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archieimagines · 1 year

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touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch.

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

“I didn’t hear you come up.”

He nudged his head to the Child, voice soft, “You were having an important conversation.”

And then he did what you loved.

He reached a slow hand out and stroked it over the top of your head, coming to a gentle hold at the nape of your neck, and leaned in. Your eyes fell closed as the cool beskar met between your brows, and you didn’t need to see him to know his eyes were closed too.

A beskar kiss.

You heard a soft sigh through his voice modulator. This was the way his people would show love. He made no move to break away, even from the awkward angle at which he leant. He savoured the moment, breathed with you, his thumb running back and forth over your skin. You weren’t sure if he could feel the goosebumps that his touch rose every time, his fingertips slipping into the lower roots of your hair.

He loved to touch you, you could tell. It wasn’t easy, and these moments were few and far between with his action-packed lifestyle, but the tenderness of these touches clearly meant so much to him. To you.

Without disturbing the occupied bundle on your lap, you reached for Din’s other hand. It hung by his side until you took it in your own, slowly raising it to place your kiss on the knuckles of his fingers. You kept it there a while, backs of his fingers to your lips, his helmet pressed to your forehead. The warmth of those digits filled a void left by the cold beskar. The warmth of human touch.

Long moments slipped by as you absorbed it until you became self-conscious. He hadn’t pulled away, but you weren’t even sure how he’d felt about it with his covered expression, so you let out a resigned sigh and lowered his hand.

But he surprised you.

His fingers opened up instead, laying delicately on the side of your jaw, his similar hold on the back of your neck still in place.

His thumb reached out to meet the corner of your lips, before tentatively, almost shyly, brushing over the centre of them.

He wanted more.

You were only too happy to oblige, lips raising into a delicate peak, placing a tender kiss to the pad of his thumb. Soon, he shifted, placing his index finger there instead. Then his middle. Each of his fingers tapped to your lips, and you made sure to place your affection on the tip of each one, giving in to the urge to smile.

He loved this.

You heard the tinned sound of a sigh before his fingers slipped away once again, soon followed by his reluctant leaning away.

He stood tall above where you sat, visor staying fixed on you. He was just looking. Just peaceful. You shone an easy smile, somehow both cosy and breathless from the moment.

His helmet turned towards the green being on your lap.

He blinked up at Din, and soon, a confused coo filled the cabin.

Din shrugged one shoulder. “You’ll get it when you’re older.” And with that, he settled back into the passenger seat, arms crossing over his chest. “Rest up,” he called, presumably to the pair of you. “We’ll touch down for fuel in six hours.”

Din’s bunk was the epitome of comfort. Cramped, yes. Warm, yes. Especially with two bodies. It’d easily become stuffy in there with the panel sealed while the pair of you shared his thin mattress, and you’d always wondered how he managed to keep his helmet on even in that environment. Or perhaps… He couldn’t feel the stuffiness because of the beskar. Or maybe… He was just always stuffy in there, used to closed air.

Your eyes raised from where you’d had them closed, cheek pressed to the chest of his flight suit to mimic sleep. Early mornings after a long, well-deserved sleep often came like this, and there was something so soul-healing about laying there to absorb his calm, peaceful presence before getting up for what would likely be another day of action.

Watching his visor for long moments, working out if he was still sleeping or looking back at you- it had become somewhat of a hobby. Sometimes, you had convinced yourself, if you looked hard enough, you could see the slightest shape beneath the vision slot of his helmet.

You weren’t sure if they were really there. But, in the dim light of the bunk, you could swear the bridge of his nose casted a shadow that caused a darker shadow inside the mask. His lashes were dark and long, and they fluttered slowly as his eyes closed in steady blinks, looking back at you with such leisure.

But then… Had you made that up?

You squinted, straining your eyes until you were sure— yes, you’d made it up. He was still sleeping.

But it didn’t hurt to imagine he had long lashes and a strong nose, perhaps even a strong brow to match. It didn’t hurt to imagine you could see the faintest outlines of the man you love.

Sated, you turned your cheek back to his chest, eyes falling closed to mimic his slumber. Or at least—

“Morning.”

— What you thought was slumber.

His voice was groggy in the modulator; that intimate morning voice. Deeper, softer than usual.

It brought a smile to your lips. “Morning, my love. You were awake?”

“I have been for a while.” His arm tightened snug around your body in his hold, half atop his. “I like to watch you wake up.”

A soft laugh. “Not creepy, hm?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Silence lapsed with his low tone. All was quiet. Not the whirring of the ship, not the sounds of the forest he’d landed the Crest in the clearing of. Only the delicate air of his breathing inside his mask, catching in the voice modulator so quietly that ordinarily, you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

The thought stirred a deep intimacy in your chest. No one else would get to hear this. No one else would get to lay with him like this, press against his armour-free body like this. You splayed a hand over the cloth of his chest, toes wiggling from an uncontainable contentment with how your leg rested over his. Not an ounce of beskar between the two of you.

But yet…

Gentle fingertips trailed upwards, over his upper chest, swirling delicate patterns in the creases of his fabric. Your eyes remained closed, focusing everything on him, the warmth that met your touch when you worked past the collar of the flight suit, meeting the skin of his neck.

It wasn’t the first time you’d touched him so. Of course, after this long together, you’d been intimate many a time-- You were both human, after all... But the helmet had always stayed on.

Your fingertips splayed over his throat, and it vibrated with his low hum.

It was no secret by now. He loved to be touched.

You could just imagine him there beneath the visor, eyes closed, brow relaxed. His face caught in a long moment of calm where it was often riddled with worry, or effort from the fighting. Bringing him such serenity like this was the least you could do for him, showing him that he’s loved. So, so loved.

Slowly, your touch crept just a little further up, seeking his jaw. But as your knuckles knocked the edge of his helmet, a gentle hand closed around your wrist in warning. He didn’t need to speak.

Your voice was the softest murmur. “I won’t take it off. Can I just- Feel you?”

He didn’t move, not for a while. You raised your eyes, peering up at him from where you were nestled in his chest, as if you could possibly read his facial expressions.

His hold eased, thumb lazily rubbing over your veins before letting go, and you found a buzz of warmth in your chest. He trusted you with his most precious boundary. Silently, you vowed to always protect that trust.

Delicate fingers worked upwards, feeling for hair from his chin. But, a soft gasp- There was no beard. The gentle prickle of cropped hairs caught your fingerprints as they swiped along his jaw, and you marvelled at it.

“You shave?” The words came out with a soft, amused breath of disbelief, eyes rounded in surprise. For some reason, it’d always made sense that he’d be bearded, long-haired. He had no reason to shave, knowing that no one would ever see, but now that you knew, it clicked.

Of course he’d shave. Din was a particularly thorough person, he was always driving himself forward to do a perfect job of his work: of course he’d take care of himself too.

“If it grows too long, it’s uncomfortable. Catches in the modulator.”

“Ah,” you hummed, brushing along the ridge of his jaw in the confined space. There was something about feeling his jaw move as he spoke, verifying that he really was human, really did have goings-on behind the mask that shielded him from the world. There wasn’t much room in there to move freely, only your fingers able to reach his face, but it was comfortable. You could feel the soft sway of his breath on your touch. “What colour is it?”

“Black. Brown, black.”

You hummed, eyes fixed on his visor lazily, though you weren’t really looking at him. You were visualising as you studied the contours of his lower face, mapping him out as best as you could in your mind, nails brushing through the stubble on his cheek. They trailed towards the corner of his lips, where you noticed the strands got longer. A moustache?

The smile that lifted your face was automatic, beaming at the realisation. You followed the direction of it, above his upper lip, soon finding a little sparse patch on his philtrum. Your eyes drifted closed, imagining the way it might feel to kiss him now that you knew this; how his facial hair would scratch your upper lip, your chin. Perhaps it would be almost sore on your skin if you kissed him long enough, hot enough--

His lips raised to press a real kiss to the centre of your fingers. Slow, shy, even a little clumsy.

A rich gasp pulled from your throat. It was electric to feel his lips on your skin, pressing the affection directly onto you, after these long years of going without.

You let your fingertips lower, finally feeling the shape of his lips, that subtle cupid’s bow as it raised into yet another peck, slow and tender against your touch. Your brows drew together, fighting the emotion that welled up in you, trying to make you cry. You weren’t all too sure why-- this was just- so much. It was so much, to feel him like this, to receive his first kisses like this. Something you’d never even imagined you could have.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured against your fingertips, tone almost a caress. His own fingers raised to brush at the corner of your eye. One must’ve slipped out.

You didn’t even know he was looking at you. Your lashes fluttered open, gaze meeting where you imagined his eyes would be. “I can’t help it,” you whispered. “You’re perfect.”

He’d lied to you. He’d massively, irrevocably, intentionally lied to you.

Your jaw ached from your grit teeth as you fought back angry fires in your heart, determined not to cry until you’d pulled your family safely off this forsaken, evil planet.

Din had been tasked with a mission of political undertones involving the spice market. He was masking as a bounty hunter to get information, so this time, the importance was in keeping the right people alive.

Of course, it didn’t work, and those people were now trying to kill you.

Your fingers trembled as you fought against the clock and the jolts of blasters firing at the ship to strap Grogu into his passenger seat. Your eyes were bleary, but you had to focus, secure him in safely. You wouldn’t take anyone’s safety for granted after this stupid stunt.

“Get her in the sky!” Din shouted up through the hatch, pushing his voice so loudly against the fighting and blasters below that it almost outgrew the modulator, his real voice peeking through.

Grogu’s sweet eyes peered up at you, giving a questioning gurgle. The poor thing had no idea what was going on, was probably terrified by it all, and even your demeanour on top of it, but you didn’t have time to explain.

“We need to go!”

You buckled the baby in tightly and fought your emotions to ruffle a quick hand atop his head, hoping to soothe him even a small degree before falling into the pilot’s seat, specifically buckling yourself in, and jamming the engine on with jerky movements.

The Crest resisted you, far too old and rickety by now to be good for quick getaways with a cold engine, but with some slow drags, turbulence from knocking through trees and extra laser blasts from below, she was finally in the air.

You heard the distinctive sound of fighting downstairs, someone being kicked off the ramp at an easy 400 feet altitude, and then the mechanical sound of the ship being closed off again.

The ladder creaked with Din’s climbing, and you didn’t look back to him as he collapsed into the other passenger seat, not ready to talk to him yet. You were still seething, and wouldn’t engage with him until you’d pulled up safely out of the planet’s atmosphere.

Long moments of quiet dragged by. He knew you by now. He didn’t need to see more than the square set of your shoulders to know that he shouldn’t speak yet unless he wanted to upset you more. That, and you still didn’t look at him even as the minutes neared a full hour, focused on getting to the nearest hyperspace route.

He glanced to Grogu, who sat there blinking, clueless as he could be. He must’ve known something was going on, even if he didn’t know what exactly Din had done.

Din reached a gloved hand out, petting lightly on the green boy’s head. He still didn’t speak.

Eventually, your frustrated fires ebbed into a more containable state, you shifted the Crest into light speed, and unbuckled your belt with a heaved sigh. “Downstairs, Din.”

You stood, instructed Grogu not to touch a thing, headed down the hatch, and pointedly avoided looking at Din the whole time.

The body of the ship was chaos. Lazed burns in everything the three of you owned, strewn across the floor and torn from the struggle. Clearly, he’d really had to put up a fight.

It was his own fault.

Boot on metal as he stepped onto the floor beside you. You finally looked at him.

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was exhausted. It was in the way he held himself, the way his arms just hung there by his sides, strong shoulders visibly slouched to the trained eye.

You reeled on him. “Why didn’t you let me in on it?”

Silence.

“Less of that, Din. Speak to me, I need to understand.”

There was a pause before his voice came. Firm, but gentle, as if pointedly trying to keep the peace. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.” You pulled an upturned crate closer and planted yourself on it, trying to keep the buzz in your veins under control, but your tone was clipped nonetheless as you gestured to a crate nearby. “Go ahead, let’s hear it.”

He sighed and tugged the crate over, perched on the corner of it opposite you. His knees were parted and elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he thought through his facts. The best way to make you see that he’d done the right thing.

“I couldn’t tell you my true location because if you knew, your presence would have soiled the plan.”

“So you’re telling me I’m a hindrance.”

“No.”

“That’s certainly what it sounds like-”

“It needed full discretion to work. I’d told them-”

“I can keep fucking secrets, Din.”

“I know you can.”

“So you lied? Told me you were on the other side of town? How was I supposed to get to you if something went wrong?”

He sighed, his head dropping forwards in exasperation. “I told you to stay on the ship.”

“That’s not always possible. You know it’s not! Hunters still have fobs fixed onto Grogu, Din, there’s no escaping that!”

“I couldn’t have you interrupting or we’d all be dead. I’d told them I was alone- no, look at me.”

Your jaw was aching from how you grit your teeth as you forced yourself to look up at that visor, the weight of frustrated tears brimming at your waterline. You gave a small nod.

“Listen,” he started. “I’d told them I came alone. If you’d known my location, you would have interrupted.”

“To save your skin? Yeah, I would.”

“Exactly. We’d both be dead, and the hunters would take the kid.”

“You think I can take care of him without you? We don’t stand a chance without you around, Din.”

He paused. Quiet lapsed, and you had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes, he really gave nothing away, and it was infuriating. He didn’t let you in. He would rarely open up to you about what was going on inside that beskar that hid everything from you. Everything.

Sometimes, you were sure you didn’t even know the man you were committed to. He held so much of the power in this setup. He knew everything about you, everything was done by his thinking, and yet he didn’t need to disclose much at all. He’d keep you in the dark about everything.

What he was feeling, what he was thinking… Hell, even when he smiled at you he kept it to himself. You’d grown to handle those, but this, actively lying to you. As if you couldn’t follow instructions. As if you couldn’t be trusted.

You sighed as the drops in your eyes welled up enough to fall over your cheeks. You pulled yourself off the crate and approached the ladder to the cabin, calling over your shoulder. “Go clean up or something,” you sniffled, “I need a minute away from you.”

The clang of footsteps behind you, a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey. Look at me.”

“I can’t, Din.”

“Why not?”

Such a simple question, such an impossible answer. You closed your eyes, struggling to pick out words that might illustrate what’s going on inside. The ache that sank your chest, that made your throat feel heavy with uncried frustrations. None of this was okay. Perhaps after you’d cooled down, you’d be able to see that mask as anything other than a barrier between you, that keeps him safe from your eyes. But for now, you couldn’t bare it. You scrambled to express it, but all you could let out was a strained “It hurts.”

Another moment of silence. Then, carefully, “What hurts?”

Clearly, he didn’t mean for his words to bring on the tidal wave of emotions and thoughts that you’d been keeping at bay.

“This, Din. All of this! Living in a ship, wondering if I’m gonna make it back in every time I step out of it, and not even being in on missions that risk your life! It’s like you’re cut off from me. Like we just live in the same space and I’m just there to entertain you. But it’s- it’s-!” You heaved a sigh, head buzzing with the force of the thoughts that were spilling out. They were so honest and raw from brewing for far too long. They must’ve been sharp as they came out, they must’ve hit him like a ton of bricks.

But of course, that damned beskar hid everything.

“It’s hard to be with a man who doesn’t trust me.”

For once, his voice rose. “I trust you more than anyone in the gal-!”

“You almost died because you didn’t trust me enough to let me in! You’d rather die than trust me!”

“That’s not how I-”

“That’s what your actions are telling me, Din. They always do. You never tell me what you’re thinking. I have to guess, but I can’t even read your fucking face. I live my life in question marks because you don’t even give me the option to-”

“You know I can’t show you my face.”

A deep breath left you, shaky and tired. So much pressure had alleviated in your head, like you’d finally emptied the contents of your mind onto a platter before him. And now that you could see it too, heard what you’d said, you felt almost ashamed for it.

Criticising the beskar was too far. That was his way of life, and had nothing to do with how he felt towards you. For sure, it was frustrating sometimes for you didn’t even know what your life partner looked like, but his culture was part of him. And you loved him.

“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-- What are you doing?”

He reached by you to snatch some fabric from a nook, and he folded it into a long strip without so much as a word.

“I’m- I’m trying to apologise-”

“You don’t have to. How can you trust a man you can’t see, right? We’ve been together so long, and you still don’t know who I am.”

You were stunned beneath the guilt that crashed over you. He took your words in so deeply, and fed them back to you plainly. You could see how you must’ve hurt him, with sentiments like this.

Your eyes welled with tears again. Whatever had come over you had clearly wanted to hurt him, but that wasn’t you. Your thoughts were too chaotic to pinpoint, swarmed with hurt and pain that was only now built on by the fact that you’d treated him so terribly. You’d sworn to him long ago that you accepted his Mandalorian binds, loved them even, but you’d let them get in the way with one incident.

“Don’t cry,” he spoke, modulated voice gentle. “I’m- I’m understanding you.” A calloused thumb brushed along your outer lashes to pause any tears that wanted to fall. “Let me help.”

And there was darkness.

He tied his makeshift blindfold behind your head in a loose knot, keeping your eyes in darkness. “Din? What is this?”

He kept quiet, and you heard shifting, something being placed aside.

“Why do you never-”

You cut yourself off when his hands took your wrists and lifted them gently, until your palms splayed on his stubbled cheeks. He gave a long sigh, and you imagined he’d closed his eyes.

Your heart jolted. He was here before you, bare, no helmet. When he spoke, his voice rang out clear and pure, the true timbre of his voice without modulation.

“I said, I trust you more than anyone in the galaxy.” His face moved with his words beneath your touch. “I’d move planets for you.”

He left you breathless. You dove at the chance, fingers tracing over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. It stood high and strong, just like you’d always imagined.

“This… This isn’t risky? I didn’t mean to offen-”

“You didn’t offend me. I know it’s hard, I feel it too.” He guided your hands to his lips, and he placed gentle kisses to your fingers.

The lump in your throat welled up again, your nose stinging from the tears that you tried to hold back. The thought of him struggling with his culture simply because he wanted to be close to you. “You do?”

“You know how many times I wanted to take it off? This seems… This is the best way. I’m not breaking any rules.”

You gave a watery, sniffly laugh. “This is the way?”

A hum of humour. “This is the way.”

You let your touch wander over his face, mapping it as well as you could. The curve of his eyelids, the strength of his browbone. He breathed softly, and you could feel the air on your palms as it pushed through.

You wove your fingertips into his hairline, pushing his locks back and bunching them up in your grasp behind his head. It was surprisingly long with unruly waves, and so, so soft.

He leaned in with a sigh until his forehead met yours, hands falling to their home on your waist.

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours. His warm, sweet lips fit perfectly against yours, and your head spun. It was so much, feeling him so close after nearly losing him, arguing with him, and your first kiss in the long years of being his. The first actual kiss.

He was unsure and clumsy in his affection, a little hesitant.

Clearly, this was his first one ever.

You let a hand trail to his jaw, guiding with a gentle touch. He soon settled in, became more confident in his kiss, even if it was still clumsy.

And it was perfect. The determined nibbles to your lips, the soft scratch of his moustache on your upper lip, the way he tugged you closer even as you were pressed against the ladder.

When it finally slowed to a stop, he murmured softly, so much closer than he’d ever been. The sound reached deep inside your mind to soothe your soul and make you crave more of his kiss. “I won’t ever treat you like that again. I’ll give you full disclosure of my missions, every single one. Alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed, breathless and flustered, “On one condition.”

“Hm?” He was clearly lost in this touch, so starved for so long, and it showed in his voice. He was utterly entranced with this new feeling, someone else’s fingers on his skin, words the last thing on his mind.

“We do this more often.”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, nose nudging on the tip of yours. “Deal.”

#mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #mando imagine #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #star wars imagine #star wars #pedro pascal #written by archie

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ticktokrobotsnot · 10 months

Text

Hurricane Relief

This is part 2.

You can read part 1 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of a disaster and how we learn to cope, move on, and grow.

Word Count: 4k

Notes: 1) This is based off of s1e8, but we are going to pretend that Syd did the tablet thing correctly and Carmen doesn't lose his shit in ep7.

2) I am a completionist at heart so I felt an obligation to finish this because I know that if I was reading something and I didn't get a confession at the end I would riot and I aim to please.

“Where did you get the money for bail?”

“Used our two week parachute.”

Y/n, barely conscious felt something pushed up against her chest. She peeked her eyes open and saw that she was sitting in the backseat of Carmen’s car already buckled in. She shifted over to her left so she could rest her elbow on the armrest against the door and balance her head. Carmen glanced through the rear view mirror to confirm that she was still asleep, he locked the car door so she wouldn’t fall out.

Richie looked back before uttering a small, “Thank you, cousin.” It was strangely vulnerable to thank someone and even more vulnerable to do it with an audience, even if they were asleep.

“All good.”

After a few more beats of silence, y/n assumed that their bro moment had reached its conclusion and that she could finally pretend that she had just woken up. Then she heard a sniffle, at first she thought that her mind was playing tricks on her but she heard it again, and then a few more times. Maybe now was not the best time to announce her presence.

“You okay?” Although she couldn’t see Carmen’s face she was hearing concern and a bit of apprehension. She could tell he wasn’t comfortable with consoling Richie.

A small but broken, “Yeah…I’m okay” escaped Richie’s mouth.

Unable to resist, she stole a quick glance at the rearview mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of Carmen's eyes. They appeared slightly glassy, yet the softness in the corners revealed a simmering sense of relief. Though he was clearly upset, she reassured herself that he would ultimately be alright. Once they returned to the restaurant, she planned to check in on him, but without pressuring him. Recognizing his need for rest, space, and comfort, she understood that he often neglected these needs for the sake of others but she was determined to ensure he received the care he truly deserved.

Carmen took one last look back before pulling out of the parking spot and driving them back to the restaurant. Y/n was wide awake now but she knew that both Carmen and Richie needed some time and space to process what had happened. None of that would work if she was visibly awake, she had a feeling that they would pretend to be all tough by pushing their problems aside because they didn’t want a girl to see them being “sensitive”. So she planned to keep her head down and wait till they were near the restaurant to “wake up.”

The ride back was slow and smooth, Carmen didn’t drive over a single pothole, he stopped softly, and didn’t honk once, which was rare in Chicago. He wanted to drive her home and put her to bed but he had a feeling that she would be pissed if he dropped her off home while they went back to the restaurant.

They were 45 minutes away from the restaurant but he was wondering if he should wake her up when they got there, or if he should let her sleep in his car. If he left her in the car she would be able to sleep in but it wasn’t safe, what if someone broke a window? At the same time, if he brought her to the restaurant, there was nowhere for her to rest. He was driving on auto-pilot while he was trying to figure out the best way to approach the dilemma, because if there was one thing that Carmen was good at it was overthinking.

On top of worrying about y/n, Carmen had to steal a few quick glances at Richie to make sure that he was ok, it was hard to tell because he was looking out the window but the reflection showed Richie’s eyebrows were furrowed, he was thinking about something, or someone. Thinking was better than being depressed.

A small selfish part of Carmen wondered if anyone would ever dissect every small aspect of him to make sure that he was also ok, like he did for others.

The car ride was peaceful and quiet until a neighboring vehicle suddenly honked near y/n’s window, causing her to jolt and accidentally slam her forehead against the glass.

“Jesus, fuck.” Y/n hissed while putting her cold hand on her forehead to calm the bruise that would inevitably form. Her cover was blown.

Carmen’s head whipped back, “Are you ok?”

“I'm good, it's just a small bump.” She tried to rub the forehead to quell the pain but it was too tender. “Pay attention to the road, I don’t want to see another police officer for the rest of my life.” Carmen involuntarily flicked his eyes to y/n’s forehead through the rear view mirror.

Y/n couldn’t tell what Richie’s status was and he hadn’t made a single peep the entire car ride, even when she was “asleep”, so she couldn’t gauge whether or not she should talk to him.

“We’re glad to have you back, Richie '' She left it open and didn’t expect any response in return. He didn’t respond but he moved his eyes from the passenger window to the windshield and sat up straight. Y/n felt a bit of uneasiness, this was the longest Richie was quiet and she kind of wanted him to make fun of Carmen or at least laugh, something to show that he wasn’t hurting.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, they eventually pulled up to the restaurant and they walked in. Y/n and Carmen had left the restaurant as it was and even though they knew it was a mess, it was a different beast in daylight. Both y/n and Carmen walked to their lockers to grab their emergency toothbrush and other hygiene products in an effort to look less dead.

Once they freshen up they went their separate ways. Y/n walked behind the counter and pushed some styrofoam cups aside to start the coffee machine. She waited for the coffee to finish brewing before pouring a cup for the three of them. Richie took one of the cups off the counter and disappeared.

She walked over to Carmen who was throwing away half eaten food from the tables.

“Here.” she handed a cup over to him and once again their fingers brushed each other but this time she forced herself to ignore the electricity. Whatever she was feeling would be an additional burden to Carmen, one more thing for him to worry about. Carmen didn’t need this right now, he needed some calm and space.

She heard a soft thanks, and even though she was supposed to give him space she couldn’t suppress the urge to check on him one more time. His eyes were no longer glassy but the dark circles told her everything she needed to know. He glanced up at her face, finally getting his first good look at her since they left the station. He walked over to the kitchen door and signaled y/n to join him right before he disappeared. She heard some shuffling and she walked over to the kitchen after taking one more look at Richie who looked like he was doing better.

Y/n went to the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised that it was not as bad as the front, it wasn’t great but still miles better. The kitchen was empty but Carmen’s office door was wide open, she peered inside to see him holding a ziplock filled with a bit of ice and water.

He shut the door and pulled out a chair indicating that she was supposed to sit. She sat and looked up at Carmen before feeling the ice on her forehead. She groaned in discomfort, “You didn’t have to.” Carmen moved the bag around so the cold didn’t hurt. Y/n felt like she wasn’t doing enough, she was supposed to take care of him and here he was taking care of her. That wouldn’t do.

“How are you feeling?” Y/n asked while avoiding his eyes. She couldn’t look at them without getting distracted and she needed to focus on Carmen.

“I'm good.” Soft but left no room for elaboration. Y/n knew she couldn’t crack a few jokes to make him feel better, that was wholly inappropriate. She also couldn’t probe for answers either because that would just stress him out, any form of pressure would probably make him feel like a caged animal being cornered. Saying nothing felt like they were ignoring the very obvious elephant in the room. It was like all roads lead to nothing unless Carmen opened up a bit more, which didn’t seem like was going to happen so y/n settled for a distraction.

“Is it bad?” Y/n said while touching the bag of ice barley missing his fingers. She ignored Carmen’s body heat that was radiating onto her side and she also pretended not to notice the way that his lips parted in concentration.

“I'm going to need you to be honest with me, don’t worry I can take it. If I look like shit you’ve gotta tell me so I can get some impromptu bangs or something.”

“You don’t look like shit.” Carmen mumbled.

“I bet I don’t look good,” Y/n swiveled around towards Carmen’s desk for some scissors, “bangs it is.”she exclaimed. Y/n was only joking but she needed a bit of a breather before she broke her own rule about giving Carmen some space.

Carmen grabbed the chair’s armrest and swung it swiftly so she was facing him again. Her heart leaped out. “You look like how you always do.” He was too much of a wimp to call her breathtaking, the word felt foreign in his head; he could only imagine how disturbing it would be to hear it from his lips. He gently grabbed her chin before putting the ice on her forehead again. Y/n couldn’t escape this time.

The silence was killing her and she thought she should at least talk about her own experience to let him know that they could talk to each other about stuff like this.

“I was really scared...” Carmen looked into her eyes and they softened a bit.

“I was scared that Richie was going to be in jail for basically forever…and …and,” Y/n hesitated, was what she was about to say to Carmen considered cornering him?

“I was scared for you.” Carmen’s hand stalled midair, still holding the bag of ice. He didn’t move for a few moments, “I was worried that this would..” She couldn’t think of what to say next. She could feel the gears in her head working overtime to churn out something that would summarize what she was feeling. “..break you and you wouldn’t let me help you.” She felt her eyes start to burn and a lump form in her throat that was choking her. She wouldn’t cry, he couldn’t deal with his own problems while consoling her.

“I would have been okay.”

Y/n waited till the lump in her throat stopped burning. “You always are Carmen, but sometimes it’s nice to be better than okay…” She couldn’t do anything about her voice cracking but she might as well finish before she became a mess, “You deserve it.”

Y/n said her piece and they both simmered in the quiet. A sigh reverberated through the walls and Carmen looked into y/n’s eyes. His lips parted and closed a few times as he tried to formulate a response but nothing he could think off would sound as well-put together as y/n’s thoughts. He felt like he was seven again, a stuttering pathetic idiot who couldn’t say something as simple as a thanks.

Y/n knew that they were done for now, she had exhausted him so she was finally ready to give him that space that he desperately needed. She slowly got up and slipped the bag of ice out of his hand and walked towards the door. Carmen didn’t look at her as she left but as soon as the door closed, he sank to the floor and sat there for a very long time.

He finally leaves the office to help with the clean up and is greeted by the crew. Y/n was at the very end scrubbing her countertop which was covered in glitter. As he walks past the crew to survey the damage to the front, he gets a pair of gemstone covered stringy underwear swung towards his face.

“This is not respect.” Ebra continues to wave the underwear at Carmen’s face.

“No, chef. That is not respect.”

Carmen walked to the front and felt another weight lifted off his shoulder to see that the majority of the mess had been cleaned up. It felt like he was finally able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. His chest felt a bit lighter and he knew it was thanks to the people around him.

He walked to the kitchen and started slicing some onions, he would be in charge of family dinner. As he was making the sauce, he couldn’t help but notice that he had yet to hear or see y/n, not that she wasn’t in the restaurant but it was like she was doing her very best not to be noticed. She was quietly peeling garlic and even though Carmen hadn’t responded to her, he could tell that they would be alright. He just knew in his bones that they would come back together, he was going to make sure of it.

As he opened the tomato can and dumped it in, he noticed a bit of green. Mold? Killing the heat, he swiped the sauce away and picked it up to remove the plastic to reveal a wad of money.

Y/n heard Carmen yell for Richie but she didn’t think much of it before she started hearing, “Shit…Fuck..”

A few minutes later the whole crew were opening cans of tomato sauce to dig out the money that was hidden within. Once all the money was out, Richie cleaned it up and sorted it, the crew cleaned up the sauce and Carmen finished up the pasta.

They sat down for dinner, but y/n had no appetite. However, she couldn't afford to leave her plate unfinished without drawing attention. She discreetly observed Carmen, piece by piece, just to make sure that he was okay, actually more than okay. His hands were relaxed, she took a bite. His shoulders were at ease, another bite. His jaw was unclenched, yet another bite. And finally, the most crucial part, she stole a fleeting glance into his eyes. As she raised her head slightly to check, to her surprise, their eyes met. Against her instincts, y/n held his gaze. It left her breathless. For the first time, y/n saw a serenity in Carmen's eyes that she had never witnessed before.

With this newfound contentment, it became evident that Carmen had discovered a new version of stability. If maintaining their current relationship, or lack thereof, could grant him such ease and relaxation, y/n was willing to patiently wait for him to embrace a future together, even if it meant waiting for years or even decades. She didn’t want him to relish in the calm but expect it, expect that life was also fun and full of love. Her wish was for him to experience a life of unwavering stability, so that even if unexpected challenges arose as he always anticipated, he would know he was not alone and that he would always prevail.

Y/n was proud of him, which is a strange thing to say considering the fact that he was a tax paying adult, but she couldn’t help but give him a small smile that said I see you and I’m so fucking in love with you.

Carmen wasn’t a poet by any means but he finally understood why people write poems about other people. A picture of y/n would have captured her beauty but a poem would have explained it. It was just a smile and he didn’t know why but it was burned into his memory. Y/n looked away to ask Sydney something but if Carmen closed his eyes she was still smiling at him. Y/n had given him many smiles but he knew at this very moment that he couldn’t last another day without her being his. It wasn’t just a smile, it was the weight behind it, the pressure that it put on his chest when she looked away from him, the gleaming aura that wouldn’t let him look away…

It was everything, it was his everything, you were his everything.

Dinner concluded, everything was cleaned up, and Carmen was no longer in his fantasy land where y/n was being lit by the sunlight or party lights and making him yearn, he had never yearned before. Carmen assumed that seeing her in the shitty kitchen lighting and in her messy apron would bring him back to reality but he was sorely mistaken. The pinnacle of his admiration wasn't confined to the previous night or that particular meal; it persisted, unyielding. It didn’t die down when she spilled a bit of oil on the counter, or when she flipped of Richie for god knows what, or when she sampled Sydney's experimental dish and tactfully suggested it needed something more, or when she stepped over to the side to redo her hair, or when she shook her foot because her legs were aching. He could never get tired of her. He could watch her stirring for days on end, each rotation captivating him anew. He could witness her redoing her hair for centuries, and boredom would remain a foreign concept. He could watch her smiling till the sun exploded billions of years in the future, and still, an insatiable craving for more would persist within him.

Time flew by and before she knew it the clock struck 10:30pm and y/n looked up from her stovetop and realized that she was the only person left in the kitchen. It was a bit strange to be alone in the kitchen without Carmen, it felt like a regular room. It lacked the mystic that Carmen brought into any room. She wandered into Carmen’s office but it was empty. The front was empty as well and y/n was getting a bit worried. She grabbed her cardigan from her locker, turned on her phone flashlight and just went to the back of the restaurant and sure enough she found Carmen lighting a cigarette. The phone light was the only source of light other than a very dim street light at the very end of the block, and the small fire lit on the end of the cigarette. She saw that he was surrounded by quite a few cigarettes, five plus the one he was smoking now.

Carmen looked like a deer caught in headlights. Y/n leaned on the wall so she could see what was compelling him to stay here for what must have been an hour but it was just a brick wall. Carmen shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her.

She waved her hand, “I’ve got a sweater and it's not that cold today.” She was getting deja vu.

“The bricks are rough.”

Y/n leaned forward to avoid scraping her favorite cardigan but he took this as an opportunity to stand in front of her and slip the jacket through her arms. He straightened the jacket near the neck line. His hand glided down the open panels. Although he didn't physically touch her, she could sense his warmth emanating through the narrow gap.

Y/n said she could wait but what she wouldn’t give for him to grab the collar and kiss her. His lips were wet from licking them and she didn’t notice that he was staring at her lips too.

Carmen snubbed his cigarette on the wall near y/n’s waist, and then dropped the cigarette but leaving his hand still there. “Y/n.”

A soft hum escaped her barely parted lips as she finally lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. It was as if she had entered a trance while staring at his lips, and even when he attempted to snap her out of it, she effortlessly slipped back into another spellbound state, captivated by the depths of his eyes.

“I have to kiss you.”

He searched her eyes for a sign of hesitation but y/n wrapped her arms behind his neck and leaned forward. Carmen closed the gap and at that moment he knew that he was never going to be able to get enough of her. He slipped a hand behind her head and another on her hip. He pushed her deeper against the wall and he was having a hard time thinking, his head was spinning and it was making it difficult to imprint this sensation into his memory. It felt like trying to remember an ocean’s wave or a ripple in the sand.

His lungs were burning and even though he knew that he couldn’t stay conscious for longer, he couldn’t pull himself away.

After a few moments, y/n withdrew slightly, locking eyes with him, her beautiful gaze penetrating his soul. Unable to resist the magnetic pull between them, he instinctively leaned in, their foreheads touching. The kiss left him breathless, yet he yearned to prolong the contact, craving more of her touch.

Their breath mixed with each other before y/n tightened her grip around him and leaned forward to kiss him one more time, this time with a deliberate slowness that amplified the intimacy between them. He made a conscious effort to imprint the sensations in his memory, but they tantalizingly lingered before elusively slipping away, beckoning him to kiss her once more for a more vivid recollection. It felt new even after the first, second, third, and fourth kiss, as if each one unveiled a new layer of their connection. Carmen could die here and people would be able to honestly say that he died a happy man. He smirked against her lips, unable to help himself.

They pulled away for one last time before Carmen slid his hands down her body and eventually they had lost contact.

Y/n grabbed his hand and led him back to the restaurant and in the bright lights, y/n looked down at their interlocked hands trying to finally remember the sensation that she had missed a few days prior but was pulled out of it when she noticed that his hands were covered in cuts and scrapes.

“What the hell happened to your hand?” Carmen's head felt like it was swimming.

He mumbled out a soft, “I think it was the bricks,” and then added, “I told you they were rough.”

“You should have moved them as soon as they started to hurt.” Y/n grabbed for the first aid kit so she could tend to his wounds.

Carmen didn’t care that his hand was scraped up because he didn’t want any part of y/n digging into the rough brick, and a scuffed hand was a small price to pay.

“Better me than you.”

“You’re literally so annoying, I can't even look at you right now. Take me home, Berzatto.” Y/n humorously rolled her eyes and finished wrapping him up.

And with that, Carmen finally found himself standing on solid ground, a place of stability and certainty. In the embrace of y/n's love, he discovered a resolute foundation upon which he could build a future with her. He no longer felt adrift, but rather firmly anchored in a love that provided solace.

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yourbleedingh3art · 2 years

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It’s crazy how you can live for so long without reallt living

#A whole year can pass and you weren’t even really thinking about it you just acted on unconscious whims without being conscious of your #desires needs and wants Sometimes thinking hurts or Life is full of distractions #because pain hurts and we are immature and every one young actuallt has done this our parenrs did this too #everybody sometimes goes to the distraction #instead of conscious feeling #and when you start realizing that every action can and Shoukd be imbued with intention #to constantly drive yourself further to a further goal to love more to understand more #to have more empathy to be more grateful #anyway.#you have to think.#overthinking can cause me #torture and pain and sometimes I avoid focusing because I want to avoid overthinking #everybody has numbed it out before #it’s crazy you can be Living while numb #because when the feeling comes back it’s loke oh my god I was in auto pilot #I didn’t even really know it but I was in auto pilot #blog post

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sophieinwonderland · 7 months

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You know, it's actually surprising that, for all the times science fiction has grappled with the question of "at what point does a simulated consciousness become real?" this isn't ever applied to imaginary friends in fiction.

I mean, when you think about it, the "imagination" is just a simulation the brain makes.

So when the brain can make a simulation that is both independent and self-conscious, seeing itself as separate from the creator, and it's obviously capable of passing a Turing test, what makes that simulation any less of a person than the one that pilots the body?

I'd love to see more fiction writers take on topics like this.

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adambja · 8 months

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✨Law of Assumption | Reality Creation✨

The ULTIMATE Post on Tumblr - CREDITS GOES TO @X3N97 ON TWITTER

I offer tapes and coaching btw ;) the self-concept tape is guaranteed 100% 🫶🏻

The only post you would ever need.

𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳

DISCLAIMER:

I am a Neville Goddard follower, it took me 2 YEARS to understand the law fully well. Through trial and tribulations it FINALLY clicked for me. I do NOT just follow any YT coach, only who understand the law, so my knowledge might contradict what you know but I hope you get something out of this thread, I want you to use your common sense, have an open mind, you never know, it might be of benefit for you.

Had to lay that out there, let's continue with the post.....

PART 1

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜

Wake up! It is time for you to realize you were the operant power all along, life never "happened" to you! It is happening through you! You can realize this by seeing how life is going around for you, any area in your life if you do a little reverse engineering you would realize you created ALL your circumstances, good or bad! There were never coincidences, you created it. With this realization comes more questioning, how does it actually work? It is through your mind, your consciousness, your awareness I want you to realize that EVERYTHING you see in your reality is perceived by your mind, ALL IS MIND, studies show that if consciousness doesn't exist, reality that you know now does NOT exist

Source 👇🏻

youtube

When we say "the 3D is an illusion" it really is. You're the one assigning meaning/creating whatever the circumstances, the problem is that you were on auto-pilot, the human's non-understanding of reality made you that way, but that will be over now as you realize you hold the power.

Science calls it "the simulation theory" You're the one simulating it with your mind, your awareness, your consciousness, as consciousness is the only thing that we can call as real, spiritually speaking, you're a soul living through body, you are NOT your body.

There are people who went to experience the 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘬, where you get into a tank and restrict environmental sensory, people report that they don't feel their bodies at all and that they are only "aware" goes to show how consciousness is ONLY real (video from the movie: 𝘈 𝘎𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘹, I highly recommend)

youtube

I CANNOT stress it enough when I say that you're 𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴 as Neville says it, to think this reality is real and that you can't change it and can't be malleable, you do that EVERY single day but UNCONCIOULSY until you awaken to this truth

The truth that you've always been a conscious creator you were just deluded by society from birth that you can't be "supernatural" and alter reality...that this 3D world is real... but this is over! It's time for you to WAKE UP!

PART 2

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙨

How do we consciously create, you ask..

Let's read what science talks about reality creation..

In Quantum Mechanics there's a theory called "the observer effect" which states: the phenomenon in which the act of observation alters the behavior of the particles being observed" Which means whatever we focus on, be aware of; is changeable, more on that in this video:

youtube

If we explain this in more layman words, we will come to an understanding that reality CAN be shifted, with OUR MINDS through focus! There's also the theory in Quantum Physics where there are multiple version of you out there in the Quantum Field and the minute you observe that you become it!

Here's where the fun begins!

PART 3

𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝘾𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝘼𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Neville Goddard says "creation is finished" What does he mean by that? It means ALL things exists in the NOW, there was never past or present, there is always NOW It all exists. "All possibilities, all the things you desire, your healing, your job, your house, the wisdom you desire, the spiritual attainment you seek, the answers you seek, the partner, whatever it is, because we all desire different things, it's all finished and available."

So when you desire something, you're not trying to get it! It already exists, "Nothing needs to be summoned (manifested), but EVERYTHING already exists!" - Neville, all possibilities exist in the quantum field, all possibilities exist in the 4D. All you have to do is just SELECT that reality, with your MIND, your imagination.

• What's the difference between the 4D and the 3D?

One is where your mind generates images and thoughts so they can be reflected, it is your Godly power of accessing past, present, and future, the real reality, the 3D is just a reflection. 4D is where you CREATE

• How does the 4D pertain to the parallel realities where everything exists?

You access the 4D to choose what you want to experience in the 3D! If you desire it, know that the possibility of it EXITS! Your imagination is the TRUE reality, as Neville says: “When man finally identifies himself with his imagination rather than his senses, he has at long last discovered the core of reality” Remember when I said your senses (operating on the 3D realm) make you think your reality is fixed? It is not, it is always changeable.

Sooo....

• How do we choose/select/shift to the desired reality?

It was never about techniques and I will explain how you can CORRECTLY do this.

So we already know that imagination is the true reality (the 4D) and the 3D (physical reality) is just a reflection, a mirror, a shadow! And we already know there’s infinite versions of you out there and one of them that ALREADY has your desire

But...

• How do we access it?

By shifting your focus, your conciousness, your thoughts! Neville calls it “states of consciousness”

When you change how you’re aware of your desire, how you “assume” it, that is what it’s gonna reflect! Remember the observer effect? What we are conscious of it will manifest

What do I mean by “Techniques don’t manifest, you do!” Most of you go through the mistake of putting importance on them thinking that “if I don’t do it right, I won’t get what i want” here’s why they don’t matter! We already know creation is finished so every possibility exists!

And we already know we create everything effortlessly with our minds! And we also know there’s infinite version of us in the quantum field right?

• Let’s take an SP example (since it’s the most popular topic on loatwt)

Let’s say I am in a version of reality where I don’t have my SP, knowing about parallel realities, I know there’s a version out there of me where I have them! So how do I shift to that version? I just simply ask myself a simple question (this where imagination comes in play the real reality) I ask myself “How would I feel if I was ALREADY in a relationship with them?) I would feel all the feelings of having them ALREADY, I shift to that state, I embody it! I shift my awareness to KNOWING I already have them! Its not about “attracting” things to you, it’s about SELECTING the state, the awareness of my desire! How would I think if I had it already? I jump to that timeline (that I know it EXISTS) and experience what I want so it will be reflected in the 3D, because I experienced in my imagination (4D) so I KNOW It’s REAL, IT HAPPENED! The minute you don’t GIVE AN EFF ABOUT THE 3D IT’S WHEN YOU KNOW YOU CAN CONSCIOUSLY CREATE!!!! Remember 3D is a MIRROR of what you selected in YOUR MIND! When you feel it is ALREADY done! 0 to 100 REAL QUICK!

“So like what about techniques, I don’t affirm anymore?”

Most of you use techniques to produce results. You are still operating on the 3D realm, thinking affirming or whatever will make your desires come true, when in fact you have TO ASSUME the STATE FIRST!

Think about it..if you ALREADY have it would you still be affirming non-stop? How did you manifest when you didn’t know about the law before?

After you assumed the state (conjuring the feelings of ALREADY having what you desire and playing with your imagination) that’s when techniques come in handy! You start affirming NATURALLY and EFFORTLESSLY! You don’t strain yourself by doing it! You are living in the END!

Always LIVE IN THE END! It is done.

Just how this post is. 💋

i reposted it here because I know it will help a lot of people!!!!

• Credits goes to @x3n97 on twitter

The link to @x3n97 post on X (previously Twitter)

Have a good day/night 🥹🫶🏻

I have coaching for the void state and self-concept also tapes and it's guaranteed from my side but it depends on you

#law of assumption #loa #loassumption #neville goddard #loa success #success stories loa #void success #self concept #self development #self esteem #Youtube #non dualism #non duality #nonduality #nondualism

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