Summary: Simon and you become best friends in the sandbox at the playground around the corner, unaware of how important you'll become to each other.
Additional Tags/Warnings: Childhood Friends
Wordcount: ~ 1.3k
A/N: A sudden Ghost fever has grappled me and my hand was forced to write this. I HAVE NO CLUE AND I AM NOT SORRY xD
This chapter on AO3: here
Chapter 2 on tumblr: here
------
You were five, minding your own business in the sandbox at the playground around the corner, when a new boy gets dropped of.
Smaller than you, maybe 4 years old, snotty nose.
You kept track of him from the corner of your eyes.
He wandered around, kicked some stones, threw some acorns.
One hit Matt.
Matt was the biggest around here, already in first grade, and the strongest, so he basically thought the playground was his kingdom.
Immediately he was in the new boy's face.
Snotnose, however, poutet and stood his ground, a spiteful spark in his dark hazel eyes.
But then, of course, he did land face first in the dirt anyway.
You ran over.
"Leave him be, Matt."
"He threw an acorn."
"The oak is throwing acorns all day, idiot."
"This is my playground."
"Well actually my mom said, it's not."
"I don't give a shit what your mom says."
At this point Snotnose had gotten up again, and kicked Matt on his shin.
"You little shit!" the selfproclaimed King screamed and went at him again but you step into his way and kick him into his groin.
Birds fluttered upwards so loud was his howl as he keeled over.
"Always groin first, pipsqueak", you lectured the new boy, a shit-eating grin on your face.
Pipsqueak just stared at you.
"You're not from around here, are you." That was more of a statement than a question.
He continued to stare, an angry glint in his eyes, but it cooled and he shook his head.
"Wanna come to the sandbox and make sandcastles and stomp them?"
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
"Yeah."
---
The two of you became inseparable.
One day, you dragged him with you to the karate dojo where you trained. Your sensei didn't mind. Pipsqueak was a quick learner and soon you were sparring on the playground too.
Matt never stood a chance against the two of you.
Time passed.
Elementary school started for you. Now you had homework to do, made new friends, but you still made it to the playground. When little Pipsqueak started with school a year later, he hated it.
You helped him with homework, and for some reason he understood it better when you explained it to him.
Karate training didn't stop, and you still went there together — an anchor in time and space. You started doing competitions. Pipsqueak didn't. Sensei deemed him too brutal, liking his approach to that of a steamhammer. Which may have been efficient in a way, but it lacked the strategic finesse, that was laced into your own approach. He still accompanied you to any match you participated in. From his outward position he had an eye for weaknesses of your opponents and his strategic hints helped you immensely.
In highschool he started with Mixed Martial Arts, its many components and less formality were more appealing to him.
Soon you followed suit, because you wanted to keep up.
You were ferocious sparring partners, knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses in and out.
At some point he grew taller than you.
Which did not prevent you from calling him Pipsqueak.
He hated it, but let it pass when it came from you.
If other's tried to parrot you, to tease him — well, let's just say, they never did it again.
He also waited outside the building where you had your piano lessons. The window was half open, so he heard every note, right or wrong, he heard your curses when your fingers would not cooperate and the teacher, an old lady with a stiff upper lip, reprimanded you.
Where you were, he wasn't far. He was like your shadow, a ghost in your wake, ready to haunt anybody even looking at you the wrong way.
---
The day you left for university, he watched you from a distance, as you packed your small car with a bunch of your belongings.
It wasn't that he didn't want to help, but he knew your parents didn't like him much.
So he waited at the playground, hoping you'd do one last round.
Knowing you'd do.
He poked around the sandbox with a twig from the old oak, when you arrived and wandered over to him. A stick was waiting for you to join, and you grabbed it as you sat down beside him.
Neither of you said anything, but as always it was comfortable silence.
You couldn't shake the feeling of losing something important, someone important, but even if you tried, you couldn't quite put it into words. He's always been there, for basically your whole life, and now you went away, and he stayed here.
The wind rustled through the oak's leaves, branches swaying and creaking.
"You're leavin'."
"Yeah."
The wind took the sigh from his lips and lifted it up to the oak's crown.
"I can't."
"I know."
You scooted closer and leaned your head against the side of his arm, your own silent sigh wreathed into the canopy.
"I can't have your back now, so this'll have to do."
He rummaged in his jeans' pockets and produced a butterfly knife.
You looked at the knife in his hand, then into his dark hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight filtering through the oak's leaves.
When you reached out to take it, he put his hands over yours.
"Take care." It was an order, a wish, a silent prayer that you'd be okay, no matter what.
"You know me," you shrugged, a playful smirk tired of the heaviness of saying goodbye to your best friend.
"Exactly," he rumbled with a worried pout.
"Got something for you, too, pipsqueak."
He rolled his eye at the nickname, but couldn't contain his curiousity.
"It's in my bag! Wait here."
You jumped up and ran to your car and rummaged through your backpack through the open window of the passenger's side. You quickly found it and turned around to run back, but you were stopped by the sudden solid wall of his chest not being at the sandbox anymore.
"How?" You marveled at the speed and silence with which he got to the car.
He just chuckled. "What've you got there?
It was a CD in a jewelcase.
"A mixtape. Well, mix CD. Whatever. Songs I like and thought you'd like, too."
He looked at it.
Looked at you.
Smiled.
"Thanks."
You stepped closer, cautiously going into a hug.
"Write me how you like them, yeah?"
"Yeah."
He wrapped his arms around you. First time, really. Last time, too, most likely.
You were warm and soft, and your hair smelled like the summer breeze whispering around you. He wondered why he hadn't done it before.
You stood there, enveloped in his arms, also wondering why you hadn't done this before.
"Bye, Si." you whispered, at last.
"See you around, Princess."
You threw him an indignated look.
"I'm not a Princess."
"'m not a Pipsqueak," he deadpans.
"Touché," you concede - and smirked.
"… Pipsqueak."
He can't help a chuckle, and shakes his head.
"Now go, before I have to throw you over my shoulders and carry you all the way over to the Big House of Smartassery myself."
"Nah you couldn't."
"And why's that?"
"'Cause I'd kick your arse in."
"Can't kick anything on my shoulders, Princess."
"Don't try me," you said in a tone that dared him to try you.
And so he did - faster than you expected - and hurled you over his shoulders.
But you used the momentum and swung yourself around and off, and kicked his arse as soon as your feet hit the ground.
"Told ya," you grinned, and he grinned back.
"Atta girl." But then his expression grew harder, if not outright sad.
"Now go."
You shoulders slumped, but you nodded, retreating to your car.
You watched him shrinking in the rearview mirror.
Right before you took the turn you waved out of the window.
He lifted his hand in a silent response.
And that was the last time you saw him.
... Until years later when you found yourself in a… "Situation".
---
A/N:
I wrote this a while back, but never posted on here..
---
Fandom:
The Mandalorian
Pairing:
Paz Vizla x Earthling!Reader (Reader is the same as in Mando'a for Beginners)
Summary:
You and Paz are trapped in a pitchblack cave lurking with dangers.
His gentle presence calms your panic, but then you fall and end up needing more comfort (which he dispenses freely).
Additional Tags/Warnings:
Established Friendship, reader panics a little, and then a little more, Almost-Drowning, Reader almost dies but Paz saves her with his warmth, some implied nudity is going on I guess?, cuddling for warmth
Wordcount: ~2.1k
------
You're trapped.
On the plus side, you've escaped the sandstorm that was going to swallow you whole.
On the minus side side, you were now in this cave, its entrance blocked by rocks that were too big even for Paz to remove.
Up till now things had gone so well.
You had posed as a seasoned trader convincingly enough that you got the goods the covert needed plus a bit more. Paz had had no issue falling into the role of your bodyguard. Basically, he was, anyway. This charade had been necessary because your trade partner refused to do business with Mandalorians in general, so the Armorer asked you to step in. And you did. With wobbling knees and sweaty hands. But it had been enough and you felt so proud after the finished deal and woohooed into the desert once you were far enough away from the other's camp.
And then the sandstorm hit, leaving you stranded in this cave.
Paz is calm, though, unpacking supplies from the crashed speeder in practiced moves. You try to keep your shit together, but your lungs always tighten up when you don't know where the next exit is, or a crack at least to let some air in. That's why you never did the diving quests in Assassin's Creed IV after all.
It doesn't really help that it's pitch black in here.
Paz seems unfazed, but, well, he's got it easy with the helmet. Probably has nightvision activated right now. You expect him to start whistling a happy tune at any moment.
"You good?" he asks, finally noticing you standing tensed up like a stalagmite.
All you manage is shaking your head. You're not even sure if he sees it. But there is no sound in you, just a panic rising and you can't get your ragged breath under control.
He clonks over to you. Maybe he is extra loud so you know where he is.
A gloved hand takes yours and squeezes it. It helps. But you still can't help your too short and too fast breaths. You hiccup as you try to swallow a sob.
"Hey..." he hums gently as the second gloved hand squeezes your shoulder. "It's gonna be alright. We're gonna get out of here, okay?"
He starts rubbing a circle with his thumb on the palm of your hand and it helps to take your mind off of the impending doom of suffocating in a caved-in cave in a desert in a galaxy where you don't even belong...
You calm down a bit more and he instructs you to breathe and syncs it with the speed of the circles on your hand. Eventually you lean forward until your head touches the humming beskar. It's not as cold as you would have expected, but that may be due to him being a furnace of warmth.
He wraps you up in a light hug and you tremble, a lone sob escaping eventually. But you keep following his breathing instructions and it helps. His calm presence does, too.
Eventually, you are calm again, too. Calm and convinced that no harm will come to you as long as Paz is around.
"We're gonna get out of here. Come on, say it with me!"
You do: "We're gonna get out of here."
You huff a little laugh, shy smile on your lips.
"You make it sound so easy."
"I'm gonna intimidate the cave itself.
"Stare at the wall until it gives in?"
He shrugs. "Has worked before." His jesting tone releases even more tension from you.
"Really now?"
"Yeah, well okay, somebody else may have applied a detonator on the other side of the wall."
"Ha! I wish we had somebody else to apply a detonator outside right now."
"Technically we do? But they're too far away."
"So practically we don't."
"Well... yeah." He huffs and gives you another little squeeze. "You better?"
You take a long deep breath and nod into the chestplate.
"Yeah.....I just... I.." You sigh and your shoulders sag.
"Don't worry. You did well today. This is just a minor setback."
He gives your shoulder a reassuring pat and you give his chestplate a pat of thankfulness, before you remove yourself. The chill air of the cave seems even more cold now that you have basked in his warmth.
---
While exploring the cave together, you suddenly lose your footing.
You fall.
Into pitchblack darkness.
And you hit water. Submerge for a second. You try to breathe but there's only water.
And it's cold. Too cold.
"Paz!" you want to scream, but you can't with mouth and lungs filled with water.
Your head emerges from the surface but you can't see anything.
You cough and sputter and instincts kick in.
"Float," they say.
"It's gonna be okay," they say.
Paz says it, too, but it's only in your mind that he's calm and collected.
You hear your name from above and it's alarmed. There's a shriek to it you've never heard from him before.
You don't understand the words, too preoccupied with not giving in to panic again.
Something zips by your head.
Something else wiggles by your leg. Something... long.
You scream.
You don't hear anything.
You're below the water again.
You sputter. Hear Paz' voice again. He sounds.. concerned?
You don't understand why.
There's nothing to be concerned about.
There's a bright warm light and once more you hear the metallic zip and it's right beside you now and something is squirming away from your leg.
Again you hear your name. And more words. Must be important you think and try to focus.
"Take the zipline!"
The zipline?
It takes you a second or two to register.
You grab it eventually and feel yourself pulled up but your fingers can't hold on. They're to cold and too weak.
You hear his voice again.
"Laar'ika, please! The loop! Get into the loop!"
There's two things at your legs now. Or maybe it's two ends of the same thing.
You wreck your brain about what the loop is. Then again there's the swooshing warm light and you see the loop of the cordthrower. And you also see dark shadows in the clear water coming closer and it gives you the push you needed and you pull the loop under your armpits.
You're lifted up.
It stings in your armpits. but up you go, through darkness, water dripping from you back into the pool below, until strong arms heave you through the hole that had swallowed you.
What happens next is fogged and you're not sure what's real and what you dream.
A lothcat dances on the ceiling and gets eaten by a mudhorn.
A voice says things. His voice. Paz.
He's here. Of course he is, he was never gone.
Was that snakes? Did they bite you?
There's shadows slithering on the walls now and they're darker than the pitchblack.
You feel your grip of reality slipping away and replaced by a dark cold.
"Laar'ika!" is the last thing you hear as you fail to take his hand and reassure him hat everything is going to be okay.
---
The first time you come back to your senses, you register only a warmth around you, and vertigo inside you. You heave, and a bunch of cave lake water comes out. With no visual clue of where things are you feel like you're floating and spinning in all directions, and inadvertently your legs start kicking like they do when you have one of these falling dreams.
A strong arm pulls you closer to a broad warm chest, giving you and your senses an anchor, and the vertigo subsides. You're still cold, though, and the cold sits deep in your bones, and you scoot back and snuggle closer to the warmth, falling asleep again eventually.
---
The next time you gain some senses you don't know if you're awake or dreaming. Dark things slither around you, closing in further and further until you drown in their entangled masses and your arms and legs flail and kick. There's a thick snake holding you down and you turn and kick and try to get away. You hear a grunt and smile at your success as the snake leaves, but then you lose your balance and hit the rockhard floor.
A tiny light appears and in its shine the blue helmet.
Paz climbs out of the speeder and scoops you up from the ground.
You hang limbless in his arms, cold and scared. But he talks to you and although you don't have the mind right now to understand the words he's saying you can feel their meaning and you know it's going to be okay. You're lowered gently onto the makeshift bed in the speeder. An ungloved hand touches your cheek, and you lean into it, and as a thumb gently rubs along your cheekbone, you fall back asleep.
---
When you wake up, brain slow, but sure now of what is real and what not, you are engulfed in warmth. It takes quite a while to register more than this. But at last your brain starts noticing details. You're lying on your side, and it's not the stone ground you're lying on. It's softer, warmer. There's a blanket above you. You try and open an eye, but close it again when you realise it doesn't make much difference, seeing-wise. You try and focus on the warmth again, soak it up. There's still some remaining coldness in your bones but overall you feel much better. Finally you notice the big arm splayed over you. When you tentatively stretch your leg, it pulls you closer against the center of the warmth in your back.
And then it hits you and suddenly you're wide awake.
This is Paz.
He is the source of the warmth.
The big spoon.
You're completely wrapped up by him, one arm under your head, the other one over your side, his upper leg splayed over yours.
You don't move, but you tense up, trying to remember how you got here, but all you get is nebular memories of darkness and cold.
He scoots away from you as soon as he notices you tensing up. You hiss at the loss of warmth and grab his arm to pull him back again. He obliges and follows the pull, wrapping you up properly once more and you settle back into his curved frame with a content sigh.
"Welcome back."
His voice is different you think, but you're not sure why.
"What happened?"
"You almost drowned and died of hypothermia."
"... Just that, eh?"
"Hm. Oh, and that cave lake snake almost took a bite out of you."
"Oh. Right. But... I'm not dead?"
"M-mh. Won't happen. Not on my watch."
You feel a nose nuzzle into your hair.
"Paz!"
"Hm."
"Tion'vaii gar buy'ce??"
"It's all here, don't worry. Side-sleeping is more comfortable without it... and it's pitchblack, so you wouldn't... "
"... see anything even if I tried."
"Yeah."
"I wouldn't try, you know?"
He takes another self-indulgend breath with his nose in your hair, and sighs it out.
"I know."
"Good."
The two of you stay where you are. You don't know how long. There is no time in the darkness. But finally you do wonder about another important detail.
"Paz?"
"Hm."
"Tion'vaii ner haaran?"
He clears his throat.
"Drying."
"You... uh.." You clear your own throat. "You think they're dry yet?"
"Unlikely, with the temperatures here. But there should be a set of spare clothes in the trunk."
Suddenly he moves. "I'll get them for you."
You whine at the loss of warmth when he gets up, and you curl up, readjusting the blanket around you.
"Here." You feel a draft of air as he waves the spare clothes in front of you.
You take them and get dressed, and by the sound of it, he does, too. The silence is interrupted as he speaks again, worry in his voice.
"Listen, I didn't.. I ... I had to get the clothes off of you or they would have sucked any warmth right out off you. I didn't... I wouldn't...."
You step closer to him, following his voice, hand reaching out, finding purchase on his chest before going up, cupping his cheek. A scruff tickles back as he leans into it.
"I know."
He sighs in relief and leans into your hand. "Good."
"Thank you for saving me."
Now it's his time to cup your cheek, gently tracing your cheekbone with his thumb..
"Any time, Laar'ika."
You linger a bit longer, basking in each others' touch, but before long he removes his hand and claps.
"Alright! Now, let's get out of here."
"Oya!" you agree, new warmth and hope filling your heart.
This chapter on AO3: here
Chapter 3 on tumblr: here
Chapter 5 on tumblr: tba
---
Simon saw the nurse with your lunch waiting outside of your room.
A quick glance through the window told him, why: You were still surrounded by a pack of people.
You looked tired and rung out.
Chewing your nails, your tell-tale sign of stress, apparently hadn't changed over the years.
He grabbed the tablet.
"I'll take it from here."
The nurse shrugged and left.
At last the door opened and the people filed out, taking a busy murmur with them, leaving stale air behind them, while you let your head hit the table with an exhausted thump.
He gave you a few minutes to breathe, waiting outside, ignoring the questioning look from the guard.
Eventually he knocked, and entered.tired
You looked up, dark rings under your eyes.
"Finally a friendly face, " you sighed, with a hint of a smile.
He huffed a short chuckle.
"Got your lunch."
"Yaaaay." You "enthusiasm" hopped off the table and landed with a sad splat.
He put the tablet on the table.
You didn't move.
"You good?" He sat down, too.
"Yes...."
Head tilt.
"You sure about that?"
You rolled your eyes.
Of course he'd see right through you.
"... No..." you whined and started pacing. "I feel so stuck. Can't go anywhere. I am lucky to have my own little bathroom so I at least don't have to ask permission when I need to take a dump. And these people - they come here every day - and it's good, they're thorough, it's great! But... they can leave!" you gesture furiously at the real culprit, the door.
"I'm just inside here. All - the - fucking - time! Can't even go to the gym! 'oH bUt It'S fOr YoUr PrOtEcTiOn.' Fuck this! If this continues, they're gonna need protection from me! I need to punch some things! Ugh!"
You kicked listlessly at the paperbasket.
It tipped over and spilled its contents. You took that personally and kicked it again with more fury and it hit the door with a clank.
The guard's face appeared in the window, and you stuck out your tongue at him.
The guard's face disappeared from the window und you threw indignant hands in the air.
"If I could have at least some yarn to keep my hands busy!"
"Princess."
You turned around and looked at Simon.
"Fuck you."
You saw his shit-eating grin even under the mask.
"Sit."
You growled but didn't move, and just stared into the abyss of his black mask and the abyss stared right back at you, a playful sparkle in hazel pools.
Then the abyss did a little tilt towards your chair, and an encouraging nod.
"Ugh." With a pathetic sigh and a dramatic eyeroll you stomped back to the table and slumped into your chair.
"Eat."
"Fiiine."
When the plate was empty, you felt better and had calmed down somewhat.
"What do you need?"
Simon slid a piece of paper and a pen over to you.
Without moving your head, you looked at Simon, then at the paper, and back to Simon, and a thankful little smile grew.
It didn't take long to fill it with your heart's content.
This chapter on AO3: here
Chapter 2 on tumblr: here
Chapter 4 on tumblr: here
---
Simon Riley had never stopped loving you.
Never told you, either.
'Cause he'd only realized it when your car took that turn and left him feeling empty. Left a vacuum in his world. A slow implosion he couldn't stop.
So he buried it.
But even through all those years, even when he became the haunting ghost enemies only talked about in hushed whispers, your light shined through, from the sunken crevices of his childhood, dimmed only by his own effort to not lose his mind to your absence. But sometimes, on the battlefield, between the mines and ambushes, between the smoke and screams, he saw a flower in the mud or a marbled pebble in a river of red, a defiant, beautiful thing in a broken world, and he thought of you. Just a flicker of a memory, enough to remind him that the sediments of his being were laced with particles of you, that you were set into every foundational layer inside of him.
Now he sat inside the infirmary, keeping silent watch over you lying limp and broken in the bed, and the mismatch between his memories and what he saw in front of him fanned the growing flames of his rage.
He remembered your daring grin, the cocky way you threw your head back when you challenged him. You hadn't been afraid of anything back then.
But what he saw now was a broken husk with a swollen face, a bandaged body covered in bruises and cuts.
Somebody needed to pay for this.
Somebody was going to pay for this.
----
Trudging through clingy, grey mud, you didn't know where you were going, just that you had to continue. Your world had shrunken to three feet around you, everything else, was blurred by a cold fog. Then you heard voices, distant, muddied, from all around you, no hint as to where they were coming from. Not helpful, no direction, so you ignored them.
One voice, though, a deep gravely tone, rang through to you.
"I got you, Princess."
You looked up the dazed, hissing sky and the sun turned hazel and the moon did too, and then you had your direction, following a string from your heart that you had wound up into a tight ball and stored away. Now it was unraveling in the labyrinth of the minotaur, finding you a way out.
---
You woke up with a startle, sun and moon turning into hazel eyes burning with worry - and something else you didn't have the capacity to understand in your state of pain subdued by painkillers.
You looked around frantically, all colour drained from your face, like a specter afraid that it might see a ghost. Your trembling fingers clawed at the needle in your arm, but then a heavy hand came down gently on yours, a skullfaced mask close to your face.
"You're safe."
The sentence rang like a battering ram through the panicked haze of your mind and settled in with a final certainty.
You should've been afraid, Death himself was talking to you!
But you knew his eyes, the drawl in his voice.
And you believed him.
That was all what's counted at the moment.
You fell back onto your pillow, a sigh escaped your lips and got lost in the cold, tiled walls.
Soon, exhaustion drew you back into sleep, knowing you were safe under Simon's steadfast vigil.
Summary: Years later, Simon finds you unexpectedly on a mission with Johnny.
Additional Tags/Warnings: bit of angst here
Wordcount: ~ 500
A/N: Simon is still squishing my brain, help o_O
---
This chapter on AO3: here
Chapter 1 on tumblr: here
Chapter 3 on tumblr: here
---
The mission objective was to extract and protect a prime witness.
But of course you did not know this.
For all you knew, you were discarded to rot alone.
Not quiet dead yet, but more unconscious than anything else.
Squirming on the ground.
Vision blurred from a black eye and tears.
Ears ringing.
Pain throughout your entire body.
You couldn't remember why you were here, nor how you got here.
But there was a light and you were trying to get there.
Two shadows sprang from the brightness, and somewhere in your damp mind you were annoyed that you couldn't even have a light for yourself.
One of them crouched beside you.
"Found her," his gravely voice announced, in a faintly familiar accent. "Breathing, too."
You growled and tried to crawl away, but every movement sent new stings through your battered body.
"It's alright, sweatheart," he stepped into your way and tried to pick you up, "we're gonna get you out of here."
"Don't touch me," you whimpered.
When he still tried to scoop you up, you screamed.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!"
"Ghost!" the second shadow warned in some sort of scottish accent, watching for anything moving outside. "We have to move!"
"Sorry, sweetheart, we've got no time for this."
This time when he attempted to lift you up, you kicked with all the might that was left in your bones, right in the groin. Adrenaline rushed through you, instincts kicked in, and momentarily your vision cleared and the mind fog lifted - and you found yourself atop of a big guy clad in black, with a tattooed, scarred arm and - a skull mask, your knife at his throat.
A knife that he knew well.
A knife, he had given to you.
"Don't move!" the scottish guy shouted, his gun trained at you, finger at the trigger.
"Soap! Don't shoot!" the skull mask guy shouted quickly, and added, quieter, "I... I know her."
There was a crack in his voice that Soap hadn't ever heard from him before.
"Always groin first," Ghost whispered.
That gave you pause and you looked at him.
Into the eyes behind the mask.
Dark hazel eyes, with speckles lightened up by a beam of light coming through the window.
Eyes you hadn't seen in years.
Eyes you'd recognize anywhere.
"Pipsqueak?" you breathed, voice shaking, unbelieving, hope restrained.
Just as perplexed as you were, he still managed to nod.
"Yeah... Yeah it's me... I got you, Princess."
Your hands started trembling.
Tears crowding your eyes again.
The knife clanged on the ground as your last strength left and you collapsed on his broad chest.
"I got you...." he breathed out and gently patted your back.
"I got you."
"Ghost! Up, now!" Soap started shooting through the window. "Evac's waitin' at the El-Zed, but we still have to get there."
"On my way."
He hoisted you up as gently as he could, head tucked into his chest, and followed Soap into the light outside.
Five Times You Met Reacher - Chapter 1: First Meeting
Fandom: Reacher (TV)
Pairing: Jack Reacher & Reader
Summary: You needed to get away from everything and decided to travel wherever your feet would take you.
Along the way you crossed paths several times with a particular tall blond man.
Additional Tags: travel friendship, no banging, hugs and cuddles eventually, i once again craved fridge built man hugs and took to fanfiction, Not Canon Compliant, Asexual Character, Set in the mid 2000s, Minor Violence, assorted crafts make some cameos, cursed knitting needles, Mentioned Death of Parents, Fluff
Wordcount: ~1.1K
This chapter on AO3: Here
------
The first time you met Reacher, you were on the Greyhound and didn't even catch his name.
You didn't know when he entered the bus because you were busy with a crochet project and it needed all your attention.
It had been a hard time for you. Your father had died recently, a few years after your mother, leaving you with your parents' house, and after every bureaucratic thing had been dealt with and you felt like you should, at last, have time to breathe - you found that you actually could not.
Everything was too much, your new homeownership just put the cherry on top. You didn't have the heart to sell it. But you also couldn't stay there. Everything felt... suffocating. Everywhere memory ghosts of your parents were lingering.
You just had to get out.
And so you did, one rainy morning.
No real goal in mind you packed a bigger backpack, a smaller backpack and a project bag with wools and tools and left.
As your bus took a turn to leave the station, a sunbeam hit your face and you smiled back at it, knowing you were on the right path, and you sighed out breath of relief.
You didn't even know where you would get out but you were sure you would know it when the right moment had come.
Time passed.
Miles passed.
Cities passed, while people boarded the bus and left again.
You stared out of the window, brain empty - finally! - and admired the views.
You fell asleep, and woke up again.
An idea hit you, and you got a 4 mm crochet hook and a plushy yarn out of your tools and wools bag and started making an axolotl plushie for a friend's daughter who's birthday was coming up.
****
A guy with a guitar entered the bus.
A busker as it turned out, with a bright yellow t-shirt under a flowy colourful Hawaiian shirt and a straw hat, and he entertained the passengers with a few upbeat tunes and smiles. You put five bucks into the hat he offered around afterwards, secretly hoping he'd take a break because even though you liked the music, you did not like to be locked in with music you had no control over.
****
Another guy entered, hair slicked back, dark polo shirt, sunglasses tucked into the unbutttoned button placket. He looked around, made a beeline straight towards you, and sat down in the seat beside you. He struck up a conversation as soon as the bus moved again, and you started to regret travelling at all because he just did not. stop. talking.
At first you nodded and smiled politely. After all, you did like meeting people and getting to know their stories. But this guy soon became *too much*. Too much talk, and much too close for your liking.
And no escape.
You told him, politely, but very directly, that you did not want him to sit beside you and asked him to chose another seat from the plenty that were free at this moment. But this spurred him even more as he tried to convince you that this was a long ride and wasn't it nice to have somebody to talk to and that the two of you could have some fun and then his hand was on your thigh...
You tensed up, but a plan had already formed in your mind. With jittering hands, blood rushing in your ears, you grabbed your bundle of 3 mm double pointed needles from your project bag and without any more warning rammed them into the back of his hand.
He jumped up, bleeding, screaming, throwing insults and then his fist in your direction.
But another fist hit him first.
The big blond guy from the seat in front of you had gotten up, punched the sleazy guy, making him stumble backwards a few steps, and now stood blocking the entrance to your seat.
"You heard her. Leave her alone."
"Mind your own business!" Sleazeman hollered and tried to throw another punch which... well, proved that he must have been lacking some essential survival instincts, because the blond guy was about 6'5" and built like a brick shithouse. One more punch and Sleazo tumbled back, nose bleeding, words failing.
Your rescuer whispered something into his ear. Given the how much Sleazo's eyes widened in fear you could only imagine it being something along the lines of "If you touch anybody ever again, I will break other things than just your nose," (and that wouldn't have beeen far away from the truth). Sleazo whimpered and nodded and went to sit down quietly at the back of the bus, and was not seen again after the next stop.
The big guy watched him with a sharp stare, and only when Sleazeman sat down, not moving, turned around.
"You okay?" he asked as he returned to his seat.
Still shaking, you nodded bravely, finishing a big swig of water from your canteen. "Thanks!"
He nodded back in acknowledgement and sat down, but soon turned around again, with an inquisitive quirk on his brows.
"What did you stab him with?"
You huffed a laugh and it released some of your tension.
"Well.. I've been trying, and so far failing, to learn how to knit socks and I have these double pointed needles made of titanium... " You held them up, bunched together with a rubber band, a protective cover on one side of the tips, and a little blood on the other side.
He chuckled.
"I’ve seen my share of things, but up till now no knitting needles in a fight."
You shrugged.
"I got them from my grandma. I think she might have stabbed some more people with them. … They may be actually cursed and need a blood sacrifice every once in a while, lest one’s knitting turns to shit."
"Oh, so then that’s a good time to try again."
"Knitting socks?"
"Yeah! Now that they’re 'recharged'?"
"Ha!" you laughed. "You might be right. But I wanna finish this axolotl first." You held up a pastel pink coloured three-dimensional crochet shape that was indeed slowly starting to look like an axolotl.
"Good luck then!"
"Thanks! And thanks again for your help." Your smile was still a little shaken, but genuine. He nodded, and turned around again, giving you the space and peace the other guy had denied you.
****
You did almost finish the axolotl, but fell asleep again.
When you woke up, the tall blond guy was gone.
You looked around for your crochet stuff, finding it in the seat beside you. Apparently it had fallen down when the sleepiness took you, and somebody had picked it up and you had a feeling that it had been the helpful stranger.
Five Times You Met Reacher - Chapter 2: Of Buns and Sheep
Fandom: Reacher (TV)
Pairing: Jack Reacher & Reader
Summary:
A delicious smell makes you and Reacher converge at a bus station.
Also: sheep.
Also also: you pick up a new craft.
Warnings: nothing really. just some town exploring.
Wordcount: ~2.6k
This chapter on AO3: here
Chapter 1 on tumblr: here. And on AO3: here
-------
The second time you met Reacher was because of cinnamon.
The bus had stopped in a smaller city and the smells of cinnamony goodness that wafted over from the café across the street were too delicious to ignore or withstand. So you grabbed your stuff and made a beeline to the café. You passed other passengers on the street but paid them no mind until one of them called:
„Needles!“
„Where?“ Ripped abruptly out of your mind, you looked around expecting some dropped out yarning tool from your bag lying on the ground.
But you saw none and looked up.
And looked up more and then into the amused blue eyes of the tall stranger that helped you a few months ago.
"One Punch Man!" Your surprise turned into a big smile. "Heyyyy! How are you?"
"Can't complain. A little hungry, maybe. Do you smell that?"
"Ugh, you bet! I left the bus just because of that smell!"
"Really? What about your destination?"
"Well, this is it now, I guess..." You shrug. "I can always catch another bus later." Just being able to say that made you feel blessed with freedom. And suddenly you had an idea.
"You know what? I don't know what they sell there, but uhm, can I invite you for some coffee and whatever smells so good? Like, as a thank you for helping me a few months ago?"
"I won't say no to free coffee and snacks," he said and smiled, and the two of you started moving towards the bakery. "That's very kind of you."
"It was very kind of you to help a stranger on the bus."
He shrugged nonchalantly and you entered the café and were greeted by a comfy interior with lots of indirect, scattered lights, bookshelves on the walls, old chairs and tables, and even a bunch of couches. Right beside the counter there was a display of all different sorts of sweet goodies, and you found it hard to chose just one of them, so you took a cinnamon bun with creamcheese topping, and a cheesecake with tangerines, and a cinnamon latte.
Your companion opted for a piece of peach pie, and also one of the cinnamon buns. And a coffee, black, no sugar. Which seemed oddly fitting: No-bullshit coffee for the no-bullshit man.
You found a nice comfy corner that gave you a good overview of the café and a bookshelf to peruse. Which you immediately did, as you couldn't help yourself. And a few moments later you picked out an interesting find - a coffee table book with gorgeous beaches all over the country. One picture especially made you stop and wonder. It was a graveled beach with rocks and stones all about and out in the waves there stood an enormous rock with a hole in it and the sun shone right through it.
"Have you been there?" you asked the big guy.
"Not yet," was his answer and he scooted around to peruse the book alongside you. You took out your notebook to jot down the location of the rocky beach as well as some others as possible destinations should you ever have to /consciously/ decide where to go.
Eventually the waitress arrived and brought your order, so you had to put away the book and your notebook.
"There ya go, darlings. I hope it's all to your taste. Call me if you need anything else, yes?"
Each of you thanked the waitress and after some deliberation you started digging into your cinnamon bun first. It was soft and moist and sweet but not too sweet and just about the best cinnamon bun you ever had.
"So," One Munch Man started between chews, "how are your travels going? Did you have to stab any more people?"
You couldn't help a laugh, but managed to chew down your bite first before answering.
"Fortunately not! My needles seemed to like the sacrifice though and I actually managed to knit something that does look like some sort of sack where my foot fits inside, so, I'll book that as progress!" You wiggle your eyebrows victoriously.
"Congratulations."
"I can also wear it as a hat though."
It was his turn to chuckle. "I mean, multifunctionality is good, right?"
"Well, I'd really rather have a single function sock. One day, though! I know I'll get there eventually." You took another delighted bite of the cinnamon bun. "But how are your travels going? Did you have to beat up anyone else?
"Yes."
"Soooo.. does this happen often?"
He shrugs. "Once in a while."
"Huh..."
"It's not like I'm conscioulsy trying to find trouble."
"But trouble always seems to find you?"
Another conceding, but non-apologetic shrug. You had the feeling that, in contrast to you, this guy never really shied away from conflict. And why would he? Little trouble probably just bounced off of him like a pingpong ball from a wall, and big trouble got either dissected or smashed.
"Why are you traveling?" you asked, curiosity peaked.
He took a bite of the peach pie, chewed a bit, and nodded, appreciating the taste before answering.
"I was in the military, for 13 years. Was always told where to go and what to do. And now I can go wherever I want. And there's so much to see! I just let my feet do the work and then see where I end up."
"Just set one foot in front of the other." You took another bite and chewed.
"'xactly." Chew'n' drink pause. "What about you?"
"Hm...," you took a breath and a moment to ponder. Why are you on the road actually?
"Well, I guess the short story is: I needed a break. From everything."
He nods and takes another bite.
"What's the long story?"
You look up from your cinnamon bun that you had poked lost in thoughts. His greyblue eyes were set on you and while you could only see genuine interest in them, you still got a feeling of being analysed, as if nothing would escape these eyes.
"Oof well, let me get you another coffee so you won't fall asleep...
"Okay, so, we've always traveled a lot, my family. Like, 'spending part of my childhood on a houseboat, going here and there' lot of travel. It started changing after my granddad disappeared. Mom and dad bought a house, trips got shorter. Then I started training to become a wilderness EMT, and missed a bunch of trips. Then Grandma died, and we did one last big trip to the ocean to let the wind take her ashes to the Sea. Then I actually started working as a Wilderness EMT.. it was much needed in the rural community. Then Mom got sick and I helped Dad taking care of her. And when she died, Dad didn't cope well, and I had to take care of him. Had to stop working because of it actually. And like... there wasn't much room for myself in all of that.. And then Dad died and.... I have this house to take care of now, and i just... I... I can't... It's all to stuffy. I feel like I can't breathe when I'm inside. I don't know... it's weird. So, I took off. Fulltime Me-time."
Your melancholic smile was met by a knowing nod.
"Good for you."
This surprised you and you stopped and looked at the guy. He sat there, chewing nonchalantly, and took a sip from his coffee cup and met your gaze with a raised eyebrow.
"... Thanks... Part of me does feel bad for just leaving."
"It's your life, don't feel bad." He shrugs.
"Yeah, well, the other part of me is enjoying this very much. I would never have had these incredibly delicious cinnamon buns!"
You chew enthusiastically, and for a while the two of you just hang in your own thoughts.
"You know," you piped up once again after a few more bites, "I don't even know what to call you. One Punch Man is quite the mouth full."
"Just Reacher."
"Ha! Strangely fitting for a guy with your height and arm's length..." you mused, to which he gave a conceding shrug.
When he asked what your name was, you smiled. "Let's keep it at 'Needles'. I quite like it!"
---
You talked about this and that, cheesecake and peach pie being just as delicious as the cinnamon buns, and then ended up taking a stroll through the town. You were delighted when you chanced upon a little local yarn store into which your temporary companion followed you with guarded curiosity and you took a moment to turn a full 360°, taking it all in with a big smile. It was a small store from the outside, but it looked bigger on the inside. There were shelves with different yarns in different colours in different forms and textures; a small but thorough collection of fiber tools, knitting needles, crochet hooks, other hooks with a more bulbous end that you didn't know what craft they were used in, all sorts of needles for sewing, darning or embroidery. There were show pieces, pictures, embroidery hoops. In the back you saw a separate, very comfy looking room with a bunch of armchairs and small tables, and also a very big table with fabric strewn all over.
Behind the counter a middle-aged lady with slivers of grey in her hair looked up from her knitting project, and welcomed you to her store, saying to not hesitate to ask her should you have any questions.
But for the moment you were just perusing and soon got lost into the colours and textures of the different yarns on the shelves. Reacher was only mildly interested in the yarn, but he couldn't take his eyes of you as you basked in sun and yarn joy.
At some point the shop lady, Maggie (as indicated by her name tag), chimed in, pointing out that the yarn on "that" shelf over there was from her own sheep.
You lit up and squealed. "You have your own sheep??"
"Yeah! Wanna see them?"
"Yes please!"
So, Maggie closed the shop for a short break and took you and Reacher out through the backdoor and up a grassy hill and you met the sheepies: Evie, Linda, Mary, Lydia, Frieda, Kernel, Yoda, Gandalf the Grey and Gandalf the White, Spock, The Rock, Doc Ock, and Hulk Hogan.
(And Bugs, but she was an angora rabbit and lived closer to the house in her own rabbit mansion with a bunch of other bunnies.)
Maggie explained the process of what it takes to go from sheep to yarn, which was more than you'd have thought, and even Reacher made a surprised noise or two. She produced a little spindle with some fluff attached from her be-daisied apron's enormous pockets, and gave a demonstration of how the fluff was turned, or rather spun, into actual string.
You were transfixed by the spindle's dance in her hands.
Reacher meanwhile couldn't help a smile as he observed you soaking up every bit of information that Maggie dispensed. He knew that flow, this focussed and blissed expression when new information hit that special spot in the brain that needed scratching.
While Maggie let you try the spindle, the sheep gathered around you, obviously curious. Evie was even brave enough to approach Reacher, and he actually knelt down knight-style and scratched her head with his big hands, flopping her ears as if she were a dog.
"Evie is a little rapscallion," Maggie chatted away, keeping an eye on your hand and the spindle, nodding an encouragement. "She always finds a way to escape from the pasture and winds ups the weirdest places. Even solved a murder all by herself just two weeks ago!"
"Attagirl!" Reacher grinned and you looked up, and that picture unfolding before you burned right into your memory: the big rogue guy and the soft rogue sheep, two kindred wayward souls recognizing each other in the endless swirl of the universe.
You knew this instant that you would be painting this eventually.
Then the string in your hand broke and the spindle dropped into the grass, because no twist, no strength, and the moment was over.
Eventually it was time to go back to the shop.
You bought a Beginner Spinner's Set from Maggie, hopeful you'd gotten enough hang of it to keep trying by yourself.
Continuing your stroll through the town, you witnessed a cat fight, pet some dogs, exchanged some music recommendations in a used CD store, and had ice-cream on a park bench (pistacchio for you and vanilla for Reacher).
What stood out to you in all that time was the silence. You couldn't keep a conversation going for the life of you and Reacher wasn't much of a conversationalist either. You had endured many awkward silences in your life so far. But the silence with Reacher was not awkward. It was more of a respectful focussed bubble, welcoming thoughts and observations as they came and went. You pointed out plants, critters, birds or even just bird calls. Reacher pointed out different people and had wild, but plausible theories about who they were and what they were doing. You pointed out some people you could bet were roleplaygamers. And between all that were the soft tides of silence, flowing to and fro with the breath like a calm sea's gentle waves on a beach.
Eventually the day grew old and you headed back to the station. As you stood beside each other, waiting for the next best bus to arrive, you looked up to him and said:
"Hey Reacher?"
"Yeah?" He looked down to you.
"That was an awesome city tour! Thank you!" You smiled and he answered with one of his own rare smiles.
"Thank /you/ for letting me tag along! I sure would've missed out on some things!"
Not much later, a greyhound bus arrived, and Reacher settled in the seat in front of you.
This time, it was he who fell asleep and you who left at a station that looked interesting.
You left him a little present on the seat next to him: a sheep sculpture made of polymer clay that you also got at Maggie's. Actually you had bought it for yourself. But when you saw Reacher sleeping there, your thoughts went back to him praising Evie on the pasture and you thought maybe he needed a little reminder that soft things do exist for when he was on the road, especially with all the trouble he allegedly got into.
---
When Reacher woke up miles and miles further down the road, he stared out at the window at first, sleepy gaze paying no actual mind to the landscapes rushing by.
At some point he noticed the absence of two sounds he had fallen asleep to, the faint clicking of knitting needles and you quietly humming along to a tune in your head. He turned around, expecting to see you sleeping again, with your current project on your lap or fallen to the ground. But he was greeted by the strict stare of an elderly lady reading a small leatherbound book.
"Do you mind," she bristled.
Reacher scowled a thin smile, and turned around again.
Settling half against the window and half against the back of his seat, his eyes fell upon the small figurine on the other seat.
He picked it up gingerly to examine, and his scowl turned in to an actual smile and he huffed a little laugh.
"Touché, Needles," he muttered to himself (and to you over the ether) as he turned the little sheep in his hand.
He then put it into his pocket with the toothbrush.
Little did he know at this point that it eventually would turn into one of his most priced possessions.
Mando'a for Beginners - Chapter 13: Geroya - Playtime
Summary:
You face a Labyrinth of Trials.
And Paz has a little too much fun with it.
Pairing:
Paz Vizsla/Earthling!Reader
Wordcount: ~1.4K
This chapter on AO3: Here
Previous chapter on tumbler: Here
Translations: At the end.
A/N:
YES, I'm still working on it - slowly but surely!
---
ZIIOONG!
Something zips past you as soon as you enter, only centimeters away from your cheek and you feel the little breeze in its wake.
FUMP!
Something hits your chest.
You have barely time to look around.
You don't see Paz but there's something else flying directly towards you.
FUOMP!
It hits your shoulder!
"Fuck! What-"
FOMP!
This time it's your stomach that's being hit and you bend over.
"Paz!" you shriek. "Stop it!"
ZIIIONG!
Another close miss.
You run and dive behind the next best thing and it is some sort of box. You knock on it.
It's metal, seems stable enough for now.
"Paz!" you shout. "What the fuck?!"
You hear something crackle above the box and when you take a look you sure as hell get a
- FUMP! -
right in your face!
But what you also got, is a comlink which you put on with trembling hands.
"DUDE! CAN YOU NOT?!"
"I'll stop when you reach the other end of the room."
"What?!"
"You heard me. Now do something."
The box moves on its own will and you lose your cover.
FUMP!
The chest again.
"Having fun?" Paz' amused voice crackles through the com.
"Gar di'kut!"
He only chuckles at this.
There's a rope hanging down not too far away from you, leading up to some sort of haphazard metal platform pathway suspended from the ceiling that is higher than you'd expected. It would be difficult to hit you up there, but there's no way you could get up there. The last time you did climbing ropes was at school, and... well, you don't wanna think about it.
You lay flat on the ground, wishing you had cartoon character strength in your toes and fingers to just diddle-liddle-liddle away. Or one of these convenient buttons that summon anvils falling from the sky.
But as you bemoan, not for the first time in your life, your non-cartoonishness, you look around. The room is much bigger than it looked from the outside. And there's stuff all over the place.
FUMP!
You groan as another thing hits you on your back. While it does sting a little, it's nothing you can't handle. But, knowing yourself and how quickly you bruise, you are very sure, that by the end of the day you'll look like a blueberry muffin.
Great, and now Frank Zappa starts playing in your mind. Thanks, brain.
You get up to run and take cover behind a shelf.
Peeking through the gaps you see a tennisball sized ball hitting the place where you just were. It bounces off a bunch of times and stays put where it eventually comes to rest. So far, so physics basics.
Until it zips back from whence it came.
So much for waiting until he runs out of ammo.
What you also see through the gap is a labyrinth of boxes and plattforms, vertical and horizontal poles and railings. It reminds you a bit of a Mass Effect setup actually. Commander Shepard would get through this in a breeze. Had you taken up parkours in your youth this would be a fun quick exercise, but alas you did not and now you'd have to snail your way through this (like through everything in your life).
You sit down, back against the shelf, clueless as to how to proceed.
What kinda game is this anyway? What are the rules?
You look around and up - and see something peeking over the edge of the suspended metal pathway. Maybe if you threw something up to hit it, it would eventually topple over and fall down?
The shelf is so kind as to provide a soft rubberball, about volleyball-sized.
You need a few tries but eventually the thing comes down and it's exactly what you needed - a plasto board thick enough so you could turn into a makeshift shield.
The shelf holds even more goodies in store and you start to get a picture of what this is all about.
You find a bag and stock up on anything useful you find lying around, your vast experience as rpg adventurer helping tremendously (for once).
You find some sort of duct tape, a bag of ballbearings, rope, a flashlight, and a square bandana which you fold up and bind around your head, Rambo style.
The Spirit of MacGyver is with you as use your pocket knife to cut a bunch of holes into the plasto board and rip off a few longer strips of tape and braid them into straps to fix onto the plasto plate so you can carry it on your back for protection (cowabunga!) or like an actual shield in front of you.
Somehow Fu is also here, your bestest friend, the broom, and while you doubt this is a coincidence you're still very happy to have it and prop it as your walking stick, Gandalf style.
Thusly equipped you feel somewhat prepared for the labyrinth. And a smile slips across your face as you feel like you're back on the playground as you were many years ago. Just without mud puddles. Presumably.
But then you hear a metallic hiss.
In the air.
-- KSSSHHHH. KSHHH. --
Oh no.
You know that sound, and as you slowly look up, and a small metallic sphere looks down at you, your suspicion is confirmed.
"Oh f----!"
--ZAP!--
"OW! A ZAPPING BALL? REALLY?"
Paz chuckles through the comlink.
- "Better not stay too long in one place, vod'ika."
KSHH. KSSSHHHH.
--ZAP!--
Shit! Ouch! Damnit! Why??
You're no Jedi in need of lightsaber training! You're just a girl with... a broom.
Your grip on Fu's handle tightens, and with a sudden bolt of reckless courage, you swing your broom at the offending sphere and THWACK it with all your might.
"Net'urcye mhi, Zappy!"
There might be a snort being transmitted through the comm, but you can't be sure as you're too busy enjoying how Zappy crashes against the wall with an indignant boop and then stays where it is, on the ground.
So far, so good.
But then it whirrs a little and whirrs some more and - rises.
-- KSSHHH. KKSSHHH. --
Time to move out.
You grab your stuff from the shelf.
And step out of your cover.
Another ball comes in flying low - but it bumps off of your shield, and you can't help a proud smile on your face.
What follows is a maze run that gets you zapped, bumped, watered, and bruised, while jumping, crouching, sneaking, pushing, pulling, climbing, trying (and failing) to swing across some monkey bars. You don't even understand how this much fits into the room, but then maybe you're just running in circles right now with this labyrinthine arrangement changing after every corner.
It's kinda fun though, you have to admit, but also, you haven't had this much exertion in... well... let's be honest, it's been years, and you are already exhausted. And you have no clue how close you are to the finish line.
Huffing and puffing, you step around the last corner, looking like a sad clown with your broom, makeshift shield, and goodies bag.
Another ball bumps off of your plasto shield and you sport a proud smile as you find yourself facing the Final Boss, the big blue di'kut in his big blue tin suit.
"Not bad, vod'ika." He gives you an acknowledging nod.
"You made it to the end. That's more than I expected, to be honest."
You snort a laugh.
"You know... Same. Wow. What trip. Can I go now?"
"Nope."
You stare at him.
"Nope?"
"Yeah."
"Well... what else?"
"You got to take that box over there and bring it to Matyas." He points to a box on a shelf behind him.
"That there box?"
He nods.
"Why?"
He gives you a headtilt.
"It's... just some stuff he needs for repairs."
"Huh. Well, sure," you shrug. "I'd like to have a shower first, but what gives.."
You start walking towards the box, but you don't get very far. Because Paz steps right in your way.
Maybe he didn't notice.
You take a few steps to the side to circumvent him, but once more he steps right into your way.
You look at him, confused.
Paz crosses his arms and gives you a headtilt.
Ah.
It's a challenge.
vod'ika -- [voh-DEE-kah] -- little sibling, little comrade, little friend
Net'urcye mhi, Zappy! -- See you never, Zappy!
It's a pun involving
ret'urcye mhi -- [rey-TOOR-shey-mee] -- Goodbye (lit. Maybe we'll meet again) and
ne -- negative prefix
