#and avoiding the topic entirely is not how anyone should approach it

[squorttle-pox]

I would just like to aggressively kindly remind fans that harassing other fans, cosplayers, or actors in ANY WAY is totally uncool.

[himasgod]

Is it okay if I request a Riddle x Reader scenario/headcanons with a reader who was raised in a polar opposite way than he was? (I.E. neglected/ignored)

I’ve had this idea for a while and would really like to see what someone does with it!

Thank you so much!

RIDDLE X READER

Where you have been raised ignored and avoided

How would Riddle treat you if you had been raised in a way that was completely the opposite of his, and you fell ill, saying nothing, accustomed to keeping silent?

Hello! This may contain some angst, and perhaps someone might relate. You're not alone babe, I hope this read help you. If it's a sensitive topic that you think might be harmful to read, please don't read it! Thank you very much!

You didn't know how much you'd learned to keep quiet until someone decided to listen to you.

Since you arrived at NRC, you'd adapted like a shadow. You didn't bother anyone. You didn't interrupt anyone. You didn't ask for help. You stayed in your classes, you did your homework, and when you were sick, you just… carried on as if nothing had happened. That's how you'd done it your whole life.

Because no one at home would have noticed. Because you didn't know anyone could.

And then Riddle Rosehearts arrived.

The strict one. The dreaded housewarden of Heartslabyul. The one everyone tried to avoid when they were about to break a rule.

But you never broke any rules. So he never scolded you. He just watched you. From afar, at first. Silently, like you did with the world.

It was a cloudy afternoon. The sky was weeping a light, steady rain that fogged the common room windows. You were in the far corner, trying to concentrate on a book you couldn't read because the paragraphs were moving in front of your eyes. You had chills, your bones ached, and your eyelids felt like lead.

You didn't complain. You didn't say anything. But Riddle noticed.

He approached slowly, closing the book he was holding.

"How long have you been like this?"

It took you a moment to look up. His tone wasn't harsh, but it wasn't gentle either. It was a strange balance… as if he were trying to take care of you without frightening you.

"I'm fine," you lied, the first instinct of someone who has spent their entire life being their own refuge.

He frowned slightly. Not from impatience. From… concern.

"Did you eat anything today?"

The question disarmed you. Because no one asked that. Ever.

"I wasn't hungry," you said, lowering your gaze, as if answering were in itself a sin.

Riddle sighed softly. He walked to the nearest table and returned, minutes later, with a steaming cup of tea. He placed it in front of you, saying nothing more.

"Honey, ginger, cinnamon. I won't argue with you. Take it."

Something in the way he spoke wasn't imposing. It was firm, yes… but not to control you. To take care of you.

And that broke you a little inside.

No one made tea for you. No one remembered your tastes. No one insisted with such silent stubbornness on doing something nice for you.

You forced yourself to take the cup. It was warm, soft on your throat, and for a moment, you felt you could breathe. Just a little. Only there. Only with him.

Minutes passed without either of you speaking. He returned to his book, at your side. You concentrated on drinking slowly, feeling the liquid return some color to your cheeks.

You didn't know how to thank him. Or if you even should. Because thanking him implied that this was weird. Strange. And deep down, you didn't want it to be.

You wanted someone, for once, to see you without you having to scream to exist.

"Why are you doing this?" you finally asked, breaking your own silence.

Riddle closed the book. He didn't answer immediately.

"Because I know what it looks like to be unwell and not say anything," he said slowly.

"I was like that too. My mother just... it's something complicated. Trey and Chenya helped me a lot."

You looked at him. And for the first time, you understood beyond the rules. He had been like you. Only he had reacted to pain with anger like in his overblot, while you had reacted with silence.

"I'm not angry with you," he continued. "I'm angry at everyone who should have taught you that you can ask for help."

That sentence was like a knife in your memory. Like an open wound of things you never had: someone to sit next to you, someone who noticed, someone to say, "You're not alone."

You felt a lump in your throat. You hid it. As always. But Riddle looked at you as if he could see beyond your barriers.

And instead of asking you to talk, he simply said,

"You can stay here until you feel better. No one will bother you."

After that, it started happening more often.

He left you cups of tea in the common room when you were late. Sometimes he'd pass you his notes without you asking. He made sure you ate, even if it was just a piece of fruit. He didn't yell at you. He didn't pressure you. He didn't force you to change.

He was just there.

And you, little by little, began to respond.

You made him some tea when you noticed his eyes were tired from studying so much. He was surprised, but didn't say anything. He just accepted it, with one of those smiles that lasted a second but left a mark.

One day, you fell asleep without realizing it, over your book. You woke up with a blanket over your shoulders. It smelled of roses and mint. Riddle had already left, but the warmth in your chest lasted for hours.

And then you understood: he wasn't just a housewarden with strict rules.

He was learning to care for someone by choice. And you… you were learning what it meant to be cared for.

Your fever rose higher than expected one night. You hadn't wanted to say anything, as always.

But when Riddle came looking for you in your bedroom and found you half-trembling, staring blankly at the sheets soaked with sweat, something in him snapped.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" he exclaimed.

"I didn't mean to disturb…" you murmured, barely audible.

"Disturb!" he repeated, "You are important, do you understand that? What you feel matters. What you need matters."

Your head, your body, your soul ached. But that last sentence… that one stuck with you.

"You are important."

And you cried.

Silently. Without words. Silent tears that Riddle didn't interrupt. He just gently wiped them away, one by one, with a handkerchief he kept in his jacket.

He spent that night by your side. He didn't leave. He stayed with you, changing the soaked towels in your forehead, watching your breathing, caressing your forehead with a tenderness that seemed alien to his world of rules.

"I won't let you go through this alone again," he whispered in the early morning.

And you said it too, without words. Just with your hand clasped in his, with the strength of someone who has waited too long to be touched gently.

The recovery was slow, but different this time.

Not because the fever was lighter, but because you weren't alone. Riddle was there. Not as a student or housewarden. Not as an authority figure. But as someone who, like you, had lived a childhood of extremes.

And who was now learning to give love awkwardly, but truly.

You taught him the silence that heals. He taught you the words that warm.

And between the two of you, in the spaces where before there had been only emptiness, something new began to be born.

It felt like home.

[thegoldencontracts]

What Do You Want?

Summary: You try to approach Azul with an offer. His response is- odd, to say the least.

Notes: My heart wants fluff to make up for the angst yesterday... im sorry T_T

The moment you'd first seen Azul, you thought he was pretty. Then, you started noticing other little cool things about him. And before you knew it, you had a crush.

"You're- so stupid!" Ace said with a laugh. "You actually think Azul Ashengrotto would ever like anyone? Best outcome is, he tries to scam you but you barely manage to win."

"I've got a point-card!" You said cheerily. "And I've made a rough outline of what I want my contract to look like."

The 'outline' was only one sentence, but Ace didn't need to know that.

At that moment, though, Ace's eyes widened.

"You're actually gonna do it?" He said, the grin fading from his face.

"Yeah," you said. You were going to try and make a contract with him, see what happened. Maybe it wouldn't work out. But hey, you'd never know if you didn't try!

Besides, you had a plan. And that plan was what brought you to the VIP room, a golden point card in hand.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise it is to see you here!" Azul said with a salesman's grin that somehow still looked cute. "I was under the impression you couldn't afford point-cards."

You laughed.

"It's lovely what happens when you make people compensate you for your labor," you said. And it was true. Telling people you'd do something for a free meal at the Lounge got you point cards and food witthout any complaints. For some reason, people were more willing to do that than give you the money straight-up, even if the expensive meals usually meant they'd have to pay more. Whatever.

"Oh," Azul said, before quickly changing the topic. "So what exactly is your desire?"

You smirked.

"Azul," you said. "Considering the ranking of the Golden card, that means you have to accept any contract I propose, so long as it doesn't pose direct harm to your mental or physical wellbeing in some way, shape, or form, correct?"

Azul's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Correct, however, you're forgetting-"

"The impact limit, yes," you said. "If the wish in question requires maiming, killing, or mentally scarring any individual, whether or not you agree to grant it becomes a decision entirely at your discretion."

At this point, Azul was looking at you like you'd grown two heads.

"Your point is...?" He asked.

"I won't have to make any other payment for my wish then, correct?" You said. You knew how these exchanges worked, and you did not want to get scammed.

Azul bit his lip.

"Fine, fine, you 'win', I suppose. Just- tell me what exactly it is you desire," he said.

You smiled, handing him a piece of paper with the draft of your contract on it. Azul's eyes widened in shock at its contents.

'Be my friend!' it said.

"Sooooo, what do you think?" You asked.

Azul shot you a glare. Harsh.

"What do you want?"

"I already told you- well, wrote to you, I guess, but-"

"No," Azul said, voice dangerously level. "What do you truly want?"

"Be my friend!" You said, flashing him a thumbs up. But Azul was still angry. Did he just hate you or something?

"I don't appreciate such juvenile attempts at mockery," he said. "If you have no true wish to make, then I shall have you escorted out."

You sighed. Seriously, this was getting annoying. Did he want to avoid you that badly?

"Look," you said. "I already laid it all out - you should try being my friend! And if you don't like it, then you stop! Simple as that, right?"

Azul scoffed.

"That's preposterous," he said. "No one would ever want such a thing-"

"Well, I want it," you said, before sighing. "Look, is it really that big of a deal?"

At that, Azul seemed to malfunction, like he couldn't possibly comprehend what you were saying. That was weird. Why wasn't he happy? Wasn't he going to try and scam you or something?

At long last, Azul shook away the red dusting his cheeks, handing you a pamphlet.

"Take this for now," he said. It was a study guide for Alchemy. "And keep the point card. I'll continue my inquiry tomorrow during lunch, so prepare yourself. Now then, leave."

"Great! See you tomorrow lunch then, Azul."

You took the study guide and headed for the exit. The study guide was pretty good, actually. And there was that little chibi doodle with hearts around it - you didn't know where it came from, but it kind of reminded you of yourself!

So, hey, it seemed like things were going pretty well.

Meanwhile, Azul was in a panic.

"The Prefect's caught on, I'm certain of it!" He said to Floyd and Jade, furiously flipping through his book of contingency plans for any type of social situation gone wrong. "Why else would such an odd request be made of me?"

Floyd rolled his eyes.

"Cause Shrimpy wanted to be your friend?" He said.

"No one would ever desire such a thing!" Azul said. "The Prefect's found out about that foolish little crush of mine, and decided to make a fool out of me. There's no other explanation!"

It was a sensible explanation, wasn't it? Common, too. It had happened to Azul all the time back then. He simply had to make sure he didn't slip, that he established consequences for all those who attempted to mess with him now.

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of Jade's laughter.

"What seems to be the matter, Jade? Do enlighten me," Azul asked dryly.

"You made an error in your panicked frenzy with the Prefect, that's all," Jade said. "The study guide you gave was the one with the doodles."

Azul felt his mouth go dry.

"W-What?"

"The one filled with countless doodles of your little crush, surrounded by hearts."

O-Of all the study guides, why that one?

Seven, how he wished to crawl into an octopus pot right now. But for now, all he could settle for was burying his face in his hands, left alone with his thoughts as he tuned Jade and Floyd out entirely.

He hadn't believed it, but- what if you were being sincere? What if you truly did want to grow closer to him? Yes, it was true that such a thing had never occurred in the past, meaning an analysis of past trends would seem such a thing impossible, and this sort of trick had been played on him countless times before but-

You seemed oddly sincere about it. And, frankly, he wanted you to be.

Azul couldn't help but sigh. Though it would likely cause him problems later, for now, he couldn't help but let himself hope.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

yandere chan

summary: once again, basically sub yandere chan x dom reader hcs

a/n: there is many stalkerish topics and toxic behaviours in this (so read at your own risk), there is also mentions that could be read as a strap or the real thing-whichever you prefer

i do not condone this sort of behaviour, this is purely for amusement purposes and should not be done in real life nor' should be normalized

Did you notice Chan from the very beginning?

probably, yeah.

he made himself very apparent as the shy, cute, guy in a few of your classes. the boy next door typa vibes

you were friends with a bunch of his friends, he was friends with a bunch of your friends, so you knew of him though you never really hung out with him in any type of one-on-one kind of situation

was he completely gorgeous and so very adorable and look so entirely fuckable?

yeah. yeah he did.

but that was just it, you wanted to approach him, ask him out, bring him home at the end of the night

but he seemed too...innocent, too naive, too virgin-y

the golden boy

and you didn't want to corrupt that

you didn't realize how completely wrong you were until later on

completely unaware of the fact that he's had your entire schedule memorized from the get-go

that the reason anyone you've talked to never called you back and avoided you if you saw them again was because of Chan

he isn't the type to ask you out, babyboy's too shy and self-conscious for that,

instead he'll stalk and watch and hope that you'll get the clue soon enough

as he waits he'll probably steal your things, little trinkets, clothing like hoodies and shirts, perhaps some underwear if he's feeling extra confident

but he always feels really bad when he takes those

he has photos upon photos in his camera roll of you. enough to make a folder labelled just your name

most of them are not even remotely sexual,

some of you laughing with your friends-stolen from your friends's instagram account, from your instagram account

some of you smiling widely with your classmates

some that have been group pictures that his friends have sent to him

some of them he's taken himself, secretly snapping a few when you're not aware

he has so many, his own personal collection of just you and as gross as he feels when he does it-he'll look at them and get off

he can't touch himself, never does. he feels too dirty to do that, feels dirty and guilty about the entire situation altogether

but sees you and he just can't help himself

can't help but imagine how good you'd look standing over him, telling him what to do.

making him hump your leg

it so humiliating, so revealing and degrading as you look down at him unimpressed, the disappointment in your eyes making him whimper

you'd pet him too, pushing his hair back

"such a dirty dog; getting off on my leg like you're in heat, you poor thing~"

you'd tease him and make fun of him, bully him until he cums, melting against your leg out of breath

a mess all over your leg

you'd click your tongue at him, rolling your eyes before forcing his head down to lick up his mess

the fantasy gets so intense sometimes he feels like it's really happening

he's so hard and needy, body aching to be touched but too guilty to do it

so his go-to is humping his pillows or his bed. your clothes a victim with either his face buried into the fabric, smelling your perfume or your cologne or your natural scent

or he fucks into the clothing, obsessing over the thought of you catching him in the act

his face flushed, guilt stewing in his gut, eyes locked on yours. even if they're only through the screen of his phone

he begs and begs and begs to the phantom of you, his lust-addled brain conjuring up images, fake realities that aren't real to feed into his delusions that he could be yours.

it's only when you go on a date with someone that he decides he needed to do something

a guy from your class. decently handsome and looked kind of like Chan when you squinted slightly

it would all look the same, really, in the dark of your room as you made him moan under your hands.

the date goes well. but maybe that's because he has an aussie accent and when you look just beside his ear you can pretend it's someone else

you end the night a good note too, kissing him on the cheek and making him promise that you'll go out again sometime

Channie does not like that

he's been watching all night, hatred boiling in his gut, glaring hole into the guy's head, wishing that he'd drop down dead in the middle of the restaurant

he threatens him as soon as you're inside, telling him that he needs to leave you alone or else

spoiler alert: it doesn't work and you go out with him again

and again

Chan doesn't like that. not one bit.

you get upset when you're stood up by him for the first time after only three dates, checking your phone every few seconds as you sit in your apartment, waiting for him to pick you up

he never does

you call him and text him but he doesn't reply

awhile later you see that he blocked you on everything

he never does talk to you again and you wonder why

for the rest of the night you sulk, heading to a nearby bar, having a few drinks until someone taps you on the shoulder

turning around to find Chan smiling sheepishly

asking if you need some company for the night

you accept, eagerly ordering a few more so that he can catch up to you

which ends up with him getting extremely drunk

turns out he has a very low alcohol tolerance. it also turns out that he becomes extremely horny when he's drunk

extremely drunk, extremely horny and extremely happy

because it's the night Chan finally gets what he's been wanting for such a long time.

panting and clutching at your shoulders in the dark corner of the bar, sloppily making out with you

whimpering about how he's dreamed about this for years, muttering between kisses how he can't believe this is happening

opening his legs for you in such a public place-you briefly wonder if you were wrong about him being innocent all this time

until he tells you that he is a virgin, not that he hasn't had offers, it's just that he wanted to save it for you

he wanted you and only you to take his innocence,

to hell if it's in a dirty pub right next to the toilets, if there are eyes watching him-watching you, that you're as drunk as he is and still sad about being ghosted

it needs to be now

he cries with every thrust of you inside of him, his walls clenching making it harder for you

every little touch feels like it's overloading his senses, making his head feel fuzzy and the room feel spinny

and while it might be the alcohol that's causing it, it also might be the need he's had ever since the first time he saw you

the want and the desperation and the high he feels after everything he's done, it's finally happening

he whispers a lot of things to you that night

things that scare you, things that turn you on, things that make you angry at him and things that make you wanna ruin him even more

he confesses every one of his dirty secrets to you

he asks you then if you could still love him after all this, if you would still want him

and to his surprise, you don't get that angry, you do however, expect him to make up for his...wrongdoings

babyboy spends months at your beck and call, doing whatever you please whenever you please

trying to prove himself to you, that after all he's done he deserves to be with you

making him doing humiliating things like wearing a vibrator to your date

fiddling with the controls as he squirms in his seat, trying to hold it in long enough to order his meal albeit stuttering and tripping over his words the whole time

having him wear lingerie under his clothes when he goes out to hang with his friends, the lace hugging his body tight-a remanent of you even if you're not there

and even though you don't ask him to he shows up at your apartment every morning, with flowers or gifts or a compliment ready on his lips, offering to drive you wherever you need

sends you texts throughout the day, informing you of every little thing with an adorable kind of elation

you'd forgiven him long ago, if you'd ever even been mad at him to begin with,

it was just cute watching him stumble around trying to fulfill your every wish

though that still doesn't change when you finally make things official

he probably cries when you ask him to be your boyfriend, he just can't help it, he loves you so, so, so much

Even if his definition of love being a tad overbearing,

he definitely changes a bit when you're actually dating

a little bit more possessive, a little bit more clingy mixed in with a dash of paranoia whenever you’re around someone else that isn’t him

a lot of his shyness goes away when he's with you, ready to do whatever it takes to have your attention on him, willing to do anything that you tell him to

focusing on the former:

He really just can’t help but imagine how you’d look with them

You wouldn’t be happier with them, would you?

No, you love him, you love HIM

not them, not your coworker or best friend, not any one of his band mates or some random person you met at a social gathering

It’s Chan that you love

He’ll stay quiet sometimes, he knows that you need people in your life other than him. he knows that he can’t satisfy every one of your needs that all of these other people do

But that doesn’t make him stop wishing that he could

he tolerates most people (mostly because of your scoldings and punishments when he hasn't) but he still can't help the rage that comes when he sees someone actively trying to get into your pants-ESPECIALLY if they KNOW you're with Chan

of which he will 'encourage' them to leave you alone later on

though he'd really rather not have to do that. it gets kind of messy and you always get angry with him afterwards

so it's good that he's okay with most people,

it doesn’t stop his possessiveness or clinginess but at least he's not going tooooo overboard

If you’re shorter than him he’ll come up behind you and wrap you in a big bear hug, arms around your waist, face in your neck, peppering kisses all over your skin

If you’re taller than him he’ll have no problem pushing himself into your arms, 

coming up in front of you and hugging you, taking your arms and throwing them other his shoulders

“Pay attention to meeee~”

face still in your neck, kisses still all over your skin,

No shits given for pda or how the person you were talking to beforehand is reacting at him cutting off the conversation,

and if you happen to giggle or laugh at his antics his heart will skip a beat, face growing warm with the sound, encouraged once again, to do it the next time this happens

There is very little that will dissuade him even if you don't like it

if you don’t like it he won’t pick up subtle cues or discomfort, 

or more like he’ll PRETEND that he doesn’t get them

You’ll have to be straight up and tell him if you really want him to stop

He’ll give you the saddest, most hurt puppy dog eyes but will reluctantly listen to your wishes

he can never bring himself to do something that will hurt you or make you upset in any way

Afterwards when you get home is where that jealousy comes pouring out

jumping you the second you’re in the door,

the only time babyboy will ever purposely brat out, he’ll welcome any punishment you give as long as it’s you paying attention to him

Not anyone else

Would actually die if you ignored him

That’s out of the question for punishments,

he could never take you pleasuring yourself while he’s tied up across the room, 

he would probably cry and not in the way that either of you like

he doesn’t care how hard you hit, how mean you are, how torturous your punishments are,

ignoring him is a no-no

And bringing someone else into any part of your relationship is too

Sexual or otherwise

The thought of someone else touching your skin, making you moan in the way he does, also makes him want to die.

End of story

If you try to bring it up at all he’d probably just ignore you, give you silent treatment until you apologize 

And then make you PROMISE-PROMISE, PROMISE, PROMISE that it’ll never happen

That he’s the only one you’ll ever be with

Again, sexual or otherwise

but he wouldn't be against it if you were to say, fuck him in front of someone he was jealous of

having the other person watch as you praise him, giving him a slow handjob

his head going into overdrive as he makes pretty noises, all with the knowledge that this person would never get to be in his position, only a watcher to what Chan gets and they don't

He loves you so much and loves the way you make him feel

he gets quickly obsessed with that sense of freedom that you can give him

He’s stressed and overworked, locking himself in his studio for who knows how long, 

starving himself for who knows how long

At the end of a long week he’s all pent up and tired, barely able to stand up on his own two feet and make complete sentences

Much less take control during sex

And more often than not when he comes home after said long week he’s in subspace the second he hears your voice,

quite literally from the second he steps inside the door he just feels himself slipping, overtaking his head with every step he takes, pushing himself deeper and deeper

He just wants to curl up in your arms and let you take care of him, force his mind somewhere else

jerk him off and call him puppy, anything you want, anything at all

He absolutely loves to be called puppy or babyboy, he really doesn’t know which one more because either will have the same effect

Mostly it’ll be paired with him calling you mommy or daddy

he's not big on master or mistress, ma'm or sir just because they don't have the same amount of comfort mommy or daddy has

It makes him feel safe and warm and cared for 

Even if you are edging him for the sixth time tonight with no reprieve in sight 

He’s a bit of a pillow princess but that’s okay because he looks so pretty just laying there and taking whatever you give him

He loves the control you take from him, forcing the decisions out of his hands, your rules becoming the only thing he cares about,

that floaty feeling in his head when you strip him of all of his responsibilities and anxieties

Your comforting hand and sweet praises,

the knowing that he can fall into it and leave the overwhelming reality of his world with you right there to take care of him

He no doubt uses his submission, subspace and sex as a whole really as coping mechanism for when everything becomes too much

Which is unfortunately more often than not, can make things overwhelming for both parties

It’s not very healthy but he thinks that it’s mostly him that’s being affected in a negative way 

He doesn’t account for exactly how much of a toll it can be on you as well 

He probably won’t notice either until you outright tell him, sit him down and give it pointblank

He feels horrible when and if you finally do though

But he is a bit selfish

So I doubt many serious changes will be made, if any at all

If things do change, don’t expect them to stay that way long, slowly enough that you might not even realize it everything will fall right back into the place it was before

he does give really good aftercare though, wrapping his arms around you, ignoring how tired he is to ask if you need anything

even if he's practically braindead, his legs still shaking he's trying to clean you up, trying to wave you off with weak hands

he gets really sleepy but doesn't like to actually sleep, instead he likes to lazily talk to you, words slurred, voice low and heavy

about anything, everything

most of the reason he doesn't want to sleep is because he never wants this moment to end

him in your arms, his head on your chest, your lips leaving soft kisses all over his forehead and hairline

telling him you love him

he swears his heart will burst out of his chest

this is all he's ever wanted

all he's ever dreamed of

to be with you

a/n: okay after this one i'm going to do lixie and then maybe hyunjin...? i'm not fully sure yet after felix's but yeah, hope you enjoyed!

--if you get tagged, or see this again that's because this is a repost because it got put under the community label before even a full day was up

taglist is open now here if you wanna be added: @hobihearteu, @shincode, @lemonhongjoong, @laylasbunbunny, @xcookiemonsteerr, @arlojulien-nightchild-of-hades, @hahagay, @lino-jagiyaa, @missrobyn81

[tanadrin]

The Gish Gallop was a term coined I think on the 2000s internet for a rhetorical maneuver where to buttress an argument you provide a ton of low-quality evidence; that the evidence is bad means it should be easy to refute, but the very large volume means it will take much longer to explain why it's all wrong than it did to copy-paste a bunch of links, and to a certain kind of very naive onlooker, it looks like the galloper is winning--after all, the one interlocutor has presented a ton of evidence! The second interlocutor has to spend so much time bending over backwards to refute it! Surely the first guy is more knowledgeable and authoritative. You aren't going to look at all that evidence yourself, of course--who has the time?

But listening to Dan McClellan talk about the Gospel of John this morning, it occurs to me that I don't think this is disingenuous. Not entirely. I think this is just the style of argumentation a lot of Christians (of a particular religious flavor) are used to. And I'm not just talking about in non- or para-religious matters like evolution. This is how Christianity understands the Bible.

This week's Data over Dogma is about the theology of John, and why it is non-trinitarian (because the Trinity is a much later doctrine developed as a kind of political compromise, maintained only because it had state backing) and does not actually identify Jesus with God (the theological developments are more complicated here; but suffice it to say it was not at all a given that "authorized bearer of the divine name" and "actually God" were the same being in 1st century Hellenistic Judaism, and indeed the distinction between the two had developed in Jewish thought precisely to avoid the awkwardness of anthropomorphic figures proclaiming themselves God in some of the older sections of the Hebrew Bible).

The funny thing is, there are a ton of passages in John that get trotted out as proof texts that Jesus is God. There are very good reasons in the case of each one to doubt that that is actually the correct reading; but of course, if you don't know anything about Greek, all you have are modern translations produced under the assumption of the dogma of the Trinity--mostly for devotional readers of the Bible who would be outraged if the Trinity wasn't in the New Testament--and you have been raised in a cultural and/or educational milieu where it is simply a default assumption about the way the world works that the Trinity is a timeless concept that has been in the Bible from the beginning, it sure looks like one side is spinning up tendentious arguments based on silly semantics that have nothing to do with the religion you learned as a kid.

But this exegetical approach (really, eisegetical) is common to many topics in traditional Christian theology. There are a ton of passages from the Septuagint that the Gospels warp to be about Jesus, even though, in their original context, this doesn't make any sense; sometimes even they're based on obvious mistranslations, like having Jesus ride into Jerusalem on the back of two animals simultaneously because you don't understand appositives. And you can poke holes in any individual bit of this exegesis, but psychologically having a ton of low-quality evidence for a thing is a pretty effective bulwark against thinking critically about that evidence; for every individual argument you knock down, the person you are arguing against is probably thinking, "yeah, but what about all that other stuff," even if they can't actually name all that other stuff in the moment.

And it's not mendacious! This is the stuff of true belief; this is how you get breathless Christian commentators saying the Bible couldn't possibly be written by human hands, because it so perfectly predicted Jesus even in the Old Testament--and the evidence they point to is, to anyone not steeped in traditional Christian exegesis, and especially to Jews who have their own exegetical traditions, absolutely barmy. Like really pants-on-head crazy stuff. But of course even now it is still being processed, in many parts of the world, through a two thousand year old tradition trying to reconcile it all and to normalize it all, and--to bring it back to discussions of evolution on the internet in the 2000s--I can't help but think of all those people who talk about the experience of thinking evolution was so obviously nonsense, because all they were exposed to was the fundamentalist strawman of it. When they finally sat down and began to read about it on their own, from unbiased sources--often with the intent of criticizing it--they realized how distorted their understanding was, and how limited their supposed outside view.

(If there are general lessons to be wrung from this situation, I think it's simply "beware of echo chambers." Social consensus in a bubble can make bad arguments feel much stronger than they really are, especially if you are not exposed to the actual opposing view. Be on guard against mistaking "quantity of evidence" for "quality of argument," especially if you're not gonna evaluate that evidence yourself. Also all religious traditions are fundamentally eisegetical, because in order to keep holy writ relevant to the community its meaning has to be constantly renegotiated. So, uh. If you want high-quality exegesis, ask an academic, not a theologian.)

[realmyths]

Also, I want to give my rules a revamp. Not sure exactly how to phrase things but....hopefully I'll figure it out. If you're curious what I'd be adding, more explanation under the cut. TLDR version: would be adding a sort of DNI (not specific people, more types of RPers who frustrate me a bit)

So I don't really have a dni in that there's specific people that I don't want to interact with. However, there are types of RPers that I don't want to interact with, and I"ll get into why.

Anyone who refuses to RP with "all female blogs". In my experience, these RPers only tend to write romantic m/w threads (maybe sometimes m/m but often just m/w) and just don't want to play the male character all the time. Which, fine, that's cool. But I'm not going to entertain someone who doesn't want to write with female characters if they don't fit into a specific box. Like....that's just not cool (imo). Also where do nonbinary muses land? I am confused about that. LOL .

Anyone who is (too) "selective with w/w threads." I am literally a lesbian lol. If you don't have as much muse for those threads, that's fine. But as someone who craves sapphic threads, I don't relate at all. And again, don't want to be forced to write m/w threads if I'm not feeling them. In my opinion, that should be respected as well. However, this does not mean I will not write m/w threads. It just means that if I see the chemistry I will, if I don't I won't. Just don't want to feel forced to ship ever. And luckily that's never been the case with any of my current RP partners. I genuinely enjoy all the threads I have. Also, these blogs tend to assume all threads are in a romantic context, as if muses don't need friends/enemies too. So yeah, it can be tough imo for me to interact with the people described above. Because even if you don't crave sapphic romance threads the way I do, muses need friends too. Found family. There are so many non-romantic connections that muses can have, for sure. And if you don't want to write that, we're probably not compatible as RP partners LOL. Not that I don't love romance, I do. I really do. But just because your muse is straight, I don't want to force myself to write a male character if I'm not feeling the muse for one. (I have very few male characters on my roster for a reason. That reason is, I feel I suck at playing them. Not saying that is a fact. But I do feel that way.)

People with long DNI lists (with specific people on them). Not necessarily saying this is a bad thing. I totally get it. If you want to avoid specific people, you do that. But...often, what I've found is that people aren't avoiding people for harm done to real people but...for"harm" done IC. Which...imo, doesn't count. Obviously, if someone is writing harmful tropes all over the place, yeah you might want to avoid that person. But in most cases, it's not done purposefully. And personally, I hesitate to write someone off entirely based on how they write their muses. Writing does not always equal condoning. It depends on the muse and their story. I write muses that have killed people. I don't and never would harm anyone irl. You know?

Which leads nicely into my next somewhat related point. Everyone needs to write what they feel comfortable with. However, I also think that goes for those who want to explore darker topics in their writing. You don't have to interact with those writers. I don't personally write a lot of darker topics myself, nor will I. I just don't feel like it. However, I am NEVER, repeat never, going to tell others what they can and can't write. We're all just here to have fun and be creative, and yes some topics should be handled with care. Like any prejudice and bigotry of any kind. However, telling people they're not allowed to write xyz topic because you don't feel comfortable with it is just...imo, a bit much sometimes. Now I get why it happens. People want to approach things with sensitivity. I get and support that. But as I said above, writing does not always equal condoning. Obviously there are some topics that should always be written with the people who they affect in mind. For example, I don't personally RP out any abuse/rape/incest because although those topics aren't personally triggering to me, I do understand how they could be to others, and personally I'd rather avoid them. I'm not exactly going to RP out my muses getting hate crimed or mistreated for who they are either. As that probably would be slightly triggering to me as a queer & neurodivergent person. However, I am not going to tell others what they can and can't do. Absolutely, curate your space. That's 100% fine. I just...think we also need to be mindful that writing is supposed to be a space where people can explore darker aspects if they want to. Consent matters, of course. No one should force darker topics on those who don't want to RP them. And, by the same token, no one who wants to explore darker topics with others who also want to should be hated for it either. So I guess what I'm saying is I don't want to interact with those who are mean to others solely based on IC actions. Because as we say here in the RPC, mun does not equal muse. And so what matters, really, at least imo, is that the muns are on the same page, no one's being forced to RP things they're not comfortable with, that no characters are being written solely with harmful tropes (but if that is the case that the mun is made aware in a kind way cause 9/10 I bet they either a) don't know or b) have been made aware in the rudest way so they decided then to ignore the feedback. Not saying that should happen, but I think it's a common human thing to sort of ignore what someone's saying when we feel attacked or defensive. A simple 'hey this is a harmful trope/writing decision because x' will go a long way imo. And if the mun is made aware and still continues to do it? Block away if that's what you want to do. Personally, I don't think people's writing solely defines them, but ya know....I do respect people's right to avoid whoever they want to avoid, for whatever reason that may be.) I just personally find it hard to walk on eggshells around people in the RPC. And I think, even though I don't personally write many darker topics (just typical supernatural ones like murder/killing, blood/gore, etc etc), I probably would have to around those who are like this.

People who have long banned FC lists. (I don't know why half these people are banned tbh.) Obviously if someone is obviously harmful irl, I understand banning them. But some of the people I've seen on banned lists, have done nothing wrong (that I know of, I could be out of the loop of course). I still don't know why so many people ban Sydney Sweeney. Like...what did she do? (If anyone knows, let me know. Cause I am super curious.) Obviously, people can ban FCs just because. But personally, I find judging a character solely by their FC silly. A FC is just meant to be the closest celebrity who resembles to a certain extent our muse. Though most won't fit perfectly what we're picturing in our head, some will come close enough and that's all a FC is. A visual representation of our muses. And yes, if you don't like a FC it's tough to see their face in every thread. But I genuinely tend to respect people who find solutions to that (going iconless for threads with FCs they don't like) instead of banning in that they won't RP with anyone who uses those FCs. Of course, for me, there are exceptions to this rule. Anyone who's harmful irl should be banned, absolutely. But so many people on others' banned lists often haven't done anything wrong that I'm aware of, so much so that I tend to just not follow people who have long banned lists, because I don't even know why they're banned. Obviously, it's fine to ban whoever you want to. But it's also fine to just...avoid people who have long lists of FCs they won't RP with. Because it can feel difficult, at least for me. (Some people have casts of entire shows banned. And idek why. Maybe they hate those shows, idk. And that's fine. But see above on judging a character solely by their FC. Idgi.)

People who ignore the existence of nonbinary muses. As a nonbinary mun with nonbinary muses, I find this rather frustrating. Like...when someone says "m/w can reply to this thread." Now it might just be the case that they forgot to put enby people. But that's not a good sign either. If your muse is bi/pan, they're going to be attracted to (if you're looking for a romance thread, that is) nonbinary people too. In fact, even some straight people could be attracted to some nonbinary people, depending on how they identify. Though in most cases, I'm sure nonbinary people would prefer to date other queer people due to them getting their identity more. (I know I would, but again lesbian Hehehe.) However, as a nonbinary mun with nonbinary muses, I always feel sort of like...wait, could I reply? And usually, I wind up deciding the answer is no. So please, don't forget nonbinary people when writing out your threads. Also, nonbinary gay and lesbian people exist, which means that just because your muse is a gay man or a lesbian woman doesn't necessarily mean they're only looking for men or women. Unless they're transphobic or something LOL. As a nonbinary lesbian myself, can confirm that we exist LOL. So please please please don't forget nonbinary muses. They're here, they're queer, and they want to be included too. <3

I don't know if this all makes sense. And tbh, if it does I might just link this in my rules. I'll see. Idk. Also, any questions feel free to ask. I'm always happy to clarify anything. And if I said anything wrong/harmful (though I don't think I did, but you know....could be wrong. I'm only human), please please please let me know. <3

Also I'd probably link this to rule 4 if I do add it. Just think that's where it makes sense.

[dentwy]

number 2: the rehearsal

i’m not familiar with nathan fielder's work. hell, i found out he’s canadian a week ago; but after hearing enough about the rehearsal i was curious to give it a shot. i believe the first person i heard talk about it was matt watson, so thank you little matthew! hope you’re doing well!

the rehearsal pretty much feels like the answer to "what could i have done in that situation" (which now that i think about is kind of ironic when i'm saying i got it from supermega but that’s a different topic). instead of doing stuff and later regretting it later, why not just rehearse the situation before it plays out? nathan fielder is really just that neurotypical of a man. the first few minutes are enough to sell you on the idea that this is actually completely psychotic, do not let this man near your house. even then, i believe life is at its best when sticking to our most devious ideas, so i am all in for it.

there’re three main "rehearsals" in the show, but they all manage to give us a different experience on this concept and tackle a different issue at hand. "i've been lying to my friend for 10 years", "i need my brother to understand my girlfriend isn’t a liar" and "i want to know what it's like to be a parent". these are fairly simple problems anyone could have, but it's the characters we come across that make it a bigger deal than it should be. these are just people. annoying ones? sure. racist? yep. unhealthily religious? oh boy. yet nathan likes to explore that, he's never the one taking over their decisions (most of the time), he lets people be people, and, in turn, show their most honest sides.

this "hands off" approach works to the benefit of the show as in the end, nothing feels tacked in or unrealistic. the things these people do or say will make you groan just as it would for any acquaintance you might know or meet for the first time. surely, we're still talking about a documentary (or docu-medy) so who's to say it couldn't all be actors. don't really think it matters though, as the rehearsal is all about acting as who you want to be. just probably don't follow "the fielder method" unless you're allowed to i suppose.

after all, we're talking about nathan fielder, a guy that keeps a response flowchart for his phone calls. the guy that reenacts situations he's already been in to understand how people perceive him, and how they feel. i'm no medical professional, but fielder portrays aspects of autism that you don't usually see in television that much. there's always a sense of anxiety to whatever he does, as if he doesn't ever really know what to do with the people around him. not to say he doesn't try his best, he's definitely a competent individual, he simply gives off that vibe. he's caring and understanding, and it shows on the later episodes of the show.

it may seem at first glance that the rehearsal is just about planning out the future, but it tackles multiple things at once. seeking acceptance from others, understanding social ques, not understanding them, overthinking what we do and giving up before trying; as some of the main actions we could take in life. all going alongside concepts of acceptance (and not accepting others), people portraying different versions of themselves, some touches of racism and politics, egocentrism and obsessiveness over your principles (specially related to religion), the television and movie industry and its use of child actors, and the idea that's present the most throughout its runtime, parenthood.

being a parent must be tough, and jumping into something so life changing is a challenge of its own. a single mistake could ruin your child's entire life, yet humans are mistake machines, so how to avoid this? the search for answers sometimes doesn't work to your favor either, as nathan ends up showing us. without delving into too many details as it's better to experience on your own, the last 2 episodes are simply heartbreaking pieces of content. although ending in a seemingly positive manner, you always do wonder "what could have i done different?", when perhaps the best answer may as well be tackling things head on. or not? who knows? that’s what the rehearsal is for.

i'm definitely a victim of my own delusions at times, as many of us can be. thinking too far ahead and wishing there could be a retry button in case things go bad. if we could all just have a flowchart that considers every possible scenario, maybe we could be better. maybe things could be easier, but everything has a double-edged sword.

definitely looking forward to season 2, and even more of nathan if i decide to watch the rest of his stuff.

[chromaticcrazyass]

On returning to the Furry Fandom...

long post under the cut

Soooooooooo when I was in Highschool, I was deep in the furry fandom, especially the online furry space. Bad, I know. But after two whole years being a full-fledged furry, I walked away from it due to my perceived oversexualization and sexual implications of the furry community and how it's viewed by the general public.

I never wanted anything to do with anything sexual when it came to furry. I don't find anthro characters attractive, and the idea of animalistic properties being seen as such felt like a sort of blurring the lines into bestiality. Plus the frequent twitter drama my teenage brain was getting algorithm'd into didn't help.

So, ultimately being too young and immature to approach the intricacies of these topics, and caring far too much about outside stigma and opinions, I walked away from furry entirely.

Recently, I've revisited how I feel about it. Reflecting on what drew me to it initially, the people still in the community that I've met over the years, and the content beyond twitter and popufur drama that's really shed light on that original soul of the fandom that appealed to me in the first place.

And I wanted to find a way that I could still interact within the furry space without having to worry about my very strict SFW status when it came to how I wanted to express myself and how I wanted to interact with the fandom.

Ultimately, lately I've been reflecting on control of self and moderation vs censorship and the people around me, and not just when it comes to furry stuff. And really, the only responsible thing I can do is be intentional with the spaces I enter, who I interact with, and how I express myself.

That is to say, I do genuinely want to return to the furry fandom, but not get face-blasted by every single facet of it all at once. I'm not judge and jury and it's not really in my best interest or responsibility to declare how cons should be run or who should be allowed into the community. I have opinions of course, but when it comes to action, I have to be the one to intentionally avoid anything that makes me uncomfortable.

That is to say, I need to set boundaries with this stuff. Which is exactly what I'm going to be doing.

For starters, I am (and always have been) a strictly SFW fur. That means NO sexual content whatsoever. Outside of furry, that's different, as any of my friends know I am a thirsty bitch who loves tumblr sexymen and won't hesitate to be horny on main about it. But I'd prefer to keep that very much separate from my furry hobby. Sexuality and Furry are two streams I don't want to blend at any given point.

This also means that literally anyone claiming I have a "furry fetish" is just making a fool of themselves and isn't worth my time to so much as say anything back about. I don't need to justify why I do something and being mean isn't going to stop me from doing it. There's ZERO sex here. None. Zip. So if you think I'm somehow indulging in a fetish, that's a you problem and not a me problem. I do not care what you think, I know the truth for myself.

Being a furry always meant art, creativity, and self-expression. It's about uniqueness, community, and feeling accepted and safe. And that's what it's going to be for me. It's going to be what it was for me in the beginning: A place full of creative and friendly people who find beauty in the strange and weird. Who feel liberated by escaping normalcy, and feel confident knowing that they're around other people who get to nerd out about colorful characters and outward expression of their inner selves. And that's special. I wouldn't say that it's a big deal in my life and feel generally fairly neutral on it when it comes to how much impact it has on my personal day to day life.

So with that being said, I'm going to take a crack at making fursuits for sale. Specifically Kemono style fursuits since that's the style I enjoy the most. I'll also be returning to the general fandom, but not to any heavy degree, more just as a light hobby that I occasionally partake in from time to time when I feel like it.

Some more boundaries and general thoughts that I'll get out of the way NOW since I'm not going to be bothered to clear them up later:

I fucking hate zoophiles, bestiality, and everything adjacent to it. It belongs in the same tier of hell as pedophilia. It's gross and terrible, keep it away from me.

I do not ever want to see or know what your fetishes are. What you do at a con is your business, but do not involve me.

You won't find me in furry spaces of any kind where indecent attire is accepted. This largely applies to VR if/when I eventually get a headset. I vividly remember the amount of thongs, panties/underwear, nsfw models, and BDSM gear I had to witness as a minor in those worlds. And It's not something I ever want to revisit. If you have a model that wears that stuff, I will avoid you.

Just generally I won't engage with anything that's sexual or sexually implied. It makes me uncomfortable and I'm not here for that. I'm here for the cool character designs and sfw art.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAND with all that out of the way, I'll go ahead and drop the design for my kemono style fursona which I am in the progress of starting to make!

(They are a Western dragon not an Eastern dragon, they just have a mane and the fursuit isn't going to have wings because it'd be too cluttery)

[automatismoateo]

Struggling with Religious Conversations with My Sister Need Advice via /r/atheism

Struggling with Religious Conversations with My Sister – Need Advice I (20F) have a 17-year-old sister who is extremely religious, to the point where she talks about God all the time and makes it her entire identity. She’s evangelical Christian, and it’s something she’s very passionate about, but I feel like it’s consuming her life. She talks about hearing from God, talking to Him, and her mission to spread the word—basically making religion her whole personality. I used to be Christian, but I’m now an atheist, and I’ve shifted my views politically and spiritually over time. It’s hard for me to connect with her because our beliefs are worlds apart, and I feel like I can’t be myself around her without being judged. She also gets defensive when I bring up religion. If I say anything that even slightly challenges her views, she acts like I’m trying to “lead her astray” and claims that I “wouldn’t understand.” It feels like we can’t talk about it without her getting upset. The thing is, I feel like it’s unhealthy for someone to be so obsessed with religion. My grandfather is the same way – he’s always preaching and reading the Bible nonstop – and my sister is following in those footsteps. It’s hard for me to watch, but I also don’t know how to approach her about it without her completely shutting down. The conversations often end with her becoming defensive, and I’m afraid that if I push too much, she’ll just label me as “the devil” trying to get to her. I know that it’s best to avoid conversations about religion with her, and trust me, I do. But it’s hard when religion is all she talks about. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable, and I often feel like I can’t escape the topic no matter what. It’s also tough because I feel like I’m being shut out of conversations with her when we can’t discuss anything that isn’t centered around her faith. At times, I honestly feel like her behavior borders on religious psychosis, especially since she’s claimed to have heard God’s voice directly. It’s hard to know how to approach this situation because while I want to respect her beliefs, I also feel like it’s becoming unhealthy for her mental well-being. Has anyone else experienced something similar? How did you handle conversations with someone who is deeply religious, especially when it’s become a source of division in your relationship? Is it better to just leave it alone and protect my own boundaries, or should I try to engage more, knowing that it could lead to conflict? Submitted April 27, 2025 at 06:54PM by Slow-Plenty-6974 (From Reddit https://ift.tt/1a7LZCG)

[stray-with-a-muffler]

Tagged by @blacknidstang

Ask game bellow the cut + (0,0)/ $

1. Are you named after anyone?

No idea. I've never asked where my name came from. But my online nickname, Midori, is a name taken from my first OC made for any fandom, so this counts, i suppose?

2. When was the last time you cried?

Few hours ago, I think

3. Do you have kids?

I'm a proud mother of about 20 plants and a cat

4. What sports do you play/have played?

Skateboarding, volleyball, handball, wall climbing, swimming, running, also wanted to pick up archery and horse riding. To think how active I used to be, and comparing it to my current misery where I barely have strength to get to a bus stop to be at school on time...

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Pretty often, but only face to face, it gets confusing through texts. I tend to use it involuntarily most of the time

5. What's the first thing you notice about

peoplə?

How much they respect someone's personal space

7. What's your eye color?

Dark brown

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy beginning with devastating ending

9. Any talents?

Ugh climbing I think? My friend calls me mountain goat because of me going up "higher than any normal fucking human being should be able to", as she states. Also I'm pretty good with animals. I understand their body language and what they're trying to communicate pretty well

10. Where were you born?

Poland, the country of femboys, vodka and storks 😘✌️

11. What are your hobbies?

Reading, drawing, I recently picked up playing guitar and am getting into it

12. Do you have any pets?

Say hello to my son, he's a bastard rat demon child and I love him wholeheartedly

13. How tall are you?

173 cm

14. Favorite subject in school?

Ethics. I have a teacher that approaches topics that others would avoid teaching about for one reason or another, like crimes, suicides and mental health in general etc along with philosophy. Tbh its more about the teacher than the subject itself but I freaking love his classes

15. Dream job?

Probably something chill like librarian. Used to want to be mortician and psychologist but my brain isn't complex enough for this lmao. The subjects are so freaking fascinating and interesting to learn about in theory, but to use the knowledge in real life is an entirely different thing

I'm not tagging anyone to do this because I don't know enough people on here yet, but if somehow theres someone who read this whole thing and wants to answer the questions, consider yourself tagged

[wirsindkrieg]

I'm going to generally recommend Devin Proctor's "Policing the Fluff: The Social Construction of Scientistic Selves in Otherkin Facebook Groups" [Google Drive link to the article]

While it is very much an outsider's view, and was originally published in 2018, it contains a lot of insight into how a science-based approach can be fully compatible with exploring subjective experiences like nonhumanity.

A lot of it comes back to a well-known adage: Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. When discussing one's internal experience (such as non-physical non-humanity), the focus is on perception and one's subjective experience with that perception; in that instance, the only claim being made is that the perception of those experiences exists, which is an entirely ordinary claim.

However, when what's being discussed are externally verifiable things (such as physical transformation), the focus moves beyond just one's perception of an experience and onto the experience itself. And when the experience itself qualifies as extraordinary, especially when it goes beyond the limits of our scientific understanding of how reality functions, it makes sense to ask for similarly extraordinary evidence to verify the claim.

Science and subjectivity are not opposing forces that can never mix, in much the same way that science and faith are fully compatible with one another. Applying a science-based approach to these topics is just a structured way of avoiding blind faith. There are plenty of examples within nonhuman communities of the harm that blind faith can do, and it makes sense to want to avoid that kind of harm.

(For a direct example of what I'm talking about regarding the harm that blind faith can do within our communities, I'll refer you to [this blog] which details a series of events within the angelkin community in mid-2017, which that community has yet to fully recover from. Content warnings for faked suicides, discussion of severe medical conditions, and potentially cult-adjacent behaviour.)

Asking for evidence in support of extraordinary claims isn't a roundabout way of saying someone is lying. It's just saying that a claim is hard to believe without proof, which is often an entirely reasonable thing to say. A little bit of healthy skepticism is a good thing, especially within communities that have proven vulnerable to manipulation by people willing to lie about extraordinary experiences. (See the above-linked blog, as well as the community's history with p-shifters and the harm they've caused.)

tl;dr: A science-based approach to nonhumanity isn't about denying anyone's subjective experiences; it's about drawing a line between the subjective and the objective, and treating each of those categories appropriately. There may be disagreement about where that line should be drawn, but there are good reasons to support drawing the line somewhere.

If you’re going to assert science in a community full of people discussing their scientifically unverifiable experiences I think you should consider what you’re really trying to say. If you’re not trying to call people liars then there’s probably a better way to go about making your point than enumerating the reasons why you think they’re lying.

[immajustvibehere]

Chance Encounter

Chapter 18

Chapter 1 // Chapter 17

warning: classic Micah, also I'm testing the grounds if anyone would still read this - I might not yet be fully convinced if I'll ever finish it and...yeah you can tell by my writing sry :,)

summary: Arthur leaves early to meet up with Mary in Saint Denis. You have to deal with your bad mood and Micah getting his hands on Arthur's journal.

2000 words, 10 minutes reading time

You never rejoined the party after Arthur had left the room. Instead, you put on some clothes and lied down again. You were exhausted and had a lot to mull over. You desperately tried to stop your mind from replaying the last half an hour over and over, picking new details you could have done different. Eventually, with thunder rolling over the swamps, you fell asleep.

When Arthur entered the room again at some point in the night, you only blinked a couple of times, drifting off to your dream again before you entirely lost your grip on it. You vaguely remembered him crawling into the bed next to you, but when you woke up the next morning, there was only an empty space where he should have been. You thought nothing of it, he usually woke up earlier than you. Only when you joined the others for morning coffee and Arthur was nowhere to be seen, you started to wonder…

"Mary-Beth, have you seen Arthur?", you approached her with your coffee mug. She was seated at a table alone and had smiled at you, which you had taken as invitation to join her. However, after you had asked the question, worry appeared on her face. She seemed unhappy you had chosen her to ask this question.

"He rode off to Saint Denis", she explained and when your face showed that you weren't quite satisfied with the answer, she sighed and added: "I guess he wants to meet Mary Linton there. A letter from her arrived two days ago." Your face dropped. Mary Linton certainly is a name you dreaded to hear ever since you and Arthur had become closer. He had never brought her up…and yet, here she was. But you were ready to give Arthur the benefit of the doubt. "Is she in trouble?", you asked, awkwardly clearing your throat.

"I don't know, y/n. I'm sorry", Mary-Beth said, a compassionate smile on her lips, "I've told Arthur that he should forget her and that she's no good for him." You nodded and took a sip of your coffee. "Yeah, no...that's okay I guess", you stammered for the solemn reason to say something and end this topic, "What does Miss Grimshaw have in store for us today?" An awkward chuckle was supposed to cover up how you truly felt, but you were aware that you couldn't fool Mary-Beth. She knew you liked Arthur, and she also knew that Arthur had a soft spot for you. Mary Linton...was unexpected, but you were determined to cram that in the back of your mind. Arthur must have a solid reason to go and see her.

The day passed quickly with chores that kept you distracted. In a desperate attempt to get your mind off everything Mary related, you agreed to help Pearson collect some crayfish. The constant threat of being mauled to death by an alligator sure directed your thoughts away from Arthur and Mary. Later, you helped to prepare lunch and after having eaten you were looking for a moment of silence and solitude, when you saw Micah strolling towards you.

Now, you had made it your upmost priority to avoid being close to Micah whenever possible. So when you saw him approaching you, you stood up, ready to make a beeline for the mansion and Arthur's room, but he called your name. "Y/n! I bet you wanna see this!", and when you looked at him, he pulled something from his inside pocket which you immediately recognized as Arthur's journal. Micah grinned disgustingly when he saw the confusion on your face, but he had hooked you like a god damn fish. He nodded in a direction leading away from the tents, and you followed him. He didn't stop until you reached the little empty barn. You were hesitant of following him behind it, because you wouldn't be detectable from camp anymore, but he lured you with: "Trust me, you don't want anyone else hearing this."

There was a chair behind the barn, empty and forsaken, probably placed there for the person on guard duty. "Sit down", Micah offered, charmingly pointing at the chair. "I'd rather stand", you stated. Micah seemed to savour how dark and bitter your face had become, it conjured a big smile on his face. "You're in for a show", he taunted, grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you into the chair. "How did you get Arthur's journal, Micah? It's none of your business", you questioned, eyes suspiciously fixed on him.

"Your cowpoke was stupid enough to let it lie around before he left today morning. And...", Micah chuckled, "I've got some good stuff for you." You didn't want to hear it. You wanted to snatch the book out of Micah's hand and run away with it, but when Micah opened the book and a lavender twig fell out, dramatically slow dropping to the floor, you were petrified. This was the twig you had stuck to Arthur's hat...which had been exactly there when you saw him return yesterday with Jack. Why had he taken it off?

Your mouth was already agape, you didn't think you could handle any similar stuff...but yet again, Micah was quicker, silencing every rebellious idea of getting up and leaving without another word.

"Turns out you're a whore. Couldn't save yerself for your precious man and still no good in bed", Micah clicked his tongue, "I thought you'd be a good lay. Real disappointin’.” You starred at Micah while he flicked through the pages, nodding now and again, seemingly reading out little passages. "No wonder he ran off to his old love. Sloppy, weak, no talent with a rifle. That's where your hole in yer leg comes from, apparently", Micah snickered, "Oh, this is a good one; he calls you a fool. Your handwriting's shit too, he wrote it took him a couple of minutes to decipher one sentence you wrote."

"But you'll like this bit best. Wasn't even so long ago he wrote that: 'Saw Mary again. I feel like the luckiest man alive. That woman confuses me and plays me for a fiddle like no one else alive.' Lovesick fool even drew a little heart between his and her initial. Now that's some...", Micah made a disgusted face that looked like he was amused at the same time, "childish behaviour from your big man."

Honestly, you'd heard enough. You jumped up to grab Arthur's journal but before you had even reached out, Micah slapped you so vigorously, your vision went black, and you found yourself dropping back into the chair. You desperately tried to collect your wits; it seemed like you had completly misjudged the situation. What you had thought was Micah having fun, teasing and taunting you had turned into something much more serious so quickly you found it difficult to adapt accordingly. Your ear was ringing and you felt a familiar metallic taste in your mouth when Micah came closer and suddenly grabbed you by the collar. "You listen, you little bitch. You should stop meddling with the higher-ups in this gang or you'll regret it. You're fucking a man who gives a shit about you, so stay down", Micah literally spit those words in your face. Then he let go of you, dropped Arthur's journal to the ground and walked off, like nothing had ever happened.

You needed a couple of minutes. First you waited until the pain in your cheek had eased just enough for you to actually move your jaw and spit out the blood that had accumulated in your mouth. Anxiously, you let your tongue glide over your teeth, finding them complete and unharmed to your great relief. The blood came from your inner cheek flesh being abused, the wound burned, but nothing you couldn't handle. After the nauseause had stopped you picked up Arthur's journal, tighly grabbing it.

You had no intent of reading it. Maybe Micah had said the truth about what was written in there, maybe he had invented some of it; it didn't really matter. But he had read something, because he knew sickingly much about stuff he shouldn't know about. You got up after a while and walked back, took a random book that was lying around and sat yourself down in the round thingy, pretending to read. Arthur's journal rested in your lap. You didn't read one single word from your book though; you just used it as an excuse "to do something" and not be approached by anyone.

The sun hung low in the sky and dusk would set in any second now, when you heard the hooves of a horse arriving in camp. In the corner of your eye, you confirmed it was Arthur. He trod to the stew bowl and loaded his plate with a decent portion before he was approached by Mary-Beth. Moments later he strolled towards you. You couldn't hold back a big sigh and looked up when he was on the patio with you.

"Y/N", he greeted, somewhat monotonous.

"Hey Arthur", you replied, immediately feeling this heavy burden on you. You didn't want to talk to him. You didn't want an explanation; you were sure it would only hurt you more.

"Everything...ehrm...alri-", you cut him off by standing up and holding out his journal: "Here. You forgot this."

You watched Arthur's face attentively. It briefly lit up in recognition when he saw his journal and took it. Some surprise and confusion were mixed into this expression, he probably hadn't even noticed that he didn't have it with him today. But suddenly, he furrowed his eyebrows and a darker expression spread across his features. His voice was low when he looked at you: "Did you read it?"

"No. Would never", you were a bit disgruntled by the misstrust, "didn't need to anyways. Micah was so kind as to read me some parts." Though the meaning of your sentence was sarcastic, Arthur could tell by your straight face that this was no funny business either for you or for him. Now, you saw what real disgust on his face looked like when he hissed: "Micah?"

"Yes", you quickly confirmed. You panicked when you saw Arthur looking towards camp, scanning it for the outlaw in question. Micah's threat was stamped on your memory. You wanted nothing more than forget the business, you were sure that if this became a big deal, Micah would put a bullet between your ears before the sun had fully set. Pleadingly you grabbed Arthur's jacket, only noticing by touching it that it wasn't a jacket he usually wore. It was finer...not really rough outlawy. "Don't confront him about it. Please." "Why not!?", Arthur was furious, but for now he could keep it under control. "Because I beg you not to", you almost winced. Arthur grabbed you and shoved you into a different position. You didn't quite understand why but when he brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers you were painfully reminded.

"Wha's this?", Arthur's eyes were fixed on your cheek. The pain from the slap had dissipated, and aside from the unpleasant flesh wound that you had touched with your tongue a couple of times - and every time bitterly regretted it - you hadn't thought it had left a mark. But apparently it had, because not only burned Arthur's touch on your cheek, you only now realised that he had shoved you into a different position to have the remaining sunlight to illuminate your face.

"Nothing. Doesn't matter", you answered.

"Tell me, y/n", Arthur growled as if he expected Micah to be the answer. His name was a barrier between the two of you.

"I fell", you lied and shrugged. It was a bad lie. You knew it and Arthur knew it, but he let go of your arm anyways and looked at you.

"I can't deal with this right now", Arthur admitted. It sounded harsh and brutal the way he said in, in reality he had worked his way through a very emotionally confusing day and would have liked some solitude for reflection. When he turned around to leave you huffed a: "Hope Mary gave you a better time than I did." Arthur hesitated briefly. You saw it in the way he took the next step - just a slight interruption as if he considered stopping and arguing - but he never did stop.  

------x

Thanks @little-honeypie for supplying like...every idea <3

[btsrunmylife]

Invisible String, 16: Aversion

summary: Sometimes the hardest thing in life is letting yourself be seen.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader

rating: explicit 🔞

genre: social media au, angst, fluff, romance

chapter word count: 3.4k + text conversations

chapter warnings: 🛑 PLEASE READ THIS CHAPTER AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. This chapter deals with sensitive topics, such as drugging and intended sexual assault. The reader is the one on the receiving end this time; however, I tried not to go too into detail. Still, anyone who’s experienced these things should probably not read this chapter. Please take care of your mental health.

permanent tag list (open):  @yoongiofmine​ @xianav​ @lilacdreams-00​ @emmmui​ @vantxx95​ @cursedblood707 @hqtetsurou​​ @geauxlsu79 @lyra0cassiopeia @halesandy​​ @lunaoceanchild @annoyingtimemachinee​​ @babycoffeefire​​ @darlinggod-sweetvillain​​ @yu-justme​​ @rageyoudamnednerd​​ @bubblytaetae​​ @aurel1ia @valhallawhispers​​ @somelazysundays​​ @cuteipat​​ @dahliasbouqet​​ @funkylittlebisexuall​​ @wrmnssoul​​ @saweetspoiled​ @infatuatedghost ​@black-rose-29 @hopeoncrackkk

series taglist (open): @feral-daisy​ @pamzn​​ @jeonsy98 @secretlycrazyhummingbird​ @nabiolive @atinymonbebestay @tarahardcore

back | series masterlist

You didn’t intend to avoid Yoongi. Not entirely. You just…needed some space. After what happened that night outside the studio, it occurred to you just how attached you were getting to him. You realized just how weird it was that the first person you thought to call was a guy you barely knew from high school. It should have been your best friend. Anaya should have been your first thought.

So, you tried to distance yourself a bit. That proved to be a bit difficult with how many classes you have together, but wandering into class a bit late – just before it was about to begin – made it easier to pick a seat further away from him. 

Avoidance wasn’t a good answer to the problem. It seemed the more distance you put between the two of you, the more you thought about him, which irritated you. It irritated you even more when you realized you didn’t even have to avoid him because, somewhere along the way, he’d started to avoid you too. No longer was finding a seat somewhere away from him all that difficult, no longer did you have to rush out of the room to escape before he could approach you, no longer was he hitting up your phone or walking the same way he always did to and from classes.

He’s avoiding you.

Well. That’s fine. He hadn’t answered that phone of his when you really needed him anyway. He hadn’t been there for you that night in the way that you needed anyway. And, as much as you know you shouldn’t be upset about that, you kind of are. Even if he did text you later to check in with you.

Whatever. You don’t know why he’s avoiding you and you don’t care. It makes staying away from him rather easy. It makes concentrating in class even easier.

“Your phone won’t stop buzzing,” Anaya huffs, shoving it toward you over her thick comforter. The two of you are curled up on her bed, reading through your textbooks and taking notes. It’s early on a Friday night, but you still recognize that the two of you couldn’t be more lame.

You purse your lips, wondering if Yoongi has finally ended his radio silence, but you’re surprised to see another familiar face and name lighting up your screen.

“What’s that look on your face?” Anaya pries, craning her neck to read over your shoulder. You tilt the screen toward her so she can see. She scrunches her nose. “Ew, why is he sliding into your DMs like that? I say ignore him.”

She shakes her head and goes back to her reading, but your curiosity is piqued.

Hmm. Now that really does give you pause. In the back of your mind, you can’t help but wonder if Yoongi will be there. It’d be awfully hard for him to avoid you if you showed up at the same party, wouldn’t it?

Switching to the homepage of Instagram, you scroll until you find a recent update from Taehyung. Interesting. 

So, him, Jimin, and Yoongi are getting high together. Maybe he won’t be at the party after all. And what’s the harm in taking a break from being invisible tonight?

You worry your bottom lip and glance sideways at your best friend, who’s trying her hardest to ignore you. When you’ve been staring at her for entirely too long, she groans and throws her pen down, giving you a pointed stare.

“What?”

You try a smile. “Would you want to go to a party tonight?”

Her expression flattens. “Please tell me you’re not talking about that jockstrap’s party.”

“Ted Grayson?” She groans at the name and you snicker. “He’s not so bad though, is he? I don’t think I’ve ever had a problem with him.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not so bad? He’s a spoiled, white rich boy is what he is. His daddy might as well own half the damn school with how many donations he makes.”

You frown. “Having money doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person.”

“No,” she snorts. “But it makes you ignorant and annoying as hell.”

You furrow your brows, shoulders slouching in disappointment. “So you won’t go then?”

“Now wait just a minute,” she shakes her head and sits up straight. “I never said that! There’s a few girls I’ve been keeping an eye on that’ll be there tonight. I wouldn’t mind scoping for some more pu–”

“I swear to God if you say pussy one more time!” you cry out, burying your face in your hands, which sends your bestie into a giggling fit.

“You’re too cute,” she chuckles, pinching your arm. “For real though, let’s go. It’ll be a nice break from–” she gestures to the books littering her bed. “--this.”

You smile and return to your DMs.

~*~*~

You’re going to throttle Anaya.

Okay, so maybe that’s a smidge dramatic. She’s still your best friend.

But you’re seriously questioning calling her that when she turns to you with those big, brown eyes of hers ten minutes into the party, juts out her lower lip, and then stares wistfully in the direction of Taeyeon, a girl she apparently shares Chemistry I with.

Yes, you understand the irony.

In response, you roll your eyes and throw your hands in the air. So much for her coming to this party with you.

She grins happily, grips your upper arms, and plants a big kiss on your cheek. “Thanks, bestie! Text me later!” She pauses to add, “Or don’t. I might be busy.” She wiggles her eyebrows and throws her head back in a laugh as she walks away.

Yeah, some friend.

Essentially, you’ve come to this party alone.

Despite being a bit annoyed, you can’t really say you blame her, nor are you as lost as you probably would have felt at the beginning of the school year. You recognize a few faces tonight, including Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook across the living room. You assume Yoongi has come too, but you’re a little relieved when you don’t see him. Coming to a party like this isn’t exactly something you’d normally do and you’re not really willing to examine all the reasons why you agreed to come tonight.

You wade through the crowds of people, bumping shoulders with both men and women who nod in your direction like you’re friends.

You don’t recognize any of them.

When you finally find the kitchen, down a hallway you have to squeeze through, it’s with a sigh of relief.

Not that the kitchen is any better, with people congregating around the table and counters.

Thankfully, you don’t have to look for long before Paxton sees you and smiles, waving you over. Ted Grayson stands behind him, a red solo cup in hand.

“Sup shortie,” Paxton greets. “You know TG?”

You exchange an awkward smile with the basketball captain, nodding. “Yeah, hey.”

TG smiles behind his drink, eyeing you briefly before his gaze flicks away.

“Want a drink?” Paxton questions, pointing toward the counter filled with liquor bottles.

You eye the selection warily, wringing your hands together. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“What’s your poison? We got everything. Beer? Rum? Tequila?”

Your eyes narrow in on the bottle of gin and you clear your throat. “A gin and tonic would be fine.”

TG snorts, but passes a cup to Paxton, who grins and starts mixing your drink.

“I’m surprised you didn’t come with Yoongi,” TG mutters, motioning somewhere behind you. He pronounces Yoongi’s name wrong, unnecessarily elongating the vowel to make it sound more like “yawn”. You can’t tell if it’s intentional.

You glance over your shoulder, spotting Yoongi’s signature mint hair through the flock of people. He’s standing at the edge of the room and you’d think he’s trying to avoid everyone here if it weren’t for the brunette sidling up to him. You think you recognize her from the cheer team and, with the teams often traveling together for games, you’re sure this isn’t the first time they’ve talked.

He’s not a relationship type of person.

The reminder echoes in the recesses of your mind, making your heart sink. Just how many women does he hang out with the same way he hangs out with you?

You can’t imagine it’s the first time the two of them have gone to a party together.

The thought makes you frown, even though you know you have no claim over him. Not that you would even if you were in a relationship. You wouldn’t own him, he’d be free to talk to and be friends with whomever he wanted. But monogamy would be an expectation you’d have of him. And if you were in a relationship, you’d like to think you’d trust him enough to live up to that expectation. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to enter into a relationship he wasn’t committed to either.

You wonder whether you’d feel as disappointed right now if you were together.

You hate the fact that you probably would, but in that case, it’d be something for you to work through. In a healthy relationship, any insecurities you’d have would be yours to deal with, not his to cater to. But, right now, it’s just something you have to tuck away.

He’s not your boyfriend.

Yoongi’s eyes flicking in your direction shakes you from your thoughts and you quickly turn around, hoping he hasn’t seen you, but honestly not caring if he has.

He doesn’t have a claim over you either.

TG is already holding out your drink when you turn back around, flashing that handsome grin of his that you’re sure has worked on so many women before.

You muster a smile back. “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” TG mutters, attention moving to a group of women as they pass by.

Paxton glances briefly in that direction, but turns his attention back to you. “So, I gotta ask. What’s the deal with you and Hwasa?”

Your heart skips and you stare at him a beat too long. “I’m sorry?”

TG licks his lips, fighting off a smirk and nudging Paxton in his side. “Why are you so interested in threesomes lately, Pax?”

Ice hits your veins. Surely they can’t know about you, Hwasa, and Yoongi. That can’t be what this is about. That can’t be why they’re asking. It only happened once and you’re sure Hwasa wouldn’t say anything to anyone. She has more tact than that.

Yoongi, on the other hand…he’s different than most of his teammates, but he’s still a jock, isn’t he? He still drinks and parties and messes around and maybe even brags about all of it.

Maybe that’s all you are to him. A conquest.

You don’t even hear the rest of Paxton and TG’s conversation, the words muffled as if you’re underwater. It sort of feels like you’re drowning once the panic hits your veins.

The last thing you want is everyone knowing your business.

You miss the days of being invisible.

You’re walking away before Paxton and TG can stop you, although you do vaguely hear Paxton calling after you and TG laughing at his expense, muttering something about scaring you away.

You hate that you notice, but as you make your way out of the kitchen, you feel Yoongi’s eyes on you the entire way.

~*~*~

You surprisingly find a spot to hide away, away from all the people you don’t know, but who somehow seem to know you. 

You’re sitting on a couch in the den. It’s quieter in here, with only a few people milling about and the music from the living room muffled. It’s actually relatively peaceful and you feel yourself relaxing the longer you sit alone, sipping at your drink.

Your gin and tonic has far too much gin, something you’re not entirely surprised about, but you still find it refreshing. You don’t drink very often, always the one to take care of Anaya instead of the other way around, so you’re not surprised when it hits you a bit quicker than you’d like.

You sigh and sit back against the couch, running a hand through your hair that you’ve tried to style. It’d been useless, if you’re honest. Your hair is far too stubborn to stay styled in any sort of way, but there’s no one to impress here anyway.

Not a single person here has caught your attention and you’re almost glad for your ability to just fade into the background wherever you go. You prefer this to forcing small talk with people you don’t care to know.

On top of that, you feel incredibly tired after having stayed up so late planning your radio show the night before. It’s been a struggle for you, honestly, about deciding whether to continue with the public service announcements about the truck. For your own safety, you know you should probably stop making them. Or, at least, not make them during every show. But another part of you, the part that feels a sense of duty to fellow women, feels it’s important that someone says something. Especially now that you’ve witnessed the aftermath.

Of course, nothing had really amounted from the police report you and your classmate filed. Your classmate had been too out of it to know who it was and all that you have to go on is a vehicle you saw in the dark. You can’t even confirm it was the same vehicle that’s been spotted around campus or that whoever was driving had anything to do with the assault.

But you know.

Deep down, you know.

At least, you think you know.

You’re pretty sure, you know?

What were you thinking about again?

You blink your eyes open, not having realized you’d closed them, but keeping them open proves to be difficult. You’re just so tired. You want to wipe a hand over your face, maybe slap some sense into yourself, but lifting your arm feels like too much effort. Too much energy.

Your limbs lay heavily on the couch, your head droops forward, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact this doesn’t seem normal. This doesn’t seem right.

You feel yourself start to panic even as you start to sink deeper.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to rest.

~*~*~

The world comes back in flashes you’re not sure are real. It twists and turns, strobes and spirals, and you feel a little sick to your stomach the longer your eyes stay open. There’s something clamped over your arms, just beneath your elbows, and you realize you’re in motion. No, not just in motion, you’re walking.

“Shh,” a voice tickles at the edges of your eardrums, sending a cold shiver of fear down your spine. “It’s okay. I’m taking you home.”

You don’t know who this is. You don’t know where they’re taking you. Are they really taking you home?

Streetlights. Darkness.

And through the darkness, you squint. The shape you make out makes you lash out with the very last ounce of energy you have.

The man holding you swears, tightening his hold on you as you flail.

The last thing you see before your body gives up is the silhouette of a truck.

~*~*~

You come to with a start and a sharp gasp, springing upright on the bed.

You know this bed.

Your bottom lip trembles as you look around, nearly jumping out of your skin when you meet Yoongi’s gaze across from you. He’s sitting at his desk and when he sees you clutch the blanket in your fists, he frowns and holds out a glass of water.

“Ghost…” he murmurs, eyebrows furrowing when you continue to stare at him. “You’ll feel better if you drink some water.”

You look down at yourself, at least thankful you’re still wearing all of your clothes, but you still pull the blanket up over you and avoid his gaze. Your mind feels like such a mess, your thoughts a constant swirl of question after question. No matter how hard you try, you can’t remember what happened.

You don’t know how you got here.

“Hey…” Yoongi calls, leaning a bit closer, but stopping when you jerk away. “Are you okay?”

You turn shimmering, tear-filled eyes on him. “What happened?”

His frown deepens. “You don’t remember?”

You sniffle and shake your head.

He sets the water down with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “How much did you drink?”

You blink your eyes wide. “Wh-what? Almost nothing! Just a couple sips of gin and tonic.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sits forward, thankful you don’t pull away this time. “Who gave you the drink, Ghost?”

You swallow, some of the pieces clicking together, but you shake your head adamantly. “Paxton, but I watched him make the drink!”

Yoongi’s lips thin. “Since when do you hang out with those two?”

You scoff. “Since when does everyone suddenly want to have a threesome with me?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow at the accusation in your voice. “You think I told people about that?”

“Did you not?” you challenge, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hell no,” he scoffs. “I don’t tell anyone my business.”

You roll your eyes.

“Look, I really don’t care if you don’t believe me,” Yoongi sighs. “Did anyone else get close to you last night? Because when I found you, you seemed really fucking out of it for someone who’d only had a few sips of a drink.”

You blink, trying to think back on everything that happened, but you come up with nothing. Absolutely nothing. You’re not even sure how much time you’re missing from your memory. You just remember thinking you had to get more sleep at night and then you closed your eyes.

You screw your eyes shut and swallow around the lump in your throat, tears leaking between your eyelids without your consent.

You wonder how many other things have happened tonight without your consent.

“Hey…” Yoongi rubs your arm. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You shake your head and sniffle. “When an-and…how did you find me?”

His eyes widen and he slowly removes his hand. “You don’t think…I did this, do you?”

You stare at your hands. “That’s not what I asked.”

He’s silent for too long and it makes your heart sink into your stomach. You glance up at him, bottom lip wobbling. “Yoongi, please…”

He lets out a loud breath and wipes a hand over his face. “Someone was helping you off the couch…someone I know you aren’t friends with. I don’t know what his intentions were with you, but he wasn’t exactly being gentle…”

Your eyes search his. “Who?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not important.”

Your hand shoots out to clasp around his, waiting until he meets your gaze. “It’s important to me.”

He sits back in his seat with a small shrug, eyes moving about the room. “I don’t know if they did anything. They might have just found you like that…”

“Yoongi!”

“It was Ted, alright?” he says in a huff, glare cutting your way. “Ted Grayson.”

The knot returns to your throat. “TG? The captain of the basketball team?”

Yoongi shrugs, but doesn’t bother to refute it, holding your gaze steadily.

“Okay…” you say slowly, frowning down at your hands and wondering if that makes any sort of sense. Ted, one of the richest men on campus, has barely spoken two words to you. Has barely even looked your way since you started here.

Paxton, on the other hand…

You shake your head with a sigh, rubbing at your temples and willing your brain to function properly, to replace the memories you lost. “I don’t know what to think.”

“You’re safe now,” Yoongi reassures you, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “That’s what matters right now. Maybe you’ll remember what happened, but don’t make yourself sick over it. I didn’t let anything happen to you and I won’t.”

Your bottom lip trembles for an entirely new reason as you slot your fingers through his, giving his hand a tight squeeze. Even after you’d avoided him, he’s still looking out for you. “Thank you.”

His lips twitch into a sad smile, head tilting before he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Anytime, Ghost…” He narrows his eyes at you. “But there’s no way in hell you’re walking home alone at night anymore.”

Your lips twitch into a small, half-hearted smile. “Okay, I won’t argue with that.”

“Good,” he huffs, reaching for the glass on his bedside table. “Now drink your water.”

next

[221bshrlocked]

sweaty hands, reluctant hearts

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Fem!Reader

Words: 13685 (god this wasn’t supposed to be this long I’m actually sorry this time)

Warnings: Angst and Smut (my fav). Hurt/Jealous Mando -> Touch Starved/Rough Mando -> Fluffy Mando -> Shy Mando. Penetrative Sex. Oral Sex. There’s lot’s of sweat because exertion yall. Breeding Kink 😏. Slight Exhibitionism. Overstimulation and slight slight non-con because of oversensitivity. Umm, squirting 🙃. Dirty/Sweet talk. Spanking (ass and hoohaa).

Summary: He never thought the day would come when he’d hear you saying you wanted to leave him. Yes there was an understanding between the two of you that you were hired to help him care for the Child and to somehow keep the Razor Crest alive and working. And he knew it made sense for you to find work elsewhere now that the Razor Crest was destroyed and the Child was with his own kind. But he just assumed you weren’t going to leave considering it’s been a couple of months since he’d given the kid to the Jedi and you never brought it up. It hurt hearing you say those words, especially when he realized he wasn’t meant to hear them and that you were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people. Turns out, all Mando needed was to see the Marshal eye-fucking you as you fixed the new ship and overshared your thoughts for him to snap and finally make a move. Hopefully he can change your mind...

A/N: Yall, this is post Season 2 so sadly Grogu is not here, hence the angst! Umm, this was a lot to handle because you know, that gif here. Enjoy ☺️

It’s been months since the events that transpired on the cruiser. Months since he’d given away a piece of himself to an unknown being. Months since he’d sat down and re-evaluated his life’s mission. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to return to Tatooine of all planets but he needed some time to think of his next steps. So much has changed over the course of the past year and it took the Mandalorian longer than usual to realize that he can’t use bounty hunting to fill the void in his heart. 

One thing he did know for sure, however, was that he couldn’t have managed to survive the emotional and physical changes without your presence. Somehow, you’ve managed to make his life easier and by a whole lot. He has never felt this grateful for having a companion, maker, didn’t even think it possible to ever consider another as such. He’d spent years and years living by the Creed and never once doubting his way of living, but he found himself questioning everything about himself when you came in. It wasn’t that he was suddenly open to the idea of taking his helmet off or anything, it was more of a passing thought on what it would be like if he were to open up to you more, perhaps even share with you more than his name and an abridged version of how he became a Mandalorian. 

He mulled over how he would approach the topic with you, finding himself growing more nervous when he considered how you’d react. You’ve never given him any inclination of ever thinking of him as more than your boss and he knew he needed to figure out a way to make this seem natural and not forced. Frankly, he found it interesting how you managed to read him better than anyone he’s ever met, and he wished he could ask you how you’d done so when he never took off his helmet. 

Mando pushed the thought aside for now, cursing to himself as he dragged the giant piece of scrap you’d requested for him to pick up from Peli. He wanted to argue with you then, tell you that the only reason for coming to this awfully hot planet was to take some time off, if that was even possible, and avoid falling into the temptation of another mission. But he couldn’t find it in himself to say any of these things, mostly because you were the one that managed to procure the new ship for him and you were also the one that told him the two of you were in serious need of rest. He’d only realized the ship needed fixing when he landed and you told him you would get right on as soon as he picked up the necessary pieces from Peli. He felt a little out of the loop when he’d gone to her and found her giving him everything you’d requested for, and he knew you must have contacted her before you landed or else she wouldn’t have been this quick. 

As he made his way through the quiet “streets” of Mos Pelgo, he thought back to what Peli said to him an hour ago. Had he not considered her as a friend, he would have responded rudely when she bugged him about you. As much as he wished to humor the idea that you looked at him as more than a colleague, partner, whatever it was the two of you were, he didn’t want to grow any more false hope, especially now that he’d already given up the one thing that managed to crawl into his heart. 

Mando saw that you’d moved the ship behind the cantina and he chose to blame the heat for the way his skin crawled with goosebumps because no, he didn’t suddenly feel calm at the thought of you. 

He shook his head from the intruding thought and was about to say something to you when he saw who was standing nearby. If there was ever a time where he didn’t wish to see Cobb Vanth, it was definitely now. The bounty hunter put down the scraps of metal before moving closer to where the two of you were standing. He was sheltered behind a shack of sorts and allowed his heart rate to return to normal before listening in on you. 

“I don’t believe you sweetheart.” The Marshal threw back his drink and shook his head when you shrugged your shoulders at him and Mando felt his stomach twist at the endearment. Since when were the two of you on such a close basis?

“Believe whatever you want Marshal, I was only answering your question. Besides, it’s not like I’m actively looking right now.” Mando watched as you swiped the sweat rolling down your face with the back of your hand and swore when he felt the fabric of his pants grow tighter around his crotch. He felt dirty watching your every move, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the way your muscles gleamed under the excruciating sun rays. He cursed the day you bought that garment and he recalled back to the first time he watched you work in it. Mando had almost tripped over the child that day because he never expected to see you walking around with the chest binding so visible to his eyes. It was worse when you reached up high for something because if his eyes lingered long enough, he could see your undergarment peeking from the low-hanging pants of the overalls. 

The bounty hunter had to take a few deep breaths to move on from the inappropriate thoughts he was having and he narrowed his eyes at Cobb when he saw him walk closer to you. 

“Are you ever going to tell him?” The Mandalorian watched as your expression shifted slowly to a more sombre look and he was familiar enough with you to know that you weren’t too happy with that question or the answer you were going to give Cobb. 

“I- I don’t know. I wish I could tell him about how I fe- what I’m thinking about but I can’t...and I also can’t just say ‘Hey Mando, I had a blast taking care of the kid and getting hunted by the kriffing Empire. I fixed the ship for you so see you later.’ It’s not right and I didn’t realize it would be this difficult to come to terms with what I have to do. But I can’t keep doing this, it’s not fair.” 

Whatever the Mandalorian thought you were going to say, that certainly didn’t make the top of the list. He almost fell back when he registered the meaning behind your words. You wanted to leave. You’ve been wanting to move on for a while and you weren’t sure how to tell him. You were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people and relying on his opinion to decide what you were going to do. A thousand thoughts flew through his mind and he tried to see if he’d done anything wrong. Besides the whole thing with Gideon and Bo Katana, there wasn’t really anything he’d done that would inspire such a reaction from you. Not that those weren’t enough to change your mind about staying with him but it was all in the past now. 

The sound of laughter broke Mando out of his haze and he turned towards you again, watching as you slithered down the ship, clenching his fists tightly when he saw Cobb grab your hips to help you down. He was torn between strutting towards the two of you and punching the daylights out of him and remaining where he was to listen in on your conversation. He had no right to do either, but he needed to know.

“I hate to ask you this question because it defeats the whole purpose of this entire chat but...have you thought of how he’d take it? Should you decide on-” You pointed to something on the floor and Cobb leaned down to grab it for you, handing it and gauging your reaction to his question as you continued to work. 

“Why else do you think I’ve been putting this off? Of course I’ve thought of how he’d react. But I deserve more than...ugh, I don’t mind this, I swear I don’t, but I also can’t just sit back and pretend I don’t want more.” You motioned violently to the ship and to what you were doing as you spoke, shaking your head at the man smiling smugly in front of you before throwing out the tools and snatching his drink from him. 

Mando couldn’t stand to be near you, not after what he’d heard and certainly not after taking in your body language and the way Cobb was practically undressing you without shame. He stepped back, leaving the scraps where they were and heading to the cantina to take his mind off of what he’d just witnessed. He walked in and paid no mind to the patrons scattered across the room, handing the man behind the counter more credits than he cared to count and asking him for his strongest stuff. He didn’t bother to address the judgmental stare he was receiving and took hold of the bottle before walking out again. 

It was close to sunset and the Mandalorian walked until the edge of the town before deciding to continue until he reached a small hill filled with large boulders. Sliding down one of the rocks, he sighed deeply before taking off his helmet, the hissing sound instilling a sense of guilt deep in his chest. He was ashamed at feeling such an emotion towards what he based his entire life on. But he couldn’t take it anymore. His anger rose as he opened the large bottle in his hand, throwing it back until he felt the stinging drink burn his throat for a few seconds before aggressively setting it on the floor next to him. 

Mando wasn’t able to put what he was feeling into a proper string of thoughts but he did know it was an odd mixture of hurt and anger with a tiny bit of sexual frustration. He couldn’t get the image of you sweaty and heaving as you worked on his ship out of his mind, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back to meditate back on the way your muscles clenched and pulled every time you molded two metal scraps together or how they positively shined when you carried things across the sand. He’d tried his hardest to set all of these feelings and rather inappropriate thoughts aside but he couldn’t any longer. Not when there was a chance of you leaving him, and perhaps to someone like the Marshal too. 

Perhaps it was unwise to deny his heart’s desires for so long and Mando was sure that he’d met his breaking point because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Normally, he was able to distract himself and force his mind to stray away from conjuring up the filthiest images of you wreathing and crying beneath him as he drove his cock into your heat. But he had no hold over his mind at this moment, not that he was to blame. He went from shutting his own self out to opening the floodgates, and there was no going back. 

He sighed heavily when his thoughts shifted to what you said about him and he took a long sip from the bottle before turning his attention to the setting suns. He didn’t know what he could even say if you ever approached the topic with him. You’d been wanting to leave for a while now and somehow managed to hide it from him. All those nights spent running from Moff Gideon and other bounty hunters and you haven’t complained once, choosing to keep it to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was hurt because you felt the need to hide something like this from him or because you were awfully understanding of how these complaints could distract him. 

And then there was the whole thing with the ship. He had assumed that the two of you sort of shared it now but it seemed that you never saw it as belonging to you but only to him. And you went out of your way to fix it now when you didn’t have to. Mando didn’t notice his tears until he licked his drying lips and tasted the saltiness across his mouth. He wiped his cheeks and laughed at himself. When had he become like this? First it was the child and now you. 

He wished he could take it all back, to have never met the kid or you. His life was simple and not complicated and now, now he was faced with the prospect of losing you as well. The bounty hunter dismissed the thought as quickly as it came because he knew deep down that it was better to have had the two of you in his life, even for a short while, than to have never known you. It wasn’t ideal but since when was his life ideal?

As the suns set beneath the sky, the Mandalorian looked down and saw that the bottle was still almost full. Not wanting to finish it now, because he might actually need it later when you decide to leave, Mando stood up and slowly made his way back into town. He needed to sleep, not to rest but to put a pause on his rather depressing thoughts if only for a little bit. When he saw the town come into view, he took a deep breath and put his helmet back on. 

The town was quieter than usual and the Mandalorian found himself going straight to the ship instead of joining the others. He’d spent the past few days enjoying his nights in the corner of the busy cantina, watching as you won one Sabacc game after another without breaking a sweat while everyone groaned in annoyance at how well you were kicking their asses. But he couldn’t trust himself tonight, not around you and certainly not around the Marshal. 

Trying not to bring too much attention to himself, Mando walked past the cantina towards the ship, already thinking of how relieved he’d be once he used the refresher. Going up the ramp, he was about to walk to the small, private room near the cockpit to grab a change of clothes when he heard a loud shriek that sounded a lot like his name coming from the opposite end of the ship. Mando quickly turned around and shut his eyes in exasperation when he saw you approaching him far angrier than he’d ever seen you. He set the bottle down and turned his attention towards you, raising an eyebrow to himself when he saw your chest heaving beneath the chest band. He averted his eyes quickly, refusing to think of you sweaty and breathless under other circumstances. Maker, he couldn’t go no like this.

“Where in the kriffing hell have you been? You were supposed to bring the parts from Peli hours ago and I have to find out from some kid that you just left them on the ground and walked away to- hell, I don’t even know what was more important for you than bringing me the scraps so I could fix the ship? Really, Mando, I understand that it’s been a little weird and difficult lately but I barely ask for anything and, ugh, maker.” You held back from voicing more of your thoughts, afraid that you’ve already gone far with asking him where he was. He didn’t really need to tell you what his business was but you’d assumed the two of you have come to an understanding regarding such matters, at the very least to ensure everyone’s safety. 

Mando stood there in silence and took a deep breath before turning around and walking into his room, afraid he’d give himself away if he tried to respond to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration when he quietly walked away from you, anger rising in your chest as he came out and made his way past you to the refresher. Before you could think twice of what you were doing, you were sprinting past him and standing in front of the open door, pushing your fingers into his beskar-clad chest as you hissed at him.

“I’m not sure what happened or why you’re giving me the silent treatment right now but this is not how we deal with our problems okay.” Mando took a few steps back as you continued to shove your finger into him, trying his hardest to not grab your wrist and push you against the nearest wall. “We talk things out and we come up with a way to fix things and compromise if need be.” Mando’s back hit the wall, and he threw his head back to avoid your gaze, unable to hold back the chuckle that rose from beneath the helmet at your words. 

How ironic.

“Did I say something funny?” You narrowed your eyes up at him and wished for once that he’d remove that god damn helmet so you could gauge his reaction.

“You mean we should talk things out like you and Cobb Vanth today? Or would it be different?” Mando’s chest tightened when he noticed the surprised expression on your face, knowing very well this was not what you expected to hear from him. He was a rational man, never once letting his mind give away to such simplistic thoughts but you’d struck a nerve and he could no longer hide his jealousy. Yes, it was jealousy. As much as he hated to admit it, that’s what he was feeling right now, what he’s been feeling all day long. It was childish and unlike him but it wasn’t going to do him any good if he continued to ignore it. 

“I’m dying to know if that’s what you mean. You obviously don’t have an issue telling him about how difficult it’s been working with me and how you can’t keep doing this.” It was your turn to take a few steps back when you saw his shoulders push out and make him taller than he already was. He continued to walk towards you, throwing his clothes to the ground and almost apologizing when you tripped on your feet when he was only a foot away from you.

“How about this, let’s start with what you apparently wish you could tell me but can’t seem to find the right words to do so. What was it you said to him? You deserve more than taking care of a kid and constantly escaping the Empire and other bounty hunters? Or wait, how can I forget...it’s not fair dealing with this mess of a ship and you’re looking for somewhere else to go?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as the Mandalorian repeated back the words you voiced perhaps a little too loudly earlier today, already feeling your eyes fill with unshed tears at harsh his tone. 

“I- I didn’t…you weren’t meant to-” You tripped over your words and almost flinched when he cut you off. 

“What? I wasn’t supposed to hear you say any of those things? A little strange don’t you think, since you seemed to have a lot to say about me to the Marshal.” Mando should have stopped himself from saying the next few words but his heart was torn into a million pieces and it wasn’t fair for him either.

“Well guess what, sweetheart, the Razor Crest blew up. Moff Gideon is taken care of and the Empire isn’t after us anymore. Every bounty hunter knows better than to so much as look at me and...and the kid isn’t around anymore for you to take care of. He’s gone, I lost him. So if you were worried about hurting me, you’re a little too late for that.” The Mandalorian barely held himself back from pulling you into his arms when he saw tears rolling down your cheek, clenching his fists tightly when he noticed the way you hugged yourself and frowned at him.

“Din-” It broke him to hear you use his name, especially now of all times. He hasn’t heard you say it once in the past few months, even when the two of you were alone. It was the twisting of the knife, and he bit his tongue to distract himself from saying something he couldn’t possibly take back.

“Do what you want, I won’t stand in the way. Besides, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help you out with whatever it was you were telling him today. After all, you deserve more right? Deserve someone more than me...someone who’s willing to share a lot more than his name.” Not bothering to wait for a response, Mando stepped away and walked back to his room, not caring about the clothes on the ground or how hurt you must have been feeling from listening to him. 

He softly shut the door behind him and moved to his bed, throwing himself on it and hanging his head low to catch his breath. This was not how he saw the night going, not remotely. He was hoping to ask you about this tomorrow in a less hostile manner and without making it seem like he was blaming you. But something about your words struck a nerve in him and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, not when you were suggesting things you yourself weren’t willing to follow.

Din wasn’t sure how long he sat there in silence but the hissing sound of the door opening brought him back from his haze and he opened his eyes when he heard you walking towards him. You’d never once come into his room, not even when he occasionally gave you permission. You sniffed twice before approaching the bed and standing right in front of him and he was reminded of when the child would cry to try to catch his attention. 

“Din, it was never my intention to hurt you. I was trying to do the opposite..thought I was doing the right thing by thinking about this before I could talk to you but I’m realizing now that I’ve hurt you.” Din noticed the way you were ringing your fingers nervously and held himself back from taking your hands into his to try and put you at ease. 

“I- I only spoke with Cobb because he- because he noticed the way I was looking at you. He noticed how I can never seem to focus on anything or anyone else when you’re around. He- he could tell I was having a hard time coming to terms with how I feel about you...how I’ve felt about you for a while now.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your confessions, unable to properly register what you were implying because he could never even humor the idea that you’d have feelings for him. He raised his head and finally looked at you, frowning when he saw how red your eyes were from crying. 

“The last thing I want to do is to leave you, please believe me. But I wasn’t sure if you even wanted me around after...after everything with Moff Gideon and the Jedi. As far as I knew, you brought me on to take care of Grogu and fix the Razor Crest. We’ve barely spoken ever since the cruiser and I just thought that I was only around because you couldn’t find the time to tell me that you don’t need me anymore.” Hearing you say that you thought he didn’t need you caught Din off guard and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, instantly taking hold of your hands and pulling you towards him until you were standing in between his legs. You swallowed the lump in your throat and maintained your gaze on his visor, hoping that he could see how truthful you were being with him and maybe respond, if only with just a simple word. 

“When I said I deserved more, I was just- I swear I wasn’t talking about your Creed or wanting to see you. As much as I wish that was possible, I would never...could never ask you for something like that. I was only telling him that I might need some time away to maybe forget how...maker, to perhaps try and set aside my emotions because the last thing you need right now is for me to lay that on you. I don’t want you to think that you owe me anything because you don’t, gods you don’t owe anyone anything, not after what you’ve been through. But I could feel myself becoming more attached to you, especially after everything that happened on the cruiser. I want more with you but I don’t want to push you towards anything you’re not ready for.” Before you could wipe the tears away from your cheeks, Din was raising his glove-covered fingers and softly skimming them over your skin, and he hadn’t realized how harsh and loud his breathing was until he felt you rest your hand on his chest.

“There’s nothing between me and Cobb. And you should know by now that he’s...friendly, with everyone.” You smiled shyly at him before leaning into the hand resting on your cheek, nuzzling further into his palm when he swiped his thumb against your lower lip. There was so much Din wanted to say but he couldn’t find the right words that would convey what he was feeling. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind about your admission and the fact that you have been returning his affection for a while now. 

Din didn’t realize how long he was quiet until you cleared your throat and let go of his hand, stepping away from him and looking around to see if you should just leave. Before you could head to the door, however, Din was standing up and moving towards you, his eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort before he made his next move. Your chest was rising and falling a little quicker than he liked but he quickly realized it was probably because of how you were coming to terms with what you just said to him. 

You watched as he took his gloves off and set them on the small table behind you, suppressing a gasp when you felt his warm, calloused hands wrap around yours before bringing them to his helmet. He could tell you were letting him control all of your movements and found it difficult to accept just how much you were willing to give to him.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I have been thinking about this for a while.” Din smiled when he saw your eyebrows furrow in question at his words. “Taking this off.” He saw the moment you understood what he was saying, not expecting you to pull your hands away from him and taking a few steps back until your back was against the wall.

“That’s...that’s not what I- Din, I wasn’t lying when I said it wouldn’t matter to me if-” He smiled at how defensive you suddenly were and stepped towards you once more, and you found it annoying that he barely kept a foot between you two, his natural scent hitting you like a blaster to the gut. 

“I know.” Din cut you off before taking your hands into his once more, rubbing your knuckles to put you at ease as he continued. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and- it’s not that I’ll walk around without it now, far from it. It’ll only be when we’re alone, when no one is around.” He hoped you could read in between the lines because this would be the closest he’d come to admitting how important you were to him, for now at least.

“Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” 

That definitely snapped you out of your haze and you tilted your head to the side before asking home what he was referring to. 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Din raised an eyebrow at your response. Have you already forgotten?

“On the cruiser, when I- before Grogu went with the Jedi.” His hands tightened around your fingers as he said the child’s name and you were momentarily distracted before realizing what he meant. 

“Din I...I never saw you.” 

For a split second, it felt like someone had taken Din and carbon froze him before throwing him on an ice planet. 

“What?” He held his breath, unable to move a muscle until he made sure he heard you correctly. 

“I never saw you. I turned around when you reached for your helmet. I didn’t...it was a moment with you and Grogu. It didn’t feel right to look at you.” You tried to maintain a semblance of control on your voice but it cracked a few times as you admitted to him. As much as you yearned to see him without the mask, you didn’t think it proper without his clear consent. 

Din’s sudden intake of breath made you nervous and you hated how for a moment, you wished you didn’t tell him because there was now a high probability that he wouldn’t take the mask off. 

“Cyar'ika, please.” you shivered at the low tone of his voice, finding it harder to focus on anything but the touch of his skin. Once again, Din slowly brought your hands to the sides of his visor, pushing the palm of your hands on the beskar and softly nodding at you. A sudden sense of relief washed over him when he saw the slight nod of your head. 

Din found it endearing how your whole face scrunched up in focus as the two of you slowly pulled the helmet off of his head, the soft hissing sound as it unlocked making your hands dampen with sweat. As you raised the visor along with him, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes as soon as you saw the skin of his chin. Unbeknownst to you, Din was watching your every reaction and felt a little nudge in his chest when he saw how tightly shut your eyes were. When the beskar was off completely, Din took it from your hands and placed it next to him, swallowing the lump in his throat when he turned back and saw you were still refusing to look at him.

He reluctantly took your hands into his and placed them on his chest, hoping that you’d finally open your eyes without him begging you again. 

“I’m sorry I- maker, this is..this is probably more intense for you than it is for me and I’m not making it any better with my nervousness and- okay. Okay.” You took a deep breath before allowing your eyes to flutter open, unable to exhale as soon as you laid your gaze on him. Din was probably unaware of how nervous he looked and it took you a few longer seconds to realize you needed to breathe again. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, the long nights where you imagined what he could look like fading into thin air because nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared you for what you were currency seeing. 

His features were somehow soft but a little rugged, and you found yourself committing every inch of his skin to memory, filling your mind’s eye with every minute facial expression so you could dream of him when you fall asleep. It was oddly not surprising at all that he had a stubble, the scattered dark and slightly graying hairs across his jaw and above his lips making him seem older than he probably was. And you weren’t sure if he knew he was furrowing his eyebrows and then you realized he most likely didn’t because he was so used to wearing his helmet that he never had to learn how to control his facial expressions around anyone. And it was endearing how his nose flared as he continued to breathe heavily under your gaze, and if it weren’t for the fact that this was a serious moment, you would have leaned over and kissed the curved bridge of his nose and the scrunch of his eyebrows to put him at ease. 

Din wasn’t sure what he thought your reaction would be and he felt his chest tighten with every long moment you spent without so much as a comment. 

You were unaware of how long this dreadful moment must have been for the Mandalorian and you continued to study him in hopes of finding answers to questions you’ve wished you could ask him ever since he hired you. There were heavy bags under his eyes and you wished you were more persistent with him when it came to his resting schedule but he always seemed to wave you off whenever you told him he needed to sleep. Though you knew this stress had to do more with Grogu no longer being here and less with how often he slept. You had half expected to find his gaze harsh and far off but when you did finally meet his eyes, you found them filled with unshed tears and a multitude of emotions that you knew would go unexplained until he had the strength to voice them. They were a deep and beautiful shade of brown, ones you knew you’d never be able to turn away from now that you’ve had a proper look at him. And you couldn’t help but notice how their color reminded you of a Nightbloomer just after you picked it from its roots. 

All of that, however, could not compare to when you finally let your eyes descend to his lips. They were a darker shade of pink, and you swore you saw them parting as soon as you looked at them. His lower lip was trembling and you wished more than anything to swipe your thumb against it if only to feel the soft skin melt at your touch. You wished that was as far as your mind had gone but the longer you looked at the curve of his mouth, the more you wished you could lean forward and mold your lips with his. It was even worse because you had a feeling that the stubble of his mustache would cause the softest of burns on your lips. 

Din could no longer take the loud silence enveloping the room and he swallowed nervously when he saw how focused you seemed to be on his lips. He had some idea of what you were probably thinking because he was thinking the exact same thing but he wasn’t sure if he should be the one to make the first move. This reluctance evaporated when he noticed the way your eyes instantly moved to his neck as the cartilage moved and returned to rest when he gulped, and he realized that you may have been having slightly more inappropriate thoughts than he originally thought.

He was about to voice his worries when he saw your hands move from his beskar-clad chest to his face and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down apprehensively at the digits moving closer to his skin. You misunderstood his nervousness for uncomfort and immediately ceased all movements, returning your focus on his eyes to look for any inclination as to what he wanted. 

“Can I- mhmm, may I touch you?” Your whispered question was too loud for the two of you and Din parted his lips to say something but noticed how dry his throat was and realized he couldn’t trust his own voice. Nodding slightly at your request, he waited with bated breath as your fingers rose to his face and found himself shaking with anticipation at the prospect of finally feeling your touch on the most intimate part of him. 

When you were only a few inches away from him, Din felt his heart thumping wildly at his chest and he immediately shut his eyes when he felt the feather-light touch of your fingers on his cheeks. The harsh yet shaky intake of breath almost made you lose control and you had to remind yourself that, besides Grogu, you were the only one to ever touch him so intimately and so softly since he was a child. As much as you wished to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer so you could lay as many kisses on his face as you could, you knew it would be too much for him and that he needed you to go slow with him. He was practically shattering under your attention and you hoped he would allow you to do this as many times as possible in the coming days. 

Din couldn’t put a name to what he was experiencing at the moment but he knew he didn’t want you to stop touching him, ever again. He decided that he’d spend every moment with you alone without his helmet and with yours hands skimming some part of him. The longer you kept your palms on his cheeks, the calmer his heart beat and it wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized his eyes were shut. As they slowly fluttered open, he was met with the most beautiful sight in the world: your own deep irises staring at your own thumb as it softly passed over his quivering lips. 

“You’re...beautiful.” 

It was a simple truth and you wished there was a more sincere word you could use to describe what he was to you, what he meant to you but your mind was overflowing with images of waking up next to him every day and kissing his eyes and cheeks and nose and lips and anywhere else you could reach. 

Din’s hold tightened around your waist and you watched as he leaned forward until there was barely an inch between the two of you. 

“Mesh'la, I would really like to kiss you.” The request barely passed his lips yet you were already standing up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his, finding them as soft and gentle as you imagined them to be. Din was afraid his heart would give out any moment now because nothing could have prepared him for the taste of you, let alone the boldness with which you were claiming him. He sighed into you, unintentionally parting his lips and pushing you harder into the wall when he felt your tongue sneak into his mouth and explore him. Din wasn’t sure what he should be doing but then you were moving your hands to the nape of his neck and tangling your fingers into his hair and he all but lost it. As you gently tugged on his hair, Din found himself mirroring your actions and before he knew it, the kiss was no longer innocent and sweet but hungry and needy. You sucked on his tongue and tilted your head to the side, wanting to commit every small detail to memory so when you shut your eyes at night, you’d kiss him in your dreams. 

Reluctantly, you pulled back for a second to allow the two of you to breathe but Din didn’t like that, chasing your mouth and molding his lips with yours once more to be certain that yes, this was happening, and that no, this was not a dream. You moaned into the kiss, finding his desperate need to claim your mouth again more of a turn on than you cared to admit. And then his hands were slipping inside your overalls and holding you against his chest, the warmth of him stretching down to where you wished you could feel him. 

This sudden intrusive thought and the harsh grasp of your hips snapped you out of your haze and you realized you should be slowing things down for his sake. Against your will, you gently pushed his chest away and tried to think of anything but the way he was heaving above you from the intensity of the kiss. When you looked at him and saw panic and hesitation etched on his face, you returned your hands to his cheeks again and lowered his head until it was resting against your own. 

“There’s nothing I want more than to feel every inch of your skin against mine right now...but- but I don’t want to push you to do something that- maker….that might be too much for you?” You pulled back and waited until he opened his eyes again before continuing. “I feel like you just made a dramatic decision by taking the helmet off in front of me and- and you’re probably feeling a multitude of emotions right now and I don’t want to make you think that I-” 

Din didn’t like what you were saying, frowning down at you as he grabbed the back of your neck and violently pulled you towards him again. You were surprised by the sudden shift of his touch, fisting your hands in his cowl as he devoured your lips once more, not really giving you a chance to say anything else. Biting your lower lip, Din abruptly ended the kiss and pressed his lips across your skin, nipping and licking at your jaw as he pulled your hair down until he had access to your neck. You gasped his name and felt his stubble scratch deliciously at your shoulder. As you moaned against the wall, Din couldn’t back anymore and bit down hard on your shoulder, smiling when he heard your breath hitch at his rough ministrations. 

“Din, oh gods, Din please.” You weren’t sure what you were asking of him exactly and you hoped he’d at the very least continue what he was doing. 

“Cyar'ika, I want to have you. I’ve spent many nights dreaming of your lips, your touch, y-your skin against mine as I-” Din hesitated and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers slipping beneath the chest band that you finally registered his voice. Fuck, how had you not notice it a second ago? You thought the vocoder was what altered it, made it deeper perhaps. But no, it only made it sound more intimidating. You weren’t sure what made you clench your thighs together, the way he spoke to you of his desires, or how strained and gruff his voice was as he whispered his secrets to you. You gulped loudly and hesitantly met his eyes, finding the soft brown irises barely visible, his dilated pupils letting you know what he was thinking. 

Licking your lips, you nodded at him and fell into a fit of giggles when he leaned down and picked you up as if you weighed nothing, quickly moving to his cot and laying you down on your back before moving away. You were about to ask him what he was doing when you saw his hands swiftly move through the beskar armor. For some reason, watching his hands expertly take off the cuirass and move to the beskar of his thighs made your heart skip a beat and you wouldn’t dare move a muscle, afraid to miss the show he was unintentionally putting on for you. So busy marveling at his deft fingers, you didn’t notice Din slowing his movements and looking at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity when he saw how hard you were breathing. 

You broke out of your trance when you saw he stopped moving, embarrassment washing over you when you realized Din had caught you shamelessly staring at him as he came closer to revealing to you more of his skin. You’d expected him to move on, or at least pretend he hadn’t just caught you licking your lips while staring at his fingers but no, it seemed that Din was very much enjoying the effect he had on you because his smile grew when he saw your eyes look past him, pretending to focus on something else behind him and not his hands. 

You never lost his attention though, and he maintained his eyes on you as he removed all of his armor and took his boots off. You tried to be a little more subtle but gave up when he leaned down over you and pushed you into his covers. You wanted to ask him why he was still dressed but bit back the inquiry, afraid he’d misunderstand and move away all together at your question. He captured your gaze and didn’t blink once as he slowly undid the buttons holding the overalls and you realized you would have preferred him to keep the helmet on because that meant you wouldn’t notice how passionate and direct his deep brown irises were. You’d expected him to be intense considering how touch-starved and lonely he was, but you never once thought he’d be this vigorous? Ardent? Maker, there wasn’t a single word that could describe the way he was looking at you right now.

Din kneeled at the foot of the bed, waiting until you finally noticed what he was doing and raising your hips before he pulled on the pants of the garment. He slipped your shoes off and finally removed the article of clothing that made his cheeks blush and pants tighten whenever you wore it. He would eventually tell you that this is how you came to him in his dreams almost every night, all spent and sweaty in that gods-forsaken fabric that gave him the perfect view of what you were wearing beneath. 

His focus shifted from your face down your damp skin and he breathed in deeply at the sight of your undergarment. Din almost choked on his breath when your legs parted for a moment, giving him a glimpse of the growing wet patch at the center of the flimsy material.

The Mandalorian wanted nothing more than to worship your body, kiss every part of you and whisper his devotion against your skin as he pleasured you over and over again. He’d spent countless nights imagining what he’d do to you if you were ever naked and willing in his arms and he was damned if he didn’t make sure you were thoroughly spent once he was done with you. He wanted to hear his name fall from your lips and he wanted to swallow your sighs and your moans as he sank into you all night long. And by the gods, he wanted to mark your neck and your arms and your waist, and nothing made him harder than picturing you doing the same to him, biting and nipping at his skin so he could wake up in the morning and watch the evidence of your lo- your touch on him. It didn’t matter that no one else would see those bruises but him and you. He just wanted you, in any way possible, sinking beneath his skin.

And then he heard his voice calling for you over the comm link just outside the room and something snapped deep in his chest. He looked up from you to the open door of his room and listened to the Marshal’s words. Your eyes widened in shock when you saw several emotions pass through Din’s eyes, the most prominent of which was anger, maybe hurt. Of all the times Cobb would ask you to join him for drinks, this was most definitely the worst of them. It didn’t help either that he was laughing over some inappropriate joke one of his friends was saying about your sabacc skills. It wouldn’t be the first time this happened and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but then Din was clenching his jaw tightly before looking down at you and you knew he wasn’t too happy. In fact, you had a pretty good idea which emotion won out and you hated how much it affected you, how wet you became as thoughts of the Mandalorian claiming you as his flooded your mind.

Before you could try and reason with him, attempt to tell him that it was just a game and that the Marshal’s friends were probably just teasing him, Din was standing up and stripping of his long-sleeve shirt, revealing his perfectly chiseled, bronze skin that had your mouth watering within moments. You noticed the few dozen scars littering his beautiful torso and wished you could kiss each one of them, the old ones and the fairly new ones, until they didn’t sting with pain. But Din had different plans for you and he didn’t give you a chance to question him as he took hold of both of your wrists and slammed them above your head. His hold was painful and it should have scared you how quickly his mood changed but you said nothing, looking into his dilated pupils as his nose flared and he growled at you.

“Keep yours hands there,” Din warns you with a piercing look and you gulp loudly before nodding at him in understanding. He removes his hand and kneels on the bed, eyes narrowing at you before they sought after your most private areas. He wasn’t sure where to begin. He’d given this much thought but now that he was here, he realized it was a more difficult decision than he anticipated. He’d longed to wrap his lips around those hardened peaks always teasing him through the chest band, lick them until you cried for him, perhaps begged him to stop because you were sensitive. But then he continued down the lines of your navel and found your parted legs much more inviting. 

Now that Din knew how you felt, there was no reason for him to feel jealous. But he couldn't stop himself, wanting to be certain that you knew as well as he who you belonged to. He hated himself for having such primitive thoughts about you. You were your own person that much was made clear early on. But he could hope at your words, couldn’t he? He could hope that you were now his, and that he was yours. Maker, he was always yours. He just couldn’t admit it to himself, his heart reluctant at opening up to another. 

Din was lost in thought longer than you liked and you moved your feet towards him, nudging his thigh in hopes of reassuring him that you were right here, in his bed, beneath him and at his mercy. Din’s eyes focused on your again and he looked down at the soft gesture, hands instantly grabbing at your ankles. You jumped at the sudden movement, trying your hardest not to whine at the painful grasp because somewhere deep inside of you, you wanted nothing more than to be marked by him. By his teeth, lips, fingers, any part of him. You didn’t care where you’d bear his touch, you just wanted to see it, touch it in the privacy of the refresher when he wasn’t around. 

Din saw the needy look you were throwing him and he knew that you were willing. Willing to go as far as he wanted, willing to completely submit your body and soul to him, willing to do whatever he wished of you.

Before your eyes could flutter closed, Din was pushing your legs wide open and falling in between them while maintaining his gaze on you. He almost smiled when your stomach shook at how feral he probably looked. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes as his mouth latched onto the wet patch forming on the soft fabric of your undergarment, moaning into your cunt as he savored the taste seeping through. You were surprised by the boldness of the action and wished for him to lick your skin instead. But there was something erotic about the desperation behind his actions, wanting to taste you so much that he didn’t care what he was licking. 

The thought was gone as soon as it appeared because you felt two fingers stretch beneath the waistband right before he ripped it off of your body, shoving the torn fabric in his nose and taking a long whiff of it before humming in approval. Your eyes widened in surprise at the filthiness of his action, hands shaking above you when he threw your panties expertly into his helmet. The thought of knowing that your scent could potentially stick to the inside of his helmet as he walked around twisted your insides and you whined shamelessly at him, wishing he could just take what he wanted. 

“Your sounds belong to me,” Din spoke with a commanding voice as he sank in between your thighs again, his tongue dragging across your folds so deliciously hard until he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva behind. “Your arousal belongs to me,” his hands went to your thighs and he squeezed, knowing fully well there would be bruises dawning your beautiful, smooth body the following morning. Again, you fought to keep your eyes open, wanting to commit every second to memory but finding it difficult to focus on him and not the pleasure zapping down your back. “And I will be damned if this cunt,” Din let go of one of your thighs, pulling his tongue away from your core right before the palm of his hand landed a slap straight on your clit, “doesn’t belong to me either.” You cried out his name, legs shaking violently at the pain shooting through your clit. Din didn’t give you a moment to relax back down on the covers, spanking the outer folds of your pussy twice more consecutively before he replaced the harsh touch with his cooling tongue. Tears trailed down your cheeks as he fucked you with his tongue and lapped at you like you were the only source of water on this gods-forsaken planet. He rotated between soft, quick licks to long, harsh ones, occasionally sucking on your clit and grazing his teeth on the bundle of nerves until he was sure you were going crazy. 

“D-Din oh maker, please. Stop I- slow down.” His touches were far from gentle and the pleasure blurred into pain as you tried to reach that delicious peak you’ve longed for ever since you harbored feelings for the man above you. But he was making it difficult, his needy and erratic movements making it near impossible for you to dive into the lake of pleasure. You should have known that the Mandalorian was as intense in bed as he was in every other aspect of his life. You shut your thighs around his head, wanting to push him away as his teeth continued to graze against your wet folds and nip at the pulsating nub. 

“M-Mando...I can’t.” You couldn’t take it anymore, hands moving to his hair and fisting in the beautiful brown locks as you tried to push him away. As soon as Din felt the tight grasp on his hair, he snarled at you, pushing up on his knees and bending your body along with him until the only thing resting on the bed was your neck and your shoulders. You cried out for him, begging him to give you release but it only drove him mad with lust. His eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away from him as his fingers dug into your butt cheeks and pushed your cunt into his mouth. 

Din pulled away for a split second, biting your inner thighs to grab your attention.

“You will take what I give you ner Cyar’ika.” You saw a hint of darkness in his soulful brown eyes, and shivered at the mere implications of what he had in mind for you. Din sucked and licked at your folds like a crazed man, feeling your legs shaking on his shoulders. He pulled away for a second, and you had no time to beg him to be gentle as he slapped your heated core three times again, hissing when you shut your eyes and bucked against him, your juices drenching his face and chest, leaking down your back as he smiled before taking your cunt into his mouth one last time to prolong your pleasure. You were too busy trying to remain sane to realize what had just happened and Din slowly lowered you back onto the wet covers before letting go of you. You were panting beneath him, stomach fluttering from the force of your release and chest heaving as you tried to fill your lungs with air. 

When you opened your eyes and looked at Din, your eyes widened in horror when you saw his glistening skin, finally realizing what he'd just done to you. You flushed under the scrutiny of Din’s gaze, gasping as he wiped his mouth and jaw with the back of his hand as he looked down and chuckled at the wet spot beneath his knees. You quickly shut your legs and tried to crawl away from him but Din was faster, grabbing your ankle and pulling you back to him, the show of strength already making your cunt clench around nothing again.

“You do not run from me Ad’ika...nor hide from me ever again. I own your body, your skin, the cum still leaking out of this sweet cunt.” His words were filthy and you didn’t know how to react to this new possessiveness he was showing. He pushed open your thighs and fell in between him, bringing his chest flush against yours and kissing the breath out of you, not bothering to be gentle as his fingers twisted and pinched at your nipples. You clawed at his back, wanting more of him but not knowing if you would be able to take any more of what he was offering. 

He pulled away suddenly, his jaw clenching tightly as he took one look at the hands wrapped around his back. 

“Did I not tell you to not move your hands sweet girl?” He whispered against your lips, breathing in the air leaving your lungs as he pecked the corner of your mouth before flipping you over on your stomach. 

“I- I’m sorry...it was just t-too much and-” You couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence, screaming against the covers as you felt Din’s palm land on your ass. You looked back and saw him eyeing your reddening skin, looking up at you and smiling as he treated the other side with the same kindness. Four more times his hands smacked your ass and you were ashamed at how aroused his violent actions made you. When he snuck his fingers in between your thighs and swiped haphazardly at your folds, you moaned and bit into your wrist. 

“Filthy sweet girl,” Din whispered more to himself than you before he fisted his hand in your hair and pulled you flush to his chest, the slide of your dampened back against his sweaty chest bringing him more pleasure than he would have liked to admit because not a few hours ago, he was picturing your sweaty, glistening skin beneath him. And now that he had you here, he was going to make the best of it. 

“Mando, oh Mando-” As much as he loved hearing you scream his nickname in the throws of passion, he wished more to hear his given name fall from your lips. 

“My name...scream my name sweet girl. Let the stars know who pleasures you Cyare.” Din kissed your shoulder before biting into the sweaty flesh, the hand in your hair letting go right before wrapping softly around your throat and pressing you harder against him. Your hands twisted back to try and grab his hair but he immediately took your wrist and twisted it until it was behind you, between your back and his chest. 

“Ahh Din…” You wanted to beg him to allow you to touch him, tell him that you were yearning to touch him as much as he was in need of touching you. But you had a feeling that this wasn’t true, and that this was his way of being certain that you weren’t going to leave him. That you were his. 

If only he knew that you have already belonged to him. Long before tonight.

You felt each breath leave your lungs as Din tightened his grasp around your throat and you parted your lips to moan his name, only to feel his tongue shamelessly licking into your mouth. So distracted by the desperation in this kiss, you didn’t notice the fingers trailing down your chest and digging into your skin until the palm of his hand softly cupped one breast. Din teased you with feather light touches, flicking at one nipple before moving to the other and circling around it until it hardened. He continued to swallow your noises, sucking on your tongue to quiet you as he pinched your nipples. You twisted in his arms, wanting to reach for him again but knowing that he would probably pull your hand away. 

When Din pulled away to allow you to breathe, you panted and finally opened your eyes, not daring to look away as he kept you motionless with his gaze. Din watched as you tried to form a coherent thought, waiting until you parted your lips to speak to him before reaching down and cupping your quivering cunt as he broke the silence.

“This belongs to me,” your breath hitched when Din pressed the palm of his hand against you, not quite applying pressure on your clit but just enough to hold your focus. “Only I get to touch you, kiss you, watch you as you come undone in my arms.” You nodded briefly at him, continuing to hold eye contact as he began to increase his actions. “No one else will ever have you Cyar'ika. No one but me.” He slipped two fingers past your wet folds and rubbed against your walls, humming in approval when he felt you flutter around him the harder he shoved his fingers inside you. 

“I’m yours Din, y-yours. Whatever you want, oh gods please more...need more, Din you make me f-feel so good.” Din keened at your words, curling his hand until his palm was passing deliciously over your clit as his fingers picked up the pace. 

“That’s right sweet girl, you’re mine. Mine to fuck, mine to take whenever I want...mine to-” Din hesitated for a second, unable to voice his heart to you even though you’ve bared your soul for him. “Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum...kriffing gods you’re wet, so wet for me. Come on, cum for me again ner Cyare. Show me how good I make you feel. Show me how needy this little cunt is, fuck- I...can’t want to have you wrapped around my cock little one. Can’t wait to sink in this pussy, my sweet tight cunt, mark you with my seed, over and over again...fuck a load in you all night long till you can’t feel anything but my cum dripping down your thighs. Shit, I need you to cum, now!” Your mind became foggy with pleasure, unable to focus on anything but the words whispered into your ears as his thick fingers fucked into you. You grabbed the wrist of the hand wrapped around your throat, digging your nails into his skin as you came around his fingers. You almost fell forwards but Din held you flush against him, continuing to drive his digits into you and rub at your clit with this thumb until you were sobbing in his arms. 

“Beautiful,” Din kissed your shoulder as he slowly inched his hands away from you before laying you down slowly. His eyes took in the flushed, wet skin of your back, chuckling with pride when he saw your legs shaking as little sobs escaped your lips. Your breaths came in shallow and quick, and you tried to silence your whines by biting into your wrists but then you felt Din slide his hand back and forth on your back as he laid next to you and you shivered under his touch because from the way he was moving closer to you and touching you, there was no way he was done just yet. 

“You’re all I think about, every waking moment. It’s difficult to focus on anything else when you’re always in my mind Cyar'ika. I- I burn for you, for your lips to caress mine every moment, your eyes to never leave mine as I brand you, your skin against my own as you mark me with your touch. I- maker, I cannot think of a life without you here, with me…” Din thought he would have to force himself to say such things but he found it remarkably easy now that he had you here, responding so openly and shamelessly to him.

“Din,” you turned your head and shifted towards him, kissing the hand resting between the two of you before leaning your forehead against his and shutting your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, for as long as you’ll have me.” Din ceased all movement at your words and he looked away from where he was stroking your back, meeting your eyes and furrowing his eyebrows before you felt him grab your arm and pull you on top of him. You surprised gasp died in your throat when you felt Din wrap his arms around your back and bring you against him until you could feel his chest hairs tickling your nipples. You could feel his cock jutting against your core through his pants and as you rested your hands on his chest and looked to him, you saw the frown ease from his expression, replaced with something akin to reverence. 

“I will have you until my dying breath Mesh’la. Let me show you how much I want you.” The force of his declaration hit you instantly and you pressed your lips against his just as you felt him rid himself of his pants. Din’s hands were roaming your back and you felt bolder with every caress, combing your fingers into his hair and pulling on it as he squeezed your ass and bucked into you. The growl emanating from his chest shot straight to your core and you raised yourself from him for a moment.

“Din, I want you. Crave to feel you inside me. Please, do it fast and don’t- don’t be gentle. Show me, show me how much you lo- want me.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your words and he wasted no time, taking hold of his cock and teasing your clit with his leaking tip before slowly inching inside you. You shut your eyes and dug your nails into the back of his neck as he continued to sheath his dick deeper in your cunt. You could feel every ridge and pulsating vein dragging against your inner walls, finally allowing your lungs to breathe as you felt him nudge and twitch against that soft, spongy spot in your core. 

Neither of you moved for a few moments, with Din trying to wrap his mind around finally becoming one with you and feeling you clench so sweetly around him. He was torn between fucking up into you without mercy and taking it nice and slow until he pushed you over the edge again. But then you were gyrating your hips and sighing his name on his cheek and he knew what he wanted. 

Planting his feet on the damp covers, Din held you flush against him with one arm while resting his other hand on your thigh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he snapped his hips up before sinking into you again. You let out a surprised sob and rested your forehead against his shoulder, whispering more pleas against his skin and begging him to move. 

The usually quiet man breathed the sweetest wishes in your ears, thrusting up into you with immense force that made you clench tighter around him. “Ni copad gar an te ca'nara Ad’ika, ni vercopa be gar anay ca. You have made a home for yourself inside my heart.” Din felt your shaky breath blow on his neck and it drove him mad with lust because he wanted to have you reacting to his touch so wantonly every minute of every day. His grip only tightened around you and he prayed you wouldn’t mind the bruises that would surely color your skin in the next few hours. He wasn’t planning on being gentle tonight, perhaps later, but not tonight, and he was going to ensure his touch would be visible for anyone that would speak with you tomorrow. Thoughts of the Marshal passed through his mind’s eye and he growled, pumping his cock into you harshly for some reassurance. You cried out his name over and over again, feeling your skin heat up at the declarations of love he was peppering on your skin because even though his words were gentle, his touches were far from it.

The squelching sounds of your cunt flooding Din’s thighs as he drove himself into you should have embarrassed you but you could tell he enjoyed knowing how wet you were for him from the way he continued to quicken the pace just to hear your juices flowing over him. His grip on you was becoming more painful the more you moved against each other but you couldn’t find it in yourself to let him know. He was letting go, showing you how much he wanted you, how hard he was for you, and you weren’t about to make him feel conscious over his affection.

“Maker...oh Din, Din I- you feel so good inside me. Filling me up like no one else. Could feel you so deep, gods, could feel you everywhere Din please- don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, I need it. Need you, want you- want you to mark me, d-do whatever you want with me.” You had no hold over your own speech and weren’t sure if you were making any sense but Din moaned each time you praised him.

“Good girl, sweet girl...taking my cock so well, kriffing hell. Your- your pussy is squeezing the fuck out of me..could feel every tight inch of you stroking my cock Cyar’ika. Ah pfassk...you’re- you’re perfection.” Din moved the hand around your back up to your neck, pulling on your hair and pressing his lips with yours as his cock throbbed inside you. You whined as his tongue roughly swirled around your own, barely able to breathe as he continued to snap his hips against you and suddenly feeling a rush of relief as his navel rubbed at your clit until you came around him. Din broke the kiss, screaming expletives in his tongue as the force of your orgasm pushed his cock out of you. You shuddered as you gushed on his dick, wrapping your arms around his neck when he forced his cock into your tight cunt again. 

You were so overcome with emotions, so lost in Din’s scent mixing with your own, and his touch leaving bruises on your skin, that you didn’t notice the faint sounds of footsteps coming up the ramp and halting in the middle of the ship right in front of the door. But Din noticed, managing to look up just in time to see Cobb standing in the middle of the ship and staring with wide eyes at the scene unfolding in front of him. 

Something completely otherworldly took over the Mandalorian and he quickly sat up, expertly moving the two of you around until he was kneeling on the covers with you straddling his thighs. He smiled against your shoulder, allowing your hair to hide his face as he grabbed both of your hips and fucked up into you. 

He could vaguely see the Marshal and was surprised that he hadn't dropped the bottle of drink in his hand just yet. You wailed into the night air, arms keeping you stead in Din’s arms as he forced you on his pulsating dick over and over again. 

“Tell me...tell me Cyare, tell me how much you love it when I fuck you. How much you need my cock like the filthy little cockslut you are. Go on sweet girl, grind that little clit on me. Fucking tell me ner Ad’ika.” Din smacked your ass twice, chuckling when your moans grew more lewd with every touch he laid on you.

“I- I- ahhh love your cock...oh maker, no one fucks me like you. N-no one makes me c-cum like you. Fuck me harder D- ahhh,” Din bit down on your shoulder to prevent you from saying his name, looking through the mess of your hair and watching as his audience remained incapable of moving. 

“I own this pretty little pussy. Pffassk- ride me harder Mesh’la. You’re such a good girl, could feel your cunt drenching my thighs, the smell of you is driving me mad. Fuck- keep that pretty mouth open to me when I’m fucking you, let me hear you scream for me.”

“Please- please...fuck me harder, ruin my pussy. Gods- I..I’m so close please. Tell me you own me, tell me I’m you’re sweet girl. Please- I want to be good for you, want you to cum inside me Din...cum inside me. I need it, need you to fuck me like you own me and mark me, make me yours Mando. Cum in me, please-” 

“Ah fuck you’re my sweet little girl aren’t you? Wanting me to fuck a load in you, cum in you all night long and keep my seed in that tight cunt? That’s it sweetheart, I’m so fucking hard for you. Could feel you clenching around me...be a good girl and cum again ner kar'ta. Fuck, yes yes you feel so good wrapped around my cock Cyare you’re going to make me cum. Spill my seed in that tight, wet pussy, fill you up till you can taste it in your throat. Shit, and- and I’m going to keep fucking you sweet girl, till my cum is sliding down your thighs. My little fucktoy- come on, come on love, cum for me. Cum on me, drench me again. Mix your juices with me.” Din watched as Cobb finally had the mind to leave and he almost laughed at how the man almost tripped on his own foot as he sprinted out of the ship. He pushed you on your back and spread your thighs open, resting his weight on the arms around your head as he thrust in a few more times before he felt you clench around him. Leaning down, Din took a pert nipple in his mouth and sucked on it, growling into your skin as he came deep in your pussy, painting your walls with long strings of his seed until he couldn’t breathe. He’d never cum this hard before and was sure to tell you when you had the state of mind to pay him any semblance of attention.

Din continued to lazily push into you, your words from earlier replaying in his mind as he felt you quiver around his softening cock. You were still coming down from your high and twitched occasionally when you felt him throb inside you. There was a pleasant kind of warmth washing over you and you sighed happily when you realized he was still bucking against you to push his cum in your belly. 

“D-din...you’re filling me up so good. Feel so full ah- gah.” He laughed when your body shook, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you around until you were laying on his chest. You kissed his jaw and his neck, moaning in unison when you felt his dick rub against that sweet spot inside you. 

“That’s because I’ve never cum this hard sweet girl. You’ve milked me dry Cyare. Could feel you sucking my seed out of me.” He was amazed at your obvious embarrassment, wanting to tease you about it but choosing to wait for later instead.

Din rubbed at your back, kissing your forehead as he whispered sweet things in your ears and smiling when you nipped at his neck some more. 

“Promise me you’ll never leave.” Din’s quiet voice broke the silence and you pushed up to look into his eyes as you responded. “I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to go. I’ll stay here, always. I promise.” You kissed him gently and felt his pulse beneath your fingers calm at your words. 

Not much time has passed before Din had you on your knees in front of him, fucking your mouth and shoving you down on his cock until you gagged and his seed slipped from the corner of your mouth, mixing with your spit as it fell down your breasts. You lost count of how many times he brought you pleasure, and you made a mental note to ask him how he managed to fuck you all night long. You weren’t sure it was possible for a man to cum this many times over the course of one night but you had a feeling Din was not like anyone else. A man who has been touch starved for almost three decades must have had a lot of pent-up aggression that he needed to release. And you would gladly help him in any shape or form through that. 

And when he wasn’t pumping your cunt full of his cum, he was nuzzling into your neck and laying kisses across your arms, making sure he caressed every inch of your skin. You shouldn’t have been surprised that Din loved to snuggle with you but you did find it hilarious that such a big and scary Mandalorian whimpered when you licked down his neck as you nestled into his arms. You wouldn’t tell him just yet but besides his rough grasps and his filthy words, you loved to taste the saltiness of his skin and from the looks of it, the feelings were mutual because at some point in the night, he’d told you of all the times he had to lock himself up in the refresher and try his hardest to not think of your sweaty limbs entangling with his own as he kissed you.

By the time the two of you made it outside the following day, the twin suns had already been in the middle of the sky, scorching rays of heat on everyone across Mos Pelgo. You tried your hardest not to walk too funny, mostly because it made Din apologize every now and then, but it was difficult when you could still feel traces of his touch on you. You told him you needed him to stop making it obvious but realized he was apologizing out of regret not out of humor. It took you all of the afternoon to convince him that you were feeling more than okay and that you’d asked him for this. And when he didn’t seem to stop, you teased him and told him that you knew he secretly loved watching you wobble from side to side. 

This all, however, peaked when you walked into the cantina and tried to play Sabbac with Cobb Vanth and the others. You could tell that the Marshal was avoiding all conversation with you, going out of his way to pretend you weren’t even sitting on the table, let alone the room. You hoped that Mando hadn’t spoken with him or anything and decided to call it quits earlier in the night. When you did make it back to the ship and saw Din cleaning his weapons, you made sure the ship was secure before moving to sit on the bed across from him.

“Did you talk to Cobb today?” You gauged his reaction, already sensing that something was wrong when you saw him nervously clench his jaw before rubbing furiously at the beskar weapon.

“No, why do you ask?” Din wished he hadn’t already taken off his helmet because as soon as he responded, you knew he wasn’t telling you the whole truth.

“Din?”

He looked up at you and cleared his throat before speaking.

“He- he saw us...last night. I- I must have forgotten to raise the ramp and-” Din took a deep breath when you shot up from the cot and began to pace back and forth. 

“HE WHAT?”

“We were...I couldn’t- there wasn’t a chance I could…you felt too good around me Ad’ika I- I couldn’t stop. Not when you were clenching around me so tightly. Now when you were finally in my arms. I-” He stood up and walked towards you, taking your hands into his and kissing both of your wrists. You flushed at his words and looked up at him, only to find him blushing under your gaze. 

“You did it on purpose didn't you? You wanted him to see...to watch as you- as we...as I said-” Din didn’t let you finish the sentence, leaning down and molding his lips with yours as he walked you back to his bed. He pushed you down on the covers still holding your scents, his hold hardening the more you moaned against him. Before he could strip you of your clothes, you pushed him off and stuck out your finger in warning.

“Oh no you don’t. Go raise the ramp.”

“You’re giving me orders now Mesh’la?” Din raised an eyebrow at you as he got off of you and walked around the bed, halting at the doorstep to look back at you.

“Never…”

Translations:

Ad'ika - Little one

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Cyare - Beloved

Ner - my/mine

Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum - mine to love

Ni copad gar an te ca'nara - I want you all the time.

Ni vercopa be gar anay ca - I dream of you every night. 

Ner kar'ta - my heart

[elfwreck]

hello, on fanlore dot org is there such a thing as too many stubs or too many related fanworks on a single page? or is there some sort of ideal number or reasons/guidelines for related fanworks? (off topic: there seems to be a lot of "holes" wow.) also, are there any fandoms you all are more interested in than others or any "less important" or "wrong for here" kinds of fandoms? Also is there anyone available to ask about, say, how to split up pages into sections, or split things into new pages etc? hope you are having a nice day!

WE CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY STUBS. We have all of "Stub September" when we encourage people to make more of them! All the stubs is good! Moar stubz plz!

(err. sorry. Is just. More content is better then less content; stubs are better than no pages.)

There are a LOT of holes. Especially in newer fandoms. We need a thousand new editors throwing random content into Fanlore. Gardeners can clean it up. We don't care about grammar, page structure, timelines, any of that - We can fix badly-written pages and even research extra details (dates, URLs, etc.) but we can't make content about topics we don't know.

Fanlore, unlike Wikipedia, does not have a "notability" requirement. Does not have a "receipts/references" requirement. We know that much of fandom is in small communities, is not recorded outside of those communities, and the only references might be "a forum that dissolved six years ago" or even "someone remembers this paper zine but nobody seems to have a copy."

(And while that could be taken as "ahahaha I can just make shit up!" err... no. Fanlore does have a pack of editors and staff that watches the content. We remove things like "obscure actor puts their bio and movie list on Fanlore to increase their searchability.")

We don't have a list of "most wanted fandoms." (And the "wanted pages" list on Fanlore is a wiki-software generated list of "the most empty links" - most of them are individual fan names.) I made a list, at one point, of stuff I think Fanlore is particularly weak in:

Many current megafandoms (too many to list - right now that includes Genshin, Untamed & the rest of MXTX, BNHA, FNF, FNAF and video game fandoms in general, etc.), modern zines (the ones planned & sold entirely online), all things TitkTok, notable Discord servers (although, again, no notability requirement - if you want to make a page for a fandom Discord with 13 people in it, THAT IS FINE), TTRPG fandoms, all things podcasty...

Sorting out the right approach can be tricky. We should cover sports fandoms, but we're not covering who-won-what; we're covering the fanfic/art/etc interest in sports fandoms.

For "how to split pages into sections" - the time-honored approach to wiki editing is "find another page with the structure you want, copy its code, remove its text and replace with yours." We're working on page outlines that will have the structure built-in, but those will be optional. (Some are linked here: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Help:Starting_a_new_page#First.2C_a_template)

For things like splitting to new pages - that's going to be a page-specific question. Fortunately, we have a place to discuss these things: The Fanlore Discord https://discord.gg/fA663KpC

(link will be good for a week; people can ask for a new one when it dies.) (It's not secret; just trying to avoid bot swarms that find old links.)

For "related fanworks" - I personally like lists of 3-8 or so, ideally with a brief description of why each of them is notable. "This was one of the first with this pairing to have [trope]" or "this is a fan-favorite shows up on many rec lists" or "one of the few from Character B's point of view" or "this is by the most prolific writer in the fandom" or whatever. But there's no specific limit or requirements.

If you want to note 20 specific fanworks for a fandom... rather than cluttering the fandom page, each of them can have its own page. Here's the (intimidating) link for Star Trek TOS fanfic: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Category:Star_Trek_TOS_Fanfiction And here's the handful for IT fandom: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Category:IT_Fanfiction. Both of these are fine. (So the main page might have "example fanworks" and also a link to the fanfic/fanart category page(s).)

It's um. Complicated. Check out the Discord where you can ask questions and get more detailed feedback?

[wheelsup]

all signs point to yes

summary: the universe is trying to tell you something, if only you would listen. with will and jj’s wedding on the way, you’re left wondering if you’ll ever find your true love. the universe is trying to tell you that you will. 

category: fluff, spencer x reader (fem)

warnings: none

word count: 4.5k

     With JJ and Will’s wedding fast approaching, love was the only topic of conversation on the table for the team. It was all anyone could seem to think about. You could talk about how happy you were for JJ that she had found Will, but it was exhausting when the team all started to reflect on their own love lives. 

     That’s the thing about having friends that are getting married. You feel happy for them, and then are immediately feeling pressured to think of when you’re going to get what they already have. Everyone starts to compare where their friends are at in their love lives with their own, and if you started doing that, you would realize how far behind you were. So, when all that anybody could seem to bring up was the topic of love, you felt more than avoidant to address it. If you didn’t think about how sad your dating pool was, then maybe it wasn’t true. Apparently, you weren’t going to catch a break from that for a while.

     You and Spencer had been the last two stuck at the office, yet again. It was beginning to be a common occurrence now. To help out JJ with the stress of planning her wedding, you offered to take on some of her files, leaving you at the office later than usual. Spencer always took a long time to finish his work as well, so for the past few weeks you grew accustomed to staying in the office after hours with him. It was probably the most you’d hung out with him in your entire time at the BAU. 

     This time around, Spencer suggested you both order takeout to the office once it was clear you both would be here way past a normal dinner time. It was already well past eight in the evening and you still had a good number of forms to write out, so you agreed. He called in a delivery from a local Chinese restaurant and the two of you were eating at your desks, picking at food in between working and chatting. You’d ordered General Tso’s chicken with a side of noodles, and Spencer was working your ear off about the history of the recipe. As you learned, it was apparently invented in America, by a Chinese chef in the 1950’s. Illusion shattered.

     “Did you guys pick out your bridesmaids dresses yet? Will is really conflicted on the color of our ties.” Spencer, being Henry’s godfather, was asked to be one of Will’s groomsmen. You, Emily, and Penelope were all bridesmaids for JJ. She couldn’t choose which of you should be her maid of honor, so she decided to split the title between the three of you, although truly Penelope was taking the lead on all of the planning. She just had far better organizational skills than you and Emily. It was better that she did that stuff and you provided support in the form of paperwork.

     You let a small groan escape at the thought of the wedding that you really tried to bite back. You knew you should be excited for all this wedding stuff, but truthfully, you wished you could go twenty four hours without hearing about it just once. 

     “Not a big fan of the dress, or what?” Spencer said around his mouthful of noodles.

     “No, the dresses will be fine I’m sure. Emily’s going to pick them out.” You were already feeling guilty for your reaction. “Sorry, I’m just overwhelmed with all this wedding talk, I guess.”

     “Isn’t the bride supposed to feel that way?” He was finding humor in your growing annoyance about the topic over the past couple of weeks.

     “Have you seen Penelope lately? This wedding has her so hopped up on romance that she’s been talking about love nonstop,” you grumbled, picking at the paper takeout box in front of you, just moving things around.      “And that bothers you, why?” You didn’t want to tell Spencer how bitter you were feeling. It wasn’t exactly good decorum to be wrapped up in your own pity party during the happiest time of your best friend’s life. Besides, it’s quite a lot to unload on a coworker, isn’t it? Admitting, I don’t want to talk about love because I have no one to have that with? 

     So instead, you pretended there wasn’t a problem. “It doesn’t. I don’t know, maybe I’m just stressed about the planning. Even being one third of a maid of honor has a lot of pressure.” He seemed to accept the answer and dropped the topic. Bridesmaids do have a lot of responsibilities - a bachelorette party, helping with all the planning, making sure the wedding goes smoothly. Of course that’s overwhelming. That’s what you needed Spencer to assume you meant, but what you really meant was that you felt pressured to find your own future spouse soon, too. 

     He didn’t speak again until you both had finished eating, and he tossed you a fortune cookie from the bottom of the takeout bag, eagerly ripping into his own. You cracked the cookie open in half and considered not even looking at the fortune inside until Spencer asked you what message you got. You always thought the messages that were supposed to be inside of these were bullshit, nothing more than a vague quote that was meant to inspire. If you were still a kid, you might have believed it, but now you just thought they were corny. When you picked up the tiny strip of paper, your entire body rocked with one hard laugh.

     “It says a load of crap,” you tossed the strip to the side, where it landed just on the far edge of your desk. 

     He kept pressing. Spencer always found fortune cookies entertaining, even if they were generic little sayings. “Really, what’s in it?”

     “True love is closer than you think.” The message made you roll your eyes so hard that you just smashed the rest of the cookie with your fist and scooted the crumbles off your desk, into the garbage bin below. 

     “Maybe you’ll meet someone?” Had to love his sense of humor. 

     “Trust me, the closest I’m getting to true love anytime soon is watching JJ and Will get married.” Wanting nothing more than to forget the cookie’s words, you turned back to your work, effectively ending the conversation. The rest of the night was spent in silence except for the clacking of your keys and Spencer’s incessant pen tapping. 

_____

     You had a three day long reprieve from wedding talk when the team was whisked away on a case in California. It was too time-sensitive to be wasting energy on anything but working, and while you usually found those cases draining, you were glad to throw yourself into work. It was a much needed distraction from all the relationship talk. But all good things must come to an end, unfortunately, and on the fourth day you were back at Quantico, running into Penelope Garcia in the office breakroom. Never before had you felt less-than-happy to see her.

     “Y/N! Come, sit, eat lunch with us!” Penelope, JJ, and Emily were sitting together, and Penelope was sharing something she’d learned about from a friend of hers who was into palm reading. “I was just about to tell them what I discovered! So, apparently, if you look at the creases on the knuckle on your left thumb, you’ll find an initial of your soulmate!” It was easy to see Penelope was excited about this, so you tried to match her energy on it. It was hard to do. 

     “Which initial?” Emily was squinting at her thumb. All she could see was a bunch of random squiggles and lines.

     “Any! First, last, doesn’t matter. Hopefully they’re not one of those four-name people, then it’d be impossible to narrow it down,” Penelope prompted everyone to look at their thumb, but you kept your focus on your lunch. This silly wives tale wasn’t worth bothering about. 

     “I see an ‘L’, like for Will’s last name.” JJ’s voice was full of love that she couldn’t even suppress if she tried. It was perfect, really, how much they were made for each other. 

     “Do you think my ‘S’ is for Sergio?” and apparently, Emily was made for her cat. Penelope looked over Emily’s finger and offered her the few different options she could find. It looked like Emily had a lot of options out there.

     Without warning, Penelope snatched up your left hand and inspected the lines on your thumb. “You have an M!” Great, you knew exactly zero men with that initial. That really helped you out. Emily had the entire alphabet at her disposal, but you had the one letter that you couldn’t work with.

     “It could be Mark from the fourth floor?” JJ suggested. If you were going to have a soulmate, you hoped it wasn’t going to be some guy named Mark. The other three listed off a bunch of men they knew with that initial and you hadn’t heard of any of them. Moreover, you didn’t feel like getting to know any of them. This was just a silly game.

     “Look, guys, let’s just say M probably stands for My Bed.” And oh, how you wished to be with it now, curled up inside its covers. Far away from intrusive thoughts about love you didn’t have. While the three of them continued hypothesizing about their future soulmates, you finished your lunch up and returned to your desk faster than normal. 

_____

      After the previous day’s lunchtime conversation with Penelope, you found solace in an empty breakroom, away from any potential romantic discussions. Until, that is, Derek came in for a cup of coffee and to inquire about the status of your plus-one for the wedding.

     “What do you mean you don’t have a date?” Derek was shocked that you hadn’t secured one by now. Apparently, he had more faith in you than you did.

     You really hoped it sounded like a lighthearted joke and not the utter irritation it was when you said, “Not all of us have your success in the dating department, Derek.” 

     “Have you even asked anyone?” You shook your head no. There wasn’t anyone to ask. “Well, I know someone who doesn’t have a date yet, either.” He was teasing, dangling a carrot in front of you to see if you would take it. You did, but only a little. It piqued your curiosity, that’s all.

     “Who?” 

     “Spencer”. Oh. Derek wasn’t pleased by the way your face fell. “What, you don’t wanna go with pretty boy?” It’s not that going with Spencer wouldn’t be great, you knew he’d keep you company all night, making fun of crazy relatives and drunk uncles with you, but Spencer didn’t have any romantic interest in you that you knew of. You’d almost rather go alone than force your friend to take you as their date just because you didn’t have one. Spencer deserved a better night than that.

     “I’m not going as someone’s pity date just because neither of us had someone else to ask. It’s not a real date that way.” You were hurrying to finish preparing your coffee, ready to leave the room any moment. 

     “Who said it’s not real? I’m pretty sure Reid would find it very real. He’s got a little crush on you.” Derek’s singsong voice was not cute and fun as you normally would find it in this moment. 

     “Yeah, I’ll believe it when pigs fly.” Tossing your empty sugar packet into the bin, you grabbed your cup and made way to the door. “Besides, I’d like a date that’ll actually want to dance with me.”

_____

     It was a rare paperwork day in the office, and Jack had the day off from school. He was sitting in Hotch’s office, spinning around in Hotch’s nice chair while the man himself had to sit uncomfortably in the ones he kept for guests on the other side of the desk. It was adorable what little things entertained children, like a spin-able chair, and how Hotch was always willing to play into it to keep Jack happy. You needed to hand some files into your boss, so you knocked on his office door.

     “Hey, Jack,” you greeted the boy who stopped spinning once you came in, “whatcha got there?”

     He held up the object in his hands so you could see, letting you hold it. It was a magic eight ball, you had one just like this as a kid. Everyone thought it was the coolest thing in the world back then, you and your friends would bring it to every sleepover just to ask it questions like it was foretelling prophecy. 

     “Try it!” Jack insisted, just wanting to see if somehow your shake could turn up a different answer than the mere twenty that it was built to give. That was the kicker of the toy, it practically ruined all the magic once you learned that. 

     Nevertheless, you weren’t one to turn down the requests of a child, especially not one you liked as much as Jack Hotchner. You thought of a question you could ask. It seemed, unfortunately, that everyone’s constant chatter about true love was gnawing at your brain, even when you were alone. It was now infecting your thoughts. The only question you could think about was the same thing your fortune cookie from a week ago posed: Will I meet my true love soon?

     You shook the damn thing vigorously, and Jack was jumping out of his seat with joy. “What does it say!?”

     “Without a doubt.” You turned it over and back again, giving it a very gentle shake so the icosahedron inside would rotate, and still it flipped back to the same thing. Maybe you weren’t shaking hard enough.

     “What did you ask?” 

     You sighed at Jack and handed the toy back to him. “If I should get a shawarma wrap for lunch.”

_____

     One week out from the wedding, the team found themselves on a case in Philadelphia. Everyone was working overtime to make sure they’d be back home in time for the big event. That meant that by Wednesday, the case was pretty cut and dry, and the unsub was arrested the following morning. For the first time in the past week, the case was looking on the up, meaning the team could actually step away from the office to eat lunch elsewhere than inside of a police station.

     As it turns out, Philadelphia is credited as the home of the best Italian pork sandwiches in America, which unsurprisingly caught the attention of the BAU’s resident Italian, David Rossi. Amused by Rossi’s excitement for a sandwich, you offered to come with him and put it to the test. The best part about Rossi: he didn’t believe in prying into your personal life, at least not in the way others did. 

     The two of you walked to a deli that Rossi heard about through the grapevine. It supposedly could gain the love of even the most hardcore Italian pork sandwich lovers, and if its one thing Rossi loves to do, it was put his stamp of approval on such big claims. More importantly, being out in the sunshine with the first friend who in weeks hadn’t brought up the wedding was the exact breath of fresh air you needed. You went for the sandwich but you knew Rossi wasn’t going to bring up any wedding talk or question you about your nonexistent date. 

     Lunch had gone without any issue, and the restaurant truly lived up to its reputation. So much so, that Rossi insisted that you two “take a selfie” outside so he could send it back to his buddies and thank them for the suggestion. You posed up next to Rossi, pulling a cute face that made him laugh when he snapped the picture. He held his phone back to show you the photo you two had taken, and that’s when you saw it. Your head whipped around to look at the restaurant’s sign that you failed to notice before. It was called Heavenly Subs, and their logo was a pig with wings, soaring through the clouds.

I’ll believe it when pigs fly.  

     Those stupid words you said to Derek were on loop in your mind while you walked back to the hotel. Those thoughts were not welcome. Rossi noticed your weird disposition and asked if you were alright, you nodded your head and kept walking. Ultimately, you chalked it up to just being a freak coincidence. The logo only stuck out to you because of a conversation you happened to have, it would’ve been there whether or not it occurred. 

     Still, it was a bit freaky. 

____

     It was the day of the wedding and everyone was buzzing with excitement, including you. Though you were overwhelmed with wedding talk the past few weeks, now that the day was actually here, you found yourself getting swept up in all the romance. JJ looked breathtaking in her white dress. It was simple yet elegant, just like her. Her three doting bridesmaids were gushing about how Will would react to seeing her like this, all while putting the final preparations in place. Her makeup was applied, her hair was set, and now just the details remained. Henry, their little ring bearer, needed to get his tie on right, and her niece who was acting as the flower girl still was awaiting a basket of petals to toss down the aisle.

     You were sitting at the table inside the dressing room, plucking apart the flowers from spare bouquets and collecting them in the woven basket. Apparently, it took a lot more flowers to fill a basket than you expected, because you were stuck there for a while, almost mechanical in the way you plucked the petals. You let your mind wander while you were doing it. You started off thinking of how beautiful it was that JJ and Will had made their relationship work. It wasn’t always easy for the two of them, but they never let that get in their way. This wedding didn’t just happen because they fell in love and had a fairytale romance, it happened because they put in work to make it happen. 

     Sometimes you wondered if you weren’t trying hard enough to make it happen for yourself. Past relationships always ended because of things like your busy schedule, your insane drive to work, or because of your inability to open up to your partner. The last one was hard to admit to yourself. It’s not as if you didn’t want to open up to someone, it’s that you just never found the one you wanted to do that with. As a child, your idea of love was about as fairytale as could be. Meeting your true love and having everything fall into place. The idea that there was someone out there that you were destined to be with. Someone that the universe created, just for you. 

     Maybe it was too grandiose, because as you grew older you came to realize that it just wasn’t going to happen that way. The longer you waited for it, the more disappointed and cold you became to any kind of love at all. At some point, you had come to accept that it wasn’t realistic to get that fantasy, no matter how bitter it felt to let it go. 

     Your thoughts took you back to Derek’s admission that Spencer could be interested in you. You hadn’t taken that suggestion seriously at the time, but maybe you should reconsider it now. It was possible that Derek was just trying to stir up drama, or he got some bad information, but it didn’t hurt to at least think about it. You had to let go of some of your fantasies somehow, maybe this was the place to start. Pigs had flown, after all. 

     As you kept pulling apart flowers, one other childhood habit of yours came to mind. The age old tradition of counting on the petals. Maybe Derek was wrong, maybe he wasn’t, but perhaps the petals could provide some clarity. So as you took apart that rose, you counted in your mind: he loves me...he loves me not…he loves me...loves me not...loves me...loves me not. 

     Then suddenly, Penelope was commanding everyone’s attention and herding the bridal party into line. The ceremony was about to begin. You set down the rose in the middle of plucking to fall in place. There were three petals left on it. 

_____

     The ceremony was more than a success, it was beautiful. No matter how much everyone tried to hide it, there wasn’t a dry eye there when the couple exchanged their vows. From across the altar, with the other groomsmen, Spencer caught your glance. He smiled at your misty eyes, and you returned it before turning your attention back to the bride and groom. His gaze never moved away from you, though, even as their speeches continued. 

     At the reception, everyone was finally allowed to let loose. The hardest part of the day was done, and it went without a hitch. Wedding guests were drinking champagne, talking excitedly with old friends and the newlyweds, and most importantly, dancing. You preoccupied yourself with talking to everyone you knew there to distract from the fact that you had no one to dance with. So long as you were busy talking, there was no chance of you facing the rejection of not being asked. The downside of that, which you hadn’t properly considered, was that you also closed off the opportunity for anyone to have asked you at all. You were fine with it, in the end. There are worse ways to spend an evening than in the company of some friends, even if you didn’t get to indulge in any romance. 

     At some point in the evening, the party split off into separate rooms, the bride and women remaining in the main hall, and the men following the groom into the other. A tradition that Will and JJ had decided to incorporate into their wedding was the garter and bouquet toss. You laid low in the back, letting all of the excitable women with boyfriends they were waiting on a proposal from get better chances up at the front. Emily had the same idea as you, appearing by your side to watch women soon tear each other apart for a silly little symbolic bouquet. It was an old wives tale, at best. 

     “She looks so happy, doesn’t she?” Emily was beaming at the sight of JJ up on that stage, glowing. You agreed. The two of you were preoccupied with your conversation, not even realizing that JJ had already flung the bouquet to the crowd. 

     And as you were flailing your arms around, a habit you had while talking because you were just an expressive person, the flowers had somehow found their way into them. You felt the envy of a hundred women in the split of a single second. If it weren’t for Emily’s hands clasping over your own, you would have dropped it right to the floor like it had burned you. Her face was far more delighted than yours. 

     Once all of the thrill died down, you walked back to your designated seat, letting bouquet drop from your hands onto the table. Yes, it was cute that the bouquet went to one of the bride’s best friends, but why couldn’t it have been Penelope instead? Someone who at least had a chance of making that tale come true? 

     The sound of someone clearing their throat behind you caused you to turn your head, finding Spencer there. He was nervously teetering on the balls of his feet. You hadn’t seen him since the ceremony.

     “What are you doing sitting here all by yourself?”

     “Just taking it all in, I guess,” you tried not to sound too dejected as you looked around the room full of people. 

     Spencer hummed like he knew something that you weren’t telling him. “Would you like to dance?” 

     You were stunned, just staring at his outstretched hand he offered to you. “Spencer, you don’t dance.”

     “I might if it was with you.” 

     You compartmentalized how it made your heart flutter to hear that. Spencer Reid didn’t flirt, and Spencer Reid didn’t dance. But he might if it was with you. So you let your hand slip into his, following him to the edge of the floor to dance on the outskirts of the other couples. Spencer’s free hand wrapped around your back and rested on the other side of your waist, drawing you in tight against him. When you hooked your arm around his neck it was hard to ignore that this was the closest you two had ever been, chests pressed together, faces just inches apart. Spencer ducked his head down so that it could rest against the side of yours as you swayed gently. It felt natural to have him there.

     “I heard you caught the bouquet,” he whispered into your ear. You nodded against his shoulder. “Maybe everyone will be dancing at your wedding next?” he teased, and you pulled back to look at his face. He was grinning ear to ear.

     “It’s not funny,” you pouted. 

     “It kind of is, considering,” Spencer’s eyes were torn between yours and your bottom lip that gently protruded forward. He wanted so badly to close the gap that kept you two apart. It’s something he’s been wanting for weeks now, but never had he been this close to being able to do it. Not even all those times  that he pretended to still have paperwork so he could stay late in the office with you. 

     “Considering what?” You tried to read Spencer’s warm brown eyes, only to get lost in them right away.

     “I caught the garter.” He looked at you like he wanted to believe that meant something, like maybe you two were meant to catch it after all. You wanted to believe it too. 

     Your mind went running back to the fortune cookie, the freaking flying pig, all of it. Nearly everything was falling into place, you just had one question on your mind. “Spencer, do you have a middle name?” 

     “Yeah.” He never told anyone what it was, he thought it was kind of geeky.

     “What is it?” You really hoped it was Matthew, or Michael, or hell even Mark.

     “Walter.” Oh.

     You knew that Penelope’s little story didn’t have to mean anything, but you still hoped just for a second it might. It would have been so perfect, all the loose ends tied into a little bow.  

     You averted Spencer’s stare, hoping he didn’t sense the mild disappointment, and let your head rest against the side of his again. Even without that little detail, you still appreciated his company and how all of a sudden his proximity made your head feel fuzzy and your stomach erupt with butterflies. Silently, the two of you kept swaying to the music, having a moment of your own. The kind that you were envying the other couples for having. 

     For just a brief second, your eyes flickered down to your hand that was wrapped over both of Spencer’s shoulders. That’s when you noticed it again. From this new angle, your fingers pointed down towards the floor, the M on your left thumb sure looked like a W. 

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