#okay I know that she can touch people physically like she’s capable of it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

turcott3 · 4 months ago

Note

would you maybe be interested in writing a fic about having a threesome with Jamie and cam🤔🤔

(OFC I WOULD BE INTERESTED) (and here it is)

wicked games

jamie drysdale x fem! reader x cam york

warnings?: SMUT, alcohol, cursing, threesome, unprotected sex, oral m and f receiving, nasty and filthy basically

masterlist

“have you seen the way you look at him?” your friend yells over the sound of the loud music.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, you know exactly who i really want.” you reply sternly, well, as sternly as you could for being hammered at stagecoach.

“be fucking serious with yourself y/n. look at them, do you see what cam can give you versus what jamie can give you?” she says. you couldn’t deny that she was half right in the fact of you wanting to yank cam’s pants down, even if it was in front of everyone. you’d craved his touch for the many months you’d known him, the thigh tat making you horny each time his shorts ride up a little bit, but you didn’t think he was capable of providing that safety you’d always longed for since you were a little girl begging god every night in your prayers to turn you into a princess and marry a handsome prince. that was something jamie could easily provide you. you’re snapped out of your thoughts as she shoves you lightly with a chuckle, sending you bumping into cam. your heart leaping in your chest with nerves.

“careful there babe.” he laughs, hands placed carefully on your waist to help you stay on your feet.

“woah sorry.” you say, placing light hands on his chest with a small laugh. a nervous laugh. you danced and sang with cam for longer than your sober self would allow, but you weren’t upset. you found yourself with your back to him, fighting the strong urge to grind your ass up against him, in hopes of making some physical advance.

“cam.” you whine, turning around, gripping on his shirt to get his full attention.

“what is it?” he asks dipping his head down to yours.

“i need a bathroom.” you say and he nods, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you through the swamp of people. when you arrive outside the porta potties, you turn to cam, a confused look spreading on his face.

“okay well, i don’t need the bathroom.”

“then what are we doing at a bathroom?” he scoffs, you waving him over to whisper in his ear.

“so you can bend me over behind one of these things and fuck me.”

“you naughty naughty girl.” he giggles, a tease lining his seductive tone.

“please cam.” you ask grabbing onto his hand, subconsciously rubbing your thighs together, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. moments later, he’s tugging you behind him sneakily finding his way behind the structures without too many eyes on you.

“can we make this quick? this is technically fucking illegal.” he says, sounding like a smart ass but you nod in response. you turned around, pulling the short skirt of your dress over your plump ass, placing your hands on the plastic of the structure in front of you as your heard the quiet unzip of his denim shorts. it didn’t take long for him to get where he needed, his fingers pushing your thong to the side and sliding his dick right into you with ease, considering you’d been wet practically since your friend shoved you into him.

“fuck.” you moan quietly, praying there was no one in the stall you were pressed up against. his hands grabbed firmly onto your hips, pulling you onto him harshly, his cock stretching you out with ease.

“such a bad fucking girl huh?” he grunts out behind you as he wrapped his hand in your hair, pulling you back toward him.

“y-yes.” you reply as his thrusts quicken.

“you don’t want me.” he teases.

“i do cam, fuck, yes i do.”

“i know you do baby, but not like you want him. if you really wanted me, you wouldn’t let me fuck you behind a porta potty at a concert like a fucking drunk slut.” he teases further, his thrusts growing faster and deeper, your knees locking as an orgasm came crashing over you out of nowhere.

“cam oh my god.” you moan out loudly, your hands gripping onto the wrist that held your hair, your knuckles turning white, his thrusts continuing their quick pace.

“get on your knees.” he says pulling out of you quickly, which you of course don’t hesitate. you find yourself on your knees in front of him as he came on your tongue, leaving no mess to be cleaned. you pull your cum covered tongue back into your mouth and swallow it like it was frosting off a cinnamon roll.

he brought out a completely different side of you than the usual, chill personality you possessed, and you were scared that you just got addicted. you stood up off the ground, not even bothering to fix your panties, pulling your skirt back over your ass.

you found your way back to your group and stayed for the last few songs before deciding to beat the traffic and leave a little bit early.

“your knees?” your friend asks.

“oh um.” you start, looking down at the dirt and small cuts the dripped on your knees.

“i fell when cam was helping me back from the bathroom.” you lie, and frankly she believes you….. maybe.

“we’ll make sure you get those cleaned before you go to bed.” she says, you sat between her and jamie.

because who else would it be.

“i can help you out with them.” he smiles lightly.

“thank you jamie.” you reply, your language slurred as you finish your last drink, tossing it out the window and leaning your head on jamie’s shoulder, wrapping your arms around his.

“yeah you’re welcome.” he giggles, patting your thigh lightly.

you just lied to everyone. and now jamie is gonna help you clean the cuts you got from his best friend cumming straight onto your tongue, behind a porta potty about 50 feet away from him.

what the fuck.

you arrived back to the house and found yourself sat on the bathroom counter with jamie, knelt down cleaning your knees for you. you couldn’t help but realize the lack of coverage you had on your vagina considering you’d ignored the chance to pull your thong back over it after cam fucked you, and you couldn’t do it now. when jamie looked back down, you pulled your thighs together, covering your pussy from view. thankfully, he never bothered to look, which was something you admired about him.

he wasn’t looking for any reason to sexualize you like cam did. not that it bothered you when he did, you just loved the stark difference between the two, yet they were best friends.

“thank you jamie.” you say as he places the last small bandaid on your knee.

“of course. maybe i should be the one taking you to the bathroom next time, i wouldn’t have let you hit the ground.” he giggles as you open your arms to hug him, which he graciously accepts.

maybe he would’ve done it too, if it were him i took to the bathroom instead.

who are you kidding? he would never.

“alright, i’m gonna go try and rest, you should too.” he says, helping you down from the counter.

“i’ll see you in the morning.” you smile lightly at him as he bids you goodnight and sees himself out, disappearing to his room rather quickly.

“fuck me dude.” you groan squeezing your eyes shut. under no condition were you sleeping tonight. you couldn’t stop your mind from racing.

after hours of laying awake on your bed checking the time and playing your stupid games, it hit 6 am.

“fuck it.” you say sitting up, not a wink of sleep under your belt as you make your way downstairs, flopping down on the couch, flipping on the tv.

“oh look who’s up.” you hear from the front door, looking over to see the ginger that drove you mad.

“i couldn’t sleep.”

“no kidding, it’s fucking 6 am and you’re awake.” he scoffs.

“we have such a long day and i’m running off like five total minutes of sleep.” you complain.

“i mean you still have time.” he replies, flopping down on the couch next to you, setting his water bottle down on the coffee table.

“cam i really need to go to sleep.”

“well why can’t you?”

“i just need to shut my mind off. last night is keeping me up.”

“well maybe i can help you with that.” he replies, as if he’s not the reason you can’t fall asleep. his hand find its way onto your leg as he sits at your feet.

“cam i- it’s 6 in the morning.” you say.

“and? no one’s awake. just let me help you huh?” he nods and you groan, growing wet at his gaze all over again.

“cam.” you whisper as he readjusts his position, pulling you closer before tugging at the waistband of your shorts.

“i want to b-“

“but nothing babe. you just have to stay quiet for me.” he smirks, pulling your shorts off of you. famously, you go to bed commando, so it’s not like he had a lot of fabric to fight. he pushes your legs open and locks eyes with you as he kisses teasingly up your inner thigh. when he finally makes contact with your core you let out a breathy gasp, or maybe a sigh of relief.

“god, you taste so good y/n.” he says running his tongue along your clit, retracting briefly to spit out his nasty words that strung you along worse and worse. his tongue made contact once again, twirling and sucking your swollen bud in the best way. your hand gripped tightly on his red locks as he ran his tongue in circles around your clit, your soft moans fighting the urge to grow into loud yelps. you could practically see a galaxy in your eyes as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his fingers gripping onto the outside of your thighs harshly. your hand slapped over your mouth as your long awaited orgasm finally came, washing ever ounce of pain out of your body, shakes rippling through your muscles.

“jesus fucking christ.” you sigh as he pulls away with an evil smirk on his face. he pulls your shorts back onto you before you sit up, grabbing his neck and pulling him to your lips, your tongue diving directly into his mouth, his large hand gripping your jaw from below.

“just had to have a taste for yourself huh?“ he says lowly as he pulls away.

“maybe i just wanted to kiss you.”

“well it doesn’t matter now because, i’m going to shower, so if you care to join you know where i’m at.” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek before standing up and walking away like nothing happened.

“that cheeky fucker.” you say quietly, flopping back down on the couch. just minutes later you were passed out, finally.

“y/n.” you hear someone say above you as your eyes flutter open.

“woah, what time is it?” you groan.

“it’s 10. no one else is up yet but, i made you breakfast since you’re down here.” the mystery figure says before you’re able to get a good look.

jamie.

“breakfast? oh jam, you didn’t have to.” you frown, sitting up.

“well since you were down here i figured i should, here’s your plate.” he says, placing it down on the coffee table in front of you before taking a seat right next to you.

“well i appreciate the gesture, i couldn’t sleep so i came down here a few hours ago. must’ve crashed watching tv.” you giggled nervously, lying straight through your teeth once again.

“happens to the best of us.” he replies, leaning back on the couch with the plate in his hand. the two of you sat in comfortable silence watching the tv until you were both done.

“will you help me pick my outfit for today?” you ask sweetly, toying with the ends of his shorts.

“yeah of course.” he nods, setting his empty plate on yours before following you up the stairs. he shuts the door quietly behind you and sits on your bed, waiting for each outfit.

“what do we think?” you ask, on outfit number three at this point.

“yep. this is the one.” he nods, standing up off your bed and walking closer to you, standing almost flush against your back.

“are you sure?” you ask again, making eye contact with him in the mirror.

“yes, you look beautiful.” he says, you could tell he wanted to put his hands on you but was afraid you’d turn him away. boldly, you took matters into your own hands, grabbing both of his hands and placing them on your hips.

“y/n i-“

“i could tell you wanted to touch me somewhere, you were just scared.” you giggle, turning around in his grip.

“well um, i-“

“jamie it’s fine. i promise you i am more than okay with you putting your hands on me.” you smile, wrapping your arms over his shoulder.

“okay, i just wasn’t sure.” he blushes intensely, your hands locking in the back of his neck. hesitantly, he closes the gap between you, connecting your lips softly. only for a few moments were your lips planted on his before he pulled away.

“oh wow, i’m so sorry.” he giggles, stepping back.

“don’t apologize jam….. i loved it.” you smile, placing your hands in his cheeks, capturing him for one more short kiss.

“i’ll see you down stairs.” he says nervously, stepping out of your room as you giggle to yourself.

you’re fucked.

“no i’ve gotta take you back, you’re too drunk.” jamie says, practically holding you up.

“but i don’t wanna leave them, and im not that drunk.” you slur.

“i’m plastered and you’re making me look sober, i’m taking you back to the house.” he insists as he grabs onto your arm, tugging you out of the crowd, almost like you’d wish it were him last night.

god you wanted him. so badly.

the two of you safely made it back to your airbnb and he helped you to your room, placing you on your bed.

“i have a confession, maybe two.” you grit your teeth, grabbing onto his hand.

“okay?” he questions.

“i fucked cam behind a porta potty last night…..” you paused reading his expression.

“and then he ate me out on the couch this morning because it would quote, help me go to sleep.” you continue and he sighs, letting go of your hand.

“please don’t be upset jamie, i don’t have any emotional connection with him, not like i do with you.” you beg and he nods, seemingly understanding the situation, he turns to leave.

“jamie wait.” you say sitting up.

“what is it?” he replies turning back to you.

“stay jamie, please.” you beg, poking your bottom lip out.

“i figured you’d just wanna go to sleep.” he says scratching the back of his head, walking back toward your bed.

“no i want you to stay, i wanna….” you trailed off, stopping yourself.

“you wanna what?” he says sitting down on your bed. without a response you climb into his lap, reconnecting your lips again, his hands finding their way to your ass as he deepened the kiss. you may have been drunk but you knew this was exactly what you wanted. what you’d been longing for.

you pulled away after a few moments, shoving him to his back as you climbed over him, reconnecting your lips again, palming at the ever growing bulge in his pants, small whimpers leaving his mouth between kisses.

“y/n.” he says sitting up with you, scooting back against the headboard. quickly, the both of you discarded your clothes. sex was on both of your minds now.

“finally get me a taste of you.” you say lowly as you take his hard cock into your hand, pumping him slowly.

“fuck.” he groans as your lips make contact with his sensitive tip, the taste of his salty precum covering your tongue as you took almost all of him into your mouth. he was too big without the assistance of your hand, firmly holding him from the base. you pulled him out of your mouth with a loud pop before climbing over him, straddling his hips with yours. anxiously, you sink onto him. the sensation of his cock hitting the sweet spot deep inside you was everything you’d imagined and more. he filled you all the way up, zero room for more.

“fuck.” you whine out as his hands found their way back to your ass as you bounced up and down on him at a quick pace. jamie brought your lips together once again to silence your moans as you rolled your hips back and forth.

“god you’re so hot riding me like this.” he grunts, his hands gripping more harshly on your ass.

“you don’t even know how long i’ve been wanting to get you like this.” you say in a breathy voice, reaching closer to your climax, taking his face into your hands and locking eyes with him.

“fuck i’m coming.” you whine as an orgasm shreds your muscles, finding yourself flush against his chest as he pumps you full of his milky climax, something you hadn’t let cam do.

“hey yall wanna go to- oh.” you hear a voice open the door, but not shutting it. you turn your head as sharply as you could to see cam standing in the doorway. something in your was telling you to make him leave, but you couldn’t.

“come in here.” you say sitting up, as he hesitantly shuts the door and locks it behind him.

“uhm, okay.” he says walking slowly over to the bed as you beckon him over.

“take off your clothes.” you insist and of course he does so. after all, when it came to you, he’d do anything. you peel yourself off of jamie’s chest, telling him not to move as you shifted to the end of the bed and sat on your knees, waving him over.

“just like yesterday.” you whisper to him as you take his already hardening cock into your hand, spitting on it aggressively as you worked the saliva into his skin.

“jesus christ.” he groans run in his hands over his face.

“what? you know you love it when i’m on my knees for you.” you reply as he shuts his eyes throwing his head back, taking him into your mouth, your tongue focusing on his sensitive head.

“god.” he scoffs before you pull out, turning around back to jamie and positioning yourself on all fours.

“don’t worry jamie baby, i’m didn’t forget about you, just had to make sure he was ready.” you say, taking his cum covered cock back into your hand as cam grasped onto your hips, pulling you onto him with a moan.

“now you can watch what you do to me huh?” you say making eye contact with him before running your tongue up his length. sucking him clean of the mess he’d made. jamie takes your hair into his hands so he can see your face as you take him with cam thrusting harshly into you, your moans vibrating his cock.

“god you’re so fucking hot.” cam says slapping your ass suddenly, a yelp leaving your mouth.

“such a good girl.” jamie says lowly as he takes your cheek into his hand, your face frozen in an O shape as cam thrusted into you so deeply you could hardly form a conscious thought. jamie’s other hand guiding your hand up and down his cock, pumping him firmly and tightly.

“oh my god.” you moan out, somehow mustering up words to say.

“speak up baby.” cam says from behind you.

“fuck.” you yelp out louder as he brought you closer and closer to your next orgasm.

“atta girl.” he replies, you could hear the same devilish smirk in his voice as your muscles began to shake intensely as your orgasm came back in a bigger wave. cam knew better than to finish inside you but he couldn’t help but notice that jamie had, stinging his feelings slightly, but he knew that you wanted jamie in a real way, it could never be him. quickly, he pulls out of you and spurts his seed directly onto your ass.

you felt jamie’s hips begin to stutter and his cock twitch in your hand. you gasped as jamie reached his climax too, all of it hitting you on the lips and on your chin. you found yourself now laid flat on the mattress recovering from the fucking you’d just received, scraping jamie’s cum off your face and sucking it off your fingers, cam using a tissue to clean your ass of his mess.

“i can’t believe we just did that.” you sigh out, jamie running a soft hand up and down your back, shooing cam out of the room as you smiled at him one last time. carefully, jamie pulls you onto his chest, continuing his soothing motions against your back.

“you did so good y/n. so so beautiful.” he mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss to thre top of your head.

“jamie i wanna be with you.”

“i know.” you sighs as you sit up.

“but i know we can’t. i’m not ready yet.” you reply with a frown.

“i’m not really either but, you know i’ll be here waiting whenever we are ready.” he smiles, brushing hair out of your face.

“yeah.” you smile lightly, bringing his lips to yours again.

“i’d say friends with benefits might help us figure it out?” you suggest.

“whatever you want my love.” he replies, his hands placed delicately on your waist.

“i think this means i have to talk to cam in the morning.” you giggle.

“yes it does, i don’t want him fucking on my girl anymore.” you giggles jokingly, your heart tugging at the idea of being his girl.

the next morning you found yourself alone on the couch, waiting for cam to return from his run, which of course like clockwork he did.

“hey y/n.” he says, tossing his rag on the ground next to his shoes.

“we need to talk.” you say and he nods, waking over to you.

“we can’t….. see each other anymore. i’m not saying what we’ve done is a mistake and i’m not saying last night wasn’t fucking amazing but, i really wanna try to peruse something with jamie. i’m sorry.” you explain to him.

“y/n, it’s okay. i already knew.” he replies with a chuckle.

“okay, i’m sorry again. i really enjoyed what we had together though, please know that.”

“i do, and me too. but if you need me, you know where my door is.” he winks, jogging up the steps as you sat in awe.

you’d never been so confused by a man, but luckily he’s not yours. he was just another body under the belt, no strings, no feelings…. or at least no real feelings. not for him, so you think.

what you and jamie had was real. you could feel his affections for you through all his actions, and you’d never do anything to lose that.

maybe…

#jamie drysdale #cam york #jamie drysdale x reader #cam york x reader #philadelphia flyers #flyers hockey #jamie drysdale smut #cam york smut #nhl #nhl imagine #turcs’ talk

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scleroticstatue · 25 days ago

Note

For the character hotness rating, for the fun of it: the current Terrafell crew (by whatever names you'd like to call them).

Atticus:

Tall, lithe, and graceful. He's feminine enough to be considered "pretty," and he makes up for it with a sharp smirk and purring tone. Is he faking his deep voice? Yes. Is he using beauty magic to keep his hair shiny? Definitely yes. Does he have a tendency to "accidentally touch" people when he's instructing them? Absolutely. He's competent, capable, and funny when given the chance. He's not quite my type, but he's someone's and she is going to be a lucky woman.

Sock Police:

He's big, he's broad, his biceps are the size of my head. He's got a little bit of a baby face that is going to turn into an amazing jawline and cheekbones in a couple of years, and his hair is ridiculously thick. He's constantly brooding, but that just might be his eyebrows and deep set eyes, which seem black but in the sunlight turn to spiced honey and his scars might as well be tattoos for him.

Furniture Man:

He's tall, has cheekbones to cut glass, and the beard. Yes, he's a little thin and pale and his eyes might freak someone out, but he's also very mature and incredibly aware of the limits of his situation while also maintaining hope and actively trying to solve stuff, which is just attractive in and of itself.

The Doc:

He's got a vibe. With the gray hair and the gray eyes and the glasses it's definitely a Look but he's also incredibly smart and empathetic and he's definitely a person to feel safe around. My introvert tuchus is mentally sitting in the same room as him without having to say a word.

Sir Dwarf:

Okay, he's not my type because he's definitely got a dad bod and he's, well, a dwarf, but he's got the physical ability to bench press me with one hand while folding steel with his other and I am not immune to that. Plus, he's the height of chivalric respect and there's very little I could ask beyond that.

Nik:

He's also not my type, but heaven knows that's not enough. Dark skin, dark eyes, the jaw, the confidence, the laid back attitude that tempers his bulging muscles, the smile. Weak for it.

A.T.:

He has the body of a 35 year old and the soul of Distinguished Gentleman. He's wise, thoughtful, and a legit snack. His eyes can see into your soul and his aggressively generous nature hides a surprisingly cunning side that would make me bite my lip if I saw it in person (if it wasn't directed at me)

Minor characters:

E. From D.:

He's definitely in the Distinguished Gentleman phase of life. He's rocking the gray hair, eye wrinkles, and his eyes are the sparkliest blue. I'm not there yet, but give me fifteen years and I will line up.

Emperor to Be:

The curls. The lips. The nose. This man is a Greek statue in flesh. He's ambitious and aggressive and possessive, but he will take care of what is his and he is mine.

Haggard Mailman:

Okay, in my defense, he just. Didn't get the time that put into his design that other characters did, and instead of being "video game gorgeous" he's just a background character. Someone probably thinks he's cute or handsome, but he's pretty generic.

#terrafell

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trendywaifus · 2 years ago

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hii could i request some general kafka relationship/nsfw hcs with a female reader please? if it's okay to be a little more specific maybe a reader who is rather shy but still affectionate/likes receiving affection?

— you’re her favorite person, her baby fr. you being shy AND daring? kakfa discovered that she likes that combination verrrry much.

— whenever she sees you, she opens her arms with that smug smile on her face. yup, she’s totally expecting you to walk into her arms. it can be practically anywhere, public, who cares, she wants that hug. def where “my hug at? “ girl. kafka means well ofc but she just likes that flustered look on your face. her smug smile twists into a warm one when you walk into her midst and reciprocates her hug. “ that’s my girl~”

— kafka absolutely loves it when you give her surprise kisses out of no where. she’ll chuckles at the tickling sensation of your shy butterfly kisses and will do it back x2. ohhhh how she loves that bashful look and smile on your face when she does it, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

— she’s always looking out for you even if y’all are a few warps apart (sadly). she’ll just use her own projection to visit you herself (she prefers being there physically but that’ll have to do). kafka never fails to be caught off guard by how upfront you can be sometimes. like damn, i didn’t know you had it in you type shi. you’ll be like “ i-i miss you so come back home safely, i want to cuddle and kiss. . .a-and whatnot. . .and th-things of that nature. “ (awkward way of expressing it but) yup, she’s def coming back as soon as POSSIBLE.

— if you’re a stellaron hunter, she’ll make sure most of the time that’s she’s with you or other people that she trusts like blade and sliver wolf. yes, she knows that you’re perfectly capable of getting the job done but it’s dangerous out there y’know? if for some reason you’re going on a mission by yourself, she sees you off with a good luck kiss that lingers for about a few seconds. kafka expects you to call her when you have the free time. honestly, she doesn’t like texting. she prefers to hear your voice or video call. but if you only have the time to text her, ig that’ll doooo.

“ alright sweets, i suppose i’ll see you off now. “ she drawls with disappointment, a small little frown adorning her beautiful features. you were just about leaving to a mission and of course, kafka has to see you one more time before you go. taking a deep breath, you held her hand and flashed her a big assuring smile. “ i’ll be back soon so don’t you worry kaf. m-maybe a good luck kiss will do? if you don’t mind- “ *fat smooch*

nsfw

— she’s topping but she lets you take control sometimes. though the woman loves to watch you struggle, she finds it so adorable. dw, she’s definitely taking you seriously.

— kafka makes it known that she loves your touch and praises the hell out of you. she’s very vocal woman and will let everyone know how good you’re making her feel.

— she sits on your face but before she does, she asks with that smug smirk of hers if you’re ready to handle her. once sits on your face, she’s practically glued to it until she gets her climax. she’ll make it up to you after. but first, she just wants you to please her with your tongue and cover your face with her juices. kafka adores how breathless you look after with that shy expression on your face.

— when it’s her turn, i see her taking it slow with you unless you want to speed things up. she doesn’t want you to be overwhelmed so she starts off with sweet promises and kisses while slowly undressing you. she’s going to ask before anything if you’re comfortable before proceeding.

— kafka def is tease and is down for quickies before missions. she can’t really help herself when she’s around you, y’know?

#kafka x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #honkai star rail kafka #honkai kafka

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shamelesstrekkie13 · 7 months ago

Text

Jason Gideon x Reader (fight + smut)

Warnings: smut, +18, a bit of cursing

Summary: Basically Jason says something hurtful to the Reader, and has to beg for her forgiveness.

It’s not my best work but it won’t get any better, so here it is. Constructive criticism always welcome!

The gif isn’t mine!

His head was pounding. The last case had certainly been rough. Child cases were always rough. And so he was in his office, thinking about said case, going over it, again and again. Sure, it had been a happy ending, but a lot of mistakes were made.

Half an hour later, his head felt like it was about to explode. The door to his office opened, and an agent came in. He didn’t even bother looking up before asking a “What?!” quite rudely.

“Love, are you okay? I know child cases are rough, but you look like you need a pick me up.”

Only when he heard her voice did he look up. She was looking stunningly gorgeous, as always. He looked at her for half a second before saying,

“I’m fine, you can go home.”

She very clearly frowned at that. It didn’t make much sense, because he had never treated her that way, nor did he ever tell her to go home without him. He had always been so sweet and touchy with her. To the point that some might call him ‘clingy’, even though she would never. It was their way of loving each other. Their love language was and still is physical touch. She loved him for that.

So she came closer to him, and touched his arm affectionately.

“Are you sure? I can stay if you’d like.” She smiled, with a smile that could light up the whole town. But he didn’t see it, because he wasn’t looking at her.

He pulled away, and for the first time in all the years they had known each other he snapped at her.

“Will you just go home? I need to be alone, and you’re not helping.” She was surprised, to say the least. A little bit offended too, though she couldn’t hold it over his head. Everyone needed some alone time every now and then. That didn’t make the whole situation any less weird.

He usually loved her touch, and now he looked disgusted by it. The way he had pulled away from her, as if her touch was capable of killing him, made no sense to her.

“What’s going on with you? You’re never like this!”

Normally she wouldn’t have gone against his wishes, because as a reasonable and logical person, she could see that needing time alone was a perfectly normal thing. But it was his reaction at her that made her stay. She didn’t want to leave the conversation like that, because then, when she got home, she would definitely overthink this whole thing.

He stood up and hit the table hard, so fast that if she had blinked she would’ve missed it.

“I told you that I need to be alone! God, why are you so fucking clingy?”

And just like that, she felt a thousand new holes in her heart appear. Sure, she had been told before that she was a little too touchy, but he was the only person that loved her being touchy. He was the only one that reciprocated her touch equally. Without him, what did she have in this world?

She took a step back, in shock.

Realising what he had said, he tried to get to her. But she kept her distance.

“Wow. I expected that from a lot of people, but not from you. Never from you.”

He tried to get to her again when he saw her deep, beautiful, full of life eyes filled with tears. He never had wanted to hurt her. She was his everything. He was nothing without her.

And now, his companion, his best friend, his partner, the love of his life was looking at him like he had shattered her heart. And he had.

He stayed still, not wanting her to walk further away.

“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” He tried to get her to see how much he meant those words. But she didn’t care.

“Yes, you did. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said that to begin with.” Her voice clearly trembled as she turned around and went for the door.

He got to her first, and grabbed her wrist.

“I promise you I didn’t mean it. Please.” She didn’t know what he was begging for. She just knew that she had to get out of there.

And in her heartbroken state, she couldn’t see how terrified he was of her going away.

“Please, let me go.” She said. He couldn’t. Even if he could, he wouldn’t. He kept his grip on her firm, and when he spoke his voice was trembling.

“I can’t. You’re my everything. I won’t make it out here without you.”

She shook her head. In her mind, if that were true, then he would’ve never put them both in this position to begin with. She also didn’t catch the phrasing when he said he ‘won’t’ make it out. He meant that he had no intention whatsoever of making it out without her. He wouldn’t even try.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her, trying to make her remember. Remember how much they loved each other, and how much they needed each other. At least he did. He wiped her tears with his thumb, hating himself for being the cause of her distress and making her think that he didn’t love every single piece of her.

She tried to free herself, before the kiss changed her mind, but his grip was ironclad on her. When he saw that his words didn’t have any effect on her, he fell on his knees. At this point he was desperate. He could feel her slipping away through his fingers, and he was desperate to stop her from leaving.

“Jason. Let me go. I need to be alone.” She was being a little bit petty, because she didn’t say that because she truly needed to be alone, she said it because he had used that excuse on her, right before this mess.

It had the desired effect. He froze, and he saw no choice but to let her go. He wouldn’t force her to be close to him if she didn’t want to.

And so he let her go. In two big strides she was already gone. And he felt more alone than he had ever felt in his whole life.

He knew that he was alone from now on. She finally saw who he was, how old he was, and the fact that as gorgeous, as funny, as smart as she was, she could have whoever she wanted. And he knew that she realised that she didn’t have to settle with him. He knew that it was true, she deserved someone her age, someone just as attractive, just as funny as her. And he knew that wasn’t him.

He wiped the tears that he didn’t know he had streaming down his cheeks. He got up and left the office. He knew that she had all the right in the world to be alone, so he reserved a room at the closest hotel to the Bureau's offices.

He didn’t know that, even as disappointed as she was, being a hopeless romantic, she wanted him to come after her, to throw pebbles at her window screaming “I’m in love with you”. She wanted him at the other side of her door, pledging his undying love for her.

Three full days had gone by without the couple contacting each other. Neither of them slept either nights. He was going crazy. Only now did he realise how truly touch starved he was, and how much he missed her.

After the initial wave of raging emotions had passed, she could think clearly again. She thought about calling him, about trying to work things out. After all, anyone could have a bad day, and she hadn’t exactly listened to him when he had asked her to leave him alone for a while.

The problem is that she felt personally attacked when he had called her ‘clingy’. She was told before that she was too clingy, and that caused her to retreat into herself. She became distant and pushed everyone away for fear of being ‘too much’. It had been a problem since her early teenage years. She didn’t know if it was the bad mood talking or if that was actually what he felt, what he had been feeling for all the time they were together.

After a while she came to the conclusion that that wasn’t possible. She remembered things that she couldn’t remember when she was in front of him. He had initiated touch with her several times. Anytime she touched him he always leaned against her. He loved hugging her, he loved kissing her. He treated her like a queen, and she definitely treated him like a king. It was the treatment he deserved. When they had sex, it was the most magical thing ever, and she knew for a fact that it was the same for him. He had never made any excuses to avoid touching her or to avoid her touch.

That was when the guilt began to appear. She had been most certainly harsh with him. She didn’t take his need for some time alone seriously, and that led to him snapping at her. Which was wrong, but she understood. Mistakes happen. It wasn’t worth throwing away their once in a lifetime relationship. She thought of calling him, but then told herself that something like this should be told in person.

The next morning, when she arrived at the office, he was already there, on his desk. She could see him through the blinds. He looked stunning, but he also looked tired. Very tired.

He had been trying to work for the past two hours, without any success. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, her smile, her sarcastic remarks, her beauty.

Suddenly, the door opened, and she appeared. For a heartbeat he thought that he might’ve been hallucinating. But she was truly there.

He didn’t dare to speak. If they had been married, he was certain she would have been serving the divorce papers by now.

“I think we need to talk,” she said. “Is this a good moment?”

He definitely took notice of the fact that she never had asked that question before. Because he had made it very clear that ‘always’ was the answer for her. And he hated himself for making her think that she had to ask that question.

“Always. It’s always a good moment for you.” He didn’t dare to move, just in case he frightened her, so she was the one that came closer, and sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“I’m aware that I should’ve respected your desire to be alone, but that doesn’t excuse what you said,” she said. She waited for his reaction, because after that fight she wasn’t sure how he would react.

“You’re right. Even if I wanted to be alone, I never should’ve treated you that way. You deserve better,” he paused, and then realised that most men said that as a way of breaking up, so he continued, “I’m not saying this to break up. I know you deserve better, but I’m too selfish to let you go.” He was surprised to see her smile at that.

“I don’t think this fight is worth throwing our relationship away. I understand that people make mistakes. And I do believe in second chances.” He closed his eyes, while relief overwhelmed him. “I don’t do third chances, though. I admit I’m at fault too, but if you ever use my insecurities against me again I will kick you out of my life.”

He stood up. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I didn’t use your insecurities against you.” She frowned, but before she could say anything, he continued talking. “I said something terrible, but I didn’t say it with your insecurities in mind. I’m not trying to excuse myself, I hate myself for hurting the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wanted you to know, I would never do that.”

She understood what he meant. He lashed out at her, but he didn’t call her ‘clingy’ with her insecurity in mind. That made things only a little less worse. And his grovelling was making her feel a little bit better.

She stood up too, walked around the desk until she was right in front of him.

“Again, I know this was partly my fault. But if you ever say anything like that again… I don’t think I’ll be able to continue the relationship.” She wanted to make him understand that while she did admit that she shouldn’t have pressured him, which is what caused him to snap. But he shouldn’t have said the things he said. Ever. And that meant that this was his last chance.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to continue the relationship now, given what that insult means to you…” She was close enough to him that he could kiss her and hug her, but he didn’t know how she would take that. “I’m really glad that you’re able to forgive me, though.”

She was really close to him. And he wanted to kiss her, more than anything he had ever wanted. She was smiling at him, and he thought to himself that he couldn’t wait any longer, and if she had forgiven him then she would probably let him kiss her.

So he did. He leaned towards her and their lips met. It was a sweet, slow kiss. Until she decided she wanted more. She deepened the kiss and suddenly they were straight up making out. Their tongues met, and he relished on her flavour. He couldn’t resist and pushed her gently towards his desk, and laid her down. Kissing her stomach, he unbuttoned her pants and took them off. The door wasn’t even locked, but neither of them wanted to lock it. It made everything more exciting.

He kissed her thighs, licked and even bit them, while she whimpered at his touch, which made him smile. He took his time before kissing her labia, and then sucked it. She started to moan loudly, and so he whispered against her vagina, saying “be quiet, we can’t let everyone know what we’re doing in here.” His whisper turned her even more on than she already was. She felt his breath on her vagina, and she was hot everywhere. She needed his touch everywhere.

By the time he was penetrating her, she was a complete mess. A gorgeous mess in his eyes, but still a mess. The mess that he wanted. And he would never let her go.

She felt just as good as their first time together. People say that after the honeymoon phase of the relationship is over, then everything changes, including sex. That had never happened to them. And he loved that. He loved that she screamed his name just as loud as she did their first time. He loved that he still got red scratches on his back due to her passion.

The moment he penetrated her, her hands went straight to his back, to get ahold of him, while at the same time scratching him. Her nails trailed from up to down his back, with a lot of strength, leaving marks behind.

The way he was filling her up meant that she would orgasm very soon. Especially because he knew what he was doing. He was kissing her neck, sucking and licking, while one of his hands was gripping her thigh with an iron grip, and his other hand was on her clit, which he found effortlessly. Massaging her, his calloused hands on her clit were driving her insane.

In those 20 minutes she came several times, and she came hard. It was mind blowing, like it always was with him.

#jason gideon #ssa jason gideon #criminal minds #jason gideon x reader #grovelling #smut #x reader

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dilfsonic · 1 year ago

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Okay so, unpopular take that applies specifically to my Service Animal AU: Shadow and Maria are not siblings/“sibling coded.”

If you’ve read the notes on the original lore post describing them, you probably already know what I mean. While they can and will have moments of inspired ‘sibling’ like love for each other, that’s simply too disingenuous a way to describe them. They’re so much more. They’re each other’s only friend, they’re charge and ward, they can mimic the attitudes of siblings but never fully understand them, they have no romantic interests (until sonic shows up) and so mimic certain attitudes in that way with each other as well. But all of these are mere approximations and mimicry without fully encompassing any of those relationships. Shadow’s “affections” can be easily misconstrued for holding more weight than they actually are intended, as gestures such as hand holding/cuddling/purring are all utilitarian expressions meant to ease Maria’s physical discomfort or anxiety in accordance to his job as her service animal. Nothing more, nothing less. Maria knows this, but others can and do easily make their own assumptions.

I’ve been a little nervous to express this interpretation as I feel it can be really easily misunderstood, and I don’t want to give people the idea that even the immensely “”romantic”” or affectionate gestures or affiliations applied to them are actually meant to be shippy. Their love is an all encompassing one, and to call it sibling-like or romantic are both incorrect, as they’re neither. Ultimately applying any real world label to this au will be incorrect and a little too extreme in either direction; the closest possible relationship that may most accurately describe them is that between a service dog and their owner, if such a service dog was as intellectually capable of their human.

They’re what you get when you’re the only two people in your whole world. They’re what you get when you pair together someone who’s indebted to the other for their existence, which goes both ways. And by normal relationship standards, I would disagree to consider it a ‘healthy�� dynamic, but it also cannot be judged by the milestones of what a normal and healthy dynamic even looks like.

Shadow is nothing without her (in his own mind), and this lends itself to an inability to conceptualize a ‘self’ to even express. Maria hates how Shadow views himself — a tool, a trained dog, a guard, a companion of necessity — but she also can’t avoid using him accordingly. That means having no choice but to treat him not as a person, but as her crutch. Shadow is little aware of her internal struggle with the dehumanization of him because they communicate this almost never. Nor does he mind being dehumanized, he has never been a ‘person’ since the day he was created anyway.

Maria would love nothing more than to call Shadow a little brother, her best friend, someone who she could’ve had take her to prom because nobody at her school wanted to indulge the sickly child, nor did anyone even know her well enough considering she spent most of her time out of school than in it. She’d love to call Shadow these normal things, but she can’t. Not yet at least. Sonic will slowly change them and the way they can view friendship and the world and what it means to belong to each other, but it’s hard work on Shadow and Maria’s part.

They are something that can’t be easily defined, because it’s complex, and messy, and while there are bright moments of wonder and joy, is also overwhelmingly dark in its implications, and they can feel utterly alone even when standing right next to each other. Shadow owes Maria everything, and Maria owes Shadow everything, but each underestimates the full gravity of how their own existence touches and expands the other. They consider themselves worthless compared to the other, and that’s what gets in the way of them truly being able to open their hearts to each other. The way Sonic later teaches them HOW to open their hearts.

So yeah. I hope this concept of blurring the lines doesn’t scare too many folks, but this is based on my personal interpretation of how I feel a continued existence between them in canon or a canon adjacent world might have been like. I know it’s easy and delightful to see em like wholesome siblings — which is also an interpretation I wholeheartedly endorse and adore, particularly the way my bud @ratrrriot draws them (please go follow them if you don’t already, their shadow and maria artwork is to die for!) — but this is just a slightly different and admittedly darker take on them that I hope won’t ruffle too many feathers. Sibling coded relationships between characters are so wonderful, but in this case doesn’t feel satisfying or like it can possibly cover the scope of them for this particular au. I dislike labeling them or comparing them to another dynamic, like Sonic and Tails who are very explicitly brotherly with one another.

I may make a separate post on Sonic’s impact in this world and how he touches the lives of Shadow and Maria, Helen (when she comes along), and this world’s version of Robotnik (Julian) if people are interested in that. I take a lot of inspiration from his characterization in the Adventure games and Sonic X for this AU, as he’s most closely canon-aligned compared to Shadow and Maria who are a little different; though I’m gonna try my best to fit their “canon” personalities into a completely different scenario. Such as, Shadow lacks the innate hatred he has for mankind as he never loses Maria, but he will retain the “my body is a tool” mentality and the general uncaring of others opinions of him, etc.

#I would love to hear thoughts so long as they’re civil #I have a playlist for them but I’ve been waffling on whether to share it or not #ultimately this is a Sonadow au as much as it’s an exploration of shadow and Maria’s peculiar relationship here #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #Maria Robotnik #service animal au #my post

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hatelangdon · 1 year ago

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Omg just read your fav genre is whump and i literally never seen any whump blog for American Horror Story, lol...

As someone who is also obsessed with AHS and whump myself, can i possibly request a whump story for Kit Walker inside Briarcliff pls? That poor babe just suffered so much in there, but i gotta say i just love the dramatics 🤭

Tysm, I'd really appreciate that!

Fragile

Kit Walker x Fem!reader ✩ 1.2K words

Summary: Dr Arden was never a merciful man, Kit soon became an interest of his. Someone needs to extend him some kindness and nurse him back to health.

Angst, Hurt-comfort, semi-fluff

**Not proofread and probably an insane amount of commas and other errors but it'll be aight.

Warnings: (🚨 Talks about infected wounds, fever, bruising, medical abuse, Mental abuse, physical abuse, asylums, bleeding, and time period inaccuracies probably 🚨)

(A/n: Kitson, my angel, my beloved. I hate hurting him but I love the angst. Thanks for the request I didn't know what kind of whump you were interested in so I tried to combine all aspects 🤭 I was gonna k!ll him but I was feeling nice)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

You and Kit weren't too different from each other, both convicted on crimes you did not commit.

Female hysteria. That's what they call it when a woman was too smart, so a man locks her up to keep her quiet.

This was a cruelty that was extended to you by your own husband.

Kit was thrown in on convictions of murder, bloody face is what they called him. People wanted someone to pin a string of murders on, it was a convincing smear campaign that even you believed at first.

But as you got to know kit as a person, as you got to know his heart, you realized he could never be capable of inflicting so much pain, especially on a woman. His character proved his innocence.

A friendship blossomed quickly between the two of you, and a delicate love that remained unspoken. It communicated itself through stolen glances and kind words

It was something just for you two to understand.

Kit was always a gentle and kind man. He always stood up for what he believed was right which is what often got him in trouble, he was too headstrong.

It had been three days since the last time you saw him, he had been dragged away by the guards for “inciting a fight” after some pervert had tried to grope one of the newer patients without her consent, you were hoping that he had just been bent over sister Jude’s knee and caned a few times, although she was harsh she sometimes had an understanding side to her

but alas, Kit hadn't returned.

That was until today, when kit was dropped off in the community room completely unraveled from his usual charming self. His eyes were glassy and seemed to stare into a void, and his body was scuffed, scraped, and bruised all over.

“Maybe that fried some sense into you walker” The guard chuckled as he dropped kit’s limp body onto the floor right in front of the couch where you sat.

You felt your throat tighten as the tears welled up in your eyes. You kneeled down to comfort him.

Immediately you pushed his hair back, your hands gentle and forgiving against his damaged skin, you could see where the metal from the shock therapy had burned him, he must've been under it for a while. His cheeks were flushed and feverish, his breaths shallow, you could tell it was hard for him to breathe from the way he winced as his chest rose and fell, the bruises on his back made you wince, the purple wounds spread across the sides like an angel that had its wings clipped.

He leaned into your touch, scanning your face like he was trying to remember who you were, if you were kind or if you would also cause him pain. His eyes were empty and lacked their usual warmth he tried to speak to you, his attempted words becoming sobs when he noticed how you were looking at him. How you pitied him.

"y/n-" he started, his voice hoarse.

“You’re gonna be okay kit, you gotta be okay. Can you walk? I can help you, but I need to get you out of here," You shushed him

He nodded, holding onto your shoulders.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling a wet spot as you pressed your abdomens together.

You looked down...Kit was bleeding, a lot.

",we're going to our special place, okay? I stored some of my things in there"

There was a small storage closet hidden away in the corner that was accessible just down the hall, it was empty except for a couple of desks and chairs from when Briarcliff used to be a school. You and Kit would usually sneak off to smoke together and talk about what you would do when you finally got out of this hellhole.

Since you were technically a non-violent case you weren't searched as thoroughly when you arrived, In school you had received a bit of nursing training, you knew Briarcliff could be rough, you heard the stories and rumours, so you brought a first aid kit in your bags and stored it away the first day you were allowed in the common room.

You two took small unsuspecting steps towards the room making sure that the guards were not looking, as you slipped into the closet, closing the door behind you.

“Kitson, I'm going to put you down OK?” you warned him

He nodded as you gently lowered him onto the cold ground. He winced feeling the pressure against his bruised back.

You pulled the first aid kit from its hiding place in one of the desks. It was complete with some gauze pads, rubbing alcohol, a spray disinfectant, rags, medical grade needle and thread, and and a roll of bandages.

You rolled up his shirt to examine the site of the bleeding, he had been practically cut in half and badly stitched up. The wound was jagged and puffy, it was definitely infected or on its way to being.

"It was Arden," Kit managed to speak up, tears falling from his eyes as he tried to catch his breath "If this takes me, you gotta tell 'em it was Arden." He cried out

"I won't let you die Kit, i'm going to save you," you tried to sound confident, for both of your sakes. You pulled one of the rags out and folded it into a thick square, placing it in between his teeth "This is going to hurt angel, you're gonna want something to bite down on."

He obliged, fully trusting you and biting down.

"Just keep breathing, it'll be over before you know it."

He looked up at you wide eyed as you shook the can of wound wash.

"3....2...1" with that, you sprayed the wound down.

Kit struggled against it, immediately crying out, his face turning bright red as the stinging engulfed his body in what felt like the fires of hell, pure agony.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's to stop the infection. The hard part is over!" You graced him with a kiss to the forehead, as he sobbed.

You covered it in some gauze, applying slight pressure to soak up the fluids of the wound, before gently wrapping his abdomen in bandages to keep it safe from further harm.

"We'll have to change this out in a couple of days instead of everyday. We don't want to run out" you sighed, removing the rag from kit's teeth.

He was still in massive amounts of pain from all of his injuries, the road to recovery would be difficult.

After laying there for a couple of minutes, while you cupped his face, gently rubbing his tears away with your thumb and cooing to him, he spoke up.

"...Arden says I got two days to recover. Then he's gonna continue his research." He swallowed, his tears falling rapidly.

"That's not going to happen, my love," You pressed his hand to your lips ever so gently "save your strength, the rumours of a tunnel to the outside are true, and I know exactly how we can get through them."

Kit looked into your eyes, a glimmer of hope shining. He even managed a small smile.

"I believe in you doll, I always have. I always will."

#ahs asylum #kit walker #fanfic #reverse comfort #evan peters #american horror story #angst #whump #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #ahs fanfic #ahs hotel #ahs coven #tate langdon #james patrick march #evan peters fanfic #evan peters x reader #kyle spencer #asylum au

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 7 months ago

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hii! is it possible to do an atticus finch x male reader fluff fic?? if not thats totally okay :3

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you.

Atticus Finch x Male! Reader romantic fluff headcanons

Summary: Basic headcanons for Atticus and Male! reader

Warnings: very small references to homophobia (not in detail), bad writing since I'm not a dude

Word count: 921 (short sadly)

A/N: I'm not a guy so this is definitely going to be a bit stiff. And I just KNOW you were living off gender neutral reader fics for Atticus 💀. Also, you didn't specify if it was supposed to be romantic, so I just said it was romantic.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

The 1930s wasn’t an accepting time for queer people, and Atticus knew that. He knew the forms of persecution they would receive if found to not fit into the “norm”.

You were a new neighbor to Maycomb, having come to live in a smaller, quieter town. It would be under odd circumstances that you meet Atticus. Scout finds you fascinating and pesters you like she does Boo Radley. He’d apologize for his kid's behavior and go on a long talk with you about different things, Scout and Jem having gone home over ten minutes earlier.

It’s not that Atticus finds it outrageous that he possibly finds a man attractive, he knows people like that exist, the same can be said about him figuring it out later in his life. He finds it a bit odd that he even has the capabilities of doing so so late in his life, he’s had a wife and has kids. He can’t always keep up with that sort of love now!

Either way, he’ll treat you just as kindly as he would anyone else. Atticus would greet you in the mornings when he’d see you and say good afternoon if he sees you later in the day.

Atticus isn’t dumb when it comes to the world, he knows people aren’t accepting of others, especially with romantic relations between men. As much as he knows not to judge, hate others, or fear their opinions, he can’t deny that he won’t say a thing. Atticus will push his feelings away for a while, it’s mostly because he doesn’t want you possibly hating him for the feelings he would gain.

Once you start showing obvious sense you like him in a romantic sense, Atticus would find it easier to confess. It would be one night that he finds you after work, walking down the same road to your home, and he’d ask you out on your porch.

You obviously say yes and Atticus heads home with clammy hands but a better mood than earlier that evening. He’d set a date and told his family that he was going out for a night with friends.

Though it was normal to receive affection from someone close to you, romantic aspects would stay in private. Really romantic kisses are only behind closed (and locked) doors. Atticus would be rusty in those moments though; it’s been a bit so let him figure it out.

Dates are usually just chalked up to being friend dates and just wanting to go out. Of course, Atticus would dress well for the occasion, as he would any date.

“He’s a good friend of mine.”

You would be brought over to the house but in a friendly way. It would be awkward to the kids since it’s odd having a parent's friend over but you’re over at the house more times a week then a month then a year. They’d get used to your presence.

It’s eventual that Scout and Jem would wonder why you come around so much and why you spend the night at random dates. It’s either Scout would ask you or Atticus. “Why are you here all the time?” Scout would ask at dinner; you are sitting across from her.

“Atticus just likes my company,” you would answer her with a small smile. You knew how little his kids truly understood the things between you and Atticus, it’s just another thing to laugh about.

A lot of time together with physical touch would be in secluded rooms, especially at night. Atticus would allow you in the same bed and hold you close, telling you about his day quietly. He’d help you get things to go to bed and then hold you while he slept. Atticus does snore so worry about that a bit, it’s not CPAP worthy though, so if you’re a heavy sleeper you should be fine.

The days that Calpurnia isn’t at home already, but Jem and Scout ran off for something interesting with Dill, would be heaven for the both of you. You and Atticus would spend the morning doing mundane things together but knowing you had that sense of freedom is better than nothing.

Atticus has a forced habit of separating you from anything with his work, including the trials and before that. He advises you don’t go to the trial and make sure that Jem and Scout stay back too. Of course that doesn’t happen, and you go and take the kids anyway.

You’re never invited to holiday gatherings with the whole Finch family. As much as Atticus does want you there, he knows it’s for the better. His family is beyond judgmental and if there was any possibility they would catch on to your relationship, he’d be shunned and judged for the rest of time. Maybe they’d try pulling a gun on him if he tried going back. But if he gets the opportunity to have a holiday without the rest of the family, he’d bring you over and have a good time with you.

If you’re together for a long while, a long long while, Atticus would “propose” to you. Of course, it would be a nice ring he’d get, just expensive enough to not be cheap but not expensive enough to dent his bank account. He’d do the basics of taking you out to a nice place, butter you up just enough to get you to say yes. A wedding wouldn’t follow for safety reasons, but he’d adore you like a real husband would.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

My TKAM masterlist

My request list

#x reader #atticus finch imagines #atticus finch #atticus finch x reader #atticus #atticus finch x male reader #x male reader #male reader #tkam x reader #tkam x male reader #romantic headcanons #atticus finch romantic headcanons #tkam romantic headcanons #x male y/n

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justanotherwriter140 · 16 days ago

Text

Kung Fu Panda 2 Scene Analysis + Discussion Post

Hey, all! Here's a KFP2 scene analysis because I felt like it. 🤷‍♀️

I have an itch to scratch and I'm going to make all of you read about it. I've been revisiting KFP2's remarkable storytelling methods—namely for conveying strong emotions without relying on dialogue and putting more faith in the narrative—and when I got to the harbor scene, I couldn't help but write something up on it. In general, writing short essays on scenes/sequences is a great writing exercise that I would recommend for fellow writers because it's a big help when you're trying to emulate a certain style or feel in your work. KFP2 is a great movie and I love it, so I often refer back to it when I'm struggling.

In short, this is me gushing. I know as a fandom we've talked this part of the movie to death a hundred times over, but it's a scene that deserves it. I'm going to be focusing on the aspects of it that interest me most, but the final battle following this scene is just as worthy of being fawned over. I am a KFP fan through-and-through and every scene (in this film especially) deserves its own discussion post. Unfortunately, I'm employed.

I've never done a dedicated sequence analysis before, but I've been delving back into studying animation and that paired with my long-time love for storytelling is more than enough to make me want to do a Tumblr deep dive on this 20~ second master-class in storytelling.

To begin, let's take a look at what's happening here:

Po swims to Tigress to make sure that she's okay. He holds her hand and gets close to her, which is something we can assume he would never do otherwise. I'll cite the attack-hug; we witnessed his (albeit completely understandable) reaction to Tigress initiating physical contact, and his instinct was to freeze in place. It tells us that physical contact is uncommon and maybe even a little awkward for them, and yet, he grabs her hand without hesitation.

My heart...ugh. I was little when this came out and I was STUPEFIED. I also realized I wanted to make movies, though, so I guess it worked out. 🤷‍♀️

Plus the little thumb-hold from Tigress. I'm nauseous. Kill me.

It's also worth mentioning that despite the fact that Po audibly says her name, she doesn't respond to hearing him. She responds to feeling him. She doesn't start to lift her head until he touches her.

Earlier in the film, it had been made a point that she "feels nothing," which was intended to refer to both her hands and her emotions. She physically and mentally beat herself up for 20 years until she couldn't feel the hurt anymore.

Even so, it only takes Po to unravel that. This is the movie further cementing the franchise-long theme of Po bringing inner peace to the valley. On a more personal note, it's also the movie telling us that Tigress's jadedness only goes as far as she lets it. She is capable of recovery, capable of feeling—it only matters that she allows herself to have those moments.

She looks up. She's relieved. She couldn't save China, but she saved Po. She didn't fail in protecting him this time. She did her job. There's a beautiful contrast between what she's feeling and what he's feeling but they share a point—kind of like a venn diagram. Both feel some kind of relief, however brief. As for their differences, Tigress's defiance is weakened and Po's is ignited. He takes on that weight for her.

The way her head slowly falls back down makes me think she's too exhausted to keep her head up any longer. She had used all of her strength to hold onto Po and look fully at him, face to face, to be sure he was alright. Tigress is the most capable member of the group, but where her most important strength lies is revealed here as well as in the rest of KFP2: in her compassion and care for others.

Po looks at Shen with scathing, genuine contempt. He's taken away too many people Po loves, and Po won't let him take away another. He's thinking about the valley, about his friends, Mr. Ping, and his duty to defend China and bring evil-doers to justice. We see the resolve in his eyes. He'll do what he has to.

The angle of the image is also worth mentioning. With the way the "camera" is tilted—now at a direct eye-level as opposed to a few shots before when Po was almost slouching below mid-frame—Po looks bigger in this shot. He's being framed as a protector. Defender of China. The Dragon Warrior. He's really, truly stepping into this role.

Tigress bows her head and Po takes on the weight, which is a huge contrast to the rest of the film. Before this scene, Tigress is the one being strong, being smart, taking charge, and leading the group. Throughout the mission, Po was consistently reckless, stubborn, and distracted. We know why. This bit is his amendment. This is him saying and meaning, "I've got this."

And then he pushes Tigress away. The little look I caught in this screenshot lingers for only two~ seconds, but what I love about animation is that everything is intentional. He watches her float away for an extra few seconds because it meant something to someone that he did.

AND THEN SHE REACHES FOR HIM. Whose idea was this? We need to have some words. You guys were evil and I love it.

She's exhausted, hurt, and is likely carrying the crushing weight of China's defeat on her shoulders, and yet, she reaches for him. It wouldn't even be for her own comfort, either, but because she still has the urge to save him. Even in her state of being borderline unconscious, she still has that instinct—that care. She can't watch her friend be killed.

I pause on this whenever I watch this scene over. To me, this frame perfectly encapsulates Po as a character. We see him facing impending doom in the form of a massive ship with a monstrous-looking cannon strapped to the front, harboring a psychotic peacock fully intending to kill him—just like he killed Po's mother—when he gets the shot.

Despite this, Po only pushes Tigress—a loved one, and while it's far more impactful to the story that it was her, it could have been anyone and the point still stands—out of the way. He moves her out of the line of fire and lures the danger away. That simple action of pushing her away is the epitome of "show, don't tell" used correctly and tells the audience everything we need to know.

And then he goes and stands on a floating chunk of fallen ship (not even solid ground!) and fights solo against an entire fleet of weaponized ships. And then he wins in what's arguably the coolest, most badass way possible.

This—this frame, not the fight itself—is easily his most heroic and selfless moment and it's my favorite frame in the KFP trilogy.

Thanks to all who read this through for indulging my intense love for this specific sequence! This analysis isn't objective, obviously, so if there are any disagreements, I'd really like to talk about them! I'm always looking for different perspectives and ideas, and I'm sure there's a fan somewhere who interpreted this scene wildly differently. I'd also just really love to hear any additional thoughts if there's something I missed. And if another scene gets you super excited like this one does for me, tell me all about it!

An update for my readers: Chapter 6 of The Days is well on its way and I can't wait to share it with you—there's some fun stuff in there and I'm really excited to post it. Thanks for reading, guys! :)

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witchthewriter · 5 months ago

Text

@seasmokes-rider.

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠! He is the kindest man out of the characters. And I truly believe everyone can agree on that. He's protective and open and devoted. He would be the most balanced choice - it would work even in reality.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Loves playing with your hair, hands, stroking your face and placing gentle kisses to your body. His Love Language is definitely Physical Touch &

Harwin is known for his loyalty. In a relationship, this loyalty would translate into a deep and unwavering commitment to his partner. You could count on him to stand by your side through thick and thin, offering steadfast support and protection.

Likes to make you laugh; loves hearing the sound. Harwin enjoys sitting by the fire, on the floor with you in his lap. He slowly rocks back and forth, talking to each other about your days. Jokes and comments are traded back and forth; laughing at the quips.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Would That I by Hozier

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Aggressively Supportive & Protective

Tol x Smol

Constantly Trying To Make You Blush In Public (Harwin) x Worked At First But Now You're Used To It (You)

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Your creativity, your opinions, intelligence, and idealistic yet practical nature. Your whole personality is a highlight for him. That's why he will never wish to leave you - you just fascinate him too much.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

I think Helaena Targaryen would be such a brilliant friend to you especially. Because I think you'd be the type of person to take their time to understand her. It takes a while for her to open up but once she realises that you have no other motives; she starts to see you as an older sister.

Over the years, when you and Harwin have left court and go live on your large land. Helaena comes with her children and stays for a few months. It's where she feels the most at ease. And most definitely brings Dreamfyre with her as well.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲𝐬! Your personalities have similarities. Fenrys puts on a face, he's bubbly and charismatic - the star in a lot of people's lives. And you always had a crush on him (who didn't???) But never thought your feelings would be returned...

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

You are his literal sunshine. The light in his darkness. You pull him out of sadness every. single. day. He does the exact same for you. While also holding a safe space for you. Understanding your introverted nature. A mated pair. Linked with an invisible golden thread.

It's very hard for him not to have you physically near him. Like a piece of him is lost. A definite trauma from Maeve and his twin. He feels like you're his close family now. And as close family, he needs to be able to know where you are at all times.

Is always able to make butterflies erupt in your stomach, your cheeks blush and nose crinkle. He gives you little nicknames like 'twinkle toes,' 'sweetheart,' 'pretty girl.'

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

As Pure As Driven Snow by Rachel Zegler

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Soulmates

Found Family

You Fell First, But They Fall Harder

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Your kindness. Your empathy. Your compassion. He admires you so innately. Watching you with other people ... he just cannot explain the overwhelming warm-love that erupts inside him. The first time this happened; he realised he would die for you.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Yrene and you absolutely click. You really remind me of her, but the differences make a big change in how I view you. For instance, she is a healer type, and while I think you're capable of anything - I think you're more creative than scientific.

𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐫! Okay so I was going to match you with Ubbe but I had this feeling that you could also be with someone who is different from you. Who isn't the nicest person in the group. But still holds space for your feelings and well ... the whole of you. Because when you love someone, you treat them differentally from the general public.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

THIS IS AN ENEMIES TO LOVERS STORY BABY. A dark romance. Grumpy x sunshine. Anyone touches you, THEY'RE DEAD. No one can say a bad word about you lest it gets back to Ivar somehow.

Ivar is known for his intense passions, whether in battle, politics, or personal relationships. This intensity would translate into a deeply passionate relationship.

As his partner, you would likely find his intellect stimulating and engaging. Conversations with him would be intellectually enriching, and his resourcefulness would often lead to innovative solutions to problems.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Please Please Pleased by Sabrina Carpenter

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Enemies to Lovers

Opposites Attract

Stuck Together

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Is that you're a ride or die when you come to trust someone. And that same loyalty is reflected in him...so it's a double ride or die. You know neither of you will betray the other - no matter what.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Your best friend is Torvi. She just understands people in so many different ways. It's like there's no judgement - like an apparent knowingness of the human experience or human logic. And I guess that's how you would relate to her - because she isn't loud or extraverted. She likes to sit back and observe.

#witchthewriter #headcanons #personal aesthetic #match ups #pair ups #ships #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd ships #hotd pair ups #hotd match ups #throne of glass ships #vikings ships

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millersdjarin · 2 years ago

Text

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E

Chapter warnings/tags: injuries, medical stuff, panic attacks, angst, negative self-talk/self-image, flashbacks, past emotional & physical abuse, lots of love despite all that though, violence, graphic (?) depictions of injuries, PTSD, scars, cults

Chapter length: 10k

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist & Info | Full Masterlist

notes: SO sorry for the 2 week wait, y'all. the end of march is a crazy one for me, and i'm not all that well to top it off. hope this long chapter makes up for it! grab a drink, settle in, and enjoy❤️

and i can still see it all (in my mind); all of you, all of me (intertwined) i used to think love would be black and white; but it’s golden

Din is woken up by a soft scratching noise against the door.

You’re still in his arms, pressed against his chest now where he lies on his back. It takes him a second after he’s awoken to realise that he’s not wearing his helmet. He looks down at you, fast asleep against him, your head rising and falling with each of his breaths.

The kid coos outside.

He closes his eyes, sighs. The last thing he wants is to let you go.

His underwear is on the floor by the bed. Untangling himself from you as best he can without waking you, his feet hit the floor, and he pulls his boxers on, then opens the bedroom door just a crack, enough to pop his head around it. Grogu is standing there, and seems surprised to see him without his helmet on. Pleased about it, though.

He reaches out a hand like he wants to touch Din’s face.

“I’ll be out in a minute, buddy,” Din promises, keeping his voice low. “I just need to get changed, okay?”

Happy with this, Grogu turns and waddles off into the living area, lifting himself up onto the couch.

Din smiles fondly at him, then turns back to look at you. You’re lying on your side, still asleep and snoring, your hand laying against the mattress where Din just was.

Last night, it was like you thought he was going to leave. And he needs you to know that he won’t.

He wants to get back into bed with you, hold you, never let you go.

Instead, he gets dressed. For the first time, he hesitates before putting his helmet on.

It’s weird, unnerving, and he can’t let himself pay it any mind.

Din has been out most of the morning with Fett and a few of his soldiers.

“It’s just a few Pykes,” he’d told you that morning, pouring you a cup of caf. “Nothing dangerous. Shouldn’t take long.”

He was right about that part. But not about the not dangerous part.

Because now this is happening.

You’d been sitting in Fett’s lounge, enjoying your third mug of caf of the morning while overlooking the town below. Just a regular day, the suns shining, people going about their business in the streets, ships taking off in the distance. The kid is playing with a child-minder in the corner, fascinated by the selection of toys she brought out for him. You’d been enjoying watching the world go by, not worried for a second about Mando’s wellbeing, because you know how capable he is. And he’d told you not to worry.

That’s the last time you do what he tells you to do without question.

You hear a commotion downstairs, including Mando’s modulated voice in the midst of it. You know something is wrong, so you drop your mug, rushing over to the hallway and down the stairs towards the entryway, where you find the group of soldiers that had gone out on the mission, Boba at the front, with an injured and bleeding Mando hanging from his side.

“Mando!” You cry, only just catching yourself before you say his real name.

“I’m alright,” he says, but no, he’s not, he doesn’t even sound like himself, he can’t even hold his weight up—

“Get the doctor,” Fett instructs one of his workers, who nods and hastily rushes off down the hall.

You rush to Din, your hands frantically trying to find something to do, to help him, but all you can do is stare at the place on his thigh that is currently bleeding badly down his flight suit, crimson blood dripping down the beskar.

“I’m alright,” he says again, looking at you, at the fear on your face.

It all happens quickly. Before you can ask what happened, before you can tell someone to fucking get him sitting down and elevate his fucking leg, there’s a crowd of people coming into the room with a stretcher and a doctor in tow. They get him sitting on it, then lie him down, and it takes half a dozen of them to carry him down the corridor, and away from you.

You’re just standing there, your head swimming, and somehow his blood is on your hands even though you don’t remember touching him.

Shand comes to your side, looking like she’s going to try and reassure you, but you’ve already taken off down the hall, following the group of people who are taking Din away from you.

You jog to catch up, following them into a med bay tucked behind a sand-coloured door. It’s substantial, all white-walls, divided into sections with silvery metal dividers, beds between each one. It’s empty in here, Mando the only person currently in need of help.

Which is probably for the best, because he can’t get himself off the stretcher and onto a bed; he can’t put his weight on his leg at all. So everyone has to help him, which you know he’ll hate, you can see it in his body language that he’s not just uncomfortable from the injury, but from all these people fussing over him. From the fact that he can’t help himself.

“What happened?” You rush to his bedside, ignoring the woman who tries to tell you to go away. As if.

Mando looks up at you, his hands clenched tight into fists on his stomach. You stand by his head.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Din says, voice more strained than you’ve ever heard it, pain evident in the set of his shoulders. “I was standing too close to a detonator.”

“You what? A detonator?”

“I—shit,” his gaze moves to the doctor, who is currently looking in detail at the piece of—holy fuck, there’s a huge piece of fucking shrapnel sticking out of the side of his thigh, ripped right through the thick fabric of his flight suit. It’s only an inch away from the armour. Fucking unlucky. And to make it worse, there are smaller gashes around it, where metal has obviously struck him and fallen out, which is what’s causing the bleeding.

There are three people on him, pressing gauze into the open wounds, holding pressure to stop the bleeding. Another person is gathering a blood bag and an IV, readying the transfusion. Someone else is cutting into his flight suit, removing the plate of armour from his leg to allow them full access.

Then his skin is on show, and it’s fucking littered with cuts and bruises, some actively bleeding, some not—

“Holy shit,” you breathe, feeling light-headed again. You stare at his leg, wide-eyed, tears stinging in your nose.

Mando’s hand is in yours, then. Holding tight. “I’m alright,” he says, again, and it’s obviously a fucking lie because he is not alright! He is so not alright!

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I need you to step back,” the doctor tells you.

You look at him, more offended than you’ve ever been. Making a point, you hold Din’s hand tighter.

“I’m sorry, I need to stand where you are if I’m going to help him as best I can.”

“Cyari’ika,” Din’s voice is pained but soft, calling you to look at him instead of glare at the doctor. (Which is probably unfair; he’s only trying to save Din’s fucking life.) “I’m alright. Let them take care of me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

It takes everything in you to let him go.

Your hands are shaking as you step backwards, pressing yourself up against the room divider.

The doctor moves in straight away. He asks Din if he can remove his helmet, check for signs of concussion; Din says no, of course. But he does accept the heart monitor they want to attach to his finger, removing his bloody glove to clip it on. He keeps his eyes on you the whole time, even when the doctor is asking him questions about what happened, how he’s feeling, if there’s anywhere else he’s hurting.

The room is alive with bustling chaos, but Din’s eyes are warm on you, even through the visor—as always—and you force yourself to focus on it, on the rise and fall of his chest. And then, once the heart monitor is hooked up and beeping away with each beat of Din’s heart, you focus on that, too.

You don’t know how long you stand there for, watching it all happen.

They stop the bleeding of the smaller wounds, stitch up the ones that need it. Then they go to remove the large piece of shrapnel, and the heart monitor picks up speed as they pull it out; you hear the squelch of it against his flesh, see the blood start to pour from the wound the minute it’s open, the way every muscle in him clenches against it. His breath hitches. He doesn’t let out noises of pain, but you can only imagine how he’d feel if you could touch him. How his face must be twisted in pain.

At first, his gaze on you had been for your own comfort. But now, as he stares at you, you can tell that he’s the one seeking the reassurance.

So, you don’t look away. You hold his eyes like you wish you could hold his hand. You clasp your hands over your heart, feeling it racing just as fast as his, and try as hard as you can to make yourself look reassuring. Comforting. Familiar.

At some point, the crowd of doctors and medical assistants thins out, only a few of them remaining now that the bleeding has stopped.

His leg is stitched up in seven places, bandaged to within an inch of its life. They had to cut through the entire leg of his flight suit. The armour that sat upon it is on the floor, kicked beneath the bed. It feels wrong. He removes it so methodically, treats it with so much respect and care. Now it’s just been haphazardly kicked beneath this hospital bed, and it’s covered in blood, and you know that that will upset him just as much as the injuries themselves.

But, he’s alive.

Covered in blood, cuts, and bruises, yes.

But alive.

“Can I…?” You take a tentative step closer to Din, looking at the doctor for affirmation.

He gives a polite smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

You’re at Din’s side in a minute, reaching out to grab his hand. You nearly knock the heart monitor off his finger. Your other hand lays flat on his chest plate as if searching for his heartbeat.

He holds your hand tightly, looks up at you.

“What the fuck happened?” You whisper, feeling suddenly weak in the knees. You’ve been holding back from him for the last fuck-knows how long, but now you can touch him again, now he’s here, and all the fear that you’d kept locked away for his sake as he looked at you for comfort is coming back.

“It was a bigger cell than we thought,” he explains, “they had detonators.”

“Fuck,” your head falls, presses against his chest plate. You take in the rise and fall of his lungs, the breathing you can hear through his helmet.

“I…saw one of Fett’s soldiers standing too close when it landed. Pushed them out of the way.”

You shake your head. “Of course you did,” you say.

He takes a breath to say something, but you’re both momentarily distracted by the doctor coming back into Din’s space, holding a chair out like an offering.

“I thought you’d like to sit down,” he says, smiling and placing the chair behind you. You feel bad for glaring at him now. “He’s stable, as you can tell. I’ll be back shortly to check his vitals, but for now, just rest.”

“Thank you,” Din says, so sincere and earnest that it hurts.

You sit down, pull the chair in as close as it can get. Your face hovers above his helmet, gazing right into his visor. He lifts his spare hand and brushes it down your temple and cheek, cradling your jaw in his palm.

“I’m okay,” he says.

“You’re not okay,” you protest, laughing humourlessly. “You’re very much not okay.” The blood bag is hanging above him, half empty.

“I will be,” he promises, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“You told me it wouldn’t be dangerous.”

“I…believed it when I said it.”

A surprised laugh comes out of your mouth. You shake your head, disbelieving. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

For another second, you look down at him. Then, shaking your head again, you lean in and rest your forehead against his cowl. It smells of sand, blaster fire, and burnt metal. There are tears in your eyes, hanging painfully in your nose and throat.

His gloved hand carts back into your hair. “I’m okay,” he says, again, this time in just a soft whisper. “I’m here. You don’t have to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” you say, “I think I should have been.”

Footsteps enter the room then, and you both look up to find Boba and Fennec standing by the divider, both of them carrying their helmets under their arms.

For a second they look like they’re worried they’ve interrupted something. But you lean back from Din, sit in your chair, and they step closer.

“Just came to check in,” Boba says, looking guilty.

“The doctor says I lost a lot of blood,” Din explains, then gestures to the bag above him, “but I’ll make it.”

Boba nods once. “I’m sorry. I should have known it would be worse than it was.”

“You didn’t ask me to come along,” Din reminds him.

“No, but you saved one of my men. I owe you much.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“At least let me buy you a drink,” Boba says, then, with a glint in his eyes, “Well, once you’re up and about again, at least.”

“How long’ll that be?” Fennec asks.

“The doctor said a couple of days at most. But I heal fast; I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“We can get you in the bacta tank,” Boba offers, but Din shakes his head.

“Can you get me in there in my full armour?”

“…We can clear the room,” Boba smirks.

“There’d still need to be someone to take him out,” Fennec points out.

Boba sighs. “Make sure you rest,” he says, abandoning the bacta tank idea. “If you need anything, either of you, you know where I am.”

Both you and Din nod. “Thank you,” you smile at him.

Boba and Fennec nod too, then turn to leave.

You look back at Din. “You’re not planning on resting for a few days, are you?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Have you?” You raise an incredulous eyebrow.

As if it’s his answer, he lets go of your hands and starts to push himself to sit up. Like a fucking idiot. He grunts with the exertion, and you roll your eyes, putting your hand on his chest.

“Stay there,” you tell him.

He stops. Looks at you. “I don’t do well lying down.”

“You don’t do well filled with shrapnel, either, but here we are,” instead, you reach down to the bed’s control panel, and push the button that lifts the top half of it up. He rises with it, slow, and you let go when he’s finally sitting up. “There. Happy?”

He takes your hand again. “Better.”

The door opens again, more footsteps coming close. Then, the child-minder pokes their head around the divider, and you see a glimpse of Grogu’s big eyes. “Sorry to interrupt,” they say, “but the Child has heard about what happened…”

Immediately you stand from your chair, rushing over to take Grogu in your arms. You turn him away from Din at first, and thank the child-minder, excusing them from their duty. “Alright, kid,” you say, holding him up in front of your face. You look over his shoulder to Din. “He’ll want to see you.”

Grogu cranes his neck, trying his hardest to look around and see Din. He protests when you don’t let him, an angry babble as he throws his fists down against your hand.

“It’s okay, Grogu,” you say softly, “you can see him. It’s going to look a little scary, but your dad’s okay, and you don’t need to worry. Okay?”

Grogu’s ears turn down a little, but he blinks, softens in your hands.

You walk back over to your chair, and place the kid on the bed beside Mando, who immediately scoops him up into the crook of his elbow.

“Hey, kid,” he says, obviously smiling beneath the helmet.

He looks at Din’s leg, then back to his helmet. Reaches out one hand, brushes it down the beskar, like he’s saying Are you okay under there?

“I’m alright, kid,” Din assures him, pressing his forehead into Grogu’s. Grogu closes his eyes, his palm pressed to the cheek of Din’s helmet. “I’m alright. Yeah, see? You can feel I’m alright, can’t you?”

Grogu coos sadly, his ears still turned towards the floor. But he relaxes at Din’s soft assurances, and leans down to press his head into Din’s cowl.

Din pats his back comfortingly, turns to look at you. You offer him a sad smile.

He reaches for your hand just as someone else comes in. This time, it’s the doctor again, and he’s carrying a clipboard.

“Alright, sir,” he says, “your vitals are looking good. But you’re going to need a couple day’s bedrest before you can be up and at ’em again.”

“I can’t do that,” Din protests. Because of course he does.

The doctor glances at you for just a second. “You’re injured,” he says to Din, cautious, like he’s maybe just a little bit afraid of his patient.

Which, you can’t blame him for, because when Din speaks again, he’s using his Don’t fuck with me tone (which, ironically, isn’t all that different from his I’m going to fuck you voice, but you digress), “I feel fine. I’ll be alright in a couple of hours.”

“…With respect, sir, you’re on painkillers at the moment, which will be making you feel better…”

“Great, so I can get up soon.”

“That’s…not exactly what I meant…”

“I have things that I have to do,” Din insists, almost growling now, “Do you understand? Are you going to chain me to this bed?”

“N—no, sir, I—I can’t force you to stay here, only recommend—”

“Right. So I’ll decide when I feel well enough to get up.”

Wide-eyed, the doctor glances between the two of you, holding his clipboard with white knuckles.

You offer him a smile that you hope is reassuring, and place a calming hand over Din’s. “Thank you, doctor,” you say. “I’m sorry, he’s just not used to being…well, still.”

The doctor relaxes just a little. “Yes, I understand. You were very lucky, Mr Mandalorian, sir, that the shrapnel didn’t hit any bone. So maybe you’ll be better sooner than we think.”

Din nods once, curt. “I heal fast.”

“Right,” he smiles, nervous. “The IV is giving you fluids, but it’s important that you drink enough when the transfusion is complete. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.” And then he’s gone, leaving just a little too hastily for it to be casual.

You turn to Din, and give him a Look.

“What?” He asks. “You were the one staring daggers at him earlier when he asked you to step back.”

“Because I was worried about you,” you protest, “and I was having a crisis. You have no excuse right now. You’re pumped full of painkillers.”

His voice is lilted with a smirk. “You were rude to the doctor.”

“So were you!” You find yourself smiling despite yourself. “You were very rude to him. He’s just trying to help.”

“I don’t appreciate people telling me I have to stay chained to a bed for days.”

“He literally told you that wasn’t what he was doing.”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Being able to fight is part of who I am.”

“Oh, so you’re the first Mandalorian to ever be injured?” You challenge, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re allowed to rest, Mando. In fact, you kind of have to, if you ever want to be able to fight properly again.”

He sighs. His helmet turns away, facing the ceiling. When he speaks again, he sounds surprisingly bothered. “I can’t afford to be hurt right now,” he says, so quietly.

“Hey,” you run your fingertips over his arm. “We’re safe here. You can recover as long as you need to.”

“I don’t need long. I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

You sigh. Gently, you take hold of his helmet, turning his gaze back to you. You stare at him for a long minute, taking him in, hearing the gentle beeps of his heart monitor. Tears sting at the backs of your eyes again, as memories of the last few hours come back to you. “You scared me,” you whisper, staring into his visor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers back.

“The fact that you’re okay is the most important thing,” you say, “you know that, right?”

He shakes his head. “You and the kid are the most important thing.”

You look at the kid and smile. He’s still got his face against Mando’s cowl, and you can hear him breathing, just soft little puffs of air. He’s so content to just be here in Din’s arms and beside you, not even looking for mischief like he so often is.

“We’re all here,” you look back to Din and smile. “That’s what matters.”

Din nods. He’s about to say something, taking a breath, lifting his hand to brush against your face—

Bang.

A flash of orange light down the hall.

Rubble clatters all around, scattering across stone floors, falling into the medbday doorway.

Metal beams fall outside.

Screams.

It’s the loudest thing you’ve ever heard.

Din has shot up in his bed, leaning across to throw his arm over your body, cradling the kid between both of your chests. You look up at him, wide-eyed, and it seems like this little corner of the building is the only one untouched by the dust and rubble, by whatever the fuck just happened, the explosion—

“Are you okay?” Din asks you, running a hand over your face, searching for injuries.

You barely hear him through the ringing in your ears. Frantic, you nod. “Are you? Grogu, are you okay?”

He’s peering up at you with wide eyes, but he’s okay. All three of you are uninjured—at least, not from that fucking blast—but you can hear shouts and cries coming from the rest of the building, and then, a voice above them all—

“It’s an ambush!”

Fett.

Your hand flies to the blaster at your hip, dread dropping deep into your stomach.

Because you just know.

You know that Fett has enemies, that there are many people who still want to take him down. But you also know that a large portion of those people were taken out just this morning, and it’s really unlikely that anyone would launch an attack of this scale just after he and his soldiers took out a rogue cell mere hours ago.

So, naturally, your mind goes to places you wish it wouldn’t. That you wish it didn’t have to. And you just know you’re right.

Din is moving, trying to get down from his bed. He grunts and strains and you reach out, holding him down.

“You can’t move right now!” You argue, keeping your voice hushed, because you don’t know who—or what—is out there. “Din, you can’t.”

“I have to—”

“No. You have to stay here, and watch the kid.”

“I’m watching you, too,” you can hear the frown in his voice, “You’re not going out there.”

You’re about to say that you won’t, that you’ll stay to protect him and Grogu, but then there are footsteps running down the hall, and you see through the window one of Fett’s men, running towards the where the explosion came from. They trip, probably over some of the rubble. You hear them cry out and you stand, rushing to help them before you can even think twice.

Din shouts after you, tells you to come back, but you ignore him.

The man is on the floor, crawling backwards towards the wall.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, crouching down to his level. He’s got a cut on his eyebrow, and he’s clutching his arm to his chest, pain creasing his face.

“My arm, I—I think it’s broken,” he grits out.

You take hold of his good arm, help him towards the medbay door. “Come on, come in here,” you say, and he follows gratefully. “What happened?”

“There was an explosion at the front gates. A dozen people are trying to get in, saying something about—” he gasps in pain when he stumbles again and instinctively catches himself with his bad arm—“something about a girl.”

Oh, fuck.

Once he’s settled against one of the room dividers, you look across at Mando and Grogu, who are still on the bed, looking really fucking vulnerable and helpless and, kriff, you can’t let anyone hurt them—Mando can’t fight for himself right now—

Your hand finds its way to your blaster.

“It’s them,” you say to Din. “It has to be.”

He nods. He’s still trying to get up, keeping the kid in one arm, using his other hand to try and swing his injured leg over the bed. Blaster fire starts up down the hall, shouts of battle making their way through to you. “We have to get you out of here. There’s a back exit—”

“They’ll have covered the back exit!” You exclaim, feeling desperation rise in your chest and your voice, because they taught you that. You think back to the day Mando arrived on your doorstep, when you thought he was sent by Them. You didn’t bother using the back door, because you knew they’d be waiting for you.

Your heart is hammering in your chest. Mando has ripped off his monitor, so it’s just one long beep now, and flashing red on the screen above his head. He’s about to try and rip out the IV, but you stop him.

“You need that blood,” you say.

“No, I need to get you out of here—” He’s cut off when his foot lands on the floor, and it must send excruciating pain up his leg because he cries out, pulling back like you’ve never seen him do before.

“Stay,” you instruct, holding him down. “You have to stay here. I’m going to help them. I can fight.”

“No!” He grabs your arm before you can walk away, hard and tight in his gloved hand. His voice isn’t demanding. It’s desperate. “No! You can’t—stay with me, I can protect you here—”

You shake your head. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“They’ll take you!”

“No they won’t. Fett has a whole army. I’ll be fine.”

He says your name, both a warning and a plea, but your mind is made up.

If They get any further down the hall, they’re going to find Mando, and they’re going to find Grogu.

They’ll know who they are. They’ll take them, just to get to you.

And you cannot let that happen.

You lean in, press your forehead to Din’s. “I’ll be back,” you promise. “Stay here. Protect the kid. Please.”

And before he can protest, before he can grab you again, you’re running away and heading down the corridor.

The lounge is full of dust and rubble, the blast having come from just below it, blowing a hole in the floor. There’s no one in here, but the blaster fire is coming from downstairs, from the gate. Good, you think, They haven’t made it inside yet.

You drop down through the floor and land behind a pillar, using it for cover. Fett’s soldiers are dotted around the room, leaning out from cover every few seconds to fire their blasters. You take a second to peek around the pillar, trying to see who they’re shooting at, and where they are.

Your stomach drops when you see them.

Not your family. They’d never come to do their own dirty work.

But their people. You’d recognise them anywhere. Their faces, their clothes, their voices. Though you don’t know their names, you’ve been surrounded by them your whole life.

Fuck.

It really is them.

“Hold the line!” Fett shouts as he comes running down the hall from the gateway. “There’s only three left! Let’s finish it!”

His soldiers advance towards him, firing with newfound confidence.

You’re frozen in place.

Your heart is beating wildly, so loud in your ears that it almost blocks everything out.

They’ve found you. They’ve found you, and they’ve caused all this destruction, all this damage, probably taken innocent lives just to get to you. Din and Grogu are upstairs in the medbay. Din is hurt because you had to come here, because of you.

You should have just gone back when the blackmailer gave you the chance. You could have been the only damage done. Now, the damage is all around you. They’ve not only found their way into every corner of your life, but into every corner of everyone else’s, too. Everyone who has only ever tried to help you.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t focus.

Before the final blaster shot, something lands in front of you. Something small, round. A blinking red light on top of it.

It takes your mind a second to catch up to the fact that it’s a fucking concussive detonator.

You’re just about to jump back, about to scream, when all of a sudden there’s a wall of beskar on top of you, throwing you across the room and into one of the glass windows in the interior walls. You hear the glass shatter, don’t even feel it piercing your skin, going so deep into your flesh. There’s metal too, the structure of the window.

Your body falls to the ground, landing with a loud shout, and you’re not sure if it came from you or from the Mandalorian on top of you—in the haze, you don’t even know if it’s Din or Boba, just that it’s someone very hard and very heavy, someone very strong who has literally tackled you twenty feet away from the detonator—

Bang.

Not as big or loud as the initial blast.

But it sounds it. It feels it.

Pain spikes and spreads across your back. It’s blinding, white-hot, black spots appearing over your vision. The room is black and then it’s not, it’s dusty and then it’s not, it’s blurry and then it’s not—

The person on top of you rolls away. Someone is screaming, panting desperately for air.

It’s you.

Screaming at the top of your lungs.

The pain is like nothing you’ve ever felt. Not even close to everything They did to you, not to the knife in your shoulder by Din’s target, not the branch that stuck in your leg.

It’s fire against your skin, deep in your flesh. Every single one of your nerves is alight with it. You almost expect to not be able to feel your legs, but you can, the pain spreading right to your toes.

There are people rushing around you. If you could hear anything other than your own screams, you’d hear that the blaster fire has stopped, the fight is done.

You try to roll over, the pressure of the floor on your injured back more than you can take, but people are holding you down, someone’s hands on either side of your head to stop you moving your neck—

You try to push everyone away because you’re suffocating you can’t breathe you can’t see—

They slide something underneath you, a stretcher. The pain is indescribable.

Everything goes black.

You’re in a field.

It’s serene. Green pastures, rolling hills. Shindl birds fly overhead. A creek is flowing nearby. The sun shines in a clear blue sky.

When you sit up, you expect to see him there. A shiny wall of beskar, soft just for you. A green child, staring at you with wide, beautiful eyes.

But instead, you see Them.

Your parents. Standing beside you, looking down at you with nothing but disgust on their faces.

“Look at you,” your mother says.

You do. You look down at yourself, and are horrified by what you find.

Your arms, bleeding fresh, crimson blood. Cuts all the way up them. Your stomach, just open flesh. You feel welts on your back, warm blood dripping down your spine.

It’s the day that they did it to you. The Ceremony. No one else will ever want you, now. You are his forever.

“Don’t look at me—” You beg, and then, Mando is there in front of you, staring at you with his helmet on, covered in blood—“Don’t look at me, stay away, I—”

Gasps pull into your throat over and over, and it’s too much air and not enough all at once.

Then you feel it. The glass. It’s falling out of your back, coming from your flesh like it was made there, scattering around you in the grass and into the mud and over your skin—

You wake with a gasp.

Or, maybe you don’t.

Either way, you’re not in that field anymore. Instead, you’re lying on your side, staring at a metal wall. There’s a bright light above you. Not the sun. It’s white, harsh.

“Can you hear me?” A familiar voice says. You frown, trying to place it. Then he comes into view, the doctor from earlier, peering down to look at you. “It’s alright. You’re just coming around from some anaesthesia. Can you hear me?”

You nod. The movement stretches the muscles in your neck, sends pain shooting down your back.

The scars. Your family. They—it’s the day it happened—

No. You’re not there. You’re at Boba Fett’s home.

“I hear you,” you manage to say. “What happened to me? Why am I—why can’t I—”

“You’ve got injuries on your back and your right arm,” he tells you softly, pulling up a chair to sit by your bed so you can see him. “We had to place you on your left side. I understand it will be disorienting, but please, try not to move.”

Panic strikes your chest, but you do as he asks, staying still. It’s only because you know him from before that you don’t immediately suspect him of working for the enemy.

The enemy.

They found you.

“Grogu—Mando—are they—”

“Everyone is okay,” he assures you quickly. “No one was killed in the fight. Just some injuries.”

You look around as best you can, craning your neck despite the pain it sends through your nerves. You realise you’re in a private room, not the one that Din was in. It’s much smaller, dimmer.

The air is cold on your back. It matches the cold dread that hits you—a familiar feeling today, it would seem—when you realise that your back is bare. “I’m—what—what happened—”

“You fell through a window,” he explains, gently. “Mr Fett saved you from a concussive blast, but the window’s glass and metal framing injured you significantly. Some debris had to be surgically removed. Due to the…scarring on your back and arms already, some pieces were hard to remove, and many were too stubborn to be sutured.”

You screw your eyes shut. The scarring. The fucking scarring.

You’ve avoided it all these years. You don’t even look at yourself when you wash. You can’t remember the last time you properly looked at your arms, let alone turned around to look at your back in a mirror, looked down at your stomach.

And now, you’ve been scarred again. And you’re bare here in this room. Whoever treated you has seen you. All of you.

“Where’s…where’s Mando?” You ask, not daring to open your eyes.

“He’s just outside,” the doctor says.

“He got up?”

“He was there, when you were injured.”

Your eyes fly open. “What?”

He smiles just a little, shaking his head in disapproval. “It seems he’d tried to follow you into the entryway,” he says, “but didn’t get there in time.”

A heavy exhale slips past your lips. Your throat is raw. You remember, then, the way you’d screamed. The excruciating pain that went right into your spine, down every nerve. “Am I on painkillers?”

“Very much so,” he nods. “We kept you under until they started working. I…should tell you, ma’am, that your injuries are quite significant. It will take a while for you to recover, and you’ll need to be on medication for some time. Fett has offered use of the bacta tank, but we will need to get you more stable before that will be an option.”

Your mind is reeling, racing. All you want is to see Din, to see Grogu. To hold their hands and know they’re there and hear their voices.

But your skin. It’s on show. Some is bandaged up, but you still look a mess.

The kid alone would be traumatised by the sight of you, even if your existing scars weren’t bad enough. You can’t do that to him.

“I don’t want you to worry,” the doctor says softly. “Mr Fett has assured me that the threat has been neutralised, and security has been tripled. Not to mention the Mandalorian outside who hasn’t dropped his blaster since it happened.”

You almost smile at that. If you weren’t in so much pain, and at war with yourself over if you can handle seeing him or not, you’d smile.

“He’s been asking to see you,” the doctor says. “But…before we took you in for surgery, you were…talking.”

“I was?” You have no memory of it.

“You…didn’t want anyone near you.”

“…Even Mando?”

“It would seem so, yes.”

Oh, shit. The words you said in your dream weren’t just in the dream.

“He very much wants to come and see you. I…told him I’d ask your permission first.”

You screw your eyes shut. Guilt hangs heavy in your chest. You know that if the roles were reversed, you’d be fighting everyone who dared to stand in between you and Din. Hell, the roles were reversed just earlier today.

“You’re all bandaged up,” the doctor says carefully, sounding like he’s dancing around the topic of the aforementioned scarring, that he and the other doctors have not only seen, but had to operate through. “I can pull the blanket over you, if that will help.”

Kriff. He knows why you don’t want Din in here.

“Did he hear?” You ask, keeping your eyes closed as though that’ll keep all of this darkness away. “When I said I didn’t want him to see me?”

“I’m not sure.”

You’re surprised he hasn’t fought his way in here, actually; just barrelled right through everyone in his way. Though, if he heard that it was truly your wish to not have anyone near you, he’s probably respecting that over anything else. Despite the fact that he’s probably desperate to see you, as you would be him.

“He gave me this,” the doctor says into the heavy quiet.

You open one eye and see his hand in front of you, holding the commlink that Din gave you the day you took off with them. You stare at it. The doctor doesn’t need to say anything else. There’s a light blinking on the comm, signalling that someone is trying to get through it to talk. Tears hang in your throat and you don’t have the strength to swallow them down.

Despite the painkillers, your back and arm are throbbing, stinging, and aching. Your skin is covered with bandages, but there are still parts of your back exposed to the air, your wrist and upper arm out in the open for everyone to fucking see. You can’t even look down at yourself. You know that some scars will be visible. And, even those that aren’t, you’re still a mess. Wounded, bandaged up, lying here unable to move or roll over or cover yourself without it hurting. Just like you were back then.

“I can’t see him,” you find yourself whispering as a tear falls onto your cheek, sliding down to the pillow.

“He said he just wants to talk to you,” the doctor says softly. He’s still holding out the commlink. “We have more to discuss regarding your injuries, but I think seeing, or even just talking to, someone you care for will help your morale. I can give you a moment alone, if that’s what you’d like to do.”

You look at the commlink. To the doctor. Close your eyes.

You’re in pain. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. You feel trapped, caught, and worst of all—hideous.

But you need to hear his voice.

With a trembling, weak hand, you reach out and take the commlink, grasping it in your fist. You tuck it up in front of your chest, hold it to your lips.

The doctor gives you a sympathetic smile. As he stands, he says, “I’ll be back soon. If you want to let him in, just tell me through the commlink. But you don’t have to.”

You give him a shaky nod before your eyes are closed again, and you wait until his footsteps have gone and the door is closing behind him before taking a long, deep breath.

You press the transmit button.

Your voice is thin and reedy, see-through like wet paper, ready to fall apart with the next tear that falls. You’re trying so hard to stop yourself from crying, even though the tears are forcing past your defences. “Mando?”

“Cyar’ika?”

The sound of his voice sends a rush of relief through you. “Hey,” you manage, weak.

“Hey, I—are you alright? How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been chewed up, digested, and shit out by a bantha,” you close your eyes in your best attempt to hold yourself together. Your throat hurts from the effort. Your hands are shaking. You hurt. It all hurts.

You just want to hold his hand.

“Sweetheart, can I…” his words fade. Through the distortion of his modulator and the commlink, you can only just tell that his voice is strained. When he speaks again, it’s just a whisper. “Can I see you?”

Even though he won’t see it, you shake your head vehemently. No words come that you can speak. You can’t say no. It feels like you’d be rejecting him.

“Cyar’ika,” he whispers, and you imagine him out in the hall, sitting down or standing against the wall, holding the commlink to his helmet and trying to speak quietly, keep the conversation just between you. Like it’s just you in the cockpit of the ship, in the middle of hyperspace where no one in the Galaxy can find you. “Why can’t I see you?”

A shuddering breath surprises you as it pulls into your lungs, loud and jarring. Tears release alongside it, a sob escaping your throat before you can stop it. “I—” you can’t, you can’t, you have to, he deserves to know—“You can’t see me like this,” you confess, a broken whisper. “I—I look…I can’t wear clothes right now. There are…parts of me you can see…I’m really injured, Mando, and I can’t…you don’t want to see me looking like this…”

“It’s more worrying to me when I can’t see you,” he says. “No matter how bad it is.”

You sob again. You press your fist against your mouth. Get it together.

“I understand not feeling ready to show me yourself,” he speaks again, this time even softer somehow, quieter, “I do. But—”

“You’ll be disgusted,” you manage to get out from behind gritted teeth, the effort of holding back every single sob that wants to wrack through your chest now hurting your wounds, spreading across your skin. “You’ve never—Mando, I’m scarred, okay? Not just from this. Before this, I am covered in scars. My family, they...” You don’t have the strength to hold back the truth from him anymore. If you’re not going to let him in to see you, he deserves to know why. Deserves to understand, to agree that he doesn’t want to see that, because why the fuck would he want to? How could he stand it? “It’ll work,” you breathe shakily.

“What will work, sweetheart?”

“What they did. My family. To make no one else want me. If you see me like this, with the scars they gave me, it’ll work.”

Silence.

Good, you think. He knows. He agrees.

But then, “There is nothing,” his voice is low, “you could ever show me about yourself that would make me want you less. That would change how much I—how I feel about you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, salt pooling on the corners of your lips. Your eyes are screwed shut so hard that it hurts. Your back hurts, it’s on show, your scars both new and old, the most vulnerable parts of you…

“Please,” he whispers, all fuzzy and distorted through the comm, “let me be there for you. I promise, I won’t look at your wounds, any of them. I don’t need to see them. I just need to see you. Please.”

You’ve never heard him like this before.

Through the modulator and the soft buzz of the comm, you could swear it sounds like maybe he’s crying.

And the thought of that breaks your heart. Hearing him but not being near him is breaking your heart.

You think of the pain in your arm and back, feel the bandages. The shame that comes with every single scar; the shame you have carried for so many years, that will probably take the rest of your life to fade away. It certainly won’t be healed if, by some miracle, Din sees you and decides he still wants you. The shame is your own. It’s yours to work out. And you don’t see that ever happening.

But…

“Please,” he says again. “I just need to know you’re okay, Cyar’ika. I need to hold your hand, I need to tell you…” his voice chokes. “I thought I’d lost you today. Please, Cyar’ika. Gedet’ye.” The Mando’a falls from his tongue like a prayer, ged-et-yay. You don't know what it means, but you know he's pleading.

Another sob forces its way past your tear-soaked lips and onto your fist.

You don’t know at what point you decided.

In fact, you don’t even know if you have.

But still, the only word that you can form, “Okay.”

He’s there in less than a minute. You hear the familiar sound of his footsteps, heavy boots along the vinyl flooring. The door closes behind him and he’s limping hastily towards your bed, coming from behind you, which really just adds insult to injury—

You expect him to stop, to catch sight of your back and your arm and the fucking state of you and then turn and leave, but he doesn’t. He keeps coming closer, and soon he’s beside you, sitting in the chair that the doctor had been in.

You can’t open your eyes. Tears are pushing violently past your eyelids.

“Hey,” he says, so soft and worried and shaky. “Hey, sweetheart, I’m here. It’s just me.”

You know that. You know him, trust him. And yet you still can’t look.

Gently, his gloved hand reaches out, and eases your grip on the commlink. He carefully takes it from you, places it on the table by the bed, then replaces it with his hand, holding so tightly that you can feel his concern through the grip.

“Cyar’ika,” he says, his voice so close to you, “Kriff, sweetheart, I…you’re okay. You’re okay.” He breathes out, heavy and relieved.

One of your eyes cracks open. It’s blurred entirely by tears, but you can just about make out the outline of him, shiny silver beskar in the harsh, white light of the room. The sight of that alone is enough to open your eyes completely. Because he’s here.

Shit, fuck, kriff, he’s here. He’s not looking at your back, or even your arm, despite the fact it’s right in front of him, his hand holding yours. He’s just looking at you, at your face, hovering right in front of you as if he can’t ever look away from your eyes again.

“Hey, there you are,” he says softly and reaches out his other hand to brush pieces of hair from your face. They’re soaking wet, either from tears or sweat. Your pillow is soaking wet, come to think of it, and so are Din’s gloves now as he reaches out and wipes your tears away—

The dam breaks.

He’s here. He’s touching you. He’s looking at you with anything but disgust; even though you can’t see his face, you know that’s true.

Because it’s Din. You know him. He knows you.

A loud, harsh sob comes from your throat and hits the silence like a tank. It’s the first of many. The tears become too fast for Din to wipe away quick enough, so instead he leans in, puts his face right in front of yours, uses his spare hand to smooth over your hair. You cry, and cry, and cry, violent sobs wracking your chest, shaking your entire body.

Everything comes over you at once. The blackmailer from Coruscant, how you were going to leave Din and Grogu behind, then when Din found you and you confessed some of your darkest secrets to him. Every panic attack you’ve had since you escaped your old life, every moment that has been tainted in your memory because all you felt was fear. Din’s arms around you, his lips on your skin, how you wanted so badly to see him and let him see you but you couldn’t because of what they fucking did to you—

And then, today, Din getting injured and then the explosion, the ambush, your family’s people coming to get you no matter what they had to do. People fighting for you, Din fighting for you, even though you’ve given him every opportunity to say no and walk away, to decide you were too much—

And now your body is bleeding and scarred, and you’re never going to be the fucking same ever again.

Din lets you cry. You can’t let yourself think about how hard it must be for him. About how much you wish he could take his helmet off, kiss your forehead, hold you in the dark with no clothes separating you.

“I’m here,” he whispers as your loudest sobs begin to subside, quieting down to soft weeping, the tears still flowing just as freely. “It’s alright, Mesh’la. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Mesh’la.

Even now.

Even like this.

“Din,” you reach out for him suddenly, hand scrambling to find his shoulder. You just need him. Need him close, need him here.

“I’m here,” he says like a promise, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You don’t know when the crying stopped. When your body decided it was done shaking you with sobs so harsh that they drew dry wretches from the back of your throat.

But you’re just lying here now, feeling like you’re in a pool of your own tears.

Din wipes them away with his gloved hands. Then, his hands move from your face and your hair, and it’s only because you’ve got your hand against the cheek of his helmet that you feel him go to take it off, his hands clasping over each side—

Your eyes fly open. “Din,” you say, stopping him, “What are you doing?”

“I need to see you,” he admits, and his voice is so husky and strained and filled with tears—

“You can see me like this. I’m here. You don’t have to take your helmet off.”

“I—” he falters. “I…I want to kiss you. I can’t—I can’t let you lie here like this and just be sitting here like some kind of droid while you need me…”

“I’ve got you,” you promise him. “I know I’ve got you.”

“I want to,” even though he’s whispering, he sounds more sure of this than he ever has. “I want to. Just for a second. Just—just to touch you. To see you with my own eyes. For you to—to see me.”

“I don’t want the first time I see your face to be like this,” you whisper, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles. He nods, understanding. “But I can do this.” Then you close your eyes. Because you’re only human. If Din Djarin wants to kiss you, you aren’t going to say no.

Moments later you hear the soft metal thunk of his helmet sitting on the floor.

Then, warmth. The smell of his skin, sweaty after everything that’s happened, so familiar and perfect and comforting. He presses his forehead to yours, strange at this angle where he’s upright and you’re on your side. He’s taken his gloves off, too, and it surprises you when he brushes the backs of his bare fingers down your sticky, tear-soaked cheek.

“Cyare,” he breathes, shah-ray.

“What’s that mean?”

He shakes his head. “Beloved.”

Oh.

Your heart lurches, warmth blooming beneath and around it. Your hand finds the back of his neck, his hair, its favourite place to be. He’s so warm. Sweaty. Lovely.

“I was promised a kiss,” you whisper into the space between you, earning a near-silent chuckle from him.

He shakes his head again, fond this time, and then fulfils his promise: presses his lips to yours, his nose pressing into the hollow of your cheek. It’s a strange angle, and you can’t really open your mouth for him. So with both of your lips closed, you just linger there for a long moment, tasting your own tears pressing against his lips. It’s maybe one of the chastest kisses you’ve ever shared with him, but there is nothing but passion in it. You can feel the wrinkles in his forehead, his frown against your brow. He’s breathing slowly, carefully, like he’s trying to drink you in with every second that passes.

Kriff, you’re so grateful. That you get to have him like this. That this is something he wants as much as you do.

You’re probably never going to get used to that.

When he pulls away, he presses your foreheads together again, strokes his finger over the curve of your neck. “I want you,” he tells you. “All of you. No matter what.” It’s not suggestive, sultry. It’s a statement. It’s, I want you all the time.

Your heart hurts with the weight of it. It pulls on your scars, fresh wounds and old ones. More tears start to sting in your eyes, and you don’t have the energy to cry again, so you just kiss him instead of letting the incredible meaning of those words hit you any longer.

“Once you’re feeling up to moving around more, bacta is an option, if you feel comfortable,” the doctor—who you’ve only just learned is called Dr Garidan—tells you, standing at your bedside, right next to Din who’s still in the chair with his helmet back on. He hasn’t left since he came in hours ago. It’s the middle of the night.

“Did the debris hit any bone, or…her spine?” Din asks, not looking away from you.

Garidan glances at him like he’d forgotten he was there, then back to you, seeming uncertain. “I’m sorry, I should have said. I…will need you to step out for a moment, Mr Mandalorian, sir. I can’t give out information…”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, smiling tiredly. Exhaustion is weighing down every inch of you, your back and arm throbbing so much that it’s becoming simply annoying as well as painful. “He can hear it.”

“Alright, then. Well, nothing hit the spine, though it came close. One piece of metal did graze the shoulder bone, not quite fracturing it.” He gestures to the bandage brace you have wrapped around your shoulder that’s keeping your arm nice and steady.

“How long will it take to heal?” Din asks, and you’re honestly grateful Din is asking these questions for you; you’d been too scared to ask them yourself.

The look on Garidan’s face is not exactly comforting; he’s clutching his clipboard again, propping it against his stomach, and though he tries to hide it, he looks rueful. Bad news is written all over him. “…Many of the fragments went deep, as you know, hence the need for surgery. That, combined with all the damage to the skin that the smaller fragments caused, could mean that it takes months before the skin repairs itself.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You close your eyes, whisper, “How…how much damage is there?”

He hesitates. “A lot,” he says, soft. “Some parts of your arm nearly required skin grafts. If it doesn’t heal over on its own, then that will be the only option.”

Oh, fuck.

Tears are stinging at your eyes again. You’re so fucking tired. Your entire body is throbbing. You can’t deal with this right now. Skin grafts? Things not healing on their own? As if you weren’t already mutilated enough.

“Can we let her rest?” Din requests, sounding tired, too, but almost like it’s on your behalf. “Talk about this later?”

“No, it’s okay,” you force yourself to open your eyes again and look back up at Garidan, who looks genuinely sorry for all of this. “I want to know. Just get it out the way.”

He gives you a grateful, apologetic smile. “The good news is, if you spend some time in the bacta tank, the chances of healing on your own go up to around ninety percent. Not only will it help to fight off any infection, it will also give your skin the boost it needs to heal over those patches where it's been damaged or removed.”

Fucking hell. The window fucking removed your skin. It’s amazing, in the worst way, that They managed to find a new way to hurt you, to scar you, to ruin any semblance of self esteem you might have had, without even touching you this time.

“I understand that use of the bacta tank is…tough for you. We can make sure that only one assistant is in there with you to help you, and I can assure you that they are only interested in your safety, not the extent of your scarring.”

You blow out a slow, shaky breath. Mando’s hand is still in yours, gloved again, and you can feel his eyes on you even through the visor. So familiar. Comforting, even though all you can think about is how he must be seeing you. About the idea of taking your clothes off, being put in a tank, watched, helped out and clothed by someone else.

“You can take some time to think about it,” Garidan assures you softly. “There is no rush. For now, you should get some sleep. I’m about to swap shifts with my colleague, but don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands. How is your pain?”

“Fucking terrible,” you answer honestly as a tear slips down your cheek. You can’t wipe it away, your arm too sore, too restricted.

Din reaches out, wipes it away for you, and leaves his hand on top of your head, stroking his thumb over your hair.

Garidan leans over to the controller for your IV, and presses a couple of buttons. The beeping is loud in the quiet of the room. “There,” he says, “I’ve upped your painkillers for a few hours. That should help you get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a weak smile. “For everything.”

“Of course. Hang in there. I’ll see you at noon when I’m back in.”

Nodding, you and Din watch while Garidan heads out, closes the door softly behind him.

You turn to Din. “Where’s Grogu?”

“He’s being looked after,” Din assures you.

“Does he know…?”

“That you’re injured?”

Dread hitting you at the idea, you nod.

“He does. He doesn’t know how serious it is; I told him that you needed to sleep, like he does after he uses his powers.”

“Kid’s been through enough already,” tears are still falling from your eyes, and they just won’t stop, even though you don’t really feel like you’re crying. “He doesn’t need this on top of everything.” Neither do you, you don’t say.

Din shakes his head, swiping his gloved thumb over some tears on your cheekbone. “He’s okay, I promise. He wants to see you, of course, but he knows he’s safe and that we aren’t far.”

You nod. Your eyes fall closed, and you nuzzle the side of your face into Din’s hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “��M glad you’re here,” you murmur as a sudden wave of sleepiness washes over you, the painful throbbing in every single wound starting to dull. Painkillers. Great things.

“Me, too,” he agrees. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

You’re still nodding, because it feels a bit like it’s lulling you to sleep, like Din is rocking you back and forth. You push into his hand, then pull it right up to your mouth, snuggling his forearm into your chest. It’s probably uncomfortable for him. If you weren’t rapidly falling into a drug-induced sleep, you’d tell him he doesn’t have to stay, that he can go and sleep in the actual bedroom you have upstairs, in the proper bed.

But he’s here, and you need him here. That’s all you can think about. If you could, you’d pull him into the bed, and hold him.

“For the record,” Din says, so soft and quiet that you could be imagining it as you tumble towards sleep, “you look just as beautiful as ever.”

Maybe you don’t literally fall asleep with a smile, but it feels like you do.

notes: apologies again for the wait, but i hope it was worth it! thank you for all your comments on the last chapter, and also for the birthday and well wishes on my update post last week. i appreciate you all so much. thank you for being here, for reading, for letting me know your thoughts, and for enjoying this story as much as i am ❤️ as always your comments help more than you know. all the love, always. xo

Mando'a translation:

Gedet'ye - Please

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