#mando'a for beginners verse

[mapplestrudel]

Dush nuhoy'sure - Bad Dreams

Pairing: Paz Viszla x You, Paz Vizsla x Reader

Wordcount: ~1100

Tags: Light Angst, Fluff, Sorta Fix-It? (my little fic world is not canon-compliant anyway), "Mando'a for Beginners" 'verse,

A/N: A while ago I wrote a little thing where Paz needed some comfort after a bad dream, and then S3E7 happened, and Reader from my little Mando'a for Beginners fic suddenly had the worst dream of her life and Paz had to run and comfort her.

You're gonna have to rip Paz from my cold dead hands before I let this di'kut (affectionate) go.

Translations at the end. Also available on AO3 (link in the replies).

---

Ch. 1: Paz

"Can I hold you?"

The familiar deep voice sounds sleepy and choked up. Sitting in the space ship's small common room, you look up from the square you're crocheting and see Paz standing in the corridor. He just woke up, it seems, wearing only his PJs and his helmet. His shoulders are slumped, arms hanging on his sides, but his hands are opening and closing nervously.

"Always." You nod and put your yarny project on the table. A few strides take you over to him. He seems glued to his place but his hands reach out and pull you close as soon as you're within his reach.

You wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing lightly. He sighs and holds you tight, fingers digging into your shirt, bunching the fabric.

You start running slow, calming circles on his back with your hands, and after a while he starts to relax a bit.

Minutes pass.

Eventually you retreat just enough to look up to him. The visor is dark, but you can make out a hint of visor-tinted eyes. You always find them.

"What's up?" you whisper.

He sighs, then grumbles "Bad dream."

You hum acknowledgingly. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Later?"

"... Mm-hm."

"'Kay."

You stay put where you are, wrapped up in his arms, worried, but also basking in his warmth and closeness.

The helmet hisses and you feel a kiss pressed on to the top of your head.

"Thank you." It's short, quick and unmodulated, and if it weren't for the helmet-closing hiss you would have thought you dreamt it.

You look up again, once you're sure the helmet is in its proper place again, and with tippy-toes reach to the front of his helmet with your own forehead. He returns the keldabe, lowering his head so you're more comfortable.

"Always," you whisper and he groans and holds you tighter, wishing the pictures from the dream to disappear, but they keep playing again and again in his head:

You, falling into endless blackness and he, skydiving behind you, never reaching you, jetpack fuel running out....

---

Ch. 2: You

"Paz!"

The thick door closes shut with a loud clang and then there is silence. No sound, even as you desparately bang your fists at the ungiving metal. No sound, even as you scream, and claw at it, willing it open.

Willing Paz to get out of there. Willing the assaillants to just fall dead and leave him be. 

But the door is unyielding and you watch in horror as Paz is slowly overwhelmed and you can't do anything and you scream and scream and scream.

And then he falls. Hits the ground. You can feel the thud. It ripples through the door like an earthquake from its epicenter right through to you and your heart stops.

Shatters into a thousand pieces sifting through your bruised bloodied hands.

---

You jerk awake with a gasp, cold sweat clinging to you like the nightmare's claws.

"Laarika!"

The door of the sleeping compartment that you and Paz share, whirrs open and Paz all but falls in, highly alarmed, blaster drawn.

Your throat is dry and sore, you're desoriented, the light from the corridor burning in your tear-filled eyes. You can't even sit up and so you just lie there, breathing heavily, heart racing.

"What's wrong?" Paz looks around with practiced but somewhat frantic precision for whoever hurt you, knowing all well that there should be only you and him on this ship.

"Paz...", you choke and he sits down and pulls you gently to his chest. You wrap all fours around him and cling to him, digging into his flightsuit, and he holds you, holds you, holds you tight, as you bury your face into his flak vest and cry.

You cry out the feeling of utter helplessness, of loss and anger, and he sits there solid like a rock amidst the waves of your tears, worried about you and whatever may have caused this sudden onslaught.

It's the last moment of the dream you can't shake off, when he just clonks to the ground like a ragdoll and doesn't move anymore - it plays in your head again and again and again and again.

"But he's here!" you scream at yourself inside through the brainfog, "he's here he's here he's here", and you cling even more and your muscles start to hurt and twitch but he's here, and he's warm and alive and he rubs gentle circles on your back and..

"Laarika. Breathe."

You try to breathe in - and eventually fresh air does reach your lungs, even tough it's through hitched sobs.

He's here, and you can feel him, and smell him and hear him and..

You look up, find his eyes in the visor, locked on to you and worried. He cups your cheeks and gently wipes away some tears with his thumbs.

"I've never heard you scream like this. It rang through all the way to the cockpit!"

"I saw you die," tears refill your eyes as your lips start to tremble again. "I saw you die, and i couldn't get through to you. Through the thick door. I couldn't get through, I couldn't .. there was just this thick door and silence and shadows coming for you from everywhere and I couldn't do anything... "

He remembers his own bad dream he had a while ago.

"That's the worst thing about nightmares," he mumbles quietly. "Being helpless. Not able to do anything..."

You nod weakly.

Silence falls around you, as you both hang in your own thoughts, the background hum and beeping of the ship wrapping around you like a safe blanket.

Then Paz's arms tighten around you.

"Couldn't reach you, too," he grumbles. You look up and see his eyebrows knitted together through the tinted visor. "The other night, I mean. You plunged and plunged, always out of reach. And I was too slow. Just.. too slow... " You can hear his grinding teeth even through the helmet.

You sneak a hand under his buy'ce and cup his scruffy cheek. "You got to me now..."

He nods and leans into your hand, calming down himself now.

"Thank the stars this door opened voluntarily." He chuckles and you can only imagine what he'd have done to the door had it been less willing to open.

He bows his head and connects his forehead to yours, and, breathing in, you find that you've calmed down, too.

"You okay now?"

"Yeah," you whisper. "You?"

"Hm," he confirms.

"Can we snuggle a bit?"

He doesn't answer, but switches off the light and climbs into the bed, placing the helmet under it.

You curl up, and he curls around you, and soon you fall asleep again, feeling safe and secure between the cool shipwall and the warm wall that is Paz.

---

Translations and pronunciations (if available) from www.mandoa.org, and The Total Guide to Mandalorian Language by Tal'jair Rusk:

dush --- [doosh] --- bad, wrong nuhoy'sure --- dreams (I made this up xD) from: nuhoy -- [noo-HOY] -- sleep (n.) sur -- [soor] -- sight, picture before the eyes, something the eyes see at the given moment -e -- plural suffix after consonants

keldabe -- headbutt (in this case, softly bringing each other's foreheads together xD)

Laar'ika -- Little Song, Paz's nickname for Reader, from: laar -- [lar] -- song and -'ika -- diminutive suffix

[mapplestrudel]

So remember this little thing here --> https://mapplestrudel.tumblr.com/post/697648792189730816/tigaane-touches?

Yeah it has an unexpected second chapter now xD

Mes'ak'narit

Summary:

Paz wakes up warm and comfy - and introduces Reader to...

...the Scratchy Game.

Relationships:

Paz Vizsla x Reader

Additional Tags:

Reader-Insert, Earthling!Reader, self-indulgent semi self-insert, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Mando armour headcanons, have you ever wondered how Mandalorians scratch an itch when they're all armoured up?

Rating: General Audiences

Wordcount: 3.3K

(Translations at the end)

--------

When Paz wakes up, he's desoriented and confused at first as to where he actually is.

He's tucked in, warm and comfortable and it's not like he's had this combination to wake up to a lot of times in his life...

There's a soft pressure against his back, an arm slack over his ribs and a soft flow of inhales and exhales against his neck. Suddenly there's mumbling about big carrots and goats - and his tension leaves him with a relieved sigh as his mind finally catches up and he remembers what happened. He does not recall, though, how he got into this position. The only plausible explanation of course is that he just fell asleep under your gentle touches, and that makes him blush in the dark.

Knocked out by softness. He huffs.

That's a first.

He still doesn't quite understand how this happened.

How you peeled off layers of layers, homing in on this soft core inside of him that he had forgotten existed.

How you seemed to see through his visor, his only window into the world, and how the world suddenly seemed so large and he so small whenever you locked eyes through the pane.

How he, after years of self- and reckless service for the Armourer, his vode, his tribe, suddenly wanted something just for himself. Or rather, someone.

You.

He turns around. He needs to hold you, lest you vanish into the thin air.

Half woken by his movements you turn around yourself, unwilling to commit to the waking world just yet. You scoot backwards into his front and he wraps his arms around you. A heavy but content sigh leaves his chest, and you answer likewise.

His mind drifts into this half-waking twilight zone of an early morning, and a strong urge to keep you safe bubbles up. He knows he will have to let you go, sooner or later, whenever you find a way to return to your own world, but he tenses at the very thought of you being lost in a world unknown to him. He doesn't like it one bit. He will see it through, though, just as he promised. You will see your friends and family again, he's gonna make sure of that, but... the thought of you not being here, the thought of this place beside him being empty - it whips a pang into his heart and he tries to push it into the very back of his mind. What counts, he reminds himself, is now. And now, you are here.

Olar bal jii an jate.

You're here, and right now everything is okay in this "tin can" drifting through space.

"Soooo, you like scritches, huh?"

Your voice draws him out of his thoughts, and he chuckles, as his hand searches and finds yours.

"Guess so. Do you like scritches?"

"Oh hell yeah! I'm a sucker for head and back scritches!"

"Really?"

"Absolutely. As a matter of fact, would you be so kind and maybe scratch right unter my left shoulder blade, like, right now? I can never reach that. Well except with a fork."

"You scratch your back with a fork?"

"Well... yeah! Desperate times and such....?"

"You could've just asked me."

"I... uh... well, I didn't want to intrude or anything... i don't know. I'm experienced with forks on my back though. Don't even use knives anymore."

"What?"

"Butter knifes. You know, they've got like little saw teeth but they're not that sharp? Unless they are. So. Not using these anymore. - Will you scratch now, pleeease?" You whine and pull up the back of your tshirt, and he expertly finds your shoulder blade and starts scratching.

"Here?"

"Ohmygosh yesssss!" You make a high pitched sound of content that descends into a purr and then to a sigh as he extends scratchy circles across the rest of your back.

You revel in the gentle sting as he applies just the perfect amount of pressure.

Until a very important question bubbles up that you had wondered about for, well, ever.

"How do you scratch an itch in the flight suit, or worse, wearing the whole beskar'gam?"

"We don't."

"But... HOW?!"

"Pure power of will," he flexes, using his super deep super BAMF Mando voice, before changing registers into a cheerful "... and the Scratchy Game."

".... Elaborate." Your interest is peaked.

"Well, it's a little game you can play on the HUD to distract you until the itch is gone. And the itch will be gone if you ignore it long enough."

"Actually, it won't," you beg to differ. "I've tried this as a meditation method, using the itch as a focus anchor kinda, but it only ended with me itching all over. I had to take a shower and scrub real good with my extra scrubby scrub glove!" You feign indignation at the memory. He laughs in kind amusement and sits up.

"You wanna see it?"

"See what?"

"The Scratchy Game."

"I mean... can't say I don't! But won't I see you, too, then?"

"I'll deactivate dark vision."

"Huh." You ponder, weighing up, as so often with these Mandos, between your curiosity and decent common sense and privacy. "I mean... if you're okay with it? - Sure!"

He gets the helmet and his bracer tool from their nightly resting place under the bed and puts them on. You sit there, wrapping your blanket around your back that is still tingling with warmth from the fresh scratches. The HUD lights up as does the bracer, and Paz makes some settings and adjustments with swift fingers. Then he takes off the bracer and puts it on your left forearm. It's heavy, but also not as cold as you anticipated. A little tingle goes up your arm, as if it is sending out some signal. Your arm starts to tremble a bit.

"It's a little confused because you're not me. It knows you, though, so you won't get zapped."

"Excuse me?"

He once more presses a few buttons, and the tingling sensation subsides. He takes the helmet, but keeps it on his lap as if again considering for a moment whether this really is a good idea.

"When we get our final beskar'gam, we kinda... " He pauses to look for the right word. "... kinda "attune" to it. And it attunes to us, too, and starts recognizing its owner. And the longer you wear it and the better you know your beskar'gam - and the better it knows you - the more efficient you can use it. The connection between a Mandalorian and their beskar'gam goes deeper than just the physical protection it provides. To the point that it will refuse cooperation with anybody else, and starts zapping any unwarranted intruder."

Listening with big eyes, you imagine what scientific articles would say about the Metaphysical Traits and Features of Beskar and Its Significance In the Mandalorian Culture. You are acutely aware of the amount of trust and comfort it takes Paz to allow you to wear his armour, or even just parts of it, and it makes you feel nervous and grateful and in awe all at once.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

There's another pause where he looks at his buy'ce, but then he nods.

"I trust you to not take advantage of this."

Another pause as you think about it, before you answer. "And I trust you to not get me into any danger with this."

"Don't worry, Laar'ika. It knows you. It trusts you as much as I do..."

"Okay."

"Ready?"

Always the worrier.

You inhale, uncertain.

"Can I sit in front of you? Then you'd have better access to do ... whatever... with that bracer. And, like, if I accidentally activate dark vision I won't actually see you..."

He restrains another urge to crush you in a hug, and after some trying you finally find the right positions for this experiment: He sits against the wall, blanket on his shoulders, you sit crosslegged, back against his front, in no need of extra blanket warmth. Your arm with the bracer is placed on your lap, and Paz's arms surround you, his hands holding the buy'ce in front of you.

A laugh rumbles through his chest into your back, and, gently, he puts the helmet on your head.

You take another nervous breath - and then blurt out:

"Alright, gimme that Scratchy Game, vod!"

It's... a lot.

"Haar'chak!" you swear and your bracer-free hand seeks Paz's.

At first you feel like you ate too much icecream too fast.

A tingling brainfreeze.

It's all white and you haven't even opened your eyes yet.

Then there's a zap, gentle, but it seems to run from the buy'ce through your neck and shoulders down your arm into the bracer. You can hear (and feel!) a "zzziiingggg" as the two devices sync up and the white in front of your closed eyes slowly dissipates, and finally you dare to blink them open.

The HUD pane is of an oblique dark grey colour, and on it you can see white-ish letters, but the brightness is tuned down so it doesn't blind you.

There's Mando'a letters, words, some of which you recognize and know the meaning of, some of which you don't. On both sides of the panel there's different status indicators blinking. Heartbeat, oxygen levels, inner and outer temperature, and some others.

For a moment an icon, an avatar of Paz, blinks questioningly in the right corner. Then it changes into a new icon, framed in friendly green. It's you, smiling proudly at him from above, and you recognize the scene! It's in the training room in the covert, after a difficult session, when you finally figured out how to execute that throw that you'd been practicing for weeks and finally it worked out and you threw Paz on the ground, grinning proudly at him.

Your eyes slowly adapt to the input, and as nothing new seems to happen on the HUD for the moment, you dare to open your other senses.

Your nose reports basically the usual Paz smell, just a bit more metallic, and a bit more sweaty, and a bit more... well, "Paz", and it hits you like a tidal wave, leaving you reeling - not like you lost your anchor, but like being surrounded by it and losing any sense of direction for a hot minute.

Your ears pick up mainly your breathing, noises from the outside seeming somewhat far away, dampened.

Your cheek glows red but this has less to do with the temperature inside here, and more with the extraordinary intimacy of this very personal insight to how Paz actually sees the world. Your pulse picks up and makes the little heartbeat animation go faster, too.

"Yeah! Just a bit... overwhelmed." A reassuring hum from him makes you remember your breath and relax back into him.

Paz must have noticed something on the bracer because you can hear his slightly concerned voice.

"You alright?"

This sound is not dampened, though, and you hear it loud and clear, as if the helmet can select which sounds go through or not.

"Take your time. No use in getting you nauseous." He wraps both of his hands around yours, squeezing them with reassurance.

"You can scroll through some menues, if you like. Just look and double-blink at them. I've deactivated some, though."

You do, and eventually you get a hang of it. Skipping through menu points you do or do not quite understand, you feel a dull "nope" manifest in your neck when you get to a restricted one. Unrestricted menus you learn to recognize by a cheerful "yeah" on the tip of your ears.

You are not quite sure what to make of this.

"Is it normal to... uh... 'feel' the helmet's... i don't know... like... 'intentions' or something?"

Paz lets go a surprised puff. "Yeah! Yeah that's normal! And intended! You... you adapted pretty fast, actually."

"What do you mean, 'pretty fast'?"

"Well... I...," he clears his throat, remembering when he first put on this particular iron suit. "I felt sick for... uh... a while, when I first got the armour... Couple hours..."

"A couple hours!?" You raise your eyebrow. "Clearly you didn't expect me to feel sick for 'a couple hours'."

"Well...to be honest, I'd forgotten about this right until now."

"Paz! I could have puked into your buy'ce!"

He clears his throat.

"You didn't. That's all what counts. The armour knew you already from our previous interactions. And sometimes you have to throw the duckling into the water to see if it swims."

"Well quack-quack to you, too!" The buy'ce pulls you backwards and you bonk his nose.

"Hey now!"

"That.. that wasn't me! It was your bucket!"

"My own armour conspiring against me."

"You had it coming, vod."

"Aaalright, I think you're ready to play the Scratchy Game."

"Scratchy game!" you exclaim once more, and know exactly where to find it, your eyes being drawn to the right menu without you even having to think about it. "Found it!"

"We need to get you your own kit." Paz mumbles, but you don't hear it in your victorious distraction. You start the game.

It only takes a short moment for it to load.

There's a pause, a moment of bated breath as Paz waits for some reaction from you....

"... Are you karking kidding me?" you exclaim and start laughing, and he's a little startled because this is not really what he expected.

"What?"

"Space Invaders? Your Shoo the Scratch Game is... Space Invaders?"

"You know it?!" He's puzzled.

"It's a classic! Revolutionized the video game world from what I've read. The 'invaders' look different here, but the overall principle is the same. Amazing! What's your - Osik! One down! - What's your highscore?"

"Hundred twelve."

"But I'm at 200 already."

"- Thousand."

"Oh. Okay. That's a lot!"

"It was a long watch."

"I figure! - Damn it, next down!"

"You can use the bracer to move the cannon." He places your right pointer and ring finger on two buttons on the bracer. "See if that works better."

It does indeed and for a while your little sounds of concentration are the only things that fill the comfy sleeping compartment.

Paz just sits there, his hands on your tum, relishing your warmth and softness, committing this moment to a memory he'll hold on to dearly.

Eventually your last cannon is destroyed.

"Aaaand I'm out!" you state, hesitating. "That was fun! And it's the perfect game to not think about scratching! Ingenious!"

"Exactly! What's your score?"

"Not quite 8.000."

"Not bad for the first time," he acknowledges.

"Good enough for the Top 70 apparently," you cheer.

"You wanna go again?"

"... - Yes!"

"Paz!" The sudden outcry into the silence of gaming focus startles him. "Lets up the ante! You steer and I give you directions!"

You try again, lose even faster now, but you try again.

And again.

And again.

You're really into it now. And then you have another idea.

"Hell yeah!" He chuckles, eager to join.

He puts his head on your shoulder, his right hand sneaks under yours, replacing it on the bracer.

You leave your hand sitting on his, feeling the muscles of his fingers move as he presses the buttons.

His free arm wraps anew around your tum, hand gently kneading your soft flesh like a cat kneads a comfy blanket.

"Tsikala," he states and smiles to himself.

He's happy.

Happy that you're here.

Happy that he can share this with you.

Olar bal jii an jate.

It takes a few rounds of dying in-game but eventually you find a rhythm between your calls of "payt! paytpaytpaytpayt!" and "staabi!" and his moving the game's cannon to fend off the invaders that gets the score higher and higher. At one point he asks you to pause and switch on the external speakers so he can have sound feedback from the game, too.

You forget about time completely. It's completely irrelevant in this dark but comfy bubble where only you and Paz exist.

The amount of "Game overs" decreases, while your score rises and rises and you are on a particularly good run as....

--- BEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEP. ---

The ships landing alarm goes off.

"Haar'chak!" you both exclaim and you startle up, ramming your shoulder into his chin. He groans and you try to detangle your limbs, but not completely and you fall off the bed and sit there for a hot second seeing nothing except your last cannon being destroyed by the wave of invaders. And then the game's "Game over" sound mixes with the ongoing landing alarm - and Paz' laughter.

He switched on the light, knowing you couldn't see anything but the game in the HUD, and he sees you, sitting on the ground in your pjs, adorably grumpy, with a helmet that's way too big.

His helmet.

His mind catches up with the whole situation of how you got there and how you both got so caught up in that silly Scratchy Game, and how he himself was surprised and now his chin hurts - it's just...

"Not funny," you grumble, crossing arms in front of you."Very funny," he retorts.

"Okay, maybe a bit funny," you concede.

He kneels down in front of you.

"We've got enough time to get ready. Say goodbye to the bucket." 

"Ret' buy'ce! Vor entye!"  

A little animated waving hands icon lights up in the HUD, followed by mando'a letters you read as "Ret' Laar'ika!" Then there's a powering down "zzzoooonnngggg", which feels not unlike the initial "zzziiingggg", but inversed.

He seems to hear it, too, because just in that moment he puts his hands on both sides of the helmet, asking "Close your eyes, please? The light is already on."

You nod and he lifts up the helmet and there you are, eyes closed, waiting patiently.

You hear an exhale and a bump as he sits down.

Eyebrow raised, you asked into your self-chosen darkness, "You okay?"

"Uh.. Yeah... I've just... I've.. you..."

Thing is - he's never seen you without the HUD's overlay.

He knows your face, your pretty round face with eye wrinkles and laugh lines and dimples, knows how the tips of your ears turn red when you're excited, and how your curly-messy hair is peppered with a bunch of silver here and there.

But it all seems all the more real with just his own eyes, and he's stunned there for just a hot second, taking a moment or five to come to terms with the inadequacy of his senses and the fact that he likes you no matter what these tell him.

"Paz?"

"Hm?"

"I really need to pee."

"Oh! Osik!" You hear some movement and the familiar sound of the buy'ce being put on. "Alright, clear!"

Your eyes blink open, and you take a moment to regain your bearings without the helmet.

Paz sit's opposite of you, tilting his helmet, regaining his own bearings.

"You okay?"

You nod, and smile at him.

"That was awesome. We should do that again sometime!"

"Definitely," he nods and gets up and helps you up and then you hurry to get to the 'fresher to relieve your bladder and get dressed. You are faster than Paz with his many layers and pieces that come with his armour, so you're the first in the cockpit, checking light bulbs and other indicators.

"Descent normal. No enemy shooters in sight, " you announce, and Paz chuckles.

"They wouldn't stand a chance anyway." He sits down and nods at you, and you grin.

"Not against us they wouldn't."

Paz switches off the autopilot, taking control of the ship as the planet below becomes bigger and bigger.

"Now, let's see how we can best catch this bounty, shall we?"

"Oya!" you cheer, and right now and right here, everything is okay.

---------

Translations and pronunciations (if available) from www.mandoa.org, and The Total Guide to Mandalorian Language by Tal'jair Rusk:

Olar bal jii an jate. -- Here and now all (is) good.

Mes'ak'narit -- Space Invasion

made up from:

mese -- [MAY-say] -- space, void (between stars and planets)

ak'narit -- [ahk-nah-REET] -- invasion

beskar'gam -- [BES-kahr-GAM] -- armour

buy'ce -- [BOO-chay, BOO-shay] -- helmet

Laar'ika -- Little Song from laar -- [lahr] -- song and 'ika -- diminutive suffix

vod -- [vohd] -- brother, sister; comrade, "mate" (A/N: I'd also us pal and dude as translations here xD)

Haar'chak! -- [hahr-CHAHK] -- "Damn it!"

Osik! -- [OH-sik] -- dung (impolite) (A/N: Shit. They mean Shit. That's the word xD)

tsikala -- [zee-KAH-lah] -- prepared, ready payt -- [pait] -- left staabi -- [STAH-bee] -- right

Oya! -- [OY-yah] -- Many meanings: literally "Let’s hunt!" and also "Stay alive!", but also "Hoorah!", "Go you!" Always positive and triumphant.

[mapplestrudel]

Tigaane - Touches

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Reader

Summary: Space cuddles in the dark. Face reveal (but not really.) ((because it is dark.))

Rating: General Audiences

Additional Tags: Earthling!Reader, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, self-indulgent semi self-insert, there's hugs and scritches and they're very comfortable with each other, part of the Mando'a for Beginners!verse

Wordcount: 1.6k

Cross-posted to AO3 (link in the comments).

(Chapter 2: on tumblr and also on AO3)

---

You sit on your side of the sleeping compartment of the little spaceship Paz had… "acquired" a while ago. The room holds nothing more than a double sized cot where both of you fit in comfortably, and some shelves on the wall, and after an initial hesistance you found that co-sleeping and cuddling while zipping through hyperspace was something you both were looking forward to.

You have your headlight on, a hand carved crochet hook in your hand, and you just fasten off another square that you want to attach to a blanket-to-be - as the door opens and the door frame fills with the equally wide frame of your companion.

"Course all set," he grumbles. "If all goes well, we'll have a quiet eight hour trip ahead."

"And if not?"

"Oh you know. The usual. Suffocating and freezing to death in the vast and empty void of space."

You raise an eyebrow. "You think you're funny, Paz Vizsla, but I'll be laughing the loudest if this really happens one day."

He chuckles in response. "Won't hear it, Laar'ika," - he stretches with a groan and several joints pop into place - "Space is not only dead cold and dead empty. It is also dead silent."

You roll your eyes and smirk. "You're an insufferable big blue tin can man sitting in a tiny rusty tin can sham, you know that."

"I do!" he exclaims cheerfully. "And the only thing to make it sufferable is that you're on board, too."

You huff and laugh and switch off your light as he stretches again and starts taking off his beskar'gam. Now the only thing you see is the dim glow of the HUD in his buy'ce, and not for the first time you wonder how he sees you with it - and how he looks without it.

He follows his routine - taking off a piece of his armour, wiping it with a damp cloth, inside and out, and then placing it gently under the bed. You sit in the dark and listen, and by now you can recognize the parts by sound. Or maybe it's the never changing order in which he takes them off. It's probably both.

First thing to leave is the utility belt.

Then left boot, and right boot.

Left shin guard, right shin guard.

Left thigh guard, right thigh guard.

Left side, right side. Like a clockwork.

It's mesmerizing.

Eventually the last metal clonks gently as he puts it on the ground, flak vest and flight suit also rustle into their nightly place on two hangers for some air running through them during resting time.

You chew on the inside of your mouth, unable to keep the curiosity at bay but also unsure of how to approach the matter.

"Paz?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think…-"

"Sometimes, yeah." He chuckles.

"No di'kut, I wanna ask you something."

"Ask then." He sits down beside you against the wall, reaches up, and takes a soda can from the shelf, opening it with a cold crack.

"But you can always say no," you insist.

He takes a long swig, swallows and "ahhh"s the content sound of quenched thirst.

"You know I love to say no."

"I know.. but maybe… eek!" A surprised squeak escapes you as something cold taps your knee twice. You reach to take the offered can and a sip from it. It gives you the courage you needed, and you try again.

"Can.. Could I…Would you…? like… Ugh! Look! I know we're kinda working with a loophole here already, sitting in pitchblack and all, and I don't know if there's any more wiggle room. But if there is, can I… can.. See, I just… really wanna touch your face? Kinda like seeing it with my hand?"

He doesn't answer immediately, and you sit in the dark without the slightest indicator of what he's thinking, and it's a little torture, if you're being honest. And just as you're about to accept his neverending scorn that this bold question inevitably will result in, he clears his throat, takes the can from your hand and empties it in one go. Apparently he needs the courage, too.

"You wanna see my face?" he rumbles tentatively

"Well, technically we're not even talking about "seeing". Just… feeling it."

"Right now?"

"If.. if that's okay? or, you know, never… whenever you like. Or not! it's your ch-"

- "Okay."

Truth be told, he had longed for your touch ever since the Cave Incident, just never managed to work up the courage to ask. And what would he have said anyway? "Excuse me friend from another galaxy, please touch here." No. Nononono. Better to marinate in his own yearning. That is much better, right?

His thoughts get interrupted by your movement as you shift around to look at him (or at least in his general direction).

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get into trouble just because of a silly aruetii and her curiosity."

He also shifts around to sit opposite of you and gently takes your hands, completely enclosing them with his.

"You're not silly, Laar'ika, far from it. And you've proven more than once that there's a mando heart beating in that chest of yours."

He is so soft and earnest that it leaves you speech- and breathless so you just blink stupidly into the darkness.

He lifts your hands up to his lips and presses a very gentle kiss on them. A hot and cold shiver runs down your spine and all you can do is hope that your breathing starts up soon again or you will faint and this moment will end rather abruptly.

With a soft "Ke'haa'tayli" he places your hands on his cheeks.

Your mind spins and you start to see black dots in the darkness and finally you remember to breathe.

You exhale and breathe in and the fresh air into your brain breaks your stupor so you can scoot closer, and end up sitting cross-legged between his opened legs.

You know these scruffy cheeks, you've cupped them before, but never ventured further. Now you relish in running your hands over the scruff of a round chin and jawline and his cheeks that are soft and round, and as you slowly feel your way up you notice the wrinkles and laugh lines around the eyes. His eyes are shut but the lashes flutter involuntarily is you gently travel over the eyelids and eyebrows.

He scoots closer, leans into your touch, tension leaving him with a little sigh.

You go further up, fanning your finger across his forehead. There's more wrinkles there but they soften under your touch. Once more your fingers glide across the forehead, brushing into his hairline. There's a cowlick there, a few stubborn strands standing up despite the constant pressure of his buy'ce and the flight suit's hood.

You scritch, and he can't help a groan, and then you travel back down again to the ears to trace them. Then back over the cheeks to his nose, and you find that it is somewhat crooked, like it was broken a few times. A scar spreads horizontally over the bridge. You massage it with gentle circles before stroking over the eyebrows again a few times.

Paz sighs again, and relaxes even more into your discovering touches. Brain empty, there's only you, enveloped by velvet darkness and the spaceship's hum.

His hands find purchase at your sides, digging into your supple hips as if he wanted to make sure you don't suddenly float away and disappear. As if he anchored himself to stop his spinning head.

At last he can muster a croaked whisper.

"What do you see?"

You smile and scoot forward and gently bonk your forehead to his. "A handsome face with a history."

He laughs. "I'd debate the handsome, but…"

"Oh that's entirely /not/ up for debate, mister!"

"Not?"

"Mh-mh. Don't talk yourself down. That's what you told me. And this includes you, too."

There's not much room left between you but it's still too much, so he wraps you up into his arms, pulls you closer and you detangle your legs and wrap them around him.

He rests his head on your shoulder and you lean yours against his and revel in his warmth and his faint smell of gun oil, blaster residue and lanolin (from the woolly flightsuit), tied together by the soap made by the covert's own soap works into what has become your favourite smell of comfort.

You hear his heartbeat, his calm breathing. The hum of the hyperdrive reminds you of the deadly cold outside, but right now you couldn't care less because if you do crash somehow this very instant, you'd die happy, content and calm.

You start running your fingers through his hair, gently scritching the scalp with your fingernails. Paz can't help a groan escape, and you are not sure if that one was a content or a pained one, so you stop.

"You okay?" you whisper.

Another groan is the answer, but he nods into your shoulder, so you continue your ministrations of slow, languid scritchy circles across his head.

After a while you notice he's completely slack, snoring into your shoulder. You chuckle to yourself, carding through his tousled hair with a small, affectionate smile.

You would have continued like that for a little longer, but he's getting too heavy, just hanging on your shoulder like that, so you try to lower him down as carefully as you can. You search for and pull up his blanket and tuck him in. Then you get your own blanket and place yourself behind him. For now, you're the big spoon, and you use it to your advantage to press a little kiss to the back of his head.

"Jate ca, ner ori'kebiin di'kut," you whisper. "Sleep well."

Soon you drift off into sleep yourself undisturbed, warm, and content.

---

Translations and pronunciations (if available) from www.mandoa.org, and The Total Guide to Mandalorian Language by Tal'jair Rusk:

Tigaane - made up from: tigaanur -- [tee-gah-NOOR] - to touch. The "-e" is the plural suffix.

Laar'ika from laar -- [lar] -- song. "-ika" is the diminutive suffix, making this "Little Song"

beskar'gam -- [BES-kahr-GAM] -- armour

buy'ce -- [BOO-chay, BOO-shay] -- helmet

di'kut -- [DEE-koot] -- idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on). But, like, it's affectionate here, okay? xD

aruetii -- [ah-roo-AY-tee] -- traitor, foreigner, outsider. obviously used here in the sense of "foreigner, outsider".

Ke'haa'tayli from: haa'taylir -- [har-tie-LEER] -- see, look. Prefix "ke-" turns a statement into a command.

"Jate ca, ner ori'kebiin di'kut": Good night, my big blue idiot from: jate -- [JAH-tay] -- good ca -- [kah] -- night ner -- [nair] -- my, mine ori' -- [OH-ree] -- big, very (used as a prefix) kebiin -- [keh-BEEN] -- blue

[Also, for the record: All Mandos smell a little bit like sheep because the flightsuits are made of Special Space Wool that saves them from smelling like hell after spending basically their entire time enclosed in a tin can.]

[mapplestrudel]

Chur'cerar

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Reader, Paz Vizsla/You

Characters: Paz Vizsla, Earthling!Reader

Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, self-indulgent semi self-insert, Established Friendship, reader panics a little, and then a little more, Almost-Drowning, lurky things in murky waters, (it's clear waters actually but murky rhymed so nicely with lurky), Reader almost dies, but Paz saves her, with his warmth, some implied nudity is going on I guess?, cuddling for warmth

Wordcount: 2.1K

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).

Takes place sometime after the (yet unfinished) "Mando'a for Beginners" fic.

---

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. "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.

---

Translations and pronunciations (if available) from www.mandoa.org, and The Total Guide to Mandalorian Language by Tal'jair Rusk:

chur'cerar -- [choor-SAIR-ahr] -- dungeon, cavern

laar -- [lar] -- song

laar'ika -- Little Song

Tion'vaii gar buy'ce? -- [TEE-on-vay gahr BOO-shay] -- Where is your helmet?

tion'vaii -- where?

gar -- your

buy'ce -- helmet

Tion'vaii ner haaran? -- [TEE-on-vay nair HAH-rahn?] -- Where are my clothes?

ner -- my

haaran -- cover, clothes, suit

Oya! -- [OY-ah!] -- Many meanings: literally *Let's hunt!* and also *Stay alive!*, but also *Hoorah!*, *Go you!*, *Cheers!* Always positive and triumphant.