes upon seeing you, much like he had earlier when he had spotted you carrying little Odi, and you find yourself making your way towards him without a second thought. Immediately, he leans down to press his Beskar-clad forehead against yours and you instantly relax at the gesture, your warrior letting out a relaxed sigh as he cups your hips. You remember Paz’s words from earlier--how deep and guttural his voice had sounded as he mentioned wanting to taste you--and you find yourself moving to kiss the fabric covering his neck, your eyelids slipping shut at the sound of the soft groan he lets out upon feeling your breath through the thick cloth.

“I want to tell you something before we do anything,” You whisper, painting another tender kiss along the bunched up fabric just underneath the lip of his helmet as he lets out a dazed little hum, “But I want you to promise you won’t be upset, okay?”

His chest is heaving as you reluctantly pull away from the warmth of his neck, all too aware of the tight grip he has on your hips, “That depends on what it is you tell me.”

You urge him backwards, your hands pressed against his abdomen as he sits down at the foot of the bed with a small grunt, “It’s about the Trandoshan,” You breathe, remembering the Armorer’s wise words as Paz tenses up underneath your small hands, “And I want you to promise me that it won’t make you mad or upset because I feel like even though I’m still healing, I still want this--I want you. I know you love me and would never hurt me.”

“What happened? What did he do to you?”

You bite your lip nervously, reminding yourself that this is the same man who had been seconds away from sharing the Mandalorian sacred marriage vows with you the previous night. There are many aspects of life you’re uncertain and perhaps even insecure about, but Paz’s love for you is no longer one of those things and you loathe that you keep having to remind yourself that. Just as you had told the tribe’s matriarch, your warrior had stuck with you through thick and thin--some of the darkest and toughest times of your life, despite knowing you for only a few months.

“He tried to take off my dress before I um, before I stopped him,” You admit with a sigh, feeling as though a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders, though your words only cause Paz to freeze with what you’re certain is anger, “If I hadn’t killed him, he would have--”

His chest is suddenly heaving and you slide your hands up cuirass in an attempt to calm him, “You’re making it really difficult for me to not want to track down Djarin and finish what I started all those days ago with his fucking helmet. You should have let me go through with it the first time--he deserves it, cyare.”

“Stop that,” You whisper gently as his visor tilts to the side and his chest, fortunately, stops shaking erratically underneath the Beskar covering it, “Like I said before, I don’t know if I can ever forgive or forget what happened, but I do not want this bitterness and anger constantly lingering in our hearts,” You insist fiercely, your brows pinched together as your hand brushes over where you would be able to feel his heart if his cuirass wasn’t in the way, “And I do not want to think about you hurting someone in such a way that would cause them to lose everything.”

“He would not show the same courtesy to me,” Paz stubbornly argues, fingers still lingering on your waist as he lets out an irritated huff, though you simply let him get all of his feelings off his chest, “Asshole made me so mad I fucking yelled at you in front of everyone.”

You roll your eyes, “You made yourself yell at me.”

He shakes his helmet, “Cyar’ika.”

“Ori Kebiin,” You say in the same stubborn tone as you raise your brows, earning a snort from the warrior, and you’re grateful that you’re able to lighten up the situation somewhat, “It is done and over with, Paz. Taking your anger and hurt out on someone else won’t change what happened.”

“No, but it will make me feel better,” He grunts, though his anger melts away when he sees the exasperated expression etched on your features, his shoulders slumping as he lowers his helmet in a defeated manner, “Why didn’t you tell me? Did I...” He looks away, as though he’s suddenly ashamed, “Did I do something wrong? Did I make you feel like you couldn’t... trust me?”

“W-What? No!” You answer hastily, realizing he’s feeling guilty over something you had kept a secret--something he had no control over, “At first, I wasn’t going to tell you because I was ashamed and I thought you might look at me differently, but then I spoke with the Armorer and she helped me realize I was wrong. Even though it still hurts that I had to kill him, I-I did it to protect myself... to protect any others that he might have hurt that way also. I just... I want you to know that I trust you--with my heart and my body--and I know you are not cruel.”

“I could never see or believe you to be any lesser of a person because of your past,” Paz breathes, sounding incredulous as he cups your cheeks affectionately, his thumbs stroking along your cheekbones, and you’re certain it’s taking everything out of him to remain calm, “And you’re right, you did what you needed to do to survive, I just wish you didn’t have to. I wish I could have been there for you.”

“You were there,” You remind him as he stands up, fingers twitching against your cheeks as he towers over you, “That night--you came back for me and brought me back here, to my home.”

“I should have stopped him,” Paz’s voice drops into a deep growl as he backs you up a little, “I should have stopped Djarin before he--”

“I don’t want to talk about him right now,” You insist fiercely, your cheeks feeling warm as you rest your hands on his taut shoulders and his helmet lowers even more, “Not when it’s just us and I want to...”

“And you want to do what, cyare?”

You’re hyperactively aware of the way his hands trail down your hips and to your thighs. The cold leather covering one of his hands is a stark contrast to the warmth of his bare one, and you have to swallow your nerves as he continues to back you up, “I want you to show me how good it’s supposed to feel when you trust someone enough to make love to them.”

He lets out a soft groan at your words, “Are... are you sure? After everything you told me and--”

A grunt escapes his modulator when you manage to tug his cowl down just enough to kiss the warm skin that’s just underneath the lip of his helmet, “I told you all of this because I don’t want to keep anymore secrets from you and I... I thought it would be another weight lifted off my shoulders.”

Paz hums when you continue to pull at his cowl, revealing more and more sensitive skin that you’re all too happy to tend to with your lips, “Was it?”

“Yes,” A soft sigh fans along his neck and you feel him shudder, “It feels easier to breathe and I want to... I want to keep moving forward and keep getting stronger, no matter how tough it may be.”

“Mandokarla,” Paz breathes as you reluctantly pull away from his neck, giving him a slightly confused expression at the foreign word, “It means you have the heart and spirit of a Mandalorian.”

Normally you would brush off such a lovely compliment, but you stop yourself from grinning at how his deep baritone is filled only the utmost veracity and adoration. You can tell he truly sees you that way and he holds you tighter against his chest as you crane your neck so you can press a tender kiss to the blue hollow of his cheek, though you’d rather feel the scruffy warmth under your lips instead. Your name is a soft whisper that you barely hear through his helmet and he repeats it over and over again as his hands slide up the back of your thighs and ultimately come to a rest on your hips.

“Anything else you want me to know?”

“I um, I have an implant,” The intensity of his visor has you feeling lightheaded and you suddenly find yourself growing embarrassed, “It’s just um, cramps get bad and it helps with--”

“You owe me no explanation,” Paz informs you, firmly squeezing your hips when you smile up at him, immediately relaxing as you listen to his raspy baritone, “It’s your body and what you do with it is none of my concern.”

You grin, no longer feeling thoughts of doubt or fearful that he’ll judge you, and you feel silly for thinking such a thing as you stand on the tips of your toes to press another kiss to the cheek of his helmet, “Thank you.”

“What should I do to make this good for you?”

You smile against his Beskar cheek, your own bare ones warming up fiercely, “Could you just take it slowly? And maybe more gently? I’m just not used to this.”

“I’m not used to this either,” Paz admits with a soft chuckle and elaborates when he sees your confused expression; you know he’s had partners in the past, “Being more... gentle and slow. I was usually rougher with partners in the past.”

Your cheeks and ears burn intensely at the confession, lewd images filling your mind as you think of what he could possibly mean by that. When you don’t say anything, Paz steps closer to you and reaches up to cup your jaw with his massive, bare hand, his thumb dragging along your bottom lip and feeling the saliva there. His other hand slowly travels to your hip and urges you closer to him until the tip of your nose is nearly grazing the Beskar covering his sternum and you peer up at his visor with curiosity.

“The things I want to do to you if you’d let me,” Paz utters, his filtered voice sounding more crackly than usual and that intense ache returns to the pit of your belly as his thumb slips past your lips, the calloused digit barely resting on the tip of your tongue, and you're certain you're going to combust into flames when he lets out with a gravelly moan.

Normally you would hesitate or simply not respond to such words, used to his flirty comments by now, but suddenly, you desperately want to know as you hear his breathing grow more ragged when his thumb slips further past your lips.

“Like what?” You murmur when his thumb reluctantly leaves your mouth and he barely pulls away from you, letting him swipe his slick digit along your bottom lip, “What kind of things do you want to do to me?”

“If you take off my shirt, I’ll show you, cyare.”

Even though your cheeks are still burning fiercely, you peel away the tunic he had given you long ago to use as a sleep shirt, shivering when the cold air of the room touches your now bare chest. The only thing covering your body is your shorts and wanting him to know that you’re comfortable and you trust him, you hook your fingers in the waistband of your shorts and push them down your thighs and calves until the fabric is on the floor, next to your feet. It’s not until you gather the courage to gaze up at his visor that you suddenly grow shy and nervous, moments passing as he remains deathly silent and simply stares at you. His chest isn’t even moving underneath his scuffed up cuirass and you fear that he doesn’t like what he sees.

Before you can cover your breasts, he moves forward and you let out a shaky sigh as he quickly backs you up against the wall. He’s still not saying anything, even when his hand grazes along your hips and slowly up to your breasts, letting out a loud moan as he circles the pebbled skin with his thumbs after you give him an encouraging nod.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paz breathes, and you swear you hear the rawness of his voice from underneath the lip of his helmet, “S-So fucking soft too. Close your eyes.”

You do it with no hesitation, eager to kiss your warrior already, and he all but rips his helmet away from his head as he pushes you up against the wall more firmly. Immediately, his lips are on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth and your toes curl from the intensity of the kiss--from the way he’s moaning against your lips. You’re suddenly all too aware of how he’s still wearing all of his armor, making you feel tinier than usual as he cages you in, one of his legs wedging between both of your thighs. A loud whimper leaves you as his cuisse grounds up against your clit, a spark of pleasure forming in the pit of your belly and he lets out a delightful noise of his own, his hand coming up to firmly cup your jaw so he can stare at your face.

“Ka’ra,” His other hand grasps your hip as he holds you still, making you whimper again as the loss of friction leaves you feeling needier than usual, “Everyone thinks you’re so innocent and you…”

The warrior trails off, though you can only imagine what he’s thinking as he watches you closely, “I have wants and needs too, Paz.”

“Yeah?” His hand skims along your hip as you try to ignore the intense heat in your cheeks at the drop of his tone, “Is this a want or a need, little nurse?”

You think of his words closely as he slowly lowers his thigh until he has you longing for that delightful friction again, his fingers pulling away from your jaw and you nearly flinch when you hear the sound of fabric ripping. Your bare chest is heaving as you feel fabric rest along your closed eyes and it takes you a second to realize he’s blindfolding you with the thick material of his own cape, the familiar scent meeting your nostrils.

You realize he’s still waiting for an answer as you lean against the wall, still aching for him in a way you never have with anyone before and even though you’ve never envisioned trusting anyone on this level, you want and you need more.

“What if it’s both?”

Paz lets out a low, guttural noise that you feel in the pit of your belly as your fingers curl into the top of his cuirass, vaguely remembering where the clasps are and how to remove the heavy Beskar. The impenetrable steel is heavy in your hands, but he’s quick to take it from you and let it drop to the floor next to your shorts. Immediately, you get to work on his pauldrons, your fingers fumbling as you now lack sight, but you eventually get the hang of it and the blue steel joins his cuirass on the floor. In a timid manner, your hands wander down his bicep until you’re grazing along his gauntlets with a feathery touch, not wanting to touch any of the several buttons embedded into the metal.

“How do these come off?”

Paz rotates his arm and gently guides your hand to the small latches on the underside of his arm, and as you get to work on removing the rest of his armor, you find it hard to concentrate as he impatiently kisses and bites at your neck. You can only imagine the kind of marks you’ll have in the morning, though you find it difficult to even care as he nips at the slope of your shoulder, all while murmuring soft and sweet praises against your skin. 

It’s not until you’ve freed his arms of the Beskar and his hand of leather that he presses you up against the wall further, his hands cupping your cheeks tenderly as his codpiece digs into your stomach. Shyly, your hands travel to Paz’s utility belt, a soft sigh leaving him and fanning along your already warm cheeks as you successfully unbuckle it and gently let it fall to the floor. Finally, you’re able to slip your hands past his tunics and all of the padding that protects his torso and you splay your fingers along his ribs, the soft touch seeming to have the normally cocky warrior unraveling instantly.

“I want you so badly,” He sounds restrained as your hands rest on his abdomen, his head lowering until his forehead is pressed against yours. When one of your hands grazes along his hip, he jolts at the soft touch and your heart stutters in your chest at the jittery movement; you don’t think it’s necessarily nerves on his end, but perhaps he’s just not used to this.

“I want you too,” You murmur, nails scratching along the curls that trail down past the hem of his pants, “C-Can you take your codpiece off?”

He steps away from you, only enough so he can remove the rest of his armor, and you grow more and more flustered with every drop of metal that he quickly discards. What only feels like seconds later, his hands are on your hips again, pulling you in close and the warmth that resonates from his skin does nothing to soothe the burning wildfire along your cheeks and ears.

“The things you fucking do to me,” He grunts, and as if to prove a point, grinds his hips against yours so you can feel his very prominent arousal through the thick, canvas material of his pants. You let out a small whimper as he traps you up against the wall and you know Paz is huge in more ways than one, but feeling him pressed up against you like this--already hard with arousal--you realize he’s big everywhere.

“So beautiful and soft.”

The low drop in his deep baritone eases any doubts or worries you might have had before and as his lips glide against yours, you feel all the love and adoration he’s pouring into the intense kiss. You’re barely aware of the way his hands slowly slide down to the back of your thighs and a soft squeak leaves you when he urges you to wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging into his shoulders as he carries you to the bed. You’re surprised when you somehow end up on top of him, perched comfortably on his lap, though you think he must be worried about triggering an unpleasant memory after you had just told him everything about the Trandoshan.

“What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?”

You smile at how patient and selfless he’s being with you, though you’re certain he’s eager, “Can you just touch me for a few?”

He hums out a soft noise, his fingers splayed across your hips and a good part of your back as he nods, his cheek lightly pressed against yours. Remembering earlier, how he had seemed to crave your touch, you can’t stop yourself from kissing his cheekbones, just underneath where his lashes are fluttering. You remember all the times where he’s mapped out every prominent scar or mark with his own lips and you find yourself doing the same for the first time, earning a shaky sigh from the normally stoic, albeit brazen, warrior. 

By the time you make it to his lips, he’s tenderly groping at your breasts, tweaking and rubbing the sensitive, pebbled flesh with the rough pads of his thumbs, and your mouth falls open at the pleasant sensation. Vaguely, you’re aware of how aroused you’re growing as Paz lowers his head so he can replace his thumbs with his lips and tongue instead, and a soft groan escapes him when he feels your slick arousal gathering in the coarse curls splayed along his lower belly.

“There you go,” He whispers after hearing your tiny whimper when his teeth captures a peaked nipple between his teeth, his tongue flicking at the bud tenderly, as if to soothe it, “‘M gonna make you feel good, I promise.”

It’s not until you feel like your body is on fire that you grab one of his hands that’s largely splayed against your waist, gently dragging it downwards to where you’re aching the most for him and he huffs out a relaxed sigh against your breast, quietly encouraging you to continue.

“Ka’ra--sh-shit,” He groans when you guide his fingers along your wet slit and you’re mewling his name when his thumb rubs up against your clit, “I’ve barely touched you and you’re--”

The tips of your ears grow warm and even though a part of you wants to feel embarrassed, all you can focus on is the slow drag of his thumb circling that sensitive bundle of nerves and the little shocks of pleasure spiking throughout your body, “I just really want you.”

Your shy whisper earns you a small, desperate groan from Paz, his lips moving to the underside of your jaw so he can deepen the little bite marks and bruises he left on you earlier. A gasp leaves you when one of his fingers slips between your wet folds and slowly sinks deeply into your core; you’re nearly thrown off guard when he lets out the loudest moan against your breast. Immediately, you shudder at the needy noise, along with the feeling of being stretched around the thick appendage. 

He takes his time with you, clearly keeping your own needs in mind as he steadily pumps his finger--in and out, in and out--and then he’s curling it inside of you, causing you to gasp when the tip of his digit hits something so sensitive and delightful that it has you squirming on top of him in pleasure. Immediately, his lips spread into a soft grin against your jaw, as if he’s just discovered a stash of treasure, and he lets out a low hum as his tongue flicks along the juncture where your jaw meets your earlobe.

The way he’s groaning and grunting has you growing wetter around his finger, clenching around him when he adds another appendage, and stars--have his fingers always been this long and thick? His thumb is still working at your clit and you cry out when he applies a deeper pressure that has your head lolling backwards just a bit, exposing more of your neck and jaw that he seems all too happy to take advantage of. You thought it would hurt, being with someone this way, or that perhaps you would feel shameful for it, but he’s making it feel so good and you’re certain that if he stops now, it would be torture.

“S-So pretty,” He moans, his fingers curling so deep inside of you that it has you keening and whimpering when he hits that same spot over and over, “D-Does that feel good? You like that?”

As soon as you nod, he does it again, and your thighs are trembling by the time he pulls his fingers away from your slick warmth; your chest is heaving and you want to beg him not to stop, but the sound of him letting out another heady groan has you freezing.

“So fucking sweet--you taste so good,” His voice almost sounds like a gruff whimper as he licks at his digits that are soaked with your arousal, “Just like that fruit you love to eat so much.”

You’re all too aware of his cock pressing into you--the only thing separating him from you is his pants--and it feels just as hard as the Beskar he proudly wears when he’s anywhere besides the privacy of your shared room. Timidly, you lean forward and kiss his neck, just as he oftentimes does with you at night when he’s feeling bold, and his soft grunts and moans spur you on as you nip and suck a mark onto the spot just above where his Adam’s apple is bobbing.

He’s panting and you realize he’s not used to this kind of skin contact either, or others worshiping his massive stature with kisses and soft touches, and you find yourself curling closer against his neck, tending to his surprisingly sensitive skin with your lips and tongue. Your nails scrape up the back of his neck as you pull him closer into you and you’re suddenly more focused on the needy noises he’s making rather than the bruising grip he has on your bare thighs.

“Is it--can I t-taste you?” He moans when your tongue slides against the pulse at the base of his neck, “Can I put my mouth on you?”

Your breath hitches, having heard of such acts from other female coworkers who had partners. There had been others in the past who had flirted with you and made inappropriate remarks towards you, but you would simply ignore them. Never before had you cared for someone like this and the thought of having the warrior’s head between your thighs leaves you feeling both excited and nervous.

“W-What should I do for you?”

Paz huffs at your innocent question, shifting his body and gently urging you onto your back until you’re settled comfortably against the fur-clad pillows; he moves so he’s on his knees and between your thighs. 

“Always so polite and giving,” He murmurs against your hip, his facial hair scratching against your smooth skin, “Just… just let me take care of you for once, mesh’la .”

Before you can utter a single syllable, you feel him gently wrap his fingers around your knees before prying them apart and you find yourself growing slightly doubtful now that you’re completely exposed to him. Your heart buzzes with anticipation and you jolt a little upon feeling his coarse beard on the inside of your knee, his soft, plush lips tending to the surprisingly sensitive spot.

“Relax,” He murmurs, curling his arms underneath the back of your thighs as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, “If you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to do this. I don’t want to rush you into anything you feel like you’re not ready for.”

“No, it’s not that--I trust you, Paz,” You insist, feeling like all the breath has been stolen from your lungs as he brings your thighs up around his head, all while lowering himself to the mattress, “I want this, I want you.”

Paz hums as he sinks completely onto the bed, his beard scraping and burning your skin as he continues to tend to the supple flesh of your thighs and it takes everything out of you to not squeeze your legs tighter around his head. One of his arms that’s still curled underneath your thigh moves to your hip, thick fingers tenderly squeezing and massaging the skin there, and you’re certain he’s staring at your face--the way your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth in anticipation for his next move.

“I can’t wait to actually look into your eyes when I do this,” Paz unabashedly admits, his palm still pressed against your belly to keep you from writhing around underneath him, “Can’t wait to call you my riduur.”

Completely bypassing where you ache for him the most, the warrior lifts his head and kisses your hip as his other hand moves to your breast, no longer seeming as shy or hesitant as he gives the sensitive skin a firm squeeze. Paz smirks against your hip upon hearing the choked noise of desperation that leaves you as he circles his thumb around a peaked nipple and you think he’s suddenly trying to kill you.

As he sucks and bites a bruise onto your skin, you think this would not be the worst cause of death.

Before you can even string together a coherent thought, Paz drags his lips back down to your heat and you nearly cry when you feel him grip your thighs to spread you wider for him, his nose bumping against your clit.

“Mmm,” Paz stays still for a moment and your hands dart out to grip his broad shoulder, your nails biting into his skin as his breath fans along your slick core, “So used to you being cold all the time, but you’re nice and warm down here, mesh’la.”

You open your mouth, but whatever words you were about to say becomes nothing more than a loud moan as Paz licks a wet stripe up your slit, ultimately finding your clit and trapping it between his lips when he hears the way you keen underneath him. All your thoughts and worries leave your mind as you cry out your warrior’s name, one of your hands moving to cup the back of his head and you feel the way he smiles against you, quickly picking up on your noises.

You’ve never felt such intense pleasure in your life--you weren’t even aware it existed--but as he continues to lick and suck at your clit, any sort of embarrassment you might have previously felt vanishes. Instead, you focus on the delightful noises that leaves your Mandalorian as you buck your hips and writhe underneath the surprisingly gentle ministrations of his plush lips, your back arching as you chase that intense, hot release that you had nearly felt earlier. A loud, heady groan escapes him as your nails roughly claw at his shoulders and the low vibration combined with the way his tepid breath fans along your heat has you squirming wildly.

His hand presses down more firmly on your belly, urging you to stay still, though it becomes increasingly harder when his other hand slides down from your breast to slip a thick finger slip between your wet folds again. Your hand finds his free one that’s currently pressed against your stomach and you’re grateful when his fingers tightly squeeze around yours. You can feel his eyes on your face as you vocally respond to the way his fingers curl inside of you, a soft, mewling noise working its way past your lips as he slowly strokes and flicks at your clit with his tongue, applying a rougher pressure every now and then.

“F-For someone wh-who’s never done this…” Another soft wail leaves you when he buries his face deeper into your wet core, licking into you like he’s never tasted anything so good, “Y-You’re making it feel really g-good.”

His lips barely pull at your clit and you gasp when a second finger sinks deep between your slick folds where you clench tightly around him; after a few moments of rolling your clit with his tongue and lips, he pulls away and you can feel his intense, heated gaze fixated on your face.

He rests his bearded chin on your hip as he strokes your clit with the rough pad of his thumb, all while his fingers curl and spread so deeply in you, “The noises you make are a pretty good sign that you like what I’m doing to you, cyare.”

His raw, deep baritone has that intense ball of pleasure in the pit of your stomach expanding into something that… well, it feels like it’s overwhelming and too much to handle, but Stars… you don’t want him to stop.

“P-Paz--I think I’m gonna--”

“I’ve got you,” He promises, his thumb pressing down harder as he rubs fast little circles around your clit, building up that coiling heat that has you crying out for him, “Just let go, cyare.”

And you do--your body pulsing and seizing up as he drags out your climax and you’re barely aware of the way he replaces his thumb with his tongue. His name is a repetitive, pleading sob as your thighs tighten around his head, only making him groan against you and tears burn your eyes when he doesn’t stop circling your clit with his tongue. It’s all too much and you’re not sure if he’s purposely torturing you or simply giving you what you want--what you need.

“Paz!” You’ve never heard yourself sound so debauched before, your voice taking on a high-pitched whine.

“One more,” He pulls away only long enough to speak in a guttural rasp, “Let me give you one more, p-please. Wanna make you feel good.”

Your words and mouth are failing you, so you simply nod and let out a tiny ‘okay’, and you grip his hand so tightly that if you were even slightly cognizant, you’d be worried of breaking his fingers. That intense heat coils in your lower belly with every firm lick of his tongue, along with the way his fingers curl deep inside of you, hitting a delightful spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. A part of you fears that you’ll pass out as he draws out another climax, your toes painfully curling as you dig your heels into his back.

His beard scratches against the insides of your thighs as he coaxes you through the second orgasm, his lips and tongue still tending to your achingly sensitive clit, all while he coos sweet praises in his native tongue. The muscles in your legs are still tense as your climax eventually alleviates, your slick folds still fluttering even when Paz slowly removes his fingers and kisses his way back up to your jawline.

Immediately, he freezes when he sees the tears that have soaked through the blindfold he had tied around your eyes, some of the warm saline still damp even on your warm cheeks.

“Cyare,” He breathes, sounding fearful as he wipes away the tears from your cheeks, “I didn’t push you too far, did I?”

“N-No,” An incredulous chuckle escapes you as you brush a hand along your sweaty forehead, “I just… didn’t know it was supposed to feel that good. It was overwhelming, but not in a bad way at all.”

Accepting a lazy kiss from your Mandalorian, your cheeks feel like they’re scorching when you realize you can taste yourself on his tongue and you gently cup his jaw between your palms. A tender kind of heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach at the way he kisses you, like he’s pouring all of his adoration into you and the intensity of it has your toes curling once more as you hook your thighs around his hips.

“Are you sure?” He melts against you, bringing an arm next to your head to support most of his weight on it, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You lift your head to kiss him, giggling when your nose bumps into his a little too harshly and he lets out a small chuckle in response, "You cannot hurt me, Paz. When I am with you, I know I am loved."

The blue warrior lets out a soft hum in response, his fingers stroking your brow in a comforting manner and you smile fondly at how gentle he’s being with you as he kisses your cheeks and forehead. A shaky sigh leaves you as he moves his hand down your belly, his touch light and tender as he strokes you where his mouth had previously been, taking great care to make sure you’re ready for him.

“I want it to be good for you--I want to make you feel good,” Paz coos against the slope of your neck and you briefly wonder how anything could be better than what he had just done moments ago, “And I want you to want this, to feel comfortable enough to tell me when you need me.”

Your hands slide to his back as he licks and sucks at a particularly tender spot at the base of your neck, your fingers curling into his muscular shoulder blades, “Well, this is me telling you I need it right now.”

Paz huffs out a chuckle and you miss his warmth as he sits up on his knees between your thighs, his thumb still softly circling your sensitive clit as he presses the tip of his length between your wet folds. 

Stars, you knew he wasn’t small in any way, shape or form, but he’s barely pressed into you and it already feels like you’re stretched out so wide around his tip; you hear the way he’s softly panting and you admire his self-restraint as he reminds himself not to just completely sink into you. Instead, he’s slow and thoughtful, barely inching into you and pulling back out with shallow thrusts, only going deeper when he hears your discomfort turn into pleasured whimpers and moans.

“Paz,” You mewl his name, earning a soft groan from the Mandalorian as he inches deeper inside of you, the pleasure of his thumb still stroking your clit firmly balances out the stinging pain. You’re grateful that he’s making sure to keep his promise and make this good for you, despite your inexperience; your heart swells as he breathes out soft praises and makes sure you’re still comfortable.

“Ner cyare,” He grunts and you instantly wrap your arms around his middle as he leans back over you on an elbow next to your head, his hard length sheathed completely inside of you and making you feel so full, though you focus on the way he kisses you so deeply. You wouldn’t necessarily say the feeling is painful, considering he had made sure to take care of you beforehand, but the intense pressure of having him so deep inside you punches all the air from your lungs.

“S-So good to me--you feel so good. How are you feeling? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“You’re good,” Your nails scrape up his shoulders and to the back of his head as he tenderly kisses your jaw, “Can you uh--stars, can you just stay like this for a second?”

“I can stay here all night, sweetheart.”

Of course he can’t stop himself from making a teasing comment, never one to censor himself, and you let out a breathless chuckle at how bold he’s being, despite how worried he had been for you moments ago. Paz grins against your cheek and you admire his ability to somehow always lighten up an otherwise tense or awkward atmosphere, never failing to make you feel more at ease with yourself. You’ve never trusted anyone this much in your life and you hope that you are able to convey that as you tentatively shift your hips against his after a few long moments of him managing to keep still inside of you.

“I love you,” Paz sighs reverently as he sets a slow, gentle pace that you can keep up with, an intense heat blooming across your cheeks and down to your chest as your hips meet his, “More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

You gasp when he thrusts up and into you in a way that brushes against something delightful deep inside of you, encouraging your warrior as his thrusts seem to grow more calculated so he can hit that sweet spot that has you crying out and clawing at his shoulders. He’s nudged up so tightly into you, the tip of his cock hitting something so deep that it has you crying out his name repeatedly, the higher pitch of your voice encouraging Paz.

“I’ve got you,” He grinds up into you so deeply again and the way he pulls and pushes in and out of you has you suddenly aware of every ridge and vein that’s dragging along your wet folds, “Fuck, there you go--feel good?”

"Y-Yeah,” You whimper, nails dragging along the muscles of his shoulders as he pants against your neck, his tongue tasting the salted sweat there, “Don’t stop--p-please don’t stop.”

You’re barely aware of the soft moans and whimpers that are escaping you as he continues to hit that spot with every powerful thrust of his hips, all while babbling about how he never wants to let you go and how you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever had. His voice sounds thick with emotion and the weight of his words suddenly feels just as intense as the weight of his body, almost overwhelming you to the point of tears. You place a gentle hand on his pec and barely push, causing him to grunt your name in a hazy, confused murmur, though he lets you guide him until he’s on his back, the both of you groaning softly when he slips out of your slick heat.

You’re certain he’s not used to this, others taking control, but he doesn’t seem to have any qualms as he helps you settle atop his lap--quite the opposite as he takes a moment to gaze up at your face.

With one hand on your hip and the other on his length, he guides you back down onto him with a loud groan, making you gasp loudly as he pulls you down until your bare chest is pressed against his and you’re all but laying on him while straddling his hips. Immediately, you feel how different this angle is--how it feels like he’s hitting even deeper as he guides your hips against his, all while swallowing your deep moans and soft little mewls. With every drag and pull, your clit rubs firmly against his pubic bone and he pulls away from your lips to let out a choked grunt when he hears the way your moans grow louder.

“That’s what you needed, cyare? Does this feel better for you?” Paz coos as your nails drag down from his shoulders to his pecs, his lips brushing against your earlobe, “You feel so good--so wet and tight for me.”

His deep baritone makes you shudder against him and his chuckle breaks off into a heady moan when you clench around him, feeling that familiar heat from earlier bubble in the pit of your stomach again. He bends his knees and plants his feet onto the bed, using the leverage to roll his hips against yours and you arch against him, the friction and deep thrusts magnifying the pleasure.

“Paz!” You cry out when it feels like too much, but you still chase that same release from earlier, clawing feebly at his chest. His arm squeezes around your waist tightly, keeping you pressed firmly against him as he groans and spews out what you think must be a combination of curses and praises, his hips slowing against yours as he hits that deep, sensitive spot inside of your slick heat.

“There you go,” Paz repeats and you bury your head against the slope of his shoulder to muffle the soft noises escaping your agape mouth; he’s having none of it and gently cups your jaw, forcing your head up so he can gaze at your face, “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel, don’t hide yourself from me, saviin’ika.”

You’re not sure why the fond nickname brings you closer to your climax--thinking of when you had first met and he had uttered the foreign word after walking you home--and it doesn’t take long for him to draw your climax out. Your chest is heaving and the muscles in your stomach clench as your mouth falls open, repeating his name in a lilting melody as you see blinding white stars behind your eyelids, clenching around him so tightly that his own hips stutter and his thrusts grow sloppy.

“S-So tight,” He utters--twice and then three times, as though he can’t believe it--and no longer does he sound like his normally smug or confident self as he holds you so tightly, his eyes burning holes through your blindfold as he babbles sweet praises while he chases his own climax, “A-Always so good to me--fuck you’re the sweetest thing, y’know that, cyare? Feel so fucking good.”

You can tell he’s on the cusp of it when he lets out the deepest noise that’s a cross between a moan and a gasp, his warmth spilling deep inside you and filling you to the point where you feel it leaking down your thighs. His fingers are curled tightly into your locks, both of your chests heaving wildly as you both slowly come down from the intense climaxes and you’re barely aware of his lips gliding along your warm cheek. Sweet compliments are still being murmured against your skin, just at the corner of your lips, and you hear the utter devotion and love in his guttural words as he promises to love you for the rest of his days.

“Knew from the moment I first saw you that you were different from anyone else I’ve ever met,” Paz murmurs, pouring his heart out to you as you finally relax against him, feeling the way he gradually softens inside of you, though he doesn’t move, “Everything was so dark and gray and then you show up with your bright flowers and that pretty smile. Thought I was dreaming the first time I saw you.”

It takes you a moment to realize Paz is actually kissing you, a finger hooked underneath your chin as he guides his lips against yours, the gesture sweet and soft. He chuckles when you feebly try to kiss him back, though you’re already starting to feel lethargic and pliant against his warm chest and he must sense it as he pulls away and lets you tuck your head underneath his chin.

“Did I tire you out that much, mesh’la?”

Paz’s amused words cause your cheeks to grow even warmer, and sluggishly, you lift your head, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

You weakly place a hand on top of Paz’s chest, shifting in the slightest so you can move off of him, though he is quicker to tighten his arms around you to keep you in place, "W-Wait, just stay like this for a few, please. If it's okay with you, cyare?"

“Are you sure?” You inquire, despite the fact that you’re already dropping your head back to the warm slope of his neck, warranting a chuckle from the warrior, “I don’t want you to get uncomfortable.”

“I am very comfortable right now,” Paz sighs, sounding relaxed as he slowly brushes his hand up and down the length of your spine, relishing in the intimacy of the moment, “I like being able to hold you like this--with me still inside of you."

You slowly let your eyelids shut at his reassurance, feeling as though you could melt right through him as he continues to stroke the bare skin of your warm back, only stopping when he feels a scar here and there. You still feel so full with him wedged so deeply inside of you, but it's not an unpleasant sensation, by any means, and you only grow more relaxed against his chest, akin to that of a lazy loth cat soaking in the sun on a warm day.

Eventually, his hand wanders to the back of your thigh and you bury your face closer against his neck when he massages the aching muscles there, as if he knows you’ll be sore in the morning. A groan escapes you when he gives the inside of your thigh a firm squeeze, dutifully working at the warm skin with great deftness and you’re grateful for the tender aftercare.

“I didn’t…” Paz almost sounds worried as he grazes along a tender spot on your hip, “I didn’t hurt you, did I? If there’s bruising, I think I might have some of that bacta that you--”

You quickly cut him off with a gentle kiss, your fingers splayed wide against his stubbly jaw as you squash his fears, “It’s not a bad kind of pain, Paz.”

The confession has your skin growing warm from the tips of your ears to your toes and you’re grateful that he doesn’t point it out as he continues to relieve the tension from any sore muscles you have. Finally, once he’s finished and your entire body feels like jelly, he simply wraps his arms around you and holds you close to his chest with a happy sigh, murmuring something in his native tongue that you don’t understand. It’s not until the cold air of the room kisses along the beads of sweat that linger on your spine that you shiver and he immediately brings the thick fur up both of your bodies, enveloping you in warmth.

“Paz?” He hums when you blearily mumble his name against his neck, urging you to continue, “It... it also felt like a dream that first time you walked me home. Nobody had ever done anything like that for me before, or even after you carried me home that second time when I was so tired and couldn’t even see straight. I had forgotten what it felt like to have someone care about me and then when you told me you loved me at the infirmary...” You’re not used to talking about your emotions, but you find it easier like this--Paz kissing your brow and squeezing you tighter, “Th-Thank you for loving me.”

The massive warrior exhales deeply and you feel the way his heart pounds like a war drum underneath your palm as he speaks, “I will always love you, sweet nurse, for as long as you will love me also.”

“And what if that’s forever?”

“Then I will make sure you never live another day where you feel unloved.”

Translations:

Cyare=Beloved

Saviin’ika=Little violet

Vod’ika=Little sister/brother

Ka’ra=Stars

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aerynwrites @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @cryptkeepersoul @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion @tangledlove27 @justrunamok @peqchynero @haloangel391 @awhiskeywithawinchester @buckysbeloved @bonesaldente @kawaiitimecharm @karaabove @clydesducktape @misssilvertongue @heartxheat @drownedbytears @lokiaddicted @hayley-the-comet  @hayley7242 @paintballkid711​ @razzlefrazzum @giselatropicana (Please let me know if I missed you or you’d like to be taken off!!)

[tikkunolamresistance]

Rapper Macklemore is releasing a track called “Hind’s Hall”, speaking out on the genocide of Palestinians, and the United States complacency in this ongoing violence. Macklemore has stated that once the track drops on streaming, all proceeds from streams will be going directly to UNRWA— the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian Refugees in the Near East.

The new tracks namesake Hind’s Hall echoes the honours that Columbia University encampment protestors bestowed the Morningside Heights campus’ Hamilton Hall— in memory of Hind Rajab, the 6 year old Palestinian girl in Gaza who was shot by Israeli soldiers after being trapped inside a vehicle, with her dead family. She had begged to be rescued as tanks closed in on her.

Macklemore using his platform to vehemently speak out against genocide, the Israeli occupation and United States-led violence is what every single artist should be doing right now. The power of art should not be underestimated. Macklemore started out in the Hip-Hop scene within communist circles, namely working alongside Blue Scholars, and has never neglected his Leftism through out his career: the artist has spoken on issues regarding mental health, addiction, racial profiling and police violence, Capitalism, women’s rights, LGBTQ+ rights and toxicity of American culture.

“The Nakba never ended, the colonizer lied” Hind’s Hall, Macklemore, 2024

[rylandsgrace]

DEV PATEL as THE KID

Monkey Man (2024) dir. Dev Patel

[trashcora]

[themandaloriandaily]

THE MANDALORIAN 2.05 "Chapter 13: The Jedi"

[trashcora]

This isn’t working for me.

THE MANDALORIAN | Chapter 23: The Spies

[thefrogdalorian]

Din Djarin + Chapter 22: Guns For Hire

[beardedmrbean]

SD Zoo has baby Capys!!!!!!!!

San Diego Zoo

[titsay]

they had so much fun on their date

[farmerims]

honey!!! its time for another 200hr+ play through of stardew valley!!!

[marisatomay]

thought about this again. kind of amazing how we’re all just chasing ways to duplicate how this scene makes us feel, either in life or in art.

[misti-step]

thinking about when mark told the story of how when they were shooting, he said to george, "darth vader has a musical theme, han, leia all have themes, do i have a theme song?" and george going "mark, the main theme is your theme song"

[sleepimali]

Just me?

[a-frog-in-a-bog]

Tumblr: fae king hozier haha bog man who writes songs about nature

Hozier:

[ysabelmystic]

Y’all in the American SW and west Mexico better check the national hurricane center and your weather for this weekend and next week.

Hurricane Hilary is about to make landfall and that whole desert area is supposed to get a years worth of rain or more. Death Valley is supposed to get twice the annual rainfall. Severe winds, massive flooding, and landslides are all strong possibilities.

This is gonna get ugly. Please spread the word. This is a majorly anomalous event and people may be unaware of the threat headed their way.

EDIT AUGUST 19th

Hilary will hit the Baja peninsula this evening at a category 2. It will arrive in southern California as a tropical storm on Sunday evening before weakening and moving into Nevada as a tropical depression.

THAT SAID: for the Americans here, even if the storm is “weak”, I want to emphasize that the main danger is rain. We are most concerned about flooding. If you are in an area at risk for flooding, take appropriate precautions as per your city or state officials’ or the noaa’s directions. Even if you end up only being mildly inconvenienced, it is better to be prepared. Go to a friend or relatives house if you live near a body of water or a very low-lying area. Make sure you have water bottles and nonperishable foods. Keep your pets indoors. Don’t wade or drive into puddles.

Anyways, here’s some maps from the NHC

And here’s a link with information in Spanish.

[alicent-florent]

BARBIE (2023) dir. Greta Gerwig

[ghibligif]

[eggdrawsthings]

🤏🐸💚.