He won't hold your hand, won't caress that pesky strand of hair behind your ear, won't swipe his thumb at your cheek at the crumb left from breakfast. He won't tug in the label of your shirt that has been sticking out against your neck for hours.
It's only ever gruff little murmurs, small gestures and pointing fingers saying "you got something there". Voice always quiet and low so only you can hear. Hands holding open the door before you can even turn around to leave the house, holding up your jacket for you to take before you realize you've gotten a little chilly.
People are always surprised to find out you're together. Hell, maybe even exchanged Riduurok already.
But Manda help him once the lights are out and his helmet sat on the bedside table. His fingers finding your hair on autopilot, thumb brushing your cheek, nose pressed to your scalp.
His voice is the same, gently rumbling into your skin. it's only ever for you. Only now, in the dark of your room, he doesn't have to worry about others hearing, about others seeing his weakness for you.
"only you" he will rumble into the skin behind your ear, kissing with chapped lips.
He's weak in the dark, enveloped by nothing but you as far as his senses reach.
He is a man of restraint, and oh how he needs that to be around you every day. Your scent in his helmet, the top of your head in his vision, and the memory of your soft skin on his.
It's not that he isn't sweet, but he only indulges with darkness as the only witness.
i am not a writer by any means but i have this stuck in my head and what better place to get it outta my system then tumblr right? right?
CW: omegaverse
Paz survived season 3 of the Mandalorian (obv. what do you mean he died?)
and the Mandalorians settle on Nevarro on the land Greef Karga had promised.
It's... difficult to adapt at first. Different tribes and houses all gather here as word reaches them. The little gathering of ships, redesigned to live in, and sparse huts quickly grow into a community.
And as the settlement grows, so does Nevarro itself.
Soon the settlement isn't as far off from the bustling market place.
It draws all kinds of merchants and people to come and live here.
The settlement is still somewhat off limits to outsiders. This has a couple of reasons. For one, who would willingly stumble into the den of the lion? Secondly, the situation inside the settlement is... tense to put it in simple terms.
Alor's of all houses squabble for power. How else should it be? Old habits die hard. Some clans remove their helmets, some don't, some only for food, and on and on the list goes of different interpretations of the creed all of them took.
This leaves a simple choice. A council is needed. Paz finds himself on that council, chest puffed and ready to bring order to his people. Because thats what they are. Even if he doesn't agree with them, they're all mandalorian.
So imagine his surprise when he isn't the only one thinking that way. The meetings are all the same. fighting, squabbling, yelling, up to the point that the Armorer has to slam her hammer down and call for an adjournment.
Paz is done. He is absolutely exhausted. Everyday for weeks now, he had to get up in the morning, check the armory, get Ragnar ready for the day, feed himself and the kid, train the warriors, and to top it all off, attend these dreaded meetings.
He's on his last leg really, under that helmet he is all eyebags and permanent frown to accompany the slump of his shoulders.
Its a welcome change when he has to make a run to the Navarro market. The spices his people peide themselves with had run out, and you can't cook a real mandalorian feast without spicy goodies.
Its a chilly morning on the market, cold air condensing on his armor as he makes his way to the market. Ragnar is already in school, dressed and fed, and as rowdy as the kid had always been. Paz wouldn't have it any other way.
He's browsing the stalls, not buying anything but time and quiet. He's quite enjoying himself. Sure, the market is busy even for this early, but for once he doesn't have to keep an eye out for his own clansmen and the dreaded Kryze squabbling over some bullshit or other.
He sighs deeply under his bucket, shoulders less hanging and more of a relaxed set for once. His next deep inhale of crisp air carries a sweet scent. so sweet- but spicy as well. A sweetness that carries a certain bite to it that makes his nose burn in the most delicious way.
Tilting his head he sniffs again, hoping his airfilters didn't play a trick on him. ah- there it is again. it's so good and before he can atop himself he follows his nose like a mastiff trailing some poor bounty.
He stops and raises his chin a little, trying to figure out what direction the booth that sells this delicacy is in. The scent is stronger now, impossibly so.
His eyebrows pinch together in irritation. Its kriffing gotta be around here somewhere, but all he sees are vendors selling fabrics and meats.
He grumbles low enough for his vocorder not to pick it up and spins around slowly once more, taking a step back.
Something small hits his back and he stands frozen.
He squeezes his eyes shut before he can start yelling at whatever it was that had run into him. His irritation of the past weels back full force from his inability to find the source of that smell.
He turns around slowly ready to chastise whatever it was. His helmet lowers.... and lowers some more, the black t shaped visor finally setting on a small, red face thats staring right back up at him. pretty. mesh'la, is the immediate thought his brain produces. He takes another deep breath ro calm his nerves, he wasn't about to yell at someone to cute. Sweet...and spicy. it hits his lungs like a freighttrain. His breath almost stutters, almost. His muscles suddenly tenser then they'd been in weeks.
"Shit- I'm so sorry! i really didn't mean to-" The little morsel babbles out, carefully handing him a napkin.
a napkin? oh... He hadn't even realized how his kute was warm and wet at his back. He stares at the little thing infront of him. their front had a big, brown stain.
"um- wait I'll just-" They mumble and shuffle around to dab the napkin at his back. Pas would have stiffened, should have, but all he could do was stare at the place that sweet thing had disappeared from.
he can feel each little dab at his back, the napkin doing its best to soak up the spilled caff. ah... little morsel must've spilled their drink
Every breath he takes he can smell them through his airfilter, filling his lungs. Like that sweet and spicy aroma fills his body, seeps into his blood and makes his head spin. His shoulders relax, his whole body slowly uncoiling from weeks of stress.
Suddenly that little face is back in view, staring up at him with wide eyes. "i didn't hurt you, did i?" that soft voice carries to his ears, and in his mind, awefully distorted through his helmet. He has half the mind to take his helmet off and just ask them to speak again.
"...'m fine" Paz answers truthfully. He's never been more fine in his life. His lips feel a little dry, so his tongue darts out to wet them. Is he slouching? He stands up straighter. "more then fine... what's yer name 'mega?"
i have a lot of thoughts about barkeeper!reader and Paz (is this from me fantasizing at work? maybe. sue me)
We don't proof read, because if i have to read this again i won't post it lol
🌸First meeting and impression🌸
CW: alcohol
The bar is a small cozy place. Plush leather seats around the bar, a couple of tables by the window front, one corner covered in vining plants and flowers. Two beers on tap, some good whisky and everything to make sweet and fruity little cocktails. You count yourself lucky to work in a nice place like this, instead of a run down divebar.
Its good work, you meet new people everyday and making cocktails can almost count as a hobby at this point. Mottle the lime, cane sugar, limejuice, stir well until the sugar dissolves, smack some mint in there, crushed ice, white rum and some soda water to top it up. Humming to the upbeat music it feels almost meditative to mix the drinks and hand them out with a smile and a little joke.
Its a nice and quiet night, a handful of patrons by the window front and a few regulars at the bar. The weather has been shit for a week now, cold and non stop rain that makes you want to curl up at home.
It's 11pm when the door opens and a new patron stumbles in, absolutely drenched. You look up from polishing a wine glass. He stands there, soaking wet and dripping, the curved handle of an umbrella in hand. The fabric is missing from it.
unlucky bastard
He unceremoniously stuffs the broken umbrella into the umbrella bin by the door and steps further inside.
"Hi there, quite the weather out there hm?" you greet him with a smile, hoping some humor will help.
He glowers down through the dripping strands of hair plastered to his forehead before reaching up and wiping it back. Then he huffs and raises an eyebrow. "understatement of the century" he grumbles and takes a menu from the bartop, walking over to one of the small tables.
He leaves wet footprints and drops of water, trailing all the way to his seat. Shrugging you continue polishing the wine glasses, still hot from the dishwasher and set them on the glass shelve behind you.
Taking a small bowl of complementary salty snacks from the back you make your way over to the newcomer. Gentle hands place the bowl infront of him.
"So what can i get for you?" you ask sweetly and clasp your hands behind your back. He doesn't even look up from the menu he's pretending to read.
"don't need anything, just trying to dry off" he replies a little gruffly.
Your smile almost slips. "yeah i get that haha, but the rains not supposed to let up for quite a while, might as well have something to drink?" You suggest, chewing on your bottom lip.
You'd hate to tell him that he kind of needs to order something. Your boss always says 'this is a bar, not a bus station' and you're not about to risk him finding out you let someone occupy a table and eat the snacks without ordering something.
The sopping wet man sighs deeply through his nose and looks up... well, straight ahead considering how tall he is even seated. "make me whatever then"
You relax immediately, smile twitching up happily when his words register.
"whatever? really? you sure you didn't find anything on the menu?" you bounce on the balls of your feet, giddy.
"yea, whatever" he humms and flips the menu closed. "got a towel or something?" he adds when he feels more water drip from his sleeves onto the table.
"ah, sure, coming right up" and with a nod you're off. You grab two tea towels from the back and hand them over to him before buying yourself with his drink.
'whatever' is always an order that can be tricky. Especially with grumpy fellas like your newest guest. Your hand moves to the vodka bottle, then stops. Maybe he likes whisky?... what if he doesn't like the taste of strong alcohol?
Chewing on the inside of your lip you start rolling a lime on the cutting board. Maybe a classic with a twist. You cut the lime and fall back into the rhythm. You decide to go with your favorite. A caipirinhia base, lime, cane sugar and limejuice. You add white rum, crushed ice and fill it up with passion fruite juice and some strawberry syrup. A lime wedge and some sour candy as decoration finish the drink.
Satisfied you carry it over to him, placing a little napkin down before setting the hurricane glass down infront of him.
"There you go, i went with my personal favorite."
He looks down at the fruity drink, eyebrow raised. "looks good. what are you trying to poison me with?" he asks.
You blink, confused for a second before you realize he's asking the ingredients. "oh! haha- some lime, passion fruit, strawberry and white rum. if its too sweet, you can tell me and I'll put some more lime." you explain.
He takes the straw and takes a sip.
"can see how thats your favorite" He says and chuckles. He reaches for his wallet, the poor leather soaked wet, bills soaked. "what do i owe ye?" He asks.
"Oh, don't worry, enjoy your drink for now. I'm happy you like it!" You smile sweetly. "Can i get your name for the tab?" you add and pull out a little note and a pen.
"Paz. spelled P, a, z. thanks, love" He says and gives a little twitch of his lips.
"alrighty, Paz. Ill open up a tab for you, and when you're ready just wave me over, k?" you say and bounce back to the bar.
Paz looks after you, sweet little bartender that you are. The drink is sweet, something he hadn't expected to like. He almost feels self conscious, huge man like him sitting here with a fruity little cocktail. He looks around and sees most other patrons enjoying similar drinks. Maybe its not so bad.
He takes another sip, humming. This isn't so bad. Paz takes the tea towels and wipes down his hair and face, drying off a little while the rain keeps pouring down outside. The prattle of the rain outisde mixed with the soft music of the bar, the sound of ice softeing in the cocktail shaker behind the bar, it feels rather calming to him.
He sips his drinks and looks at the bar, watching you expertly pour drinks, joking with the regulars. You look at peace, he thinks. Your expression honestly happy.
Before he knows it, his drink is empty and all he pulls through his straw is melted ice. He had been staring for a long time he realizes. Paz snacks on the sour candy you had decorated his drink with.
It's still pouring outside, he should get another drink.
