Meh

Messy pile of reblog fics 🦖 Born in 95 (GN/They/Yours 😏😌) Hay Day player lol... wanna play??

[wolfythewitch]

I'm a twin

[shrugsinchinese]

Immense gratitude

[wolfythewitch]

all all all

[raidenssblog]

training

pairing - Zuko x Male reader You can never have a bland, non teasing, moment with your husband.

The training courtyard was already warm under the late afternoon sun, heat clinging to the stone like it had something to prove. Flames flickered and snapped in the air as Zuko moved through his forms, precise, controlled, every motion deliberate. Even now, as Fire Lord, he trained like he had something to chase, something just out of reach.

You leaned lazily against one of the pillars at first, arms crossed, watching him with a quiet smile that slowly turned into something more amused. He was focused, too focused, and that made him an easy target.

“Your stance is off,” you called casually.

Zuko didn’t even turn. “It’s not.”

“It is,” you replied, pushing off the pillar and walking toward him. “You’re overcompensating on your left side.” That got his attention. His movements slowed, flames dying down as he turned his head slightly. “I’m not overcompensating.”

You circled him slowly, eyes dragging over every detail of his posture in a way that was just a little too deliberate to be purely observational. “You are,” you murmured, stepping closer, closer than necessary. “Here…”

You reached out, placing a hand on his waist to adjust him. It was subtle, but the moment your fingers brushed against him, you felt it—the tension. Not from training.

From you.

Zuko inhaled sharply, just enough to give himself away.

“There,” you said softly, though your voice had shifted—warmer, teasing. “Better.” He cleared his throat, straightening a little too stiffly. “Thank you.” You didn’t step away, instead, you leaned in slightly, your shoulder brushing his arm. “You’re distracted today,” you added, tone almost innocent.

“I’m not distracted,” he insisted, but his next movement proved otherwise. He attempted to resume his form, flames igniting again—only for them to sputter unevenly as his foot slipped half an inch out of place.

You raised a brow. “Really?”

Zuko exhaled through his nose, visibly trying to center himself. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” you asked, clearly enjoying this. He shot you a look, sharp, but not nearly as intimidating as he probably intended. “You know what.” You hummed thoughtfully, stepping in front of him now, forcing him to stop again. “I don’t think I do.”

His jaw tightened, but there was a faint flush creeping across his cheeks now, spreading just enough to betray him. “You’re distracting me.” You smiled, slow and knowing. “I thought you said you weren’t distracted.”

Zuko opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly realizing he’d walked right into that one. His grip tightened slightly as he tried to reset, lifting his arms again to continue—but you stepped closer again, deliberately invading his space.

“Maybe,” you said quietly, “you just need better focus.”

Your hand found his again, guiding his movement this time—but your fingers lingered, tracing just slightly along his wrist before letting go.

The flame he summoned flickered wildly, Zuko groaned under his breath, dropping his stance entirely. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Of course I am,” you said easily.

He turned to face you fully now, frustration written all over his face—but it was softened by the warmth in his eyes, the kind that only ever showed around you. “Why?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think about it. “Because it’s fun.”

“That’s not a good reason.” he rolled his eyes “It is for me.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to train.” Stepping closer again, you whispered as you rubbed a thumb or his cheek, “You’re also getting flustered over nothing love.”

“I am not—”

“You are,” you cut in softly, smiling up at him. “You always do.”

There was a pause.

Zuko’s expression shifted, the frustration easing just slightly as he looked at you, really looked at you. “You’ve been doing this since we were kids.”

“And it’s worked every time,” you pointed out.

“…Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.

Your smile softened, teasing fading into something warmer. “You’re still amazing, you know. Flustered or not.”

That seemed to catch him off guard more than anything else. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a little, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“…You’re impossible,” he muttered.

You leaned in, brushing a quick, affectionate kiss against his cheek before stepping back just enough to give him space again. “And yet you married me.”

Zuko exhaled, shaking his head—but now there was no hiding the small smile on his face. “Again,” he said, resetting his stance. You raised a brow. “You sure you can handle it this time?” He glanced at you, determination flickering in his eyes. “I’ll manage.”

You smirked, folding your arms as you stepped back. “We’ll see.”

This time, when he moved, the flames were steady again, but you didn’t miss the way his focus wavered for just a second when you shifted slightly in his peripheral vision.

And honestly?

You had no intention of making it any easier for him.

[sentinl]

zuko presses kisses down your chest, dipping his head towards your navel. his hair drapes over you, brushing across your body as he whispers praises into your skin. you rarely get him to yourself these days, with him usually gone on business trips and all.

his body is slotted between your legs, biting and nipping at the soft skin of your inner thighs. he hums, keeping eye contact with you as he sucks a hickey into your thigh.

“zuko, that hurts.”

“i’m sorry, my love.” he leans forward, pressing his face into your neck. he slips a hand under your hips, pulling your legs around his waist. “may i?”

you nod, bracing your hands behind your head on the soft silk pillows. he gently eases into you, wrapping his hand around your cock and he slowly strokes you in time with his thrusts. his head droops like a willow, groaning softly against your throat. his hips stutter against you, his arms braced on either side of your head.

his hair creates a curtain around the two of you, draping over your faces. sweat drips down his neck and body, overheating from the sensations of the contact of your bodies. you can barely see him in the darkness of the room, ceremonial fire nation wedding garments strewn across the floor.

“my husband,” he whispers, pulling his hair from his face and ducking his head to press a kiss against your cheek. “finally.”

oh my god i’m so sorry this is so bad and i haven’t written smut in a while but i had to get this out… adult zuko is so… ughhh. i might write something longer for him but male readers please hold on more zuko fics are coming for us promise 😭

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀© sentinl

[grimquil]

Zuko x husband male reader

Missed You Like This

The royal hot springs nestled in the shadowed foothills beyond the Fire Nation capital, far enough from the palace that the weight of the throne and its endless demands felt like something left behind on another continent. You and Zuko had slipped away under the cover of dusk, the two of you stealing the rare night alone after weeks that had stretched into months of separation. Court sessions had swallowed him whole—long hours mediating between restless nobles, smoothing over old grudges that refused to die with the war. Your own days had been claimed by the delicate negotiations with the Water Tribe delegations, forging new trade routes and alliances that kept you away from the palace more often than not. Letters and brief, exhausted kisses in passing corridors had been all you managed for far too long. The yearning had built like steam under pressure, mutual and aching, until neither of you could stand another night apart.

The carved stone path to the largest pool glowed faintly under low torchlight as you arrived. Zuko shed his formal robes first, letting the heavy layers fall away until he stood bare in the cool night air. You followed, stepping down into the steaming water behind him. The heat rose around your bodies, enveloping you both as you sank in together. Zuko settled against your chest without hesitation, his back to your front, head resting back on your shoulder. The water lapped gently at your collarbones, and for the first time in weeks the rigid line of his shoulders softened.

Your arms circled him, one hand resting low on his stomach while the other traced slow, idle paths along his arm. “I’ve missed this,” you murmured against the side of his head, voice low in the quiet. “Missed you. The way you feel right here.”

Zuko exhaled, long and slow, his fingers threading through yours underwater. “Every damn meeting I sat through, all I could think about was getting back to you. The court feels like it’s designed to keep us apart these days.” His voice carried that familiar edge of frustration, but it melted into something quieter, more vulnerable. “I hate how little time we’ve had. You with the Water Tribe talks, me buried in scrolls and arguments… I need this. Need you.”

You pressed a kiss to his temple, then another to the corner of his jaw, lingering there. The steam curled around you both, making the air thick and intimate. “We’re here now. No councils. No delegations. Just us.” Your hand slid up his chest, palm flat over his heart, feeling the steady beat that had become the rhythm you measured your own life by. He turned his head enough to catch your mouth in a kiss—slow at first, then deeper, tongues sliding together with the kind of unhurried hunger that came from too many nights spent apart. When you broke apart, his breathing had already changed, a little quicker, a little warmer against your lips.

You stayed like that for a long while, trading soft kisses and quiet words between them. He told you about the latest pointless debate in court, how he’d wished you were there to steady him with a single look across the room. You shared stories from the Water Tribe negotiations, the way the southern delegates had finally started to trust the Fire Nation again because of the work you’d put in. Each shared detail drew you closer, bodies shifting in the water until he was straddling your lap, knees braced on the submerged stone ledge on either side of your hips.The water made everything slick and weightless, his cock brushing against your stomach as he rocked once, experimental.

The kiss deepened again, mutual and yearning, hands roaming with the kind of familiarity that came from years of marriage. Your palms mapped the planes of his back, the dip of his spine, pulling him flush so there was no space left between you. Zuko’s fingers dug into your shoulders, hips rolling again, slower this time, deliberate. “I’ve wanted you like this for weeks,” he breathed against your mouth, the words rough but honest. “Just you. No interruptions.”

You answered by gripping his hips, guiding the next roll so your cock slid against the cleft of his ass, hot and insistent in the water. The oil you’d brought from the palace sat on the stone edge; you reached for it, slicking your fingers and then yourself while he watched, eyes dark with the same need that had kept you both awake on too many separate nights. When you pressed two fingers to his entrance, he sank down onto them without hesitation, a low sound escaping him as the water rippled around your wrist. You worked him open carefully, curling and stretching until he was rocking back onto your hand, chasing the feeling.

The transition into more came naturally, the way it always did when the yearning finally broke. You withdrew your fingers and guided your cock to his hole, the thick head breaching him slow and steady as he lowered himself. The water helped, making the slide smoother, but the heat of him was still overwhelming—tight, velvet, clenching around every inch as he took you deeper. Zuko’s head tipped back, lips parted, a quiet groan slipping free when he bottomed out, ass flush against your thighs. You were buried to the hilt inside him, the water lapping at your joined bodies.

He started riding you then, slow rolls of his hips at first, hands braced on your chest for balance. Each downward motion dragged your cock along his inner walls, the angle perfect in the buoyant water. You met him with upward thrusts, gentle but deep, hands steady on his waist to keep him grounded. Kisses came between the movements—messy and open-mouthed, tongues sliding together as the pace built. Steam rose thicker around you, the torches casting flickering light across his flushed skin and the way his chest rose and fell faster with every grind.

“Feels so good,” Zuko muttered against your lips, voice wrecked but steady, the words pulled from somewhere deep. “Missed having you inside me like this. Missed feeling full.” He rolled his hips harder, taking you deeper, the water splashing softly with the motion. You answered by pulling him down into another kiss, tongues curling together while one of your hands slid between you to stroke his cock in time with his riding. The mutual need poured out in every touch—his desperation to be close after so many weeks apart matching your own ache to have him like this, connected and yours.

The rhythm quickened naturally, his ass bouncing in the water with each drop and rise, the wet sounds mixing with the soft lap of the spring. You thrust up harder, hitting that spot inside him that made his breath hitch and his fingers tighten on your shoulders. Kisses broke only for air, then returned, deeper and more urgent. Zuko’s moans spilled into your mouth, low and raw, his body moving with the kind of focused hunger that came from too much time spent wanting.

You felt him start to tremble, muscles tightening around your cock as pleasure coiled tight. His cock pulsed in your fist, leaking steadily into the water. “Close,” he gasped against your lips, hips grinding down in short, desperate circles. You kept stroking him, kept thrusting up to meet every roll, until he came with a shuddering breath—thick pulses spilling over your fingers and into the spring while his hole clenched rhythmically around you, milking your length.

The squeeze dragged you over the edge right after. You buried yourself deep and came inside him, pulsing hot and heavy, filling him until it leaked out around your cock into the water. Zuko kept riding you through it, slow and languid now, drawing out every last tremor until you both stilled, chests pressed together, breathing hard in the steam-filled air.

He stayed in your lap for a long time after, forehead resting against yours, the water still warm around you. Your hands stroked up and down his back in lazy passes, and he pressed soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—small, lingering things that spoke of the same deep relief you felt. “We should do this more,” he said quietly, voice still a little rough. “Steal nights like this. The court and the delegations can wait a few hours. I need you more than any of it.”

You kissed him again, slow and sure, arms tightening around him. “We will. Every chance we get. You’re my husband. That comes first.” The words settled between you, simple and true, the same promise you’d made on your wedding day years ago. The hot spring kept you wrapped in its warmth long into the night, the two of you trading quiet touches and softer kisses while the steam continued to rise, the rest of the world held at bay for just a little longer.

[alythekitten]

Melting ice creams~

I had so much fun drawing this silly thing 🤣🤣🤣 if you were waiting for August esclusive merch, here we go! 🎉🎉🎉

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[luveline]

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you. [3k]

c: fem, bombshell!reader, head injury, hospitals, amnesia, fluff, spencer can’t believe he bagged you, requested here 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

Spencer wakes to an empty room. 

He lays on a pillow too flat, neck twinging, the back of his eyes throbbing when he moves.

He struggles to breathe through his nose and lets his mouth open for a few achy breaths, his mouth dry like he’s been sucking on cotton balls. 

Spencer’s alarmed, without a clue what it is he’s done. He wonders where Gideon is, if the older man has come to see him yet. He hopes somebody told his mom he’s okay. 

Maybe Hotch will come. He and Hotch have grown closer while Gideon was on his mandated recovery time; Gideon spends far less time in the office, sticking to lectures, seminars and consults, while Hotch, Morgan and Spencer handle the away cases. Spencer might go as far as to say Hotch likes him. And Morgan can tolerate him now, less grudging when Spencer offers a random fact or statistic to further the case. 

A stab of pain at the back of his head makes itself known sharply.

Spencer doesn’t want to move, but he needs to assess things. He frowns at his arms, naked as they are. His silver watch is missing. A t-shirt that he doesn’t remember buying stretches over his chest. What state are they in, and who dressed him? 

He’s scowling at the window with it’s wide-open blinds and all the sun when the door opens. 

You’re looking at the bags on your arm as you come in. Spencer startles in his blankets —what are you doing here? Agent L/N, Morgan’s friend and a candidate for the open position on the BAU team. You’re from the Sex Crimes Unit, like Greenaway. 

Spencer flusters every time he sees you, not just because of how kind you’d been the first time you met, or even the easy flirtation you send his way when you cross paths. It’s because you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. He’s not talking about the golden ratio or statistical beauty, you’re just stunning. You stop him in his tracks whenever you steal into the office. It’s better when you notice he’s awake and light up like he’s the winning numbers for tonight’s lottery pull. Everything about you illuminates. 

“Hey, babe!” you say, not not yelling as you drop your bags in the seat by the bed and reach for him.

He doesn’t think to move away as you take his face into your hands.

“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, you almost slept for the full twenty four hours.” Your hands are soft. They smell like neroli. When you stroke his cheek and lean down to give him a chaste peck, he almost passes out there and then. “It's a good thing, obviously,” you say, and then kiss him again distractedly. Spencer squeezes his eyes closed. “You heal more when you’re asleep. Or so I’ve heard.” 

You pull away, Spencer blinking for his life. You have such a nice mouth, but Spencer’s never thought about what it might feel like on his. He doesn’t have the audacity: in what world would you ever kiss him? That’s the joke, right, when you flirt with him in the office?

“How are you feeling?” you ask, losing some of your pep. “How’s your head, handsome? You know, there are easier ways to get a haircut.” 

“They cut my hair?” he croaks. 

“Shaved it at the back to stitch you up. Not much, don’t worry. They were pushing for a buzz cut but I put my foot down on that one,” you joke. You nudge his legs aside without worrying about sitting on him as you get comfortable. “It’s not much. You can’t tell.”

“I…” 

“You feeling okay?” you ask softly. Your nice mouth purses. Your eyebrows pinch. They’re cute eyebrows. 

“You look different than the last time I saw you.” 

He doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s noticing things now. You’re wearing less powder under your eyes than you used to. You seem to have gained a little weight, and you look good. You didn’t look bad before, but this is different. Your hair isn’t too different, nor your brows, but you’ve begun lining your lips in a new way. Your blush is a subtler hue. Spencer doesn’t claim to know everything about you, but he can say that you look neatly the same each time you visit. Why the sudden change?

“It’s hard to sleep when your favourite person in the world gets his head cut open,” you say, taking his hand where he’d left it loose in the blankets. 

Your fingers slip into his with ease. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, attempting to swallow his nerves. 

“Of course you can.” 

He licks his lips. “Uh, I think I’m confused. I don’t– I don’t remember what happened, and…” 

“Oh, right. They told me this might happen.” You draw yourself up with a breath. He’s fascinated by the movement, an air of heat around him as you begin rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “You got hit in the back of the head with a cinder block, honey. Went down like a lead balloon.” You turn your face to show your cheek. “We’re even now on good scares, yeah?” 

You have a scar on your face he’d missed, carefully concealed but yet not invisible. Your hand in his feels so alien he holds it wrong, fingers twined but palms apart. 

“What happened to you?” he asks. 

Your brow crinkles. You go very still. “My cheek?” you ask. 

“What…” 

“Spencer, what’s the last thing you can remember, honey?” you ask, all the horror in the world to be found in your eyes. 

“Uh…” He feels sick to his stomach.

“Spencer?” 

Without having to be told, you slip off of the bed with two taps of your shoes and reach for the bedpan, thrusting it into his lap. 

His mouth fills with spit. “I’m fine,” he says. 

“No, I don’t think so. Let me get a doctor.” 

“Wait,” he says, clutching the bedpan and pushing his wave of nausea as far down as he can. “Please don’t go.” 

“My face was months ago, honey. I got hit in the face with a hammer by a UnSub, you don’t remember?” you ask incredulously. 

“Why do you keep calling me honey?” he asks. He knows the answer, but it’s not computing. 

Your face drains of any happiness. “I’m going to get a doctor,” you say, shoulders rigidly tight as you exit the room, leaving Spencer in your wake wishing he’d just pretended he knew who you were, just until you kissed him again. 

—

“And he really can’t remember you at all?” Morgan asks. 

You’re a little less startled than you had been, and you’re trying not to punish poor Spencer, but realising your boyfriend forgot years of flirting, and yearning, and friendship —years of kissing in secret and otherwise, years of holding hands, and staying at each other’s places to get that extra time together, even if it was just getting to sleep in the same bed between cases— was a slap. 

“He remembers me,” you say, leg crossed over the other, arm over the railing of Spencer’s bed to hold his hand. “He just doesn’t remember a thing after Gideon came back, after Boston.” 

“I remember when you had hair,” Spencer says to Derek. 

Derek glares at him, “This Spencer doesn’t get to sass me.” 

“But I do eventually?” 

“How come you’re holding hands if he doesn’t know who you are?” Derek asks pointedly. 

You shrug. “We talked about it, didn’t we?” you ask Spencer, who perks up every time you talk, which isn’t unlike your usual Spencer. Whenever he catches himself doing it he flusters. Every time you call him baby he loses his mind. “He doesn’t remember me, but he wants to. And I remember him.” 

“This must be pretty weird for you, kid,” Derek says. 

“Sort of,” Spencer says. 

It’s funny. Now you know Spencer thinks he’s twenty three again, you can’t not notice his shyness and his awkward tries at casualness. You’d forgotten what he was like back then. 

“Wait, does that mean you don’t remember Emily?” Derek asks. 

Spencer frowns. “Uh, no?” 

You sit up in your chair. “Emily’s one of your best friends, honey. She joined the BAU when Greenaway left.”

“Not you?” he asks. 

You dramatise your pain as Derek laughs. “Not me. I didn’t transfer for a long time, unfairly. It’s okay, though, you’ll remember Emily eventually.” 

When you realised Spencer wasn’t as okay as you’d thought, you gathered a gaggle of agitated doctors to assess him. He knew his name and birthday. He was wrong about the date, the president, and the state. You’re in Arizona where he’d thought Indiana. Your bag talks to the heat: Spencer’s fan, his sunblock, his antihistamines. He couldn’t believe it when he asked where his stuff was and you passed him your handbag. 

You’re trying to drive home to him that you’re not just dating, you're common-law partners, Spence. He adores you. You’d spend life in his lap if you could afford it. 

“How’d she get you to believe her?” Derek asks Spencer. 

“Uh.” 

“I kissed him a couple of times before he came clean about the amnesia,” you say. “So I didn’t have to explain.” 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Spencer says. 

He’s looking less haggard now you’ve brushed his hair. It was sweet to watch his shoulders relax. He shuddered when you tucked a strand behind his ears, and didn’t flinch when you asked if you could kiss his cheek. It’s hard to have him vulnerable here and not be allowed to lick his wounds for him. You feel better the better he feels. You’ve fluffed his pillow, wrapped him tighter in blankets. When he got up to pee and you offered to help, he gave a resolute No Thank You, which in hindsight is hilarious but at the time made you wanna squeeze your eyes out. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “I don’t mind kissing him, even if he doesn’t remember me. Just so long as he doesn’t mind it back.”

Spencer manages to squeeze your hand. It’s a soft one, but it’s real. “I don’t mind.” 

“You dog,” Derek says. 

“Stop, stop. He’s not doing anything wrong, is he?” you ask. “I’m the evil one, forcing kisses on him when he doesn’t know me.” 

“I do know you,” Spencer says. 

“What’s it like to have a crush on your own girlfriend?” Derek asks, unwilling to quit his teasing where he’s crossing his arms in the chair opposite, his cup of coffee drained on the side table. 

Spencer swallows. “Uh, nerve-wracking.” 

“Believe it or not, that’s not so different to now,” Derek says. 

Spencer looks to you for confirmation, which you love. You slide your chair closer to him and clasp his wrist with your free hand. “Sometimes you're still a little shy, but it’s not so bad. Full of myself I may be, Spencer Reid, but you do love me. It’s easy with us.” 

“Do we really live together?” he asks. “You said common-law.” 

“Not technically. I stay at your place four nights a week. You stay with me for the weekends.” 

“Every week?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

“We’re never apart?” he asks. 

His face is turning pink. You could kiss every bit of colour on his cheeks. 

“Derek, would you get Spencer something to eat from the cafeteria? Please?” you ask, levelling your friend with a pleading gaze. 

Derek gathers himself up. “Sure. We gotta feed the string bean something, don’t we?” he asks. 

Alone again, you draw lines up and down Spencer’s arm with your nails. You’re going to be indulgent in yourself, and ask him everything you’d ever wanted to know. And then a little extra, too. 

“You’re not as skinny anymore, have you noticed? You’re quite lean.” You stand to sit where you’d put yourself before he confessed. Your hand falls to his knee. “Solid, sometimes. You and Derek go for walks occasionally.” 

“We do?” 

“Mm-hm. And me and you do yoga in the living room when we can summon the energy. We tried couples Pilates, but Pilates is hard.” 

“We did?”

You smile warmly. “It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves in the same way.” 

“How do you love?” 

His ears are bitten-red. “Oh, you know. I’m too affectionate. It’s hard not to be with you. Everyone used to think we were… I don’t know, playing a game.” You slide your hand up his thigh, leaning on him to watch his pupils blow. “But I love you for far more than your constant propensity to blush. You get me flowers every time you see my favourites, and you never let me go to sleep without a kiss. Usually here.” You poke the skin beside your eye. “But sometimes you’ll surprise me and kiss my nose.” You're going lax with love, remembering things he’s done, and does every day.  “On a Saturday morning we make tea and I put my hands in your t-shirt. You do the crosswords for fun. Sometimes we time them.” 

“That’s not how you love, that’s what you love,” Spencer says. 

“Oh, you want a play by play of things?” He ducks his chin, but he smiles when you laugh. 

“I just can’t believe this is happening.”

You try to think of things you don’t think about anymore. “You love my sugar lip gloss, so I always wear it.” 

He reaches out tentatively. Shy as a wren in a hedgerow. You let him curl a hand over your elbow, feel the crook of it with his index finger. 

“I buy you stamps, and t-shirts for bed, and stupid stuff you wouldn’t get yourself. We’re… it’s like, it doesn’t feel like gift giving anymore because we’re always getting stuff for each other. You’re just as sweet, you know? When I first started sleeping over you bought me this huge pack of socks ‘cos yours are all odd,” you laugh. “I knew I loved you already, but…”

It’s a little sad, actually. He can’t remember all the stuff that makes you the couple you are. It’s not what you’d meant to get into. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask. 

“Anything.” 

He’s slept-in and breathless, like he ran laps in his dreams. 

“What do you think of me now? I always wondered if you liked me back then, or if I just caught you off guard.” 

“Who wouldn’t like you?” 

“But did you?” 

He looks away hurriedly, his hand dropping from your elbow. “I guess so. But it’s not– not real. I have a crush on you.” His mumbling is sweet. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that.” 

“I had a crush on you, too, back then. It wasn’t anything serious, but it wasn’t a joke. And the more time we spent together, the more I thought we could fall in love,” —you take his hand and put it back on your arm— “and we did.” 

You toy with his fingers. Without looking, ashamed of your own self-indulgence, you ask another question. “What do you think of me now?” 

“I can’t remember,” he says sorrily. 

“What do you think?” 

“You feel like a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t really get how this is real.” 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’d say it, you practically begged for it, but you can’t stop yourself from sitting up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s real. Promise. And for the record, you’re handsome. They stopped saying ‘aged like fine wine’ a while ago. Now they just say ‘aged like Spencer Reid’.”

He gives a choky laugh. 

The door opens again. You lift your head expecting Derek and find a weather worm Hotch in the doorway. “Reid, you’re awake,” he says, not bothering with a smile. “Morgan said you have amnesia?” He directs it at both of you. 

Spencer’s looking at Hotch in clear shock. 

“He hasn’t aged that badly,” you chastise teasingly. 

“Hotch, you’re– I thought you would’ve– You’re still–?”

Hotch squints. “You didn’t think I had the stamina for it?” 

Spencer squirms under his gaze. “No, sir, it’s not that–”

“Sir,” Hotch says, and then he smiles. “I forgot when you both used to respect me.” 

“I have the utmost respect for you, sir,” you say through your own smile. 

“Has she been kind to you, Reid?” 

“Uh, yes? Is she not usually?” 

Hotch presses his lips together rather than answer. There’s a sympathy in his expression you resent.

—

It’s a thankfully quick bout of amnesia. The memories start to draw in like a dusting of powdered sugar, his head finely silted, one particle at a time. He finds that the more you talk, the quicker his memory is jogged. You tell him about your first kiss —I tried to kiss your cheek but you moved, it was the funniest thing— and your second. You spin stories of cases, the worst ones and the best, all the times you held hands without people knowing, the times you’d been caught. He can’t imagine it, goes hot with the memory, picturing kissing you as you’d described and the mortification of being walked in on. 

You tell him about your vacation to Nevada a few months ago and he thinks about how you’d fallen asleep on the plane. Your nose in his arm, your unhappy sigh at the tight leg space. 

Remembering you is more than half of remembering himself.

Your hands —his hands. Your smile —his laugh. The way you fold his hands in your lap —the urge to catch your chin for a kiss. 

He doesn’t know how to deal with it, and then suddenly he feels like Spencer. Your partner, your love, his proudest title for years. You’re standing at the end of the hospital bed in pajamas folding your clothes, allowed to stay the night while he’s so urgently confused and upset, you can’t make him stay here alone, please, I know you guys have those little cots for the kids ward, and he just knows you completely. 

Hours of diligent if embezzled storytelling gives it all back to him. 

“I like the lipgloss because you used to wear that perfume that smelled like sugar donuts,” he says, scratching a hand through limp hair. “And every time I crossed the square by the station–”

You let out a surprising squeal of joy. “Spencer!” you say, racing to take his hands, “Yes! The donut truck!” 

You go in for a kiss he gladly returns. “Oh, you remember,” you say, softening as he takes your neck into his hand. “I was getting worried.” 

“Some of it’s still hazy, but not so much you.” 

You wrap your arms around him for a hug, careful of his sore head. “I missed you, Spencer. I still loved you when you couldn’t remember me, but I missed you. Do you remember you?” 

He traces the scar on your lower cheek with his thumb. He’s genuinely relieved to be able to say he does. He’s not scared of what you think of him anymore, ‘cos he knows that everything he feels for you is mutual. “I remember you telling me my bad feeling was just a case of the heebies.” 

You bend into his touch. “Honey, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know you’d get your skull whacked with a cinder block? It was a bakery. I thought the worst that could happen was getting a face full of red velvet or something.” You kiss his nose quickly. “I’m so glad you’re you. Now I can sleep in the bed with you, and not that collapsible camping cot.” 

He shushes you. “Don’t give us away. They’re not gonna let you stay if they think I’m fine.” 

You giggle excitedly, arms around him again for another squeeze. “I missed you so much. You’re so devious now.” 

He rubs your back. “I missed you too. And I still have a crush on you, I swear.”

“Thank you, honey, that means a lot to me.” 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thanks for reading!

[reiderwriter]

ACK I'm so excited that your requests are open again! Um okay, this one feels a bit silly but I'd love a fic where fem!bau!reader is really attracted to Spencer and the way that he smells? (I just KNOW that man smells like cinnamon and a Scholastic Book Fair.) Like, she's been doing a good job hiding her crush from the team, until Spencer catches her eyes dilating at him when he's standing close. And he's an oblivious king, so he's trying to figure out why they were dilated. If it could be race blind like my last request, and from Spencer's POV, that'd be great. (Or split POV, if you'd rather). I really see this as fluff, but if you want to include angst or smut go right on ahead! Thank you for reading my request! Your writing makes my day.

-❤️‍🩹

A/N: This was so fun and silly, and I love writing awkward, puppy love Spencer because sometimes you just have to let yourself become mildly infatuated with a coworker. For the plot. Or at least character development. I hope you like this one!!

Warnings: none.

Masterlist

You thought you'd settled into work well in your first few weeks as a member of the BAU. You thought you were up to speed about everything going on in the office. There was just one mystery left to solve.

“Where is that smell coming from?” You whispered to yourself, frustratedly sniffing the air for the second day in a row as you attempted to locate the warm, delightful smell that seemed to follow you whenever you were in the office.

“Could be one of Garcia's scented candles. They tend to linger,” JJ said from her corner of the bull pen.

“No, I checked earlier and she said they made her throw those out weeks ago.”

Honestly, it was not knowing that was driving you insane. If you knew what the smell was, you could bottle it, spray it all around yourself, and wrap yourself in it like a little blanket. It somehow reminded you of home and of the public library you'd spent much of your childhood in.

After another day of being able to figure out whoever had bought the scent version of the Scholastic Book Fair mixed with homemade cinnamon buns, you gave up. 12 hours of paperwork, and you were just as excited to get away from the sight of brown folders as ever, and as everyone else in the bureau, evidently.

Grabbing your bag, you got in the line for the elevators alongside your team.

“Ready for the crush?” Derek said, punching Spencer Reid on the arm as they waited ahead of you.

“Ow,” the younger man muttered and you tried to hold your giggles back, rolling your eyes as you watched them in amusement.

Derek’s words were true, though. Every day at home time, the elevators packed up quickly, and being on the middle floor meant that it could often take a while for the elevator to come back to you. You swore it was half the reason Hotch stayed late most nights, just to avoid the crush of the trip home.

“I've been taking the DC public transport since I got this job. You think the elevators are bad. Try 8 am subway on a Monday morning.”

The doors opened, and the three of you climbed into the barely there space of the elevator. With a quick side step, you found yourself against the left wall of the elevator. But to your shock, the scent you'd been searching for for three weeks didn't dissipate as it usually did when you got on the elevator.

It was here. The source of the scent was here.

You tried to stay calm as it grew more potent, tried not to frantically look around searching for whatever man or woman was perfumed in heaven. The doors opened again, and more people squeezed in, and suddenly, you found yourself buried nose-first in whatever sensory heaven existed here on earth.

“Sorry,” you heard a mumble in front of you as Spencer held his hand against the wall above your head, trying to keep a polite enough distance so as not to squish you any further. Your mismatching heights, however, led to your face being just about level with his neck.

You really weren't trying to smell him, but you had to inhale, and each time you did, it was a sensory overload.

It was him. Dear God, it was him.

The proximity and his scent really weren't helping your brain stop short circuiting in that moment, and you had to remind yourself after a minute or two or three that you were staring.

Though evidently Spencer had already noticed, and was looking at you with some concern.

“Are you okay? It's pretty tight in here, but I can try and move back if you're uncomfortable.”

“No! No, it's okay,” you did your best not to shout the words out, suddenly wanting his smell and his body close forever.

You hadn't been looking before, but like a freight train at maximum speed, the weight of his attractiveness hit you all at once. There was a slight stubble peppering his jaw, his hair hanging slightly loose, eyes big, and brown, and beautiful. He was tall, and you knew he was strong from watching him manhandle unsubs each week.

To put it blankly, you spiralled. Hard. Straight into infatuation and attraction, and you felt your head growing light with the tipsy feeling of a girlish crush.

You were fucked.

Spencer was concerned about you for the next week.

For starters, he knew that most new hires pushed themselves to the extreme over the first month and ended up quickly burnt out, mentally and physically. He may not have the best physical stamina, but he knew the lengths he had to go to to maintain his mental and physical wellness while working the job.

Which was why he started looking out for you a bit more. Every time he looked at you, you were staring off into space, somewhere just past him, or around him, face glazed over.

He wondered if you had a fever a few times, subtly touching your forehead - wiping away some sweat or a strand of hair - to feel you, and you did always feel hot.

You insisted you were fine though. But the nervous panic, and the constant insistence made him wary enough to pull you aside one day and ask you straight to your face.

“Do you need something?” He said, having unassumingly lured you off to the meeting room without arousing suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” You said, instantly defensive. You'd hoped you hadn't been as creepy as you knew you had and that he hadn't caught on to your stolen glances and sudden close proximity.

You really couldn't help it. The man smelt too fucking good.

“If you're feeling sick, no one is going to think any less of you for taking a half day, you know.”

His voice was so gentle, you almost didn't die from sheer embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh! Oh, oh no, I'm fine, I'm totally healthy. As a cow!”

“A cow?”

“Yes, I'm as healthy as your average farm animal. Can I go back to work?”

You made to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently as you brushed past him, and it was like sparks travelled up your arm and pierced your heart directly.

“Spencer!?” you squeaked.

“Your heart rate is elevated, and you feel hot and clammy,” he said, which was exactly the kind of compliment you were aiming to receive from men you were falling for. “You should go see a doctor and then get some rest.”

“No, Spencer, that's not-”

“Everyone pushes themselves in these first few weeks. I had to take a week off after two days in the field from the weight of holding a gun up for so long, which is more embarrassing than it sounds, and Derek-”

“What cologne do you use?” you snapped, desperately hoping to both shut him up and also detangle yourself from this situation with at least one win under your belt. If you found out whatever the smell was he used, you could buy it, grow accustomed to it, and grow out of whatever phase you were going through before you out your job in jeopardy.

“What?”

“You smell… really good. I was wondering what cologne it is.”

“I don't… I don't really use cologne.”

You baulked, unable to stop your face from dropping as your dreams of detaching yourself from your little crush on Spencer Reid faded before your very eyes.

“Shower gel? Shampoo maybe?”

“They're both unscented.”

“So you just… you just smell like that naturally?”

It was his turn to flush then, though the panic never left your head fully.

“Sorry, is it… distracting.”

“Yes,” you whispered, but with such an exhausted exhale, it sounded like a dreamt sigh. You wanted to kick yourself. You wanted to open his jacket, step inside, bury your face in his chest, and fall asleep.

“I see.”

“Mhmm.”

A minute passed in awkward silence, and you wanted to kick yourself for blurting everything out. Quickly turning to leave again, you wished so dearly to erase the last five minutes of your life, sending up enough hail mary’s to absolve you of any sin.

“Lavender. And sometimes patchouli,” he called from behind you as you took your first steps to the door.

“Hmm?” you said, turning back around against your better judgment.

“What?”

“That's what you smell like,” he explained, hands suddenly very preoccupied with his jacket buttons. “I'm not great with scents, but you also smell… nice. Sorry, that was weird.”

“No, not at-”

“You know, the major histocompatibility complex genes are important for the immune system and appear to play a role in sexual attraction via body odour. Studies have shown that body odour is strongly connected with attraction in heterosexual females.”

“Oh. I didn't know that…”

“Do you want to grab dinner with me?”

The words almost knocked you back into the door, as sudden as they were. Had he just asked you on a date? Or was it a friendly coworker thing? A friendly coworker thing where he acknowledged your attraction to his scent and then invited you out on a date.

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I would like to get dinner with you.”

He did his best to suppress the smile, and you tried hard as well, though neither of you succeeded.

“Great, perfect,” he said, circling you as he made his way to the door, his eyes always turned to you no matter what. He likely regretted that as he bumped into first the edge of a table, then a chair, and then hitting the door with his back, but in your state of puppy love, you didn't care.

“It's a date,” he said, opening the door and walking away, cheeks flushed with heat.

[orcasoul]

Broken Part 3

Summary: Din is on the brink of death. The only way to save him is to remove his helmet. Surely he'll understand and forgive you... right?

Warnings: swearing, description of injuries, angst, established relationship, use of Y/N.

A/N: the amount of comments and re-blogs for the first two parts of this story has blown me away. Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read this, and for all the love and support.

The world ceased to exist for Din the moment he saw your limp body sprawled on the floor. All that remains now is you; all that matters is you. He doesn't even remember closing the gap to get to you. One second he's frozen with fear and the next he's at your side, cradling your face in both hands. "Cyar'ika? Sweetheart, can you hear me?! Can you open your eyes?!" The tremble in Din's hands have now moved to his vocal chords, each word laced with worry and regret. "Come on, sweet girl. I need you to open your eyes." Din begs, gently tapping your cheek, but you give no response.

He's sure your eyes were open a moment ago.... or maybe it was wishful thinking, his mind conjuring up the image to give him hope. Ripping a glove off, he feels for your pulse. You're alive but your pulse is... wrong. It's much too fast. That combined with the trembling and sweat soaking your skin, it can only mean one thing; a blood infection. Din pulls up your blood encrusted shirt and gently removes your makeshift bandage to reveal an inflamed and angry looking blaster wound. "Dank farrick!" Din curses under his breath.

He'd had his fair share of infected wounds throughout the years, so he knows just how bad this can get. Guilt begins to consume him, the intensity threatening to drag him down into a pit of despair. He caused this. This is his fault. He'd abandoned you when all you did was love him. And now, this is what you have to show for that love. He'll never forgive himself if you... nope, that won't happen. "It's okay, Cyare. I've got you, I've got you," Din whispers as puts his glove on, then slides an arm under your back and the other under your knees.

He stands slowly with you, not wanting to aggravate your wound and tucks your head into his chest. A pained moan wheezes past your blue tinted lips. "Kriff, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Din's heart sinks at hearing you in pain, hoping you'll never have to make that sound again. You won't if he has his way. "I'm gonna get you help and then I'm taking you home," Din promised, then ran from the cave and back towards the village.

By the time he got close to the village, Din could barely walk. Almost an hour of continuous running had pretty much pushed him to the edge of his endurance. But every second was critical, so he'd pushed and pushed his now exhausted body, ignoring the protest of his lungs, his limbs and his back. He almost cried with relief when entering the village, falling to his knees and holding you tight. "Help! Somebody help her, quick!" Din screamed as loud as he could.

A group of villagers ran to where Din had collapsed, a few of them quickly taking you from his arms and into a large hut, while yelling at others to find the village doctor. "Where are... they... taking her?" Din asked, breathlessly. "Medical bay," a man answered, as he and another man helped Din to his feet, each draping his arms over their shoulders. "They'll take good care of her, promise." Din straightened, nodded his thanks to the men and on wobbly legs followed you into the hut.

Din felt utterly useless as he sat and watched the doctor and nurses tend to you. He wants to help, every instinct screaming at him to do something, but he can't. All he can do is sit and stare numbly at your deathly pale face and slowly rising chest. You've never looked so fragile before and it takes all of his willpower to not fall apart right then and there. He silently observes the medical team as they hook you up to a drip and monitor (courtesy of the New Republic, along with a generator and more modern equipment) and clean and stitch the wound on your side.

And in all this time you haven't even flinched. Was he too late? Do you even have the strength left to survive this? Din is pulled from his anxious thoughts by a hand on his shoulder and a soft but professional voice addressing him. "Mando?..." the doctor began, waiting until Din's helmet turned his way. "We've closed the wound and administered antibiotics to fight the infection. She's lost a lot of blood and is very weak. We're trying to bring her temperature down to a safe level, but all we can do now is wait. It's up to her now; she has to fight it."

"I understand," Din replied sorrowfully. "Thank you for everything." "Of course," the doctor nodded and lightly squeezed Din's shoulder. "We'll give you some privacy." He cocked his head at the nurses, silently gesturing for them to follow him. Din sat beside you, at a loss for words. How could he have let this happen? If he hadn't been so closed minded, so damn stubborn and proud, if he'd just talked things through with you as you'd begged him to do, you wouldn't be here now, fighting for your life. You'd saved his life and he'd almost cost you yours. He doesn't deserve your forgiveness. But if by some miracle, you do forgive him and give him another chance, he'll never take you for granted and never leave you again, no matter what.

Din removes his gloves, desperately needing to feel you, skin to skin. Taking your smaller hand in his, he closes his eyes and just allows himself to feel. The softness of your skin, the warmth, the ridges of your knuckles. How he'd missed you! "Cyar'ika, I don't know if you can hear me..." Din murmured, guilt eating him alive, "But if you can, I want you to know how sorry I am for everything I've put you through. For everything I said. I was wrong and stupid. I want to make things right, so you have to fight. I know you can; I know how strong you are. Just... don't give up." Din prays you can hear him, but if you can, your still body shows no sign of recognition.

Sweat trickles down your forehead due to your fever. Din reaches into a bucket of iced water set beside your bed and rings out a cloth, placing it on your forehead. "Can we come in?" Din looks over his shoulder to see Omera and Winta by the entrance of the hut. With a silent nod, he beckons them in. They stand on the opposite side of the bed, Omera holding your other hand, while Winta leans down to lay her head by yours, arm slung over your chest in a gentle hug. "Is she gonna be okay now?" Winta looks at Din, eyes full of hope. Her expectant and pleading expression brings a crushing weight of uncertainty to settle inside Din's chest, because honestly, he doesn't know.

"Um..." Din clears his throat, "I hope so. It's too early to tell right now, but the doctors and nurses are doing all they can for her. Only time will tell." "What happened?" Omera asked through held back tears. Din looked from Omera to Winta and back to Omera again. Omera, understanding what Din is trying to silently convey - that this is not something a child should hear - gently places her hand on Winta's shoulder and asks her to wait outside. Winta places a kiss on your cheek and leaves. Omera takes a seat beside the bed. "Tell me," she urges, softly. "I found her..." Din's tone becomes frustrated, "Bleeding to death on a kriffing cave floor! She was all alone. I never should have left her; this is all my fault." Admitting it out loud just makes Din even more angry with himself.

"It's not your fault," Omera insists. "You couldn't have known this was going to happen." "But she shouldn't have been here inthe first place. She should have been home with me, safe." A moment of awkward silence passes before Din asks, "Did... she tell you what happened?" "Yes," Omera nodded. Din sighed. "I failed her." "You're here now. That's what matters. I'm not taking sides here, you're both my friends, but you should know she hasn't been herself since you left, more like she's been a shell of herself. She's missed you, so much. You and Grogu are her life. She's been so lost without you both."

Omera's words hit Din more brutally than that Mudhorn did back on Arvala - 7. He thought he couldn't feel any worse, but he was wrong. "Dank farrick!" Din swore, quietly, feeling sick at the thought of what he's done to you. "I... I don't know how to make this right." Din's shoulders slump in defeat. "Start by being here for her now. That's all you can do... until she wakes up," Omera offered, sympathetically. Din nodded. "Thank you for looking after her." Omera looked at you with a sad smile. "There's no need to thank me. She's family." Din's heart warmed at Omera affection for you. Gripping your hand tighter, he looks at your peaceful face and with conviction he replies, "Yes, she is."

The nurse returned a few minutes later to check on you. Omera took her leave - not wanting to impose - telling Din she's here for him if he needs her. Din held onto your hand the entire time the nurse fussed about you. "Hmm... her temperature's still a little high," she frowned, "Other than that, she seems to be doing okay." Din didn't get a chance to respond as your hand suddenly tightened around his and your whole body began to violently convulse. "What's-" "She's having a seizure!" the nurse exclaimed, grabbing an extra pillow to place above your head so you don't hit it on the headboard.

Din shot to his feet, ready to hold you, to comfort you. "Don't touch her!" the nurse warned. "You could hurt her if you try to restrict her movements." "Well... what do we do?!" Din shouted, feeling like he's about to lose his damn mind. "She just has to go through it I'm afraid. She's fitting because of the fever. These seizures look frightening, but they're normally quite harmless," the nurse reassured. As if that's any comfort right now. After what felt like an eternity - but was only a couple of minutes, according to the nurse - your jolting body began to calm until you were still once again.

Din released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. The nurse checked your vitals again. "She stable now. I'll come back to check on her in an hour," she informed Din with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, before leaving the hut. As soon as the coast was clear, Din ripped his helmet off, dropping it by his feet without regard. He quickly but gently placed both hands on your cheeks and rested his forehead against yours, his tears dripping onto your face. "Don't you ever frighten me like that again! Do you hear me?!... Never again." The last two words came out in a choked whisper. Din kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. "Please my love, don't leave me."

Din winced internally the second those words left his mouth; those very same words that had been haunting him in his sleep. The last words you had said to him. Din reached for the cloth that had fallen on the floor during your fit, dunked it in the bucket and placed it back on your forehead before reaching for his helmet. He knows anyone could walk in at any moment, so it's best not to tempt fate. He places it back on and for the first time since taking the creed the helmet feels like a barrier instead of a comfort, the inch of Beskar separating you feeling more like a thousand miles.

The next several hours went by in a surreal blur for Din as he watched the doctor and nurses taking care of you, and also watching you for any indication of waking. They were even kind enough to bring him food since he never left the hut. The evening drifted into night, the whole village becoming quieter as everyone settled into their homes. Din remained glued to your bedside, politely refusing the offer of a hut to rest in.

He will not be more than a few feet away from you. A nurse assured him no one would enter again until morning - unless in case of an emergency, of course - so he can remove his helmet if he wishes. Din prepared himself to sit vigil with you all night. He took off his helmet and breathed deeply. If you wake tonight, his face is the first thing he wants you to see.

*****

Sound is the first thing you notice, crickets chirping distantly, a strange beeping and... a voice? It sounds distorted, the words not making any sense to you. An involuntary whimper escapes you as you try to move your head, which at this moment, feels like a ten tonne boulder. In your hazy state, you feel something touching your face, smoothing featherlight strokes across you cheek. The voice is becoming louder, clearer as your mind begins to catch up with your body. It sounds familiar and you use it as a beacon to hone in on. Your eyelids fight against your will to open but you finally manage to do so, only to be met with blurry vision.

A few more blinks and your vision clears, focusing on the once blurry figure hovering over you. A face, but not just any face. Brown eyes, vulnerable and cautious, but also filled with relief and tenderness stare back at you. Brown floppy locks drape over his forehead and salt and pepper stubble adorn his jaw. You are completely taken aback. Are you dead? Or is your mind playing another cruel trick on you? "Hi, Cyare..." a voice you never thought you'd hear again whispers lovingly. It's that which snaps you from your stupor, confirming that you are alive and he's here!

"Din?!" your voice croaks harshly from disuse, scraping your throat on the way out. "Shhh..." Din continues to smooth the apple of your cheek. "Try not to speak Y/N? You're safe now." Your eyes shoot around the room, confusion and panic overtaking your senses. "You're in the village..." Din's low timbre brings an instant calm to you. "You're going to be okay." You try to get up but a sharp pain flashes through your torso causing you to gasp. Din's hands are pressed to your shoulders, gently but firmly holding you down, "Don't move. You'll tear the stitches," he tells you. Stitches? Then it all comes back to you; the attack on the village, the blaster shot and the cave.

Your eyes fall on Din's again and you panic. "Oh shit!" you gasp, weakly and shut your eyes tight, turning your head away. "Y...your helmet! Where's your helmet?!" Your heart beats wildly in your chest, guilt and alarm filling you once more. Maybe he forgot to put it back on, and now I've broken his creed, again! You bite your lower lip in worry, awaiting the inevitable chastisement... only it never comes. "Y/N?" Din's bare hand cups your jaw, turning your head to face him. "It's okay, look at me." You remain frozen, eyelids firmly locked in place, unsure of what you should do. "Please, Cyar'ika..." Din's voice is calm, soothing. "Open your eyes. I want you to see me."

It was with trepidation you slowly opened your eyes, Din's warm smile instantly easing your anxiety. Heaven's that smile! It would have floored you if you'd hadn't already been laying down. "There you are," Din said warmly. Too much is happening to fast for you to comprehend. "Din?... What?... How?" you stutter after every word, a part of you still unable to believe he's here. "I came for you, "Din interjected with purpose. "When I heard what happened, I couldn't get here fast enough. And when I couldn't find you I..." Din's voice shuddered, "I thought I'd lost you forever. I was so afraid."

The raw devastation of Din's voice along with the wretched fear in his eyes stabbed you right through the heart, releasing a torrent of tears; tears of heartbreak, of frustration, of relief and of love all mixed together in one huge outpouring of emotion. At once, Din's hands found your cheeks and he lowered his forehead to yours. "I am so so sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I was a fool. I love you." He gently pressed his lips to yours and, even though he'd hurt you, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his keck, returning the kiss and holding him close. "I love you, too." You couldn't deny it, deny him. You didn't want to.

Din slowly pulled his lips from yours, placing a delicate kiss to your forehead. "You should rest now, Cyare. Your body needs it. We'll talk more when you're stronger." "Wait!" You grip Din's wrist in panic. "You're not leaving, right?! You'll be here when I wake up?" Din smiled and kissed the back of your hand. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart, I promise." With that reassurance, you allow yourself to drift off once more.

When you awoke again it was to the poking and prodding of fingers checking your pulse, you temperature and your wound. "How are you feeling Y/N?" a kind older voice asked. "Mmm... thirsty..." you cough as your parched throat sticks together. Din appears immediately, holding a cup of water and a straw in front of you so you don't have to move. "Well, the good news is you're going to be fine," the doctor says, encouragingly. "And the bad news?...." you question, cautiously. "The injury you sustained was quite deep, so you'll have to take it easy for several weeks while you're healing. I know how you like to keep yourself busy," he adds with an apologetic look. "When you're feeling up to it I'll get you some soup. He places a hand on your shoulder and you thank him before he leaves.

Moments later a soft hiss turn your focus to Din as he removes his helmet. Your first thought is to shut your eyes and turn away, but you stop yourself. Din wants you to see him and, damn it, you want to see him too. The other two times you had seen him had been under dire circumstances but now... now you get to really see him and he takes your breath away. Your eyes trace every slope and contour of his features, taking your time to really appreciate just how devastatingly handsome he is. It feels wrong that he's had to hide such beauty for most of his life. Din offers a sheepish smile. "Hi," he breathes out quietly. It's obvious he's been in great emotional turmoil as he looks at you filled with remorse and with teary eyes.

"You stayed," you sigh in relief. "Of course I did," asserted Din, as if the thought of him doing anything other than stay is ludacris. "I told you I'm not going anywhere." You couldn't help but begin to cry again. Din brought a hand to your face, gently wiping your tears. "Hey, hey, you're okay." he whispered, fighting back his own tears. It kills him to see you in this state. "It's okay. Let it out. I've got you, I've got you." He so badly wants to gather you into his arms and tuck you into his chest as you fall apart, but he can't move you yet so he settles for resting his forehead against yours again. "I was... so...f...frightened!" you whimper between sobs, gripping onto his wrists for comfort. Hearing such intense fear in your words finally broke Din. His sobs joined yours, unashamedly.

"I don't know where to even begin," he choked out, "I'm so sorry.... fuck," he huffed at himself, sitting back to look you in the eyes. "I know that's not enough. There are no words to express just how sorry I am. I hurt you, and not just you, but Grogu too. I hurt the two most important people in my life. What kind of man does that?!" You can feel the self loathing radiating off of Din and it's agonising to witness. Before you can offer any comfort, Din continues, "I was so caught up in my dedication to The Way of the Mandalore that I refused to accept your perspective. I refused to see anything beyond the creed." Din hung his head in shame. "I was wrong and for that I'll always be sorry."

Wow! You weren't expecting that. The creed is everything to DIn, so for him to put you before it shows you just how much he must still love you. "What made you change your mind?" you ask in bewilderment. Din looked back to you and chuckled, lightly. "I had some sense knocked into me by Karga. He said some things I needed to hear." The corner of your mouth ticks up in an amused smirk. "I guess I owe him one." Both of your smiles faded as the tension still lingered. "How's Grogu?" You fight to keep from choking up again at the thought of him. Din rubs the back of his neck. "He's uh... he's okay, but he's missed you terribly."

Your heart aches for your poor liittle boy. "I missed him too, both of you. Is he here?" "No, he's with Karga. I didn't want to bring him in case..." Din trailed off, bile rising up his throat at the thought of finishing that sentence. Even though you feel the sting of disappointment, you nod in understanding. The last thing you want is for Grogu to see you like this. As long as he's okay, that'll be comfort enough for now. Do you need anything?" Din asks, breaking the silence that has fallen again. "Yeah. Could you help me sit up?" "You shouldn't move," Din insists, worry lacing his voice. "Please?..." you shift awkwardly, "I just need to change position."

Reluctantly Din nodded and stood over you, threading his arms under yours and around your back. Stars! You've missed his touch, the comforting warmth of his body against yours, even through his armour. "Easy now," Din cautioned as he carefully lifts you to a sitting position. You suck in sharply through your teeth as a sudden sharp pain spreads through your side. You feel Din tense in in response. "I'm okay," you reassure him. Din sat you back against the headboard and sat on the edge of the bed. "No, you're not okay. Nothing about this is okay. Not the way I treated you or the things I said. Dank farrick.! You almost died because of me!"

Din is on the verge of completely losing it. The only other time you'd seen him like this was when Grogu was taken by the Dark Troopers. "Din." You grab his hand, holding tight to ground him. "This isn't your fault. No one could have foreseen this." Din shook his head vehemently, unwilling to accept your words. "I should never have left you here. You should have been with me. Kriff, when I think back to the things I said to you..." Din lifts his head t the ceiling, rolls his eyes back and sighs. "It was cruel and I was wrong. I trust you. I was just so blinded by my arrogance, but deep down, I guess I understood why you had to remove my helmet. I just wouldn't admit it to myself, so I lashed out at you."

Din's fingers tighten around yours. "The truth is, if it were the other way around and you were hurt, I'd do the same thing." "Oh, Din." Tears burn your eyes as he lays his soul bare. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course, Cyare." Din smoothes the back of your hand, a silent gesture for you to continue. "Why now? Why are you allowing me to see you now? What about the creed? I know it's important to you." " It is," Din agreed, 'But you are far more important, and I wanted to show you just how important you are to me." You have no words, your eyes and heartfelt smile telling him what you cannot put into words. "I uh... I don't expect you to forgive me right now, I don't deserve it. But if you'll come home with me, I'll wait for as long as you need to-"

"Shhh..." you press a finger to Din's lips and look into his brown puppy dog eyes with tenderness. "I've already forgiven you, Ner Karta." Din is stunned! "W... what? Why?" He can't comprehend why you're so willing to forgive him, after all the pain he's caused. You reach over to stroke his cheek, feeling the rough stubble tickle your fingertips. "Back in the cave... I'd accepted I was going to die," you sniffle as you remember the feeling of despair that came with said acceptance. "All I could think about were you and Grogu, and I realised... I didn't want to die being angry with you. I wanted to go with only love in my heart, so in that moment I chose to forgive you."

Din exhaled as if he'd been punched in the chest. He's in complete awe of you. He'd hurt you beyond measure, almost gotten you killed and you still found it in your heart to forgive him. "I don't deserve your forgiveness," he mumbled in disgust at himself, eyes cast down. "I don't deserve you." You gently hook your fingers under his chin, lifting his head up so that you're looking into each others eyes. "Yes you do," you declare with certainty, "Everyone deserves a second chance, Cayare." Din closed his hand over yours resting on his cheek and, pulling it away, brushed a soft kiss on your palm. "I promise I will never hurt you like that again. No matter what problems come our way, we'll handle them together." "Together," you repeated breathily.

Din stared longingly into you eyes for a moment, then leaned into your face and you met him halfway, your lips joining in a delicate sweep, gently at first but becoming more intense as the seconds passed. His hands slowly slide up your arms and around your back, pulling you closer as he groaned into your now open mouth, his tongue caressing yours. You loop your arms around his neck, relishing in the familiar taste and feel you've been needing but denied for so long. It's as if an invisible weight has been lifted from your soul, all the anguish and sorrow floating away into the ether. In it's place; love, relief and the promise of renewal. You feel reborn. You slowly pull away from Din's plush lips, bury your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent of leather, gunpowder and something uniquely him.

Everything around you stills as you hold each other and just exist in this moment. "I love you so much," Din purrs into your ear. "I love you too," you reply, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I promise..." Din begins, straightening up and tucking your hair behind your ear, "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you." You chuckle quietly and shake your head. "That's not what I want." Din looks at you, confusion crinkling his brow. "I don't want you to live in guilt everyday. All I want is my family back and to move on from this. Can I have that?" Din's features soften and he smiles in understanding. "Meshla, you can have anything you want."

You pull din in for another kiss, this time a bit more forcefully. His eyes widen and he chuckles in response. Din finishes the kiss with little pecks to your nose, making you giggle. "Din?" "Mmm?" "Did you mean it?" Din tilted his head in question. You've seen him do that often with his helmet on and seeing him do it now without it is adorable. "Mean what?" "That I can have anything I want?" "Anything!" he declared with passion, holding onto your arms. You throw him a cheeky grin. "Can you get me some soup? I'm starving."

Din's shoulders relaxed and he laughed endearingly. "Of course. I'll be right back." He put on his helmet and walked to the entrance, stopping to look at you once more before leaving. Slumping back you lean your head against the headboard and sigh happily in sheer relief. It's over. This whole nightmare is finally over and in the past where it belongs. Your heart is finally at peace.

*****

Two days later you're given the all clear by the doctor. As you finish packing your belongings into your bag a pair of strong arms wrap around your body in a loving embrace. You lean your head back onto Din's shoulder pauldron, close your eyes and hum in contentment. "All packed, Cyarika?" "All packed," you beam as you turn in his arms and plant a kiss on his helmet. "I almost forgot..." Din reaches into a pocket, your jaw dropping as he pulls out your beaded bracelet (now cleaned from dirt and blood). With a gasp you take it, looking it over in disbelief. "I found it not too far from the cave." "I thought I'd lost it," you exclaim, voice cracking with emotion. "Thank you!"

You slide it onto your wrist and wrap your arms around Din's waist, hugging him tightly. Din brings his hand to the back of your head, gently stroking your hair. "I can't wait to hold Grogu again," you gush into Din's chest. "He'll be overjoyed to have his mother back." You lift your head from his chest, your eyes gleaming with excitement. "Does he know I'm coming home? Have you told him?" A small chuckle came through the vocoder. "No, I thought we'd surprise him." You couldn't contain the massive grin that spread from cheek to cheek as you imagine the soon to be reunion with your son.

Just as you turn to reach for your bag, Din grabs it, slinging it over his shoulder. "I can carry the bag. It's not heavy," you protest teasingly with your hands on your hips. "Your not carrying anything until you're fully healed." You know that finality in his tone too well. "Bossy!" you roll your eyes in jest. "Yep," Din replied, popping the P for emphasis. He wrapped his arm around you and under your arm to support you, since walking is still slow and painful for you. Outside the hut a group of people had come to see the two of you off. Omera and Winta held onto you like there was no tomorrow.

"I never would have gotten through the last month without you," you whispered to Omera, trying to hold back your tears. "You're the best friend I've ever had." "Promise you'll visit us soon," Omera pressed. "I Promise," you smiled. "Will you bring Grogu with you?" Winta asked, excitedly. "Do you really think he'd allow me to come without him?" you laughed fondly as you pictured his little face. Winta giggled and you pulled them both into another hug. "I'll miss you both so much." "We'll miss you too," Omera said sadly. While saying your goodbyes and thanks to the others, Din approached Omera. "Thank you," Din exclaimed, "For everything. For being there for her." He knows he owes Omera a debt he can never repay.

"Of course," she smiled softly at him. "I'm just so glad you two could work things out." "Me too," Din smiled to himself. He looked down at Winta and patted her head affectionately, "Take care, you two." Din walked over to you, placing his hand at the small of your back. "Ready?" You smile and nod and Din holds onto you gently yet firmly as you slowly make your way to the the Razor Crest. Oh, how you've missed this big hunk of junk! You settle in the co-pilot's seat in the cockpit, the smells and sounds you'd taken for granted welcoming you back in their own way, and you take a moment to appreciate everything around you, even the way Din so expertly prepares the controls for take off.

Din turns to you, lacing his fingers through yours on your lap. "You ready to go home, Meshla?" he asks you, lovingly. You smile, placing your other hand over his. "I'm ready." Din returns to the controls, somehow managing to pilot the ship one handed while still holding your hand. The Crest rattles and shakes as it ascends, every minute bringing you closer to home, closer to Grogu. Silent tears begin to fall, but for the first time in a long time, the tears are not of sadness, but of joy.

@picketniffler @johnssherlock221 @nicolebarnes

[uwiuwi]

I'm too kind for forgiving him that easily 💁‍♀️

[orcasoul]

Broken Part 2

Summery: Din is on the brink of death. The only way to save him is to remove his helmet. Surely he'll understand and forgive you... right?

Warnings: swearing, description of injuries, angst, established relationship, use of Y/N.

It has been one month since Din left you as a sobbing mess on Sorgan. One month since he'd had anything resembling a good night's sleep, haunted every time he closes his eyes by the image of your devastated face and shaking frame. Please Din, please don't this! echoing on a loop in his mind. He did what needed to be done, so why can't he seem to move on? He has regained his creed, by the grace of the Living Waters, you're safe, you have friends and a new place to start over. That knowledge should be enough to to ease his conscience, so why can't he let you go?

Why does he suffer every day with crushing guilt and endless longing to see you, touch you, laugh with you? Of course he's not the only one suffering. Grogu cried for three days straight when Din told him you wouldn't be coming back. Even now Grogu seems forlorn. He's quieter than usual, not showing much interest in his toys, not constantly harassing the poor froggy's in his pond. Din tried everything he could think of to distract him, but it was futile. Grogu misses you, and in truth, so does Din. Work has been slow for the past couple of weeks, meaning once Din has dropped Grogu off at school, he's had nothing but time to ruminate on the events that led to this.

Had he been too harsh? Maybe, but although he's consumed by guilt - and a part of him wants to run to you, forgive you and hold you - he still can't see how he'll ever be able to trust you again, trust you to make difficult decisions when necessary. His heart and his mind are being pulled in two different directions. He can't take this anymore. He needs to clear his head. Getting up from the settee, he places his helmet on his head before walking out of the door to visit the one non Mandalorian friend he has on Nevarro.

*****

The evening sun drenches Sorgan in a warm, golden hue, rays of sunlight gleaming off the krill ponds, shadows of huts and trees elongating as the sun slowly begins it's decent beyond the horizon. The evening had always been your favourite time of day on any planet. Taking time to relax and unwind after a long day was always something you'd look forward to, but not anymore. The evening heralds the approaching night, and night time is when the tears come. When the loneliness and sorrow become too much to bare and manifest in unbridled anguish and weeping. Omera has been a liferaft in a tumultuous ocean for you, allowing you to cry until you'd exhausted yourself and always ready to offer advice and support as your poured your aching heart out.

You honestly don't know what you would've done without her this past month. You'd told her everything the day Din left you in pieces and a part of you worried that she'd be disappointed in you too, but she showed nothing but understanding, adding that in a situation like that, anyone would do the same. Some nights were easier than other's to endure. Night's when your toilworn body had no choice but to succumb to sleep after spreading yourself too thin. More work meant less time to think and a greater chance of sleeping through the night.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights. The harvest had been collected and the krills had been salted and stored away, which meant for the past two days there had been a lot less work to occupy your mind. Tonight is the village festival, a chance for the community to come together and celebrate the rewards of everyone's hard work. As the orange and pink sky turned to dusk, bonfires were lit throughout the village, a signal of the beginning of the festivities. Banners and streamers hung between huts, log seats and blankets placed around each bonfire, the aromas of different delicacy's wafted from the stalls, reaching every corner of the village and the cool night air came alive with cheerful music.

Children laughed and played, people danced, friends gathered around the fires, enjoying Spotchka, everyone immersed in the exuberant atmosphere. It's moments like this that somewhat lightened your spirits, even if it is temporary. Omera sat beside you by the fire, handing you a cup of Spotchka. "Thanks," you smiled at your friend. "So, how are you enjoying your first harvest festival?" You look at Omera with a soft gaze. "It's great. I love seeing how everyone comes together. It's..." you sigh, "It's a rare thing these days."

And that's true, considering the larger, more metropolitan worlds you've visited seem to have lost all sense of community, everyone too caught up in their own lives, rushing from A to B without a second thought for their neighbours. "It is?" Omera seemed surprised by your answer, but of course she'd never left Sorgan, so this life is all she's known. "Yeah, a lot of people in the galaxy these days tend to keep to themselves, look out for number one." Omera grimaced at the thought of that kind of existence. "I'd hate to live like that." "Yeah, you're lucky here. This place is..." you look around at the heartwarming scene in front of you, one of camaraderie, belonging. "This place is special."

Omera placed a hand on your shoulder. "You mean we're lucky here. This is your home too now." Tears well up in your eyes but you blink them back and look at your feet. While you deeply appreciate what the village has done for you, this could never truly be home. Home is inside the hearts of the two people you love the most in this whole universe. A home you'll never see again. "Mama, Y/N!" Winta comes bounding over to you both, a huge grin lighting up her face. "I made these for you." She placed two little daisy crowns on both your heads.

"Thank you, sweetie. It's beautiful," Omera gushed and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Aww, thank you," you smiled softly. You've grown very fond of Winta over the past month, her happy disposition reminding you so much of Grogu. "I'll wear this proudly all night." With a giggle she turned and ran back to her friends. You watch her laughing and skipping with some of the other kids, and you feel your heart warm at the sight. Your mood quickly shifts, though, when your attention is caught by a toddler (no older than two) running into the waiting arms of his mum and dad.

Watching the sweet embrace, the joy and love so openly displayed sends a wave of pain straight through your heart. So many times Grogu had ran to you and Din like that, like you were both the centre of his universe. If you'd known that life would end, you would have held onto them both and never let go. The familiar numbness you'd been battling over the past month returns, sinking deep into your stomach. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you place your cup down and stand up. "You okay?" Omera asks. "Yeah I... I just need to clear my head. I'll be right back," you try to say casually, hoping Omera didn't notice the slight quaver in your voice.

The outskirts of the village is a little quieter, a little less overwhelming. Finding a boulder you slump down onto it, dipping your face into your hands. You inhale deeply then look up at the cosmos, wondering what Din and Grogu are doing this very moment. Are they well? Do they miss you as much as you do them? You're one hundred percent certain that Grogu misses you, but Din? Well, you can't be too sure anymore. You can't be sure of anything anymore when it comes to Din. He'd told you time and again that he loved you, but if that were true, why did he leave you instead of talking to you, instead of giving you a chance to make amends?

Maybe you'd been foolish this whole time. Maybe you loved -love- him more than he's ever loved you. Of course these thoughts had been swirling around your brain, relentlessly hounding you since that day, and you're still no closer to clarification, except for one harsh truth; that you're expendable, meaningless and not worthy of love, if the one person you'd trusted the most could just turn his back on you. A pained sob breaks free as you bury your face in your hands. In all your years nothing had ever hurt as much as this! Will this feeling lesson over time, granting you the opportunity to to learn to live with it, or will you have to face this bleak void for the rest of your life?

So lost are you in your all consuming spiral that you don't notice the screams at first. It's only when the unmistakable echos of blaster fire ring out that you leap to your feet like a startled Porg. Your immediate thoughts are for your friends. "Omera! Winta!" you scream as you run into the village. It's absolute chaos! Red streaks fly through the air, people screaming in panic as the attackers gain the upper hand. Some women run to nearby huts with their children while other's are being rounded up. The men are fighting back, but without any firearms they stand no chance. 'Winta, Omera! Where are you?!" You push through the throng of panicking people, desperately to catch sight of them amidst the mayhem. It's no use. In the dark and the rush of bodies you can't see them anywhere. "Win- arrrgh!" You hit the ground hard, a white hot burn tearing across your lower back and side. You push yourself up, gasping at the pain and, knowing there's nothing more you can do, you run.

Stumbling through the dark woods with only the moonlight to guide you, your mind tries to make sense of what just happened. Your lungs burn as you push through the woodland. You don't know where you're gong but you keep moving, until your legs can't take it anymore. A sharp pang jolts through your knees as you land on them, sweating and gasping for air. Dizziness and nausea sweep over you like a wave and you dig your fingers into the damp soil to ground yourself. As your breathing becomes less frantic, your head clears, and thats when you feel a warm wetness running down your thigh, soaking your trousers and making them stick to you.

You reach a hand around to where the pain radiates from and when you pull away, you squint at the dark, thick liquid staining your hand. The moonlight isn't bright enough to give you a clear view so you bring your hand to your nose, praying your suspicions are wrong. Your sense of smell is instantly overwhelmed by a strong metallic scent. Blood! "Fuck!" you groan quietly. I've been shot! You begin to tremble as you realise just how dire your situation has become. The sudden sounds of snapping and rustling has you jerking your head in it's direction. Voices follow the noises, telling each other to scour the woodland for any escapees. With a silent groan you force yourself to your feet and keep running.

*****

For the past couple of days, Din has been in mental torture. His visit to Karga hadn't gone the way he'd planned. All he'd wanted was a new bounty to keep his mind off you, but instead he'd been given some harsh truths. And the more he thinks about the conversation, the more he realises what a grievous mistake he has made, his mind constantly replaying the moment he'd had some sense knocked into him.

"Mando!" Greef Karga exclaimed enthusiastically while rising from his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Din clasped his friends' arm and sat down opposite him. "I'm looking for more work." "Straight to the point as usual," Karga chuckled. "I've got a few bounty pucks, but to be honest the reward is so low it probably wouldn't even cover fuel." Din sighed and sat back in the chair. "Anyway, what's the rush? Your last two jobs paid handsomely. Why not take some time off and relax?" "I don't need to relax," Din replied, curtly, his shoulders stiffening with tension. Karga raised an eyebrow at Din's clipped response. "So, uh... how's the little one doing?"

Just the mention of Grogu helped to relax Din's tense posture. "He's good," Din answered, with a hint of affection in his voice. "He's been making new friends at school." Karga smiled at that, then clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him, focusing entirely on the black T of Din's helmet. "And how are you?" Din shrugged, "I'm fine." Karga just kept his gaze, fixing Din with a questioning look. "What?" Din asked awkwardly. "You're not doing yourself any favours by bottling everything up, you know." Din shifted uncomfortably, fists clenching as Karga continued. "Sooner or later it'll all catch up with you and -" "I said I'm fine," Din snapped.

"No you're not fine, Mando! You haven't been 'fine' since you left Y/N on Sorgan. You think I haven't noticed how distracted you've been lately?" Karga sighed and lowered his tone. "The only time you seem okay is when you're around the kid, but even then, I can't help but suspect it's a front. Just go to her. You obviously miss her. Din shook his head and let out long exhale. "Of course I miss her, but it's not that simple. "Why?" Karga asked, clearly confused, "You've redeemed yourself. You have your creed-" "It's not about the creed," Din interrupted in frustration, "It's about trust. I trusted her completely."

"Mando-" karga began but Din continued, "She went against my wishes and disrespected the creed and myself, even if it was to save my life. It was a ... selfish thing she did." Karga's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Selfish?!" "Yes! She said she couldn't lose me. She only thought about how she would feel, so yes, she was selfish." Karga pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head as he did so. "Mando, you're my friend so I'm going to be blunt. That's Bantha shit!!" Din jerked back at Karga's sudden outburst. "She saved your life, knowing that doing so could end with you hating her. She knew what she was risking by removing your helmet, and it wasn't just losing you, but Grogu too. She sacrificed everything so you could live, even if she could no longer be a part of your lives. That is the most selfless thing I've ever heard of."

Din is speechless. He'd been so consumed by, what he'd seen as a betrayal, that he hadn't stopped to consider what it would have really meant for you to let him die. You loved him so much that you'd risked losing everything, just for him. The sudden clarity made his stomach churn and chest tighten under the weight of such a revelation. What the hell had he done?! "I... I never thought of it like that," Din faltered as regret swept through him. "Maybe it's not too late. I'm sure you'll do the right thing," Karga smiled sincerely. Din stood quickly; he needed to get out of there, needed space to think clearly. "Thank you," Din nodded at his friend and rushed outside.

For two days Din had been obsessing over how he can fix everything, but what could he say to excuse his behaviour? Would you forgive him? He couldn't blame you if you wouldn't. He doesn't deserve it. He feels sick to his stomach knowing the pain he's put both you and Grogu through. He has to see you, even if you won't forgive him, he needs you to know how sorry he is and how much he still loves you. Din is brought out of his thoughts by the blinking of his holoprojector, a quick press of the button revealing Greef Karga's hazy image. "Mando," Karga began, "I've just received communication from Captain Carson Teva. He has a proposition for you. I need to discuss this with you in person. Can you come to the office ASAP? It's important."

Din frowned as Karga's image disappeared. He could tell from his voice that something was very wrong. Din slipped his helmet on and made his way to the office. Upon arrival, Din was met with a very somber looking Karga. This can't be good, Din surmised internally. "Thank you for coming in, Mando," Greef said, stretching out an arm for Din to sit. "You said you have work for me from Captain Teva?" Din asked as he took a seat. "Yes... uh, he's had confirmed reports that an organisation of Spice runners have taken control of a planet in a nearby system. There have also been reports of fatalities and enslavement of the local people. As the Planet is part of the Outer Rim Territories," -Din bristled at that, hoping Karga isn't going to say what he thinks he's going to say- "It's not exactly a top priority for the over stretched republic officers. That's why Captain Teva has requested the help of allies nearby. He'll pay 30,000 Galactic Credits."

"Okay..." Din replied, hesitantly, a knot forming in his stomach. Greef closed his eyes and sighed. "Mando..." he looked back up. "It happened on Sorgan. Din's heart dropped to his stomach as the words he didn't want to hear washed over him. He could barely breathe, fear and disbelief choking his airways. The room began to spin and Din had to grip the edge of the desk to steady himself. "When did this happen?" Din pressed, trying to calm his racing mind. "Two days ago, Nevarro time." Din's jaw dropped under his helmet. "Two days!" All this time you'd needed him and he knew nothing of it.

Maker knows what could have become of you in the past two days, that's if you're still- no! He can't even entertain that possibility. You're alive! You're alive and he'll come for you. "Tell Captain Teva I'm on my way!" Din spun around, ready to high tail it out of there, but then stopped abruptly. In his panic he'd completely forgotten about Grogu. Karga raised a hand, already knowing what Din was about to say. "Go. Find her. I'll get the kid from school and he can stay with me until you return." "Thank you," Din replied and ran out of the room.

*****

You're cold, so bloody cold. The icy chill seems to be coming from inside your very bones, your entire body trembling uncontrollably, while a constant layer of sweat coats your skin. The only respite you get is when you lose consciousness. At this point, though, you're not sure what's real and what's not, how often you've woken and how often you've been dreaming becoming harder to distinguish between. After managing to stop the bleeding with a strip of your shirt, you forced yourself onwards until you came across a small cave, finally collapsing in an exhausted heap.

Time has now become meaningless. Maybe you've been here for minutes, maybe hours; there's no way to know. What you do know, even in your delirious state, is that you're in serious trouble, and if you don't get help soon... well, it's game over. Dying alone on a freezing cave floor wasn't how you ever envisioned yourself going out. Every breath is becoming difficult and every slight movement sends a burning jolt through your abdomen. Slowly, you slip back into the calm.

*****

The fight didn't last long, if it could even be called that. Along with Captain Teva and his men and several other mercenaries, Din wasted no time in obliterating every one of those low life drug runners and freeing the villagers from bondage. Families and friends cried happy tears as they embraced each other, others crying over the loss of a loved one, and an abundance of gratitude and praise was offered up to the liberators. It was a moment of immense joy and relief. However, Din felt none of it as he scanned the crowd. Where the hell are you? he asked himself again and again. With every passing minute Din's composure threatened to shatter.

"Have you seen Y/N anywhere?!" he asked repeatedly as more and more villagers approached him to thank him, every one of them confirming they hadn't seen you. Worry and frustration began to boil within until Din felt like he was going to explode. "Mando!" a sweet little voice cried out, catching Din's attention and pulling him from his imminent spiral. Small arms wrapped around his waist and a head of dark hair nuzzled into his stomach. "Winta." Din gasped in relief, returning her embrace. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" Winta looked up with a big grin. "I'm okay. You saved us, thank you!"

Din crouched down to Winta's level, gently holding on to her arms. "Where's your mother? Where's Y/N?" he asked, trying to remain calm. "Mama's over there," winta pointed behind her to where Omera was quickly walking through the crowd towards him. "Mando..." Omera smiled, relief swimming in her brown eyes. "What are you doing here?" "I heard what happened and I had to come. Where is she?" Omera's face dropped at Din's question, taking his heart along with it. "Omera?..." Din hesitated, almost afraid to ask again but he needed to know. "Where's Y/N?"

"I don't know," Omera shook her head while tucking Winta into her side. "I haven't seen her since the attack." Din's chest seized, Omera's confirmation that you weren't there making his stomach swirl with dread. "I can't be sure, it was dark, but I think I saw her run into the woods." A glimmer of hope! "Which way?" Omera pointed to the tree line behind him, tears building in her eyes. "Please bring her back, Mando," she sniffled. "I will," Din declared with determination, placing a reassuring hand on Omera's shoulder. "I promise!" Then Din turned, sprinting towards the forrest as fast as his legs could carry him.

*****

It didn't take Din long to spot the tell tale signs of disturbance once he'd entered the forrest. Broken branches on bushes, flattened vegetation, and most importantly, footprints. Several different tracks criss crossed the damp soil, some human, some not. Most of the human prints where too big to be you, so Din could easily rule them out, along with the non human tracks. The tracks that caught his attention, though, were sporadic, indicating that whoever they belonged to was in a hurry, but also Physically impaired as the trail was often interrupted by signs of dragging, which could only mean the tracks' owner had stumbled multiple times in their haste to keep moving.

Din swallowed down his rising anxiety at the thought of you being injured, scared and alone. Now's not the time to fall apart. Keep it together, for her! Fortifying himself, Din pushed forward, certain he's on the right path. He engaged the heat signature function in his helmet. It would be useless to track your footsteps now, the heat in them long gone, but if you're in the vicinity, he would easily spot your body heat. Din moved in stealthy silence as he would while tracking quarries, acutely aware of his surroundings. Only this time the stakes were much higher.

Your life is in his hands now. He can't fail you; he wont! He follows the tracks for several more minutes, analysing every minute detail. Rounding the corner of a bush Din stops dead, his muscles freezing as he stares at the ground. There in a patch of dried blood is the beaded bracelet Grogu had made for you in school. He'd recognise it anywhere. His legs turn to jelly and he drops to his knees. Hand trembling he picks it up. Bile rises up his throat at the sight of your blood. It suddenly becomes all too real. This confirms it; you're hurt. You needed him and he wasn't there. Pocketing the bracelet, Din rises to his full height. "Y/N?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, his body turning in every direction. "Y/N! Where are you?!"

He's met with nothing but the sounds of the forrest and his echoing, modulated voice. "If you can hear me, call out, please!" The last word came out as a desperate plea. Nothing. A thorough scan of the area reveals no body heat signature but you have to be close. The tracks keep going and so does Din. The more he presses on, the more blood he discovers littering the trail. So determined he'd been about finding you, that he'd didn't stop to think about what condition he'd find you in. Would you even be alive? Din shakes the abhorrent thought from his mind.

You're alive. Surely he'd have felt it in his gut if you weren't. Din has become a man possessed, his only mission now is to find you, hold you in his arms and never let any harm befall you ever again. He stalks on, following the tracks for another quarter of a mile until the trail brings him to the mouth of a small cave. This has to be it! With renewed hope, Din charges into the cave, calling your name into the chilled air.

*****

A series of violent shivers jerk you awake, and with consciousness comes the torturous pain spreading along your side. A trickle of sunlight filters down from a hole in the cave ceiling, bathing part of the area in a warm yellow glow. You groan as everything begins to spin in your vision, shutting your eyes in an attempt to ease the nausea trying to climb up you throat. It's hopeless; you know that now. With every waking moment a little more of your strength ebbs away. Your mind wonders to Din and Grogu. Even if you never physically see them again, at least you'll die seeing them in your memories.

A wistful smile tugs at your mouth as you imagine the antics your precious boy is probably up to at this moment, but your smile slowly drops, sadness settling deep within as the image of Din -both with and without his helmet- comes to the forefront of your mind. You'll die now, without the chance to tell him one last time how much he means to you, and that even though he broke your heart, you forgive him. You hadn't even realised until now that your face is wet, tears running down the temples of your head and into your hairline behind your ears.

"Y/N? !Y/N?! Cyar'ika are you in here?!" Din's frantic voice cuts through your silent despair. It sounds strange, almost as if he's under water. So close, yet so far away. How cruel of your mind to play tricks on you now. You hear the call of your name again, closer and clearer this time. In your disorientation, you turn your head in the direction of the voice. The last thing you see before darkness swallows you again is the gleam of sunlight reflecting off a fast moving mass of silver and black.

Part 3 coming soon...

[uwiuwi]

Not forgiven yet. Middle finger for you

[orcasoul]

Broken Part 1

Summary: Din is on the brink of death. The only way to save him is to remove his helmet. Surely he'll understand and forgive you... right?

Warnings: swearing, description of injuries, angst, established relationship, use of Y/N.

A/N: this one has been on my mind for ages and I couldn't wait any longer. I'm a huge sucker for angst, so I hope I've got this just right.

"Just... a little further. We're almost... there!" Your knees feel about ready to buckle as the Razor Crest comes into view. "Din! Din, no!..." Din's heavy frame slumps from your shoulder, pulling you to the ground with him. "You... argh... you gotta get up." He's still, terrifyingly still. You press the button on Din's vambrace to lower the ramp and with your waning strength, pull the unconscious bounty hunter across the muddy ground and up the ramp, the desperation to save him overriding the burn of your exhausted muscles.

With a last tug at his wrists, you manage to drag him away from the ramp and further into the belly of the ship, immediately pressing the button to close it. You're not taking any chances. "Din? Din, can you hear me?" You shake his shoulders roughly, hoping the momentum will rouse him. Nothing. But at least he's still breathing. A little wail emanates from the sleeping bunk before the door whooses open, revealing a very worried and frightened Grogu.

In an instant, Grogu is at Din's side, having used the force to propel himself across the hull. "It's okay, buddy. He'll be okay." You don't know who you're trying to convince, him or yourself. Grogu murmurs anxiously, his large ears drooping as he places a tiny hand on Din's helmet. Without another moment to lose, you begin to strip Din of his armour, checking for injuries. There are plenty of cuts and bruises, maybe some bruised ribs, but the injuries don't appear to be severe enough to render him unconscious. "Din!" you shout louder this time "Ner Karta, please wake up."

Your frantic heartbeat thumps against your ribs, threatening to break through at any minute. You're at a loss at what to do. That's when you notice it; a sight that makes your blood run cold! A slowly oozing trickle of deep crimson, pooling on the floor by Din's helmet. "No, No, no, no," you shudder as you carefully slide your fingers under the lip of the helmet at the back of Din's head. Your stomach plummets when your fingers meet a warm and sticky substance. Blood! Din's blood!

On hands and knees, you scramble across the floor to a nearby crate, searching frantically until you find the medkit. You rush back to Din's side and with trembling hands, open the medkit and retrieve the Bacta spray. You momentarily freeze when you realise what you must now do. There's nothing else for it. To save Din's life you have to remove his helmet. A barrage of thoughts invade your mind at the same time; would Din be angry? Would he hate you? Would you hate yourself for breaking his creed? Would he understand? Would he forgive you?

Time is of the essence now, every precious second bleeding away, along with Din's life. You have to do it. You have no choice, consequences be damned! You're not about to let the man you love die, even if he does hate you afterwards. You'll accept his wrath if it means he's alive. You set the Bacta spray down beside you and take a deep breath. "I'm so sorry," you whisper regretfully, and with a heavy heart, you gently lift the helmet up with one hand while supporting the back of Din's head with the other.

The helmet rolls away from you with a clunk. Brown curls fall backwards from the most beautifully sculpted face you've ever laid eyes on. Patchy, greying scruff decorating a perfectly chiseled jaw, a strong aquiline nose that suits him so well and plush lips... He really is stunning! So much so, that you're taken aback. But you snap yourself out of it. There's no time to lose! You grab the bacta spray and roll Din onto his side to get to the wound. Your breath hitches in your chest and you spray slowly, making sure to liberally apply the treatment.

You're probably using more than necessary, thinking back to how Din would often scold you for wasting the valuable resource when you've patched him up before. But this is literally Din's life in your hands. You'll exhaust the whole supply if you have to. The affects are almost instantaneous. You breathe a sigh of relief as the bleeding ceases and the damaged tissue begins to repair itself. Grogu looks up at you with expectant eyes. "He'll be okay, sweety," you soothed, while stroking Grogu's ear, comfortingly. "Mmm..." Grogu looks back to his dad, sadly.

Once you're satisfied with the progress of the Bacta spray you unwind a sterile bandage, cautiously wrapping it over the wound and around Din's head, trying not to jostle him too much. You then shift your attention to the many cuts and scrapes littering his body, making sure to disinfect every abrasion you see. There's no way you can lift him off the floor so you fetch a pillow from your shared bunk to place under his head and drape a blanket over him. It's not much but it'll have to suffice. With the adrenaline now subsiding, exhaustion begins to sweep over your body and mind, causing you to fall back on your arse, rather un-gracefully, and catch your breath.

You hadn't noticed just how much you'd been shaking this whole time. With controlled breaths your heart rate slowly returns to normal. Grogu waddles over to you with outstretched arms. Poor little guy needs some reassurance. Your maternal instinct has you reaching for him but you stop as you notice the drying blood on your hands. "Hold on, buddy," you say, gently, then rush to the fresher to wash away the blood and horrors staining your hands. Sitting down next to Din, you scoop Grogu into your lap, cradling his head in your chest, while humming a soothing melody to calm him. "Your dad's a fighter, kid. He'll come back from this," Please, you silently beg to whoever might be listening.

All you can do now is wait. Wait for Din to wake, wait for everything to make sense again. Hopefully he won't be furious. Surely he'd understand there was no other way. Even now it feels wrong to look at his face, the very act being sacrilegious to his people. But it's too soon to put his helmet back on. The wound needs more time to heal. Guilt starts to take root the longer you think about what this now means. What you've taken from Din cannot be easily undone. Because of your actions, he is now technically an apostate. He will be cast out of Mandalorian society, exiled in disgrace and it's all because of you.

But what was the alternative? Let him die? Let Grogu lose his dad? Live with the knowledge you could have saved him, but refused? No! It's unthinkable. You know in your heart, you've made the right decision. You just hope Din will see it that way, too. You're not sure how much time has passed, or how long you and Grogu have been asleep, when you are startled awake by a low moan. Grogu stirs in your lap as you sit up from the wall you were slumped against. An equal amount of relief and dread consume you. He's okay, he's waking... But how will he react to the violation of his creed?

"Din?" you gulped, nervously. Din lets out another grumble as his head turns in your direction. You clutch a now awakened Grogu tighter to your chest, apprehension swirling in your stomach. You feel sick! You bite your lower lip, waiting for his eyes to open, for the inevitable realisation to dawn on him. Slowly Din's eyelids lift and you are met with rich, chocolate brown eyes, eyes you would happily let yourself drown in, if it weren't for the look of abject horror and betrayal staring back at you. "Wh... what have you DONE?!!" Din exploded, his face turning red with rage and his eyes filling with tears.

You're frozen to the spot, eyes wide, voice lodged in your throat, refusing to co operate. He's furious, of course he is. "I..." your voice fails as your throat constricts in panic. Between Din's shocked gaze and Grogu's little whimper, you somehow find your voice. "I'm so sorry, Cyare. I had to. You... you were bleeding." Desperation to make Din understand claws at you. "It was the only way to save-" "No!" If looks could kill, you would be dead this very second. "It was NOT the only way," Din seethed, staring daggers at you, "You didn't have to remove my helmet. You chose to do it!" You can't believe what you're hearing.

"But you would have died!" Tears gather at your lash line at the thought. "Better to die a Mandalorian than live as an apostate," Din snapped as he sat up, clutching the back of his head. His eyes frantically dart around the hull, searching for his helmet. He reaches for it but you reach for his arm to stop him. "You can't. You're still healing-" "Don't!" Din recoiled from your touch as if you'd burned him. You heart drops like a stone to your stomach. You've never seen Din so angry, so hurt, his face portraying the image of a man who has lost it all. And you did that. You took away his sacred creed and left him with the ashes. The hiss of the helmet fills the tense air as Din places it back on, the familiar T- shape in front of you once again.

Only it's directed to your lap, where Grogu sits, looking with uncertainty between you both. "Patu," he murmured, while reaching out for Din. Din gently takes Grogu into his arms, his heaving chest and taut shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm okay, pal," Din soothed, trying to calm his foundling, but you can hear the strain in his voice as he now fights to keep his emotions at bay, no doubt for Grogus' sake. Din stands on shaky legs, your first instinct is to help him up, but you stop just short of touching him, unsure if your help will be welcomed. Without so much as a glance in your direction, Din heads to the ladder with Grogu tucked into his chest. "Din? Cyare wait, we have to talk about this-" "Just!..." Din raises his hand to stop your words, his back still facing you. "just stop," he sighs despondently. "I can't look at you right now." Tears sting your eyes as you watch him ascend the ladder, locking himself and Grogu in the cockpit, away from you.

*****

Din sat in quiet dispair, trying to come to terms with his new reality. One where he is now an apostate... again. Sure, he had removed his helmet to save Grogu when he'd been abducted by Moff Gideon and to say goodbye, but that was his call, his decision to make. By removing his helmet, you'd taken away his choice, his creed, his very identity. You should have let him die an honourable death. Of course, redemption is possible but that doesn't change the fact that you betrayed him. He had trusted you, opened up to you and believed that you respected his creed and his way of life.

The longer he sat contemplating, the angrier he became. How could she! he thought bitterly. Not only had you dishonored the very foundation of who he is, you had also inadvertently destroyed the close bond you'd both built over the past year. He doesn't even know who you are anymore. To have done what you've done... how can he ever forgive you? His helmet suddenly feels too restrictive, too suffocating. Din pulled his helmet off with one hand while still holding Grogu close, and set it down on his lap, staring bleakly into the pitch black visor.

Until he can atone, this helmet will serve as a reminder of what has been lost. "Mmm..." Grogu tilted his head as if to ask 'are you alright?' Din exhaled, long and deep and looked at his son with a thin lipped smile, his face reflecting back to him in the childs' large, glossy eyes, the only eyes that are, by creed, permitted to look upon his face. "I'll be okay," he whispered softly, "I'll make this right." He can find forgiveness in the living waters, that part is simple enough - well maybe simple isn't the right word. He still has to live with the fact that he has grievously sinned against the creed. Even the living waters can't wash that truth away - but how can you both move forward from this? Is it even possible?

A dull, throbbing pain pulses through Dins' temples, causing him to groan and lean his forehead into his palm, his elbow resting on the armrest. He needs to calm down. He needs to think with a cool head. Grogu yawns and snuggles into Dins' stomach. "Okay you little womp rat, time for bed," Din smiled as he tucked Grogu into the crook of his elbow. After securing his helmet, Din makes his way down the ladder and into the hull, where he finds you sitting with your back pressed against the wall. His heart physically aches at the sight of your red rimmed eyes and blotchy face. You look as though you're about to say something, but he hasn't got the energy for this right now. All he wants to do is settle the kid in his hammock and rock him to sleep. So Din quickly opens the bunk door, disappearing inside.

The dim light of the hull reflects your sombre mood as you listen to Din's modulated voice, muffled by the closed door, speaking softly to Grogu. Most of the time you and Din would say goodnight to him together, every bit the picture of a happy family. But now you are shut out, physically and metaphorically, and it hurts, maker it hurts so much. You are only meters away but it might as well be the length of the entire galaxy. A short while later the door slides open and Din slowly walks out, keeping his steps light as to not wake Grogu. He turns to you for a moment, seemingly unsure of what he wants to do next. He takes a step towards you but then stops. Sighing, he turns on his heel and retreats to the cockpit once again.

Your heart sinks and lungs deflate in crushing disappointment. You can't stand it anymore. If Din won't talk to you then you'll talk to him. You bring the sleeve of your top to wipe your face - not that it'll make a difference to your puffy eyes and reddened cheeks - and steeling yourself, you make your way to the cockpit. The silence is deafening, oppressive, brutal. You gingerly sit in the co-pilots' chair, fiddling nervously with the hem of your top. Din remains motionless, staring out of the window, shoulders strung tighter than a bow. You feel invisible and you hate it. With a steady breath, you break the silence.

"Din, we have to talk about what happened." Din still doesn't look at you. "There's nothing to talk about," Din retaliated, the coldness of his tone sending shivers down your spine, "What's done is done!" You shake your head. "Please believe me when I say I didn't make this decision lightly. It was the only way to save your life. What else could I have done?" The tears threaten your eyes again as you try desperately to make Din understand. "You could have let me die an honourable death." An incredulous huff forced it's way up your throat. "How could you expect me to do that? Listen to what you're asking? Would you have let me die if I were injured?! "That's different," Din retorted, annoyance building on his voice.

"How?!" You're so close to clawing at your eyes in frustration. "Because you're not Mandalorian!" Din's booming outburst had you shrinking back in your seat, his large frame now towering over you, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. You know Din would never hurt you, no matter how angry he got, but at the same time you've never felt so small, so helpless. Is this how his bounties feel under his intimidating gaze? Din seemed to notice your unease, immediately unclenching his balled up fists and taking a step back to give you some space. After a moment of silent staring, he shakes his head and simply states, "You'll never understand."

That was a low blow! You've always respected Dins' creed, his way of life. Never asked him to go against it and never judged him like so many other's have. It's a part of him and you love all of him. Fear and despair have now given way to anger. "Maybe you're right," you glowered, "I'll never understand because if it comes down to chosing between the creed and your life, I'd chose you everytime. I love you too much to just let you die for an ideal." "And you think being an apostate is any better?" It's like talking to a fucking brick wall! How could he not see the impossible situation you'd been placed in?

"I don't know what else to say, Din..." you sigh, your shoulders slumping in defeat, "I'm sorry it's come to this, but I'm not sorry for saving your life." "Then there's nothing more to say," Din clarified with finality, sitting back down and turning to the window again. Silent tears run down your cheeks as you leave the cockpit and join Grogu in the bunk.

*****

When you wake the next morning the bunk is empty, cold. Even though you were certain Din wouldn't have joined you last night, disappointment weighs heavily on your heart. A part of you had hoped he would calm down and come to you. You rub the sleep from your eyes and sit up with a groan, dreading the tension that will, no doubt, still be rife. "Morning, buddy..." you cooed, gently as you stood on the mattress to wake Grogu. Your brows scrunch in confusion at the empty hammock. Din must have come in to get him while you were still asleep.

Stepping into the hull, you hear babbling from Grogu in the cockpit, followed by the occasional chuckle from Din. A flicker of hope ignites within. Maybe now he's had time to cool off, you can both talk reasonably and calmly. Maybe not all is lost? However that flicker is soon doused when you walk into the cockpit and see Din's posture turn rigid, his chair not even turning so he can acknowledge your presence. The air turns icy and heavy with friction as you take a seat. "Good morning..." you offer, meekly. "Morning." Din's monotone reply confirms that he's still upset.

"Patu," Grogu smiled as he patted your leg to pick him up. You couldn't be more grateful for the distraction right now. "And good morning to you, baby," you grin as you scoop him up and place him in your lap. "You two strap in," Din orders as he fires up the engines. "Where are we going?" You bring the seat belt around yourself and Grogu. "Sorgon." Din's clipped tone is like a knife to your heart. It's the same tone he'd used when he'd first employed you two years ago, when you were both still adjusting to each others' company.

Now you realise how you've taken his caring tone, his laugh, his tenderness for granted. It feels a million miles away now. You swallow the lump in your throat and give Grogu your full attention, feigning cheery laughter while trying to ignore the 'bantha in the room' the whole way to Sorgon. The Razor Crest descends into the atmosphere, the blackness of space giving way to a dazzling blue, causing you to squint and shield your eyes. You've always liked Sorgon, visiting several times with Din over the years.

The simple, peaceful way of life is so unlike most worlds you've visited, and with that simplicity comes a tight knit community. One who always welcomes you with open arms. You've even made a few friends here, your closet one being Omera. Grogu bounces excitedly on your lap as the ship touches down on the outskirts of the small village, no doubt ecstatic at the prospect of seeing his friends again, especially Winta. "I know, I know..." you chuckle fondly, placing a kiss on Grogu's head.

Din shuts down the engines and without a word or even a glance in your direction, he leaves the cockpit. The harsh treatment makes you want to cry, but in an effort to shield the kid from any more tension you plaster on your best fake smile. "Ready to see your friends, sweetie?" Din lowered the ramp and was instantly greeted by a handful of locals, eager to welcome back the man who gave them back their home and dignity when the Klatooinian bootleggers attacked them.

He shook hands and accepted enthusiastic slaps on the back. He looked to where you stood, embraced in Omera's arms. Winta had already claimed Grogu, the two of them heading off to play with the other kids. The sight of his son playing with the other children warmed Din's heart, but that content, fuzzy feeling soon faded when his gaze fell back on you. Dread and sorrow wash over him, choking him, knowing what he has to do. Din turns to one of the men, lowering his voice. "Please, I need to speak to the village elders."

Din felt like the worst person in the galaxy as he discussed your future with the council, all the while you remained completely unaware of the real reason he'd brought you here. He'd been reassured you'd have a place here, a safe community to call home. Even through the anger and hurt, he had to know you'd be safe, protected. And since the defeat of the Klatooinian's, sorgon had become a peaceful planet again. He couldn't imagine a safer place for you to start over. Now all that's left to do is to break the news to you.

The ache in Din's chest grew stronger as he walked through the village looking for you. It didn't take him long to spot you, sitting by a fire with two other women you'd become friendly with. Din could tell you were wearing a forced smile by how it didn't reach your eyes. When your gaze locked with his, your smile faltered, replaced with a look of deep remorse and longing. Din sighed wearily and walked over to where Grogu was happily frolicking about with other kids. Again, guilt gnawed away at him as he thought about how hard this is going to be on Grogu. In time, he'll understand, hopefully.

Din catches sight of Omera and makes his way over to her. "Hi," Omera smiled. "Can I speak with you? It's important." Omera's smile dropped slightly, her face taking on a more serious countenance. "Of course," she replied. Din shifted uncomfortably, unused to asking for favours. This is the second time today. "Could you do something for me?" Omera raised an eyebrow in intrigue, waiting for Din to continue. "Would you look after Y/N? She... she's going to need a friend now, more than ever." " What do you mean?" Omera asked, clearly confused. "We're leaving, me and the kid... and Y/N is staying here... permanantly."

Omera glanced over her shoulder to you, then turned back to Din. "Is everything okay with you two?" Din looked down and placed his hands on his hips. "No." He shook his head before raising it again. "I can't explain right now, but, please, promise me you'll look out for her." Omera's face softened. "Of course I will. She's my friend." Din felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, albeit a small one, compared to the weight he'll have to bare for the rest of his life; the weight of breaking your heart and leaving you alone in the galaxy.

But what else was there to do? Nothing could ever be the same between you both again. This is for the best... at least that's what he keeps telling himself. "Thank you," Din replied with a twinge of sadness in his voice. "That... means a lot to me." He patted Omera on the arm in gratitude before making his way over to where Grogu was playing. "Time to go, pal," Din cooed as he bent down to pick Grogu up. "Say goodbye to your friends." Grogu waved as the other kids bade him farewell.

You could tell something was wrong when Omera sat beside you, her normally soft and calm mien now absent. In it's place, concern and worry clouded her features. But before you could ask her if she's okay, Din appeared before you. It's the first time he's acknowledged you since this morning. "Would you come with me for a minute?" The gentle tone of his voice and outstretched hand made your tummy flutter in anticipation. Without a second thought, you took Din's hand and stood up. But the little hope that gesture had given you was dashed when Din immediately released your hand, and you had to fight against the anguish his absent touch left in it's wake.

You silently follow Din to the Razor Crest, stopping at the edge of the ramp. "Are we leaving already?" you ask disappointedly. Din remains silent while he turns around to pick up a bag off the ramp. He holds it out for you and sighs, "I am... you're staying here." And just like that your whole world has come crashing down around you. Din's words are a punch to you gut, stealing your breath away. "What do you mean I'm staying here?!" Your voice wobbled as your veins ran cold. "I mean..." Din set his shoulders and took a deep breath, "This... us..." he gestured between you both, "it's over." Shock has you rooted to the ground. Icy chills prickle over your skin, nausea sweeping through you.

"You... you can't be serious! Din, we have to talk about this. You can't just go making rash decisions like this, please!" Your imploring eyes search Din's visor, hoping to detect even a fraction of hesitation behind it, but you find nothing but unnerving calmness. "I'm not making a rash decision," Din replied almost emotionlessly, pushing your bag of belongings into your hands, "I thought about it all last night and it's the right thing to do." "Look, I know you're upset with me but please just take a minute to -" "I don't need a minute!" Din snapped, his patience wearing thin.

Tears burn your eyes, the lump in your throat causing your voice to quiver. "But I don't understand," you begin, willing your tears to remain where they are, but your resolve is cracking with every passing second. You have to make him see how ridiculous this is! "You broke the creed once to save Grogu and you attoned. Can't you do that again?" "Of course I can," Din answered through gritted teeth. "Then... what's the problem?!" Your voice has now risen in pitch, despite your best efforts to de-escalate the tension. "The problem is you!" Your mouth snaps shut and eyes widen in response to Din's sharp words. Words lined with a razor edge, cutting straight to your core. "You didn't just break the creed Y/N, you broke my trust! The creed can be restored, my trust in you can't."

Words have now completely abandoned you, numbness slowly consuming you as you let Din's truth sink in. You now realise just how much you've hurt him. 'I thought you understood me, respected how my religion is absolute. I can't..." Din shook his head, his voice shuddering as he continued, "I can't trust you ever again. I feel like I don't even know who you are anymore." "Please..." you whimper as your tears begin to fall freely. "please don't do this. Don't leave me. I love you and I know you love me." "I do," Din agreed without hesitation. "Then we can get passed this." You reach for Din's hand but he pulls away. "No." he takes a few steps back, "Love isn't enough."

"So, what?..." you yell as your heartbreak turns into anger, "You're just gonna leave me here, after everything we've been through? You're just gonna to throw it all away like it meant nothing?!" "This is the way," Din responded, robotically, as if he's no longer a living, feeling organism. Fury welled up in your chest, until you were trembling with rage. "Fuck the way!" you exploded, wanting in the moment to wound Din as he has you, but regretting it simultaneously. Din visibly stiffened at your blasphemous insult, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I saved your life and I'm not sorry. I'll never be sorry." A silence settles between you both before Din sighs and responds, "I know... I'm sorry, Cyar'ika." Din Turns to walk away but you grab his arm, spinning him to face you. "Wait! Where's Grogu?" Your eyes dart to the ramp in search of him. "He's in the ship." "You were just going to take him away from me?!..." you gasped, hand on your chest as if the action would lesson the intensifying ache, "Without letting me see him." "It's for the best. Saying goodbye will only upset him," Din spoke, now devoid of emotion, "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

In that moment your heart shattered completely, the shards ripping you apart from the inside. They say love hurts, but that is an understatement. This raw agony feels like it might just be the end of you. "Please!" you now beg, tears streaming down your face, "He's my son too. Don't take him away from me! He'll think I abandoned him." "He'll understand.... in time." Despite Din's persistence, he seems conflicted, like he's fighting himself on his decision, like underneath all that Beskar he's hurting as much as you.

"Please Din! Please don't do this!. Don't leave me!" you sob loudly as you fall to your knees, clutching your abdomen as if to comfort yourself. Seeing you in distress is unbearable to Din, but what makes it worse is that he's the cause of said distress. He Automatically takes a step towards you, hands outstretched, seeking to hold you but he stops himself and regains his rigid posture. "I'm sorry," he mutters as he quickly spins on his heel and storms up the ramp.

The rising Crest wobbles in your tear filled eyes as it ascends into the sky, heaving breathes causing violent hiccups to rip through your airways, as you watch your family disappear forever. In your distraught state you don't notice a pair of arms wrapping around your shoulders. It's only when your head is gently pulled into a warm chest, that you realise Omera is holding you as your whole life falls apart.

[uwiuwi]

I hate you for life

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x Hufflepuff fem!reader

Summary: Girls can be mean and your darling boyfriend isn't having any of it.

Prompt: Angsty hurt and comfort - "Oh shit. Are you crying?"

Warnings: slight bullying, insecurities

~ I hope you love this @livinginafantasysworld! i love YOU 💖 also this is much longer than my usual blurbs, i got carried away 🫶 ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

You've fallen asleep on your potions book, your hair sprawled messily across your arms as your chest rises and falls. James is too busy feverishly correcting and polishing your essay to realize you've dozed off.

"Hi, Potter," a girl's voice suddenly calls from behind him, a sharp giggling follows his name and James turns, ink stains peppering his hands as his tongue pokes out of his mouth. 

"Mhm?" 

It's Samantha—something—from Charms. She's also in Gryffindor and she sits behind him in class, constantly talking his ear off. Sirius tells him he's too nice to her and honestly, he's starting to believe him.

James peers back at you, just now realizing you're sound asleep, and he smiles fondly. 

"Are you busy?" Samantha asks, her eyes narrowing in your direction almost judgmentally.

James turns to her again, catching the look and he frowns. "I am, actually," he turns his attention back to your essay and dips his quill in the ink. He's only focused on you now, occasionally looking up from the essay to admire your sleeping form. Samantha huffs but eventually leaves you and James alone in the library. 

After another half-hour of his work and your soft breaths, James leans over, his arm sliding across the table as he rests his chin on his upper arm. He smoothes his hand over your hair, gently coaxing you awake again. He has a late evening Quidditch practice he can't miss. 

"Dovey," he whispers, his eyes loving as you slowly wake up and look at him. The pages from your potion book stick to your cheek and your boyfriend chuckles, pushing them away. "Hello, sleepy-head."

You sit up, wiping some drool from your lips and your cheeks burn. "I fell asleep?"

James hums and sits straighter, sliding over the parchment with your essay. You look down. 

"You finished?"

"Yup." James pops the 'p' and then smiles at you. "Wasn't a problem. I know potions like this like the back of my hand," he says with a wink and you can't help but smile at him. You glance at the clock and realize you've been asleep for more than an hour. 

"Sorry I fell asleep," you whisper. 

"It really wasn't a problem, lovie," James assures you with a chuckle and he stands. You stand as well as James folds your essay and puts it into your book, slipping the book into your bag and running his thumb under one of your bleary eyes. 

"I love doing things for you. What else am I here for?"

You smile, leaning into his hand. "Well, being my boyfriend doesn't mean you have any obligation to help with my assignments—especially since I feel asleep," you tell him, your tone soft and unsure.

James chuckles. "Well, good thing I don't do it because of obligation but because I want to." He kisses your forehead and swings his bag over his shoulder. "I'll see you at dinner, okay? Imma be late for practice."

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and then he disappears amongst the bookshelves. You stand there, his taste still lingering, and you've never felt luckier to have him. You touch your cheeks, checking their temperature and then you smile into your hand.

Your happiness is short-lived however because as you walk through the library, you overhear a group of girls talking about your boyfriend. 

"And James has never turned me down until now," one of the girls, a taller brunette with olive skin, says as she leans against one of the desks pressed up against a window, her friends surrounding her. She's a Gryffindor. You've seen her hanging around James and his friends a few times. You're pretty sure she's in his Charms class.

"And I knew the rumors—but I didn't think he'd actually be with her." Her friends laugh and you press yourself against a hidden bookshelf, listening in.

"Who is she anyways?"

The girl scoffs almost cruelly. "Some sixth-year Hufflepuff," she looks at her nails and then smirks, "I thought Puffs were supposed to be hard-working. Instead, he was doing all the work while she drooled all over her potion book." 

Your heart sinks and your hand tightens around the strap of your bag. 

"James deserves someone better. Someone like me—"

You hold in your tears, deciding there is no use in standing there and just listening to the rest of this girl's rant. You don't have the energy to confront her either. It isn't like you haven't thought the same things she has. 

You aren't enough for him.

He deserves someone so much better.

* * *

You're the only person on James's mind as he struts into the Great Hall. His hair is still wet from his shower but that only accentuates his curls. He's smiling happily, excited to have you in his arms again. He walks by where you usually sit with your friends at the Hufflepuff table, intending to persuade you to sit with him but he frowns slightly when he sees you already sitting with his friends. 

"Hey," he says and plops down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

You don't move. Your head is lowered and you're poking your fork into your chicken. James looks up at his friends, who only send him confused looks, and then Sirius mouths, "She hasn't said a word since she sat down."

When James sees your eyes, he panics. "Oh shit, are you crying?"

Your shoulders shake and James is quick. He stands and pulls you up with him, holding your wrist as he drags you along and outside into the mostly empty hall. He gently pushes you against the wall, his knee slotted in between yours just to keep you still as his hand cups your cheeks and he tries to calm your soft cries.

"Hey, hey, why are you crying, sweetheart? What happened?" 

James doesn't understand. He'd left you alone for barely three hours and now you're in tears?

"I'm sorry," you say, your voice small. James's thumb wipes at your tears instantly.

And now you're apologizing?!

"What are you sorry for, dovey?" James asks as he looks at your sad expression and his chest hurts. 

"I-I think we should break up," you whisper, your voice shaky. 

James's eyes widen and his chest tightens. "What?!"

You cry a little harder as you try to explain yourself. "I- just– you deserve some head-strong Gryffindor girl who doesn't fall asleep when you're helping her. Someone prettier, smarter, someone who isn't like me. Someone who is more like you."

James's eyes darken when he hears you. "What are you talking about?!" He looks genuinely furious as he pushes some hair behind your ear and continues to hold your cheeks in his hand.

"You're talking nonsense. Don't you dare say things like that? You are what I deserve and so much more, do you understand me?"

You blink at him. You open your mouth to protest but James shakes his head and presses his thumb against your lips, looking at you pointedly. "If you wanna break up with me, I'm gonna need a better excuse than that."

He sounds serious and then he adds, "For example, 'oh, Jamie, I lost my memory and I can't remember you,'" he pauses his very inaccurate and rather cute impression of you for a moment, "but I think even then you'll be stuck with me so you're shit out of luck, huh??"

You laugh at the humor in it all and he finally smiles. 

"There," James kisses your cheek to remove any lingering marks of your tears. "That's much better. Now, where did all this come from?"

You clutch his shirt and mumble something incomprehensible as James pulls you in and kisses your hairline, smiling against your hair. 

"Gonna have to say it louder, sunshine."

"I heard some girls talking about me, about you—about us. It just made me feel so awful." 

James's jaw tenses. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows which girls— or which girl. He has to remember to take Sirius's advice and tell Samantha to piss off when he sees her next.

It's one thing to annoy him, it's another to hurt his girl. No one hurts you and especially no one makes you feel like you don't deserve to be with him.

"Don't listen to anything they say," James says sternly, "They don't matter. I love you. I chose you a million times over." He pulls back and tilts your chin with his hand. You lean your head back on the wall and look at him, sensing the truth behind his words and finally, your heart relaxes. "I love you," he adds.

"I love you too, Jamie," you say quietly. 

"Good," he leans and kisses your lips. He pulls away again and grins, "Now, excuse me while I go make that a public announcement—" he turns to walk away, heading for the doors to the Great Hall and your eyes round.

Knowing your boyfriend, he has no trouble shouting out his love for you, you rush after him, feeling much better. 

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Rift Masterlist

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Pike x Marcus Acacius x Reader

Rating: E (Explicit smut, 18+ only)

Warnings: Time Travel Nonsense, foursome dynamics (M/M/M/F), lots of mlm action, so if that's not your thing... I'm not really sure what you're doing here. More warnings will be listed under individual chapter headings.

Summary:

Marcus Moreno and the Heroics managed to contain the detonation of a supervillain's black hole bomb in the middle of Washington, DC, but the energy blast created a mysterious crack in the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue. Scientists are calling it a rift in time and space. Marcus Moreno calls it a logistical security nightmare.

Several weeks after the Rift opens, unusually well-preserved ancient Roman artifacts begin to flood the black market, inundating Special Agent Marcus Pike's team with work. He enlists you, a Classical Archaeologist with a focus on Imperial Roman art and a curator at the National Gallery of Art, to assist his team in identifying the growing pile of smuggled artifacts.

Despite the Heroics' desperate attempts to close the Rift, it's only a matter of time before something much larger than gold coins makes its way through the crack in spacetime and onto the streets of DC...

Or:

Three people named Marcus are smooshed together into the same space.

A/N: @leslie-lyman said, "I want all three Marcuses at the same time but also that would be a nightmare to write." I laughed, trying to imagine how on earth someone would bring together a superhero, an FBI Agent, and Roman General. And then I kept thinking about it. And then this entire story happened. Thank you, dear Les for the idea and for egging me on as always. <3 Thank you also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who beta'd this entire work, listened to me scream about it in her DMs at all hours, and most importantly, who never gave up on me when I was convinced that my brain was out of stories.

Table of Contents

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6** Chapter 7 Chapter 8** Chapter 9 Epilogue**

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Felt like this would for sure be one of those conversations you'd have high with your partner.

Spencer Reid x Reader

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"You did not just ask me that. There's no fucking way you just asked me that."

"So you wouldn't love me if I was a worm."

"Spencer. I'm not fucking a worm."

The signature pout graced his lips and he looked up at you with the utmost betrayal. "I'm not asking about sex. I'm asking about love. You wouldn't love me if I was a worm?"

"Spence..."

He crossed his arms and moved off of your lap. "So what you're saying is you don't love me."

"Spencer Reid You know that's not true."

"Well you wouldn't love me if I was a worm."

"You're high."

"Don't negate my feelings because you suck."

You rolled your eyes. "Well would you love me if I was a worm?"

"Of course!" He jumped up, exclaiming for potentially the whole apartment complex to hear. "I'd make sure you had the perfect habitat to thrive in, with the right temperature of about 55 degrees and-and tons of moisture. Plus I'd give you coffee grinds all the time as a little sweet treat. You're the love of my life--how could I NOT love you as a worm."

This was astounding to you. The love of your life was too sweet, too kind, too...knowledgeable about worms it seemed.

"Spence--"

"No no. too late. you wouldn't love me if I was a worm, you can't take it back."

"I actually wanted to know why you know so much about worms..."

Spencer shrugged. "They live a simple life."

It took every fiber of your being to not burst into laughter at him.

Spencer Reid was dead serious about the simple life of being a worm, and it was absolutely adorable.

"I love you."

He looked up at you. "But not if I was a worm."

"I've thought about it, and decided that if a situation arises...."

"I don't want to hear it."

You gently kissed the side of Spencer's head and pull his hand into your lap, clasping both of your hands around his. Spencer turned his whole body away from you in protest.

But he left his hand in yours.

"I love you."

"Now you're just trying to butter me up." He grumbled.

"So what if I am." You rubbed circles into the back of his hand, a gentle smile resting on your lips. Maybe you managed to not be as high as Spencer, but the idea of loving him in any capacity, worm or not, didn't seem too farfetched.

After a moment of silence between the two of you, he finally caved and turned back towards you, leaning against your shoulder, his hand still in yours.

"I'd love you if you were a worm Spence."

"You had to think about it."

"Well, it was a hard decision, but I realized I could enjoy life loving a worm."

Spencer hummed happily.

"All I'd have to do was leave you in a terrarium and then I'd be able to do whatever I want. I'd start by redecorating the bathroom for sure--"

"Wait--"

"And then I'd get the king bed all to myself."

"Rude!"

"And maybe I'd be able to buy the coffee brand I like that you don't."

Spencer rolled his eyes and smiled. "No you wouldn't."

You looked down at him, eyes narrowed. "And why not?"

"Because you would still buy the coffee I like so that as a worm I'd be able to enjoy them."

Your cheeks tinged the tiniest bit red as you beamed at the man leaning on you. "Maybe you're right."

"I'm always right." He mused, and all you could do was squeeze his hand once more before placing a kiss on his lips.

[moonstruckme]

hellooo!! hope you’re doing well! So in my city whenever a drop of rain falls it’s immediately chaos, people drive worse than ever and lots of floodings happen. Today was especially rough as it was raining really bad, I got out of class at 4;30 and got home at 7, a trip that usually lasts around 20-40 min depending on traffic. I was stuck in traffic and was low on gas, the fastest way to get to a gas station was through a flooded road, though many were driving through it, it was still so scary. Literally called my mom, almost crying, not knowing if I could cross the road. Thankfully, i did cross it, praying to whatever that heard me the entire way. Got home absolutely exhausted, cramped and menstruating😆

Sooo the point is if you could do this but with poly!marauders? Where reader calls one of them up crying and they can only help her through the phone, need the angst with comfort. Tsym!!

Ugh sorry lovely, glad it worked out okay! Thank you for requesting

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 702 words

“Hello?” 

“Ask her what’s taking so long,” says Sirius, leaning towards where James sits sprawled across the loveseat and dragging Remus with him by consequence. Sirius’ cartilage piercing is infected again, and Remus has finally resorted to trapping both of his hands in his to keep him from touching it. Sirius seems to feel alternately pleased and as though he’s being held prisoner. He shouts towards the phone, “Rem won’t heat dinner without you, and I’m starving!” 

James cups the speaker protectively, cradling the phone close to his ear. “Hey, lovie,” he says, voice soft enough that the other boys both still. “What’s going on?” 

A muffled voice on the other end of the line. James’ brow pinches. 

“Alright, that’s okay. You’re okay, right? Are you somewhere safe?” 

Remus’ chest tightens. 

“Put her on speaker,” says Sirius, mouthing at first, then louder, until his voice is a shrill whisper. “Put her on speaker, James.” 

“Angel, give me just a second, okay? I’m gonna put you on speaker.” James pulls the phone away from his face, whispering hurriedly to the others. “Her tire blew on the motorway.” He clicks a button. 

“Hey, baby.” Remus can hear your stuttering breaths through the speaker, a forewarning that you’re holding back tears, and Sirius’ desperate tone is a match for them. “Are you okay?” 

Remus strokes his thumb over his boyfriend’s hand. Settle down. 

“I’m fine.” It’s a relief to hear your voice, though it reaffirms Remus’ fears, thick and slightly tremulous. “I, um, my tire blew and the car kind of went out of control, so I panicked and ended up pulling off in the shoulder of the fast lane. I keep thinking people are going to hit me.” 

Remus leans towards the phone, ignoring the twinge in his chest and summoning his surest tone. “Nobody’s going to hit you. Just keep your hazards on, they’ll go around you.” He glances outside. It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there. “Do we still have the spare tire in the trunk?” 

“Um, I think so? I’m not sure. I’m a little bit scared to get out and check.” 

“We should go,” Sirius whispers. 

“How?” Remus asks, not unsympathetically. “She has the car, love. We can’t very well walk there.” 

“There’s no rush,” James says to you. His light tone is at odds with his terse expression, fingers wrapped tight around his phone. “You can go look for it when you feel ready.” 

Suddenly, they can hear the sounds of the motorway through the phone. You must have put them on speaker, too. Remus can picture you in the car, setting your phone in the cupholder and pulling your legs up onto your seat. When you speak, it sounds muffled, as though your voice is coming from behind your hands. “I’m really sorry. You guys should eat dinner, I think I’m going to be awhile.” 

Sirius makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat. “Hey, I was just fucking around about dinner, babydoll. Don’t worry about that. We’re all okay, yeah?”

“Okay.” You sound close to tears. 

“Sweetheart,” Remus interjects, “can you take a deep breath for me? Just take a second.” 

There’s a thick pause, the sound of your breath crackling through the speaker. Remus does it with you, trying to relax the tension in his own chest. He notices James’ shoulders drooping on your exhale, too.

“Thank you,” Remus says softly. “You’re fine, yeah? You can handle this.” 

“Yeah.” You sound frail, but better. “Sorry.” 

“What for, my love?” James asks lightly. “Seems like luck just wasn’t on your side this time, s’got nothing to do with you. Listen, I’ll talk you through changing the tire in case there’s anything you forgot, and then we can worry about you merging back on when it comes to that. There’s no rush, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, more sure now. “Thank you. You’ll all stay on the line with me?” 

“Where else would we be, sweetness?” Sirius teases. “I always love talking to you, you know that.” 

Remus lifts Sirius' hands to his face, kissing them with a smile on his lips. For all the worry thickening the air in the room, the love is thicker.

[uwiuwi]

We aren't calling a tow truck in this situation? You guys really change your own tire!? Damn, cool, cool

[ellecdc]

Hi!! I’ve been reading your poly!marauders x femreader and was wondering if you could possibly write about the reader having a vision while being with only the marauders, and how they would react and help reader without Barty or Reggie being there to help her? Maybe the vision can be another cute moment with the boys and reader not wanting to tell them what she saw and trying to walk away but they stop her and eventually get it out of her? Also,I love how you write the characters and portray their relationships :) Thank you so much!!!

This ended up a bit angstier than you had requested? But I think our girlie-pop needs to work through some of her shit before we’re really leaning into the cutesy stuff so I hope this works for now! It’s not like I’ve already got the next part planned or anything…….. 👀😅

poly!marauders x seer!reader where they witness her first Sight alone

CW: fem!reader, angst? w/ a happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader still stubborn as all hell, boys still relentless as ever - but we’re getting somewhere folks!!

There was no sense in feeling agitated with the Marauders; you noticed a simmering resentment bubbling up within you whenever your mind began to stray towards them, but it could hardly be considered their fault.

Just one of the many consequences of the ability of Sight; gradual feelings forming over ideas and thoughts and imagines that aren’t real, haven’t happened, and may never happen. There was an undeniable soft appreciation - dammit, maybe even love - for the three boys growing in your heart, but it hurt.

It hurt because it was an outcome of experiences that they haven’t had, that they haven’t shared with you; it was simply feelings for versions of these boys that don’t even exist yet.

But it was becoming difficult to separate your Sights of them from them; it was becoming harder and harder to remind yourself that the love you were feeling wasn’t real, at least not yet.

Yet.

That was the worst part - yet - seeing as none of these supposedly sweet moments taking place between you and the boys have ever really taken place, save that one of your impromptu Hogsmead date.

And whatever agitation you felt only tripled when you heard their voices in the library and your face broke out in an involuntary smile.

Stupid lovesick girl.

“There’s our princess!” Sirius cheered loudly as he spotted you, earning him more than a few severe glares from surrounding tables as he sloppily (and loudly) plopped himself onto the bench at the table across from you.

“Do try not to get us kicked out when we’ve only just found her, yeah?” Remus muttered quietly, though he seemed no less pleased with his boyfriend despite his scolding.

Sirius made a dismissive scoffing sound as Remus took a seat beside him and James across from him (and, decidedly less importantly, beside you). “I’d like to see them try; my family paid for this sodding library.”

“Charming, Black.” You muttered as you kept your face pointed towards the notes in front of you.

From your periphery you could see Sirius flash you a salacious grin; all sharp canines and cocky attitude. “Thanks dolly; I think so too.”

“You’re exhausting.” You let out with a sigh.

“I have been told I’m ex-”

“-Exhilarating, we know.” James finished for Sirius, seemingly already knowing exactly what the boy was going to quip.

“See? Everyone agrees.”

“Feel free to ignore him.” Remus interjected then, looking at you softly.

So softly. In ways you’ve Seen him do many times but have never yet experienced.

It made you ache with want; wanting so badly for it to be real and then hating yourself for wanting it at all.

“You okay, dove?” He asked then; apparently seeing the conflict on your face.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the pastie.

“No, actually, I’m not.” You huffed as you began to pack up your things.

Sirius said your name then; all teasing and flippantness gone from his tone as he sat up straight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No.” You grumble; standing now but closing your eyes and pointing your face to the ceiling in frustration.

‘It’s not you, it’s me’ sits on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out but you just can’t bring yourself to release the words.

You hate this feeling; the lack of control in the direction that your life was seemingly going, moving through the motions unwillingly as fate pulled on the strings of your soul like some poorly mistreated puppet.

“Don’t go.” James all but whispered then; his hand seemingly aching to reach for yours but clearly resisting the urge.

That only made you feel worse.

You let out a breath and started to lower yourself back to your seat on the bench when you recognized the familiar feeling of your consciousness being pulled elsewhere; the dreaded sensation of being submerged under cold water followed by the neurons firing in your brain as they were gently plucked from their existing pathways and ushered towards a new reality.

No, you begged hopelessly, not here, not now.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across the table; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.”

Your knees buckled beneath you as you nearly fell into your seat; two strong arms quickly caught you by your elbows before James carefully lowered you to the bench.

“Easy, doll.” Sirius coached calmly albeit worriedly from across the table as you heaved in a much needed breath. “Easy.”

You felt your sinuses swell as you took a few more breaths, realising belatedly that you had three boys that you were rather quite taken with staring at you in one of your most vulnerable states.

They already had so much of you - much more than they may ever know - you didn’t want to give them this, too.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across from you; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding effect it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You admitted; voice pinched emotionally as you continued hiding behind your hands.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” Remus assured you as James pressed a kiss to your hair. “Nothing at all.”

“I hate-” You paused around a pathetic hiccup as you finally deigned to pull your hands away from your now likely puffy and tear stained face. “I- I just-”

“You don’t have to explain.” Sirius offered at your next hiccup. “Just keep breathing.”

You realised only as Remus resumed moving his thumb back-and-forth against your ankle bone that he had paused to track your pulse much like he’d seen Regulus do that first day in the Great Hall.

A bitter taste filled your mouth when you thought of that Sight too; how much of your supposed ‘relationship’ with these boys would be of you breaking down in front of them?

“I hate seeing things that aren’t real; that haven’t happened, with versions of people who don’t even exist yet.”

James let out a sympathetic breath at your words as Remus’ brows furrowed forlornly.

“Do those versions not exist yet or have you just not given them a chance to?” Sirius asked you slowly.

You made a pained sound as you straightened from resting against James’ chest; you pretended not to notice the look of loss that crossed his face and ignored the same feeling aching within your chest.

“People can surprise you, y’know?” James offered then; hope colouring the vowels of his words as he spoke.

“I’m sure that, whoever they are,” Sirius started pointedly. “Would love the chance to be whoever you needed them to be.”

“That’s the problem.” You groaned, though you were sure they could tell that the fight was quickly oozing from your body with every swipe of Remus’ thumb or stroke of James’ hand against your shoulder blades. “I don’t need you to be anything.”

“So it was about us.” Sirius asserted; all caution vanished from his face and was quickly replaced with mirth.

You snorted incredulously at him and wiped roughly at your eyes as a reluctant smile spread across your face. “You are such a prat.”

“We could be your prats.” He quipped.

“Is that what you need, angel? Do you need some prats? Sirius and I are well versed; might need to coach Rem a bit but he’s a quick learner.”

“For Godric’s sake.” Remus sighed with a tired smile. “We’d been doing so well boys.”

“I hardly see how, seeing as you all made me cry.” You jeered as you pointed your nose in the air, causing all three boys to exclaim various objections.

“We’d only said hello.” James cried as Remus watched you stand and hike your bag over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“What was it that you Saw, then?” He asked; still smiling though his brows dipped challengingly.

You stared down at him for a few moments, though there was no need to search his eyes for clues; you suspected that he knew.

“This.” You admitted quietly.

A smile spread across Remus’ face; it was slow and pointed but you didn’t know quite what it meant. Yet.

“I’m glad I got to see it too.” He murmured with a smirk.

You tried to hide your blush as you left the library, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl the entire way back to your dorm.