#of course I know WHY that’s how she protects the system and it’s a really tragic implication

[markerofthemidnight]

You ever get that moment where you suddenly become obsessed with a side-character from a fandom you don’t know shit about?

Yeah, that’s me right now.

[vultures-and-scavengers]

how it starts vs how it ends (the fucking literal closest i can get to a rivalmance, bioware can you let me be even a little mean to him bc he kinda fucking deserves to be yelled at a bit over some of his comments and its not like he'd be thrilled about an orlesian noblewoman whos fairly anti-violence and a bit useless in a fight as herald)

[nathaslosthershit]

Teen Dad (OP81)

(Part 1 of the Blind Item Series) (Part 1 of the Teen Dad OP AU)

Summary: Rumors are flying about a young driver with kids

Seeing the rumor, and various other tweets commenting on the matter, first thing this morning was like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on him. Oscar immediately sat up, frightening his fiancée who was asleep next to him a moment before.

“What? What's wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, sitting up.

“Fuck this is not good.” He mumbled as he looked through more tweets. He knew he had minutes before his PR team started messaging him on how best to proceed. 

“Osc, you are really scaring me. What is going on?” His fiancée asked again. After 5 years together and two kids, she knew him well enough to know that Oscar isn’t easily woken up. While he usually wakes up early to train or help the kids, on days like today where he has the chance to sleep in, he will usually take it. But the amount of notifications he started getting were enough to get him to check his phone and once he saw the severity of the situation he was awake and alarmed. 

“A blind item about a ‘younger f1 driver with two kids he had as a teen’ just went up. No confirmation on who but it seems they have gotten it down to only a few of us. They don’t know yet but I am sure they will know soon.” 

He was grateful they hadn’t clocked in on him but Oscar was sure with a bit more time to dig people would put two and two together. He wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he was a teen dad, not anymore at least. When he was even more so an up and coming driver, he kept it hush because he was nervous being 18 with two kids would lead teams to reconsider where his priorities were, his family or his career. That wouldn’t have been crazy of them to do though, as important as racing was to Oscar, he would always pick his family first. Luckily, though, he had a great enough support system so he didn't have to choose. 

Most people in Oscar’s life knew. Any teams apart from Prema, Mclaren, and Alpine were none the wiser but why would they need to know? Not all drivers knew either, some who he had become closer to were let in on the secret, especially Logan, who had been there the entirety of his kids' lives. Annoyingly, at least in Oscar’s opinion, he has been titled ‘the cool uncle’ from day one. 

“What do we do?” his fiancée asked, snapping him out of his spiraling.

“I imagine it is up to my team to figure that one out. I’ll message them now. Get the kids ready and I’ll be done in time to help with breakfast.” He said as he got up.

After a long, pretty impromptu, call, it was decided Oscar would make a statement about it before it was revealed to be him. He wasn’t too happy about not getting to really do it on his own terms but this is the way it worked out, and hey, Oscar would be lying if he said he wasn’t already planning which race he was going to bring his kids to first.

oscarpiastri

liked by mclaren, logansargeant, landonorris, and 518,294 others

oscarpiastri This is of course not how I wanted to do this. I had hoped to have more time before I had to let the peace of privacy go but these things happen when you are in the spotlight. So yes, I am a father of two great kids and I have been since I was 18. I am not ashamed by the fact I was a teen dad, and am certainly not hiding my kids out of anything but love. I hadn’t realized I could truly love anything or anyone more than racing but then these two came into my life and I realized I would give it all up for them. Luckily, with the support of their mother (who is my fiancée) and my family, I didn’t have to give it up. My four person family means more to me than anything and I count my lucky stars each night that I have been blessed with them. I ask that you please respect our privacy. This isn’t the end of you seeing the Piastri twins but I, being the over protective father I am, am not ready to throw two 3 year olds into the chaos of the motorsport world just yet.

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Part 2: A Much Needed Interview out now!

[ak-vintage]

I'd Like To...

Pairing: Modern DILF Din Djarin x Plus Size F!Reader

Summary: Din has always struggled to prioritize his own happiness, even more so now that he is a single father. When some well-meaning friends create a dating app profile for him without his knowledge, he finds himself on his first date in years with a woman who seems determined to bring some much-needed softness to his life.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Present-day AU, dating app AU, dual POV, no use of Y/N, private security Din, photographer reader, reader is a plus size woman but otherwise minimal descriptions provided, age gap (unspecified but enough to be noticed), Grogu is a human toddler, Cara is the ultimate wingman, good dad Din, touch-starved Din, fluff, SMUT – exhibitionism, semi-public acts, brief oral sex (m! receiving), protected p in v sex, dirty talk, rough but sweet, switch-y vibes for both Din and reader

Word Count: ~18.3K (I have no excuse...)

Written for @hellishjoel's Hot DILF Summer Challenge. I am unforgivably late to this event, and I’m so, so sorry. I hope the truly preposterous length makes up for it – it really got out of hand!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Cara Dune had never been good at subterfuge.

She was loud, decisive, commanding – a “do no harm but take no shit” kind of person who wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty in a risky situation or to stick her neck out for what she believed. Cara didn’t have the constitution for stealth. She didn’t do subtle or – god forbid – sneaky; it simply wasn’t a part of her DNA. All of her colleagues were well aware of this, of course, so why, out of all of the consultants of Fett Security, Inc., she was the person that the group had selected for this particular mission was something she would never understand.

But, as a former soldier, if there was one thing Cara knew how to do, it was follow orders, so when the task fell to her, she took it on the chin and threw herself into it headfirst.

Which was how she found herself awkwardly hunched over at her desk, broad shoulders rounded protectively around her phone as she scrolled through various social media accounts, screenshotting as she went. A suspicious behavior for anyone, but even more so knowing that the images she was grabbing were all of the same man – her best friend and coworker, Din Djarin.

Nearly a decade ago, Din had been one of the first people Boba Fett had recruited to join his private security firm, and ever since, he had been the kind of man who ate, slept, and breathed the job. There was no doubt that Fett Security owed a great deal of its growth and success in the industry to Din’s expertise, but that hadn’t left him with a lot of opportunity for a full life outside of work. Or, perhaps more accurately, Din simply hadn’t made such a thing a priority.

When pressed about it, he would say that it hardly mattered; all of his friends eventually came to work for the firm anyway, Fett collecting them all like trading cards over the years, so he saw them plenty. What more could he need?

Of course, he came to eat his own words about a year ago when he rather unexpectedly became the foster parent – then adoptive parent – of a little boy, a tiny thing with no living relatives in a part of the city that had had a severe shortage of foster families for years. Din himself had grown up in the system, a fact he talked about rarely, but nevertheless, the experience had shaped him in a fundamental way. He had jumped at the opportunity to take in the kid, and overnight, he transformed from a man who buried himself in his work to a man who lived for the whim of a little boy with floppy, sandy-brown curls, wide, dark eyes, and comically large ears.

It was clear to anyone who knew him well – Din had been meant to be a father, and as his closest friend, Cara had found a great deal of joy in watching the new role shape and soften him into a version of himself that felt truer and more authentic to who he was at his core. But all of his friends agreed: when it came to his personal life, having a child had done nothing but exacerbate the problem. He was still working just as many hours as he had before, only now, when he did have time to himself, he rarely left the house without his son in tow. He had stopped joining the team for drinks after gigs, his appearances at company barbecues were fewer and farther between, and who knew how long it had been since the man had been on an actual date?

Din was lonely – Cara could tell. He loved his job, and he adored his son, but it wasn’t enough anymore. There was a hollowness to him, a shadow around his eyes. Something had to give, and so during their last group outing, the team had come together and formulated a plan. A plan which involved Cara harvesting a selection of photos of Din from various corners of the internet, writing up a quick bio, and creating an online dating profile for him.

Without his knowledge.

Cara hardly relished keeping this secret from her friend, but she knew that if she or anyone else had broached the subject with him beforehand, he would have dismissed it out of hand. He would have made up some excuse about doing just fine on his own, that he didn’t need anyone else when he had his son; she could almost hear his low, rasping scoff now. His refusal would be swift and final, and that would be the end of that.

But sometimes, being a good friend meant doing something in the best interest of the other person even when that person would disapprove.

And Cara had found that sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.

Sending a surreptitious glance around the open office space, Cara breathed a quiet sigh of relief at Din’s empty desk. The man didn’t have any of his own social media accounts, finding the whole concept frivolous and a little bizarre, so she was stuck scrolling through her own and those of their friends in an attempt to harvest a few that would be acceptable for a dating profile. It was taking longer than she had anticipated, and she still had to set up his age, gender, and location preferences and write up a brief bio for him before she was due at a job in an hour. The time crunch had her clenching her jaw as she worked.

Tonight at the bar, she planned to recruit some of their friends to help her get Din set up with a selection of matches. And all of them would owe her a beer for her trouble.

 Din, the profile read. 45, 5’11”, Private Security Consultant.

Hardworking, outdoorsy, handy. Love vintage cars and motorcycles. Former boxer, teach self-defense classes at the community center on the weekends. Single father to a little boy who is my whole universe. Looking for someone to give me an excuse to get me out of the house, curb my workaholic tendencies, and show me the softer side of life.

“‘The softer side of life?’” Bo smirked around the rim of her beer as she read, Cara’s phone in her hand sticky from being passed around all night. “Cara Dune, you’ve been holding out on us. Who knew you were such a romantic?”

The crew gathered around the end of the bar all laughed as Cara rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her own drink. “What can I say? A bitch contains multitudes,” she replied with a shrug. “But the profile’s good, right? We can start swiping?”

The redhead nodded, neat bob brushing her sharp jaw as she passed the phone back to its owner. “Yeah, I think you’ve got him down.”

“Good call including the bit about the motorcycles,” Axe quipped with a grin. He waggled his dark eyebrows significantly, adding, “Ladies love that stuff. Speaking from experience.”

From her place tucked into his side, arm wrapped around his waist beneath his leather jacket, Koska offered him a tongue-touched smile and butted her head against his chest affectionately. “You’re not wrong.”

Paz returned from the other end of the bar then, shouldering his way through the crowd with six overflowing pints balanced in his massive hands. “What did I miss?” he asked as he passed each of them out to his waiting friends.

Fennec curled her lip in mild disgust as he sloshed a portion of her beer down the side of her glass, soaking her hand. She sat the pint down on the edge of the well-worn bar and drug her fingers demurely across her black jeans as she said, “Nothing, we’re just about to start picking matches.”

“Good.” He downed half of his own pint in a single glug, thick neck working in the low light. “Let’s do this. The guy needs to get laid.”

With a mock-salute of his glass, Axe groaned his agreement. “Maybe if he loosens up a little, he’ll get off my ass about taking over the Organa account. I swear to god, if I have to spend one more fucking charity dinner trailing after those stuffed-shirts, I think my head is going to explode.”

Fennec shot him an icy, closed-lipped smile. “We both know that was my suggestion, not Djarin’s. You’re a good fit for it, Woves. The sooner you learn how to play ball with the politicians, the sooner we can start putting you on more high-profile jobs.”

“Yeah, babe.” Koska’s dark eyes flashed teasingly. “Maybe then you can come join me and Bo on the Skywalker account. Finally start playing with the big boys.”

Bo snorted into her beer, sending a fine spray of the stuff flying as the rest of the group broke into peals of laughter.

“All right, all right, settle down,” Cara urged, passing Bo a napkin. “This has nothing to do with any of us, right? This is about Din. He’s busted his ass for every one of us for years – it’s his turn to catch a break. So let’s stay on task, okay? Now…” With a few taps and a swipe, she brought up the app once more and flipped to the matches tab. “What do we think of her?”

“Dune.”

“Djarin.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

The dark-haired, hawk-eyed woman quirked an eyebrow at him, phone in hand, the thing still extended toward him, waiting for him to take it. “I could do that. But then I’d be lying, and we both know that doesn’t fly with you.”

Din Djarin gritted his jaw and turned his back to her, focusing instead on tossing his towel, lifting gloves, and empty water bottle into his gym bag and slinging it over his shoulder. It wasn’t unusual for Cara to join him for his daily pre-shift workout. She was a reliable spotter, and he liked the playlists she piped through the Bluetooth speakers in the company gym, but there had been something off about her that morning – something cagey and distracted where she was normally the picture of focus. After one too many attempts at getting her attention had resulted in a distant “huh?”, he had decided that enough was enough and demanded an explanation.

With only the faintest traces of guilt shadowing her gaze, she had made her confession. A dating app. She had signed him up for a fucking dating app, and apparently, the whole team was in on it. The bunch of traitors.

“You can go ahead and delete it,” he growled, casting a scathing glance over his shoulder as he made for the locker room. “I’m not interested.”

A strong, blunt-nailed hand wrapped around his elbow, pulling his retreat up short. “Oh, come on, lighten up a little,” Cara entreated. “When was the last time you went out with someone, huh?”

He shrugged her grip off of him. “I go out with you and the team all the time.”

Behind him, his closest friend groaned dramatically. “You know that’s not what I meant. But, while we’re at it, you haven’t exactly been doing much of that, either, big guy. In fact, maybe if you did come out with us once in a while, you could meet a nice girl at a bar or a sporting event or a festival like a fucking normal person, and I wouldn’t have to resort to mining photos of you off our friends’ socials and making you a dating profile in secret.”

“That isn’t fair,” Din snapped, whirling around to face her. “I can’t just be out until all hours of the night anymore. I have my kid to think about. I thought you understood that.”

“Of course, I understand that! No one expects you to be there every time. Not even most of the time! But Din…” Cara let out a sigh, and he watched as that contentious spark fizzled out of her dark eyes, fading into something softer and more earnest. “You are an amazing father. Anyone who has ever seen you with that little boy knows that. But that isn’t all you are. Just like work isn’t all you are. How long have we known each other?”

He ground his teeth and ran his hand through his sweat-damp hair, pushing it back from his face. “About eight years.”

“Eight years,” she echoed, nodding. “I know you, Din Djarin, and I can tell. You’re burning out.”

Something squeezed in his chest at the raw honestly of his friend’s words, and he found himself having to look away. She was right, of course, as she often was. He had always struggled with giving too much of himself – first as a boxer in the ring, then as one of the founding members of Fett Security, then as one of its most senior consultants, and now as a father. As a younger man, he had thrived on it; the busier he was, the harder he worked, the more he proved himself, the better he felt.

But now, knocking on the doors of middle age, he found that the breakneck pace of his life was starting to fray him at the edges. He felt worn through in places and dangerously thin in others, and although he would never admit to anyone, his bed had never felt colder. The small handful of meaningless, one-night flings he had permitted himself over the last few years had left him feeling ill-used and unsatisfied, and when he took his son out to a new restaurant or to the zoo or to the beach, he couldn’t help but feel the distinct absence of another person.

There ought to have been another person holding his kid’s other little hand in the park, patiently walking the unsteady toddler between them. There ought to have been another person feeding the boy ice cream afterward, singing him songs, telling him stories, settling him down for a nap.

There ought to have been another person in his bed – holding him close, playing with his hair, whispering his name in the dark as soft lips traced down his neck…

Fuck. Din Djarin was lonely.

“Listen, I’ll tell you what,” Cara said eventually, pulling him out of his musings. “We’ll get the app set up on your phone, you can log in to your profile, and you can just…take a look at the matches we already got for you. You don’t have to go through any on your own, just the ones we’ve already found. And if you hate them all, we’ll delete your profile and be done with it. But if any of them look even remotely interesting, I really think you should try to connect with them. There has to be more to your life than work and your kid. There has to be, or you’re going to run yourself into the ground. I’m not going to let that happen on my watch.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, blunt and painfully sincere, and then Din was squeezing the pressure points on the sides of his nose and releasing a reluctant sigh.

“Fine,” he groaned. “I’ll take a look at them over lunch. Happy?”

She grinned victoriously and cuffed him on the shoulder, the gesture warm and fraternal. “Ecstatic. Now hit the showers, Djarin, you stink.”

Cara was at his desk at noon on the dot, barely waiting for him to finish sending off an email to a potential client before she was closing his laptop, dragging him bodily out of his chair, and escorting him out of the building and across the street to their favorite sandwich shop. A few minutes later, equipped with a pair of overstuffed Reubens and a couple bags of chips, the two were settled into a back corner booth with Din’s phone between them.

“Okay, there you go,” she proclaimed, sliding the thing across the table to him with a triumphant grin. “App’s installed, and you’re all logged in.”

The man wiped a napkin across his face and fought the urge to sigh. “Let’s get this over with.” Thumbing through the interface, he fumbled for a bit before finally landing on the tab that contained his list of users with bright pink heart icons next to their profile pictures.

“Now these are people that already matched with me?” he asked, suddenly feeling a bit out of his depth.

“Yep! Me and the crew did some swiping for you the other night.”

Din simply blinked at her. “Swiping?”

Cara’s mouth twisted into a thin line, as though she were attempting to swallow a smirk and failing miserably, and he felt the distinct desire to melt into the plastic cushion of the booth and disappear. “It’s how you indicate whether you’re interested in matching with someone. Swipe right for yes, swipe left for no.”

“So these are the people you…swiped right on?”

“Not quite,” she clarified with a shake of her head. “These are the people we swiped right on who also swiped right on you.”

Din’s brows nearly met his hairline at that. “They wanted to match with me, too?”

“Yeah, dumbass, they did.”

“Hey. Watch it,” he growled, jabbing a finger in her direction as he felt his hackles raise. “You know I don’t know anything about this shit. Cut me a little bit of slack, okay?”

Cara sighed, and her expression shifted from needling to softly exasperated. “Yeah, no kidding, I’m aware. I didn’t call you a dumbass because you don’t know anything about online dating. I called you a dumbass because you act like you’re surprised that people want to match with you.”

Oh.

Cocking his head at her, he replied, “Why wouldn’t that surprise me?”

“Umm…” All of the softness in her face disappeared, and instead she glared at him like he had just grown a second head. “Have you seen yourself? I don’t even like men, and I recognize a DILF when I see one.”

“A DILF?”

Cara smirked lasciviously. “Yeah, a dad I’d like to – ”

“I know what a DILF is, Cara, fucking hell, can you keep your voice down?” Din instinctually ducked his head, his gaze darting around the sandwich shop as he prayed to whatever deity might be listening that no one had heard them.

The woman let out a bark of laughter, dark hair swinging and eyes crinkling with mirth. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, old man. No one’s paying any attention to us back here.” Gesturing at the phone in his hand, she added, “Now quit stalling and start scrolling. I think we ended up with ten or so matches before we called it a night? And we were really picky about it, too. There’s gotta be at least one lucky lady in there that tickles your fancy.”

“Hmm.” He hummed dubiously to himself as he opened the first profile in the list, a blonde woman a couple of years his junior with her head tilted back, face in the sun as she posed on some tropical beach. Pretty. Nice smile. Looked friendly. “Suppose I just didn’t think so many women would be interested in dating a single father.”

“Like I said,” Cara shrugged with a wink. “Ladies love a DILF.”

Nearly an hour later, and Din couldn’t help but feel a bit…underwhelmed with the selection of matches his friends had chosen for him. Not that any of them were bad choices, per se. They were lovely women, all of them, with their sunny smiles and their glossy, perfectly-posed photographs and their quippy bios. They were from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of interests, though all struck him as approachable, intelligent, witty. He couldn’t find a red flag in the bunch, which he supposed was a credit both to them and to his friends for sifting through the masses so thoughtfully.

No, it wasn’t the women. It was him, he was sure. What else could explain the…nothingness he felt when he looked at them? The utter lack of interest? Perhaps he had missed his opportunity for such things, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had waited too long, been too content with his own company for too many years.

He could feel Cara’s eyes on him across the table as he came to the last few matches, could sense her impatience at his silence, at his steady, unenthusiastic scrolling. Their plates sat picked over and abandoned between them, chip bags empty and crumpled, sodas drained dry. They were due back in the office any minute, the lunch hour quickly expiring around them, and as reluctant as Din had been to agree to this entire endeavor, he somehow still felt a twinge of guilt at leaving Cara to report back to the rest of the group empty-handed.

But at least he had held up his end of the bargain. No one could say that he didn’t give the idea a chance. It simply wasn’t meant to be.

Of course, that was until he reached the second-to-last match on the list.

Absently, Din tapped on your picture, opening your profile, and almost immediately, he felt himself straighten in his seat.

You were…stunning.

Wide, bright eyes. A warm, mischievous smile that teased him through the camera’s lens, as though you had a secret you were taunting him with, daring him to ask, to figure it out. Your photos were unique – mostly candids, the focus soft, enhanced with a touch of grain and flawlessly lit. And you had a lot of them, more than any other profile he had viewed. As he swiped through them, he came upon one of you in an easy, flowing blouse, hair windswept around your face, a DSLR camera with a colorful, well-worn strap slung around your neck.

He quickly scanned your profile header, taking in your name, your age, your distance from his location. Photographer, the profession field indicated.

And…shit. You were young. More than a decade his junior, on the very edge of what he would consider an acceptable age difference in typical circumstances. The gap wasn’t enough for it to be an immediate disqualifier, but it certainly was enough that if the two of you were to walk down the street together hand-in-hand, others might take a second glance.

He should un-match with you. It would be the right thing, the responsible thing to do.

And yet…

Din swiped through a handful of your other photos. Fuck, but you were sweet. Full, soft curves with wide, plush hips, heavy breasts, thick thighs. Little glimpses of soft skin peeking through comfortable clothing, airy cottons and silky satins and well-loved denims that his palms itched to touch. He wanted to feel the texture of you under his hands, the lush and the give of you beneath his fingertips…

Your last photo was one taken of you at sunrise, your soft body clad in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and a pair of barely-there spandex shorts. Your limbs were stretched and bent into some strange configuration he recognized as a yoga pose, your leg pressed back near your face at an angle that had blood rushing to his cock, his head immediately filled with images of your body contorted in a similar position as he pressed you into his mattress.

New to the city, looking for someone to show me all the best places to get a couple drinks and people watch. Professional photographer living my dream of documenting the most important moments of people’s lives. In my spare time, I like to get out in nature and go hiking, practice yoga, and travel. Excellent home cook, terrible at karaoke. Love dogs, love kids. Let me take your picture so I know it’s real.

Damnit.

You were perfect.

“Okay over there, Djarin?”

Din’s gaze snapped up to meet Cara’s over the table, taking in the quirk of her brow, the suspicious twist of her mouth, and he felt a flush of heat rush up the back of his neck and settle high on his cheekbones. He had been staring. Really staring, and with his mouth open, he realized, mortified. He slammed his jaw shut, his teeth clicking unpleasantly in his skull, and he shifted in his seat.

“Uh,” he muttered dumbly. This throat was so dry, his voice crackled around the syllable as though he hadn’t spoken all day. He cleared it quickly and nodded once. “Yeah. Fine. Uh – ” Flipping the phone around to face his companion, he slid it back across the laminate tabletop. “Her,” he said, tapping the screen with the tip of his finger. “I’ll go out with her.”

Had he not already been blushing, the cat-like grin of victory that Cara sent him certainly would have done it.

“Gonna have to message her first, big guy. Think you can figure out how to do that, or you want me to show you?”

Din’s flush darkened as he yanked the phone back toward himself, feeling a muscle in his jaw tick. “I can manage,” he snarked, and she scoffed a laugh.

However, as it turned out, as he opened the messages tab from your profile, he discovered that you had already taken the initiative and messaged him.

hey din – such a cool name! looks like we have a few things in common. i’d love to get to know you if you’re interested! 😊

Short. Sweet. Polite. Direct.

He swallowed thickly, feeling something suspiciously like butterflies take up residence in his gut. Scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck, he looked back up at Cara sheepishly.

“Actually…yeah, maybe I could use some help.”

You were sitting cross-legged in your oversized office chair, headphones on and iced coffee leaving a ring of condensation on the surface of your desk, when you saw the dating app notification pop up on your phone screen.

1 New Message, it read.

You glanced back and forth between your phone and your computer screen for a moment, debating. You had promised yourself you would be heads-down today, having started to accumulate more of an editing backlog than you typically preferred. The shoot you were working on this afternoon – an engagement session taken in the gardens outside the local art gallery – was due to the clients by the end of the week, and if you wanted to meet that deadline, you couldn’t afford to get distracted.

And yet you couldn’t help but wonder whether the message was a response – finally – from the man you had matched with a couple days ago. The one with the unusual name, the dark curls and even darker eyes, the strong nose and the sharp jaw and the soft, gentle smile. Broad shoulders, big, masculine hands, and a handful of pictures featuring a little boy, no more than two or three years old, his face either turned away from the camera or covered with a little green frog emoji for privacy.

Din the security consultant. Din the vintage car enthusiast. Din the self-defense instructor.

Din the DILF.

You had fired off a message to him as soon as you had gotten confirmation that he had liked you back, and he had been taking up space in your mind ever since. You had always preferred your men a little older, a little more experienced, and the fact that he was a dad, and a proud one at that, had gotten your motor running immediately. He looked like the kind of guy who knew the best bar in town to get an old fashioned and how to grill a good steak. He looked like the kind of guy who would open your car door for you, who would drive one-handed while the other rested calmly, possessively on your thigh. He looked like his palms were calloused and like his skin smelled good even fresh from the gym.

He looked like he had a big –

Fucking hell. It had been a long time since a man had given you this kind of brainrot without ever even meeting him. It was embarrassing and very much not consistent with your independent woman-about-town image you wore like a suit of armor. But you had never been the type of person to deny yourself. If you saw something you wanted, you went for it – full speed ahead. And Din…you definitely wanted Din.

If there was even a slight chance it was him…

Before you could overthink it any further, you saved your progress on your current edit, dropped your headphones around the back of your neck, and scooped up your phone. Tapping the notification, you brought up your messages tab and found one unread message staring back you.

It was from him.

Hi there. It’s nice to meet you. You seem like an interesting person. I would like to get to know you, too. Where is your favorite place you have traveled?

You drew your lower lip between your teeth, smothering a grin as though others might spot it and tease you despite being alone in your apartment. Something about the way he wrote – the dry punctuation, the complete, grammatically-correct sentences, the lack of emojis – all of it screamed someone who didn’t spend much time communicating electronically, let alone online dating. It was a refreshing change from the men you typically met on the apps, the whole thing endearing rather than off-putting and doing nothing to discourage your impression of his “dad” persona.

Poking out your tongue a little in concentration, you tapped out a quick response before you could lose your nerve.

ooo good question! hard to pick a favorite, but if i have to choose, i’d say thailand. i went there with some friends after we graduated college and we got to volunteer at an elephant sanctuary for a few days. coolest experience of my life hands down! what about you? are you a traveler?

His response came much faster than you expected, certainly faster than his response to your initial message.

I used to be. When I was first getting started, I used to travel a lot for work. I have been all over. I am more settled these days. It’s difficult to travel with a toddler on my own.

You nodded to yourself. That made sense. His boy looked young, and he was a self-described single father. You wondered what the story was there, but that was a level of personal that you didn’t need to dive into just yet. For now, your focus was on making sure this conversation didn’t fizzle out.

Frowning slightly, you realized he hadn’t really included anything in that message to prompt much of a response. However, before you could begin to fish around for something to send in reply, another message appeared.

Your profile says you’re a photographer. Your pictures are very unique. I don’t know much about photography, but I can tell that you have an eye for it. What made you interested in that field?

With a huff of a laugh and a mortifyingly strong flush, you closed out of Lightroom and abandoned your headphones on their stand. You weren’t getting any more work done for a while – you could already tell.

The two of you messaged back and forth several more times that day, then again in fits and spurts over the next three days.

You shared how you got your start in photography and the way your best clients were the ones who embraced your photojournalistic style. You didn’t care for shots that were staged or overly posed, you told him. You liked capturing people’s authentic feelings in the moment, and he quipped that he had never been comfortable posing for photos anyway, so you should get along just fine.

You talked about how both of you desperately wanted a dog but neither of you were in a place where getting one would be a responsible choice. You compared your favorite local hiking trails and determined that although he had lived in the area for far longer than you, you had significantly more experience trekking through the nearby national park. You learned a lot about the ’81 Honda Goldwing that he had lovingly restored, how he used to ride it to and from work every day but that now it sat under a protective tarp in the back of his garage most of the time. It wasn’t exactly a toddler-friendly form of transportation, he explained.

In a moment of vulnerability, you confessed that you had moved to the city as a result of a breakup, in an attempt to get a change of scenery far from the place where you had made a home with another man. He confessed that he had never really made time for relationships in the past, but that his son had made him realize that there was plenty of room in his life for love. He finally felt ready to try, and you finally felt ready to try again.

You told him you thought he was stupidly handsome, that you had no idea how he was single if he didn’t want to be. He told you that he had thought the same about you.

Except I would call you beautiful. Not handsome. I guess unless that’s what you prefer?

no lmao, you wrote back. beautiful is fine. beautiful is perfect.

On day four of…whatever this newfound acquaintance was, you spent the full day shooting a wedding – from getting ready to first looks to family photos to the ceremony to the reception. You swore you could feel your phone burning a hole in your pocket the entire time, but you managed to stay professional and present throughout the length of your contracted hours. By the time you stumbled into your apartment, you were so exhausted, you couldn’t have been more eager to pour yourself some wine and melt into the couch with some trashy reality television. You were changed into your pajamas and a glass and a half deep by the time you allowed yourself to check your phone.

Buried beneath all of the other notifications you had gotten throughout the day, there was a single pop-up from your dating app.

1 New Message, it read. Received four hours ago.

Skipping past all of the other demands on your attention, you opened that notification first.

Hi sweetheart. I know you were photographing that wedding today, so don’t let me interrupt you. We can talk tomorrow, but if you could please message me when you’re done for the night? It would make me feel better to know that you made it home safe.  

Hi sweetheart, he had said.

Sweetheart.

A rush of heat passed over you at his words, and you swallowed thickly, wine burning its way down your throat at the thought of Din at home thinking about you, worrying about you. Had this been any other man, you might have found the message a bit overbearing, especially this early on, but rather than feeling controlled or stifled, instead you felt only warmth and safety. You felt…cared for. Protected. Important.

The sensation had you shifting in your seat, gulping down the remainder of your glass in a single go as you felt the apex of your thighs pulse with interest.

Din was so fucking hot, and he had no idea.

Setting your now-empty wine glass on the coffee table, you typed out a rapid reply and hit send.

heyy! made it home okay, thanks for checking in!

Fatigue pulling at your eyelids, arousal burning low in your belly, quickly-consumed wine flushing your limbs with a soft weightlessness, your thumbs seemed to move of their own accord as they tapped out a second message.

din idk how much longer i can keep this up without meeting you. i wanna see your handsome face in person. can i take u out sometime soon? please say yes.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, then immediately tossed your phone to the other end of the couch as though it had burned you. It disappeared into the stack of throw pillows there, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You couldn’t look at it, couldn’t stand to wait for his reply knowing that it was after midnight, knowing that he likely had been asleep for hours and wouldn’t see your messages until morning. Taking a deep, calming breath to steady your nerves, you forced yourself to refocus on the television. One episode, you promised yourself, and then you would get some sleep.

Less than 10 minutes later, you felt the faint vibration of your phone travel through the couch cushions to where you sat, and your show was abandoned without question.

You tossed several of your unnecessarily large throw pillow collection onto the floor in your hasty search, and though you knew you would be annoyed at having to tidy them in the morning, in that moment, you could hardly bring yourself to care.

1 New Message, your phone screen read as you recovered it from the pile. With something akin to nausea roiling in your stomach, you opened the notification and resisted the urge to physically cross your fingers.

Glad to hear you made it home safely.

…

That was all. “Glad to hear you made it home safely.”

Your stomach sank like lead in your abdomen, all of the soft, fuzzy warmth of the wine and your arousal evaporating from your body like sweat on a hot day. Only exhaustion was left in its place – exhaustion and the surprisingly poignant hurt of rejection sitting heavy on your limbs. You had come on too strong, it seemed, stated your desires and intentions too boldly and directly. You ought to have held back more, ought to have waited longer before asking or maybe couched the question in a joke or a suggestion of something more casual first. Or maybe you shouldn’t have asked at all and instead waited for him to ask you out. You supposed men probably preferred that – to be the one to initiate, the one to take charge. Fuck, you were always so impatient, so goddamn eager –

In your sweating palm, your phone buzzed once more, interrupting your string of self-curses.

Nerves roiling beneath your skin, you risked a glance down at it.

1 New Message

You had no control over your body as you opened it, watching the action from inside your own mind as though walking through a dream.

As for your other message, of course my answer is yes. I want to meet you, too, sweetheart. But be warned. Even though you did the asking, I WILL argue with you if you attempt to pay for the whole date yourself. It’s against my personal creed to let a lady pay my way without contributing.

All of the breath left your lungs as you took in his words, reading them over and over again until you could recite them from memory.

He wanted to meet you. He wanted to go out with you.

A high, breathy laugh bubbled over from your chest, spilling through your lips into your quiet apartment like the glistening champagne tower at the wedding this evening. You laughed as you typed, as you hit send. You laughed as you turned off your TV and as you completed your evening skincare routine. You laughed as you crawled into bed, as you burrowed under the covers, delirious and giddy.

i think i can allow it just this once. wouldn’t wanna violate your creed.

It took a handful of messages to determine the best place to meet. Din had offered to pick you up, wanting to treat you right, to be a gentleman, but he did not hold it against you when you turned him down. He understood that meeting a stranger from the internet, particularly as a woman, came with a particular set of risks, and he had no desire to make you uncomfortable in the slightest. He was happy to simply meet you there instead if that would make you feel safer.

Eventually, you settled on a moderately popular restaurant not far from your neighborhood. Din had never been there before, but over the last several days, he had discovered that the two of you shared a love of spicy food, and you had promised that the “modern Mexican fusion” menu did not disappoint.

they also have the cutest patio so we can sit outside if the weather’s nice 😊 , you had said, and he had been sold.

Under the assumption that Din would have a difficult time finding a sitter on a weekday evening, you agreed to wait until Friday to meet. However, the moment he had attempted to discretely broach the subject with Cara while on a jobsite, he immediately had three additional volunteers in Bo, Koska, and Axe, all of whom assured him that they hadn’t been eavesdropping and insisted that he had just been “really fucking loud” with his question.

So perhaps finding a sitter would not have been as challenging as he presumed.

Regardless, the two of you continued to chat throughout the week leading up to your date, first using the dating app’s messaging platform and then, eventually, via text. Din had grown weary of the limitations of the messaging interface days before, but he had been concerned about coming across as too forward if he were to ask for your number. But he needn’t have worried. You offered it freely late one night when the two of you were deep into a discussion about your favorite music artists, and something about getting to put your name and phone number into his contacts made the whole situation feel startlingly real. It had felt…personal, almost intimate. And it was nice.

If he was being honest with himself, it made him nervous – how much he liked you, how quickly he had begun to think of you as part of his daily routine. A text good morning after his pre-shift workout, when he knew you were just rolling out of bed. Checking his phone over lunch to find a whole stack of little videos you had found on the internet during your morning scroll, watching every single one of them as his coworkers rolled their eyes and laughed at how quickly he had fallen into line for you. Countless late-night conversations after he had tucked his son into bed, his tired body sprawled out on the couch or propped up against his headboard and wishing you were there with him.

He wanted to experience the laugh that went with that stunning smile from your photos. He wanted to hear you talk for hours on end about whatever crossed your mind while he just…listened. And fuck, did he want to touch you. It had been almost two weeks since he had first matched with you, and that need he had felt deep in his gut that first day he had seen your pictures had only gotten more acute over time. He had to know – for certain – whether the skin at the small of your back was as soft and warm as it looked. He had to know whether your plush thighs and generous hips would give beneath his hands.

He wanted you in his arms, in his lap, in his bed. He wanted you in his life, and he had never even met you.

He needed to rein it in, he knew. He didn’t want to come on too strong, and he didn’t want to dive headfirst into something without the proper consideration. It had been over a decade since he had last been in a relationship, and he was a completely different person now than he had been then. Not to mention his son. His boy was his top priority – the most important thing in his world. He would need to be cautious about dating anyone seriously with him in the picture.

But something told him that he had nothing to worry about with you, that you wouldn’t resent his priorities or demand things of him that he couldn’t give. And if things went well, and he liked you as much in person as he did online… If after a while, you earned his trust, his commitment…

You and the kid would get on like a house on fire. He could sense it.

But.

Before you could meet his son, before Din could welcome you fully into is life, he had to meet you.

Din beat you to the restaurant that Friday.

You wouldn’t describe yourself as the type of person who was chronically late (though some of your friends might have had a different opinion on the matter), but in your defense, you had had a new client intake call right at the end of the day that had gone on for longer than you anticipated. Thankfully, you had gotten yourself ready before the call so that by the time the talkative new parents were done describing in great detail their precise vision for their new baby photoshoot, all that was left for you to do was slip on your shoes, grab your purse, and run out the door.

The walk to the restaurant was brief but pleasant, the weather having worked out perfectly for an outdoor meal, and as you approached, you spotted him immediately. Tall and absurdly broad, posted up outside the restaurant’s main entrance with his hands on his hips and one leg popped in a stance that absolutely screamed “dad,” even from a distance. He wore a long-sleeved, charcoal gray henley with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows and a couple buttons undone at the collar, well-fitting, dark-washed jeans, and a pair of black boots with thick soles that you had a feeling he favored when riding his motorcycle. A classic pair of dark sunglasses perched on his prominent nose, and in spite of the warm weather, he had a black leather jacket grasped in one fist, hanging down by his side by its collar.

In the golden hour sun against the worn brick of the restaurant’s exterior, he looked like something out of a movie. Or maybe a men’s cologne ad – something clean but rugged, so masculine you could die. Taking a deep breath against a sudden wave of nerves, you made a mental note to bring your camera the next time the two of you went out. If he was going to look this fucking delicious every time you saw one another, it would be a crime not to document it.

You were in the middle of crossing the street when he spotted you, and you watched with heat rising in your cheeks as he visibly paused and swept you from head to toe with his gaze. His adam’s apple bobbed, and then he was straightening himself and eating up the sidewalk in a handful of long strides to meet you when you arrived.

“Din?” you found yourself asking as you came to stand before him, as if you didn’t know, as if you wouldn’t recognize that striking face, those powerful shoulders anywhere in the world.

He offered you a gentle half-smile, ducking his chin in a single nod, and you took notice of his free hand balling up into a fist at his side, like he was physically holding himself back from reaching for you. After a beat, he replied, “It’s…good to see you, sweetheart. Happy you got here safe.”

His voice. Low and rasping, worn and manly, strangely reminding you of metal scraping against leather. It was painfully attractive, and you felt your cheeks darken further even as a grin spread across your lips.

You had been right. The man was a certified DILF, and he couldn’t have been any more your type if you had designed him in a lab yourself.

“Same to you,” you said, your voice sounding a bit breathless even to your own ears. “Should we go get a table?”

Din made an affirmative noise and gestured for you to precede him down the sidewalk. “I put our names in when I got here. The table should be ready any minute.”

A small thrill went through you at the realization that he must have gotten here at least 45 minutes ago if your table was nearly ready. This place notoriously didn’t take reservations, and there was always a wait, especially for the patio. Which reminded you…

Before you could think better of it, you asked, “Oh, did you request the patio by chance? Sitting out under the lights is the – ”

“ – best part, I remember,” he interjected, his tiny smile quirking up in one corner. “Yes, I requested the patio. They should text me when the table’s ready.” No sooner had the words left his mouth and he startled unexpectedly, glancing over his shoulder as though to look at his own back pocket. He reached behind himself and pulled out his phone, the sleek, black thing dwarfed in his broad palm, and you caught a glimpse of his background picture as he unlocked it.

A little boy with floppy, too-long, sandy-brown hair, huge dark eyes, and big ears, grinning up at the camera with a toothy smile. He was adorable.

“Ah. Speaking of. It’s ready,” he said, showing you the automated text. “After you.”

He gestured again for you to walk ahead of him, and you drew your lower lip between your teeth as you acquiesced. Not a moment later and you felt the soft, warm press of his palm against the small of your back, the steady, unobtrusive pressure gently guiding you toward the entrance to the restaurant. The sensation had something low and hot simmering in your abdomen, the way the heat of it sank through the fabric of your dress into your skin, the way your body listened to his touch instinctually. It was protective in a way that felt comforting rather than overbearing, and it occurred to you that such a thing would be easy to grow accustomed to.

You had always needed to be the one to look out for yourself. How freeing would it be to be able to trust another person to carry that for you, even if it was only every once in a while?

Your restaurant recommendation proved to be a good one; the food was rich and delicious, the atmosphere was lively, and Din indulged in a couple of their house cervezas throughout the evening, which he found pleasantly light and refreshing. As the sun set behind the city skyline, casting long shadows across the flagstone patio, colorful strings of lights crisscrossing the seating area flared to life. The effect was charming, particularly the way the lights cast a warm glow over your face, arcs of gold and red and green streaking across your hair and illuminating your eyes. You were so pretty – even more than he had expected, even more than in your photos. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt “enchanted” by a person before, but he would say that was close to describing how he felt sitting across the table from you.

To his great relief, Din found that the time passed just as quickly while talking to you in person as it did over the phone. You were sweet, funny, and quite talkative, so even when he found himself dipping into introverted lulls or long silences, you were there to pull him back out of himself. You seemed to have an endless fount of things to chat about, which was perfectly fine with him, as it meant he didn’t have to wrack his brain for things to say, and he got to listen to your voice.

You also seemed to find him funny, snorting cutely into your glass every time he said something even faintly amusing, and he would be lying if he said that didn’t have his ego swelling a bit. He liked the idea of being able to make you laugh. And when your eyes flashed at him over the rim of your margarita, when you drug the tip of your slick, pink tongue across the line of salt there, when you offered him a slow, knowing smile with just the barest flash of sharp little teeth…it wasn’t only his ego that threatened to swell.

That was one thing he had not accounted for, he found, one facet of your personality that he had only barely glimpsed over text that was now staring him in the face as the two of you wrapped up your meal. You were powerfully, blatantly flirtatious in a way that felt completely foreign to Din after more than a decade of singlehood. Your lowered lashes, your intentional eye contact, your sweet compliments. Your little touches across the table, burning the backs of his hands and the insides of his forearms with the warmth of your skin. And that wasn’t even mentioning the surreptitious peeks at your ample cleavage your dress kept allowing as you leaned and shifted in your chair. That one, perhaps, wasn’t intentional, but it was still making it difficult for him to avoid embarrassing himself in the middle of this restaurant.

When it became clear that the two of you could no longer draw out your meal, the debate over the check began. Thankfully, you did not propose to pay for both your meal and his, seemingly taking his warning to heart. However, you did suggest that you pay for your own meal and drinks, and something about that still rankled. Eventually, after much back and forth, you compromised and agreed that Din would pay for the meals while you would cover the drinks. The waitress had looked at you a bit oddly when you made the request, but she hadn’t protested, and a handful of minutes later, the two of you had paid and were making your way back out onto the sidewalk outside.

Din wasn’t ready for the night to end. Spending time with you was the most fun he had had with anyone that wasn’t a coworker in…well. Too long. You were sweet and funny and full of life, and every moment he spent in your presence, he could feel warmth and vitality being breathed back into his lungs. He wasn’t ready to let that go just yet.

Thankfully, neither, it seemed, were you. Slipping one of your manicured hands into his, you said, “You know, there’s a park a couple blocks from here with a really nice walking path. You want to go check it out?”

He glanced down at your joined hands, dragging the pad of his thumb across the ridge of your knuckles almost absently as he reveled in the feeling. You were so fucking soft, just like he knew you would be, and the sensation of your skin under his almost distracted him from his response. After a beat, he nodded, and you hit him with a thousand-watt smile that Din couldn’t help but return.

You kept up a steady stream of conversation as you made your way to the park hand-in-hand. Din had proven just as easy to talk to in person as he had online, and although the evening had confirmed your suspicions that he was much more introverted than you, he was by no means reticent. He had matched you beat for beat all night, and even in the moments where he seemed to need a bit of prompting, you chalked it up to him simply being out of the game for a while and didn’t hold it against him.

More than anything, though, your impression of him as you made your way down the block was one of an old-fashioned gentleman. There was an earnestness, a seriousness about him that you had never really seen in a guy your age, and it made you feel like you were the only person in the world to him. It was a heady feeling, to be the center of such focused attention. You wondered if he knew that if he wasn’t careful, that attention was going to give you ideas. Ideas you weren’t certain someone with his sensibilities would be interested in on a first date.

Just when you thought you might need to pull him to the side of the walkway and give him a little taste of what you had in mind, his phone rang, and he dropped your hand to fish it from his back pocket.

You couldn’t stop yourself from taking a glance at the screen as he examined it. CARA DUNE, the caller ID read, and the photo that lit up the background was of a striking woman with raven black hair, sharp eyes, and smug smile.

Oh. You felt something in your chest deflate a little. Another woman.

Din pulled up short, looking at you with dark, apologetic eyes shadowed by the streetlamps. “I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he said, and you found yourself nodding your agreement even as your stomach sank further. And to think, you had been convinced that this man was nothing but a bundle of green flags held together by a gap-necked henley and a pair of slutty black combat boots…

Turning away from you slightly, putting one of his broad shoulders between you and the view of his phone, he swiped up to answer the call.

“Dune? Everything okay?” he asked, a flavor of urgency to his tone that had you frowning.

Wait – Dune? He was calling her by her last name?

You couldn’t hear what the voice on the other side of the line said in reply, but you watched as Din’s shoulders dropped from up around his ears, and he brought his free hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, put him on.” A pause then, and he sighed deeply. “No, I don’t mind, really, you just scared the shit out of me. A call from you at this time of night? I thought something was wrong.” Another pause, and you could hear what you would swear were several voices talking over each other ringing from the phone’s speakers even as they were pressed against his ear. “Okay, yeah, that’s fine. Put him on.”

Din pulled the phone away from his face then and tapped the “video call” button on the glowing gray call interface. Half a breath later, the screen flared to life, blinding you a bit in the darkness, and the image of a little boy with unruly hair and dark, sleepy eyes blinked at him from the phone.

“Daddy!” the boy cried, a toothy grin splitting his chubby little cheeks as he seized the phone from whoever was holding it on his end. He was too close to the camera, the angle giving Din a spectacular view directly up the toddler’s nose, and you smothered a giggle as you watched the boy make faces at himself in the viewfinder.

“Hey, kiddo,” Din said softly, and oh, but you could hear the smile in his voice, could feel the fondness radiating off of him in waves even though you couldn’t see his face. Every sinking feeling that had taken over your body disappeared at the sound as you realized what exactly you were witnessing. The other woman was his babysitter.

“Are you being good for Aunt Cara? Hm?” he asked, and you could just melt at the gentleness in his low, rasping voice.

“Good!” the little boy replied, nodding vigorously in a way that bounced his floppy curls across his forehead.

Another face appeared on the screen, the same woman from the caller ID photo, and you watched as she scooped the squirmy kid up into her arms with an exaggerated, theatrical groan. “Tell him,” she prompted playfully. “Say we played with your airplanes and your cars.”

The little boy grinned toothily. “Yeah, cars!”

“And we wrestled with Uncle Axe and Aunt Koska,” Cara prompted, to which the kid giggled.

“I winned!”

Cara nodded with a fond smile. “That’s right, you won.”

From somewhere off-camera, another voice – this one male – called out in protest. “Debatable! I still say the ref was biased!”

The boy laughed again, the sound high-pitched and full of joy, and even the woman holding him seemed to be fighting back a chuckle as she plowed on. “And then Aunt Bo made dinner, and this little dude ate alllll his vegetables!”

“You did?” Din replied, genuine surprise coloring his words. “That’s great! I’m so proud of you!”

“Daddy! When you come home?”

From your angle slightly behind him, you could see your date’s shoulders fall slightly at the question, so sweetly and innocently asked in that little baby voice. On the other end of the line, Cara offered him what you would call an apologetic smile and shook her head. “Someone doesn’t want to go to bed without Dad.”

“Kiddo, Dad’s not going to be home until after your bedtime,” Din sighed. His words were slow and patient on the surface, but you swore you could hear a note of guilt underlying them, and it made your heart ache in your chest. “Remember, we talked about that before I left tonight? Aunt Cara is going to do bedtime tonight, and then when I get home, I promise I will come give you kiss, okay?”

The boy was clearly disappointed by this response, his eyebrows pulling up in the center and his wide, dark eyes shining pitifully through the screen, and he let out a wordless little whine that you were sure would have had you caving in an instant had it been directed at you. However, Din held strong. Voice low and gentle, he offered, “How about this – let’s say goodnight to each other right now instead. Is that okay? Just for tonight?”

He seemed to weigh that response for a moment, uncertain, but after a beat of silence, the kid tucked himself snugly under Cara’s chin and sighed. “Okaaaay.”

“Okay. I love you so much, kiddo. Get good sleep, have good dreams, and I’ll be there in the morning when you wake up.” Din’s words, so soft and intimate, sounded almost rehearsed to your ears, and you realized that this man was completing a long-standing bedtime ritual with his son via video chat in the middle of a darkened sidewalk on a Friday night. The thought had your heart swelling behind your ribs, the core of you warming and softening with a rush of fondness that you were helpless against.

Fuck. Din wasn’t just a DILF. He was also just a really good dad.

On the other side of the connection, Din’s little boy yawned widely and snuggled his curly head deeper into his babysitter’s chest. “Love you, Daddy,” he murmured sweetly, and you knew that if it were possible to die of cuteness, you would have done so that those words.

“I love you, too,” Din replied softly. “Good night, buddy.”

“Night night.”

Cara shifted the phone away from the kid’s sleepy face then, refocusing herself in the frame. “Okay, that should do it. I’m gonna go tuck this guy in while he’s still feeling cooperative.”

He was quick to nod his agreement, clearly not wishing to make this task any more difficult on his friend than he needed to. “Yeah, go. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

“Hey.” She sounded rather serious then, making intense eye contact with Din through the phone screen. “Take your time, ‘kay? I got this.”

“Have fun, Djarin!” another woman’s voice chimed from a distance, off-camera and seemingly getting further and further away as Cara carried Din’s son to bed.

There was a chorus of good-natured laughter, then the man’s voice from earlier returned. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, eh?”

This, of course, was met with an uproar on the other side of the connection, none of which could be seen. All you could really make out was a stern woman’s voice, one you hadn’t heard before, groan, “Axe, I swear to god – ”

You laughed softly at that, hiding your smiling lips behind one of your hands and Din quickly started to fumble with his phone. “Oookay, that’s enough of that,” he muttered, and with a swipe of his thick thumb, he ended the call.

Slipping his phone into his back pocket once again, he finally turned back around to face you, guilt and embarrassment tightening the corners of his eyes. Even in the dark, you swore you could make out a flush high on his golden tanned cheekbones as he said, “I’m…sorry about that. My kid, he’s got some separation anxiety issues. He’s not used to me being out of the house at bedtime. Tried to talk to him about it before, but he’s not even three yet, and – ”

“Din,” you interjected, closing the narrow distance between the two of you and resting your palm on his arm. “You don’t have to explain. Or apologize. You’re a dad. Your kid comes first.” With a slow, sly smile, you slipped your hand into the crook of his arm, holding tight to it as you proceeded down the sidewalk once more. “Besides, that was an interesting look at your family dynamic. Or were those your friends? The one called Axe sounds like a character.”

He huffed a laugh at that. “Friends. Well, also my coworkers, but they were friends first. I’m an only child, so they’re the only aunts and uncles my kid has ever known.”

“How many of them are watching him tonight?”

“Four,” he replied with a grimace. “I had originally only asked Cara, but the others overhead and…wanted to support me, I guess. I think I mentioned, I don’t exactly do this often. I haven’t been on a date in…well. Let’s just say it’s been a long time.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling your cheeks heat at the idea that this man who didn’t date had decided that he wanted his first date in however long to be with you. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t going to go to your head a little. Leaning your forehead against his bicep so he couldn’t meet your eyes, you asked, “And how are you finding it?”

With a low, rasping chuckle, Din brought his free hand up to cover yours, wrapping his long fingers around the back of your hand where it cupped his elbow. “I’m thinking…if it means I get to spend time with you, I should do it more often.”

Not even an hour later, Din found himself in the back of a cab, arm around your shoulders, fingers linked together, your beautiful face flushed and grinning wildly as you traced the very tip of your nose along his jugular. Your voice breathless and on the verge of laughter, you gave the driver what must have been the address of your apartment, but he couldn’t have repeated the words you said if you had paid him. He was far too distracted, too overwhelmed with where the night was heading to pay attention to such details. You were so soft against him, plastered up against his side. Your mussed hair on his cheek, your breasts against his chest, your round hip snug against his, and fuck, your lips – plump and swollen and glistening with his kisses, the ones he had stolen under the lamp light during your stroll through the park. He couldn’t believe he had done that. He couldn’t believe you had asked him to.

When the two of you had planned this evening, he had had a firm talk with himself – he would keep the physical contact to a minimum, he would not allow his eyes to wander inappropriately, he would be a perfect gentleman, he would treat you like a lady. First of all, because it was the bare minimum of what you deserved, and second of all, because tonight would be your first ever in-person meeting, and he wanted to be very clear that this meant more to him than just some casual hookup. Din had had plenty of those over the years to know that what he felt for you ran so much deeper than that, and he was loathe to give you the wrong idea about his intentions with you.

The moment he saw you walking across the street toward him – backlit by the golden hour sun, hair dancing in the breeze, all your perfect, curvaceous softness swaying with your perky stride – all of that chivalry had nearly been abandoned by the side of the road. And he had been fighting tooth and nail all evening to keep hold of the reins of his desire for you.

But the two of you had meandered through that park for a while. You had stopped along the shore of a little pond to admire the water, and you had looked up at him with these wide, soft eyes, your long lashes casting intricate shadows across your cheeks, and god, it had nearly killed him to keep his hands balled up in the pockets of his jacket.

And then you had taken the smallest step forward, eating up what little distance still remained between you.

And then you had whispered, in a voice so low he could barely hear you, “Will you kiss me, Din? Please?”

How could he have refused you?

Now your breath was on his neck, your lips softly brushing his skin, and he was slithering his arm down from around your shoulders and instead pressing his palm to your thigh. His fingers dug into the softness there of their own accord, tucking the tips inward and brushing his thumb across the cap of your knee firmly, possessively. He felt you exhale against his collarbone at the sensation, the softest, faintest sound of need reaching his ears, and then he was ducking his chin, finding your mouth again, pressing his lips to yours with an urgency that ought to have felt out of place with the poor cab driver sitting right there but somehow didn’t.

Your kiss tasted like lime from your margarita, like salt from the rim. Your fingers threading through his hair felt like heaven. Your body under his hands melted like putty, warm and pliant and so fucking soft that it had blood rushing to his cock, the swell of it pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.

And it wasn’t enough. You needed more. He needed more.

Breaking the kiss with a soft gasp, Din pressed his forehead against yours, brushed the tip of his nose against yours. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and gravely in the hot, moist air between you. “We’ve got to slow down, or I’m going to embarrass myself.”

You shifted beneath his grip on your thigh, hips squirming in your seat, thighs pressing together, and when he met your heavy-lidded gaze, he was struck with how dark your eyes looked just now, how wide your pupils had blown. Shaking your head, you whispered, “Don’t care.”

He bit back a curse at the way his cock throbbed at your words, at the soft, panting tone of your voice. “Not going to fuck you in the back of a cab, baby.”

Giggling breathlessly, you tucked your face into the side of his neck to hide your blush. “You can’t talk to me like that and not expect me to be all over you, Din Djarin,” you huffed, the tip of your tongue darting out to taste the little patch of skin just beneath his earlobe. “S’not fair.”

“Not fair?” With gritted teeth, pure electricity running through his veins, he returned the favor and buried his nose in the soft, fragrant skin of neck. The scent of you there was intoxicating – warmth and musk with a touch of floral, a touch of sweetness. He wanted to sink his teeth into you, might have had you been alone. “Fine. You want not fair? I’ll give you not fair.”

Shooting a furtive glance at the driver, who mercifully seemed committed to keeping his eyes on the road, Din delicately slipped his leather jacket from where it had been tucked around your shoulders and instead draped it over your lap.

You pulled away from him slightly at that, meeting his gaze with bright, burning interest in your eyes as you realized what he was about to do.

“If we’re doing this,” he whispered, “you have to keep your eyes forward and your mouth shut. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Din watched as you swallowed hard, your swollen lips parting with lust. You nodded wordlessly, and your thigh muscles tightened under his hand, now hidden by the drape of his jacket.

“Okay then. Not a sound.” He cocked his head toward the front of the cab. “Now face forward, behave yourself, and I’ll take care of you.”

He felt the sharp exhale of your breath against his face, and then you were obeying – shifting your hips square to the front of the car, turning to face the windshield, and balling your fists up at your sides. Din shifted, too, turning to face forward and tapping into every ounce of discipline his profession had ever instilled in him to school his expression into something carefully blank and neutral. Beneath his jacket, however, was a different story.

He started with a soothing caress of his palm from the cap of your knee to the top of your thigh, using the heat and the weight of his hand to ease your tense muscles. After a couple of passes, he could feel that softness return, and unprompted, your knees eased apart – not quite spread, not yet, just parted slightly as you relaxed into his touch. The realization sent a surge of satisfaction through him, and he could not stop himself from slipping his fingers down, down, down to the very edge of your knee and slowly starting to gather the fabric of your dress in his grip.

Din heard your breath catch for a moment as you realized what he was doing, and then it sped up, and your knees dropped even further apart. Before he could wrap his head around what he was about to do in the back of a cab car, he had hiked the skirt of your dress up far enough to slip his hand underneath.

Now it was his turn to not be able to breathe. Fuck, your thighs were soft – smooth like silk, supple and pillowy and forgiving as his calloused fingers traced slowly across your skin, seeking your warmth. He could feel a muscle in his jaw jump as his fingers drew higher, as you subtly adjusted yourself in your seat so you could open your legs even wider, permit him even closer to where you both knew you needed him. Every instinct in him begged him to go faster, to give you more, to whip the stifling cover of his jacket off your lap so he could take in the sight of his fingers reaching the smooth, cotton gusset of your panties with his own eyes. Instead, he pulled his face into a scowl of concentration and kept his pace measured.

By the time the side of his pinky bumped into the apex of your thighs, Din felt ready to combust with urgency. He could feel the heat of you there through the fabric, could feel the slickness seeping through it to dampen his skin, could feel the tension in your hips as you tried desperately not to arch into his touch. You were being so good for him, staying silent, never looking his way, just sitting there, the picture of innocence as you let him touch you. It had something hot and nearly feral rising in his chest, the fact that he could give you such impossible instructions in such an impossible scenario and you would drive yourself mad in an attempt to obey them.

It made him wonder what else you would do, if he asked, and just the question had his cock pulsing in his jeans. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Din tucked his fingers under the seam of your panties and slipped them softly, gently through your folds.

A groan bubbled up in his chest, and he allowed his eyes to fall shut for a moment as he collected himself. You were absolutely dripping for him – hot and wet and slippery, trim little curls sticky with it, underwear soaked against the back of his hand. It coated his fingers, and it took every ounce of restraint in his arsenal to stop himself from pulling his hand from under the jacket and popping his fingers directly into his mouth. But no, he told himself. There would be time for that later. Now, you were practically vibrating in your seat trying to keep yourself together, and he needed to watch you fall apart before the cab arrived at your apartment.

Din allowed himself to gently pet you for another moment, reveling in the feel of your soft wetness, and then he was seeking your clit, finding it swollen and puffy and begging for attention near the top of your folds. With the first delicate caress, you lost the battle with your own vocal chords and let out a quiet, breathless whimper, and a rush of pride raced through him at the thought that he had finally overwhelmed you to the point where you couldn’t keep silent anymore. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning over into your space and murmuring into your ear, “I said keep quiet, sweetheart. Or I stop right now. Understood?”

You let out a shaky exhale, and Din felt more than saw you nod your agreement.

“Good girl,” he growled, and he swore he felt your clit pulse under his fingertips at his words. Interesting. That was something he was going to need to explore more later.

For now, he offered you a few more gentle caresses, a few soft, tight circles around your clit as acknowledgment of your suffering, and then he dipped down to your entrance and slowly, sweetly slipped his middle finger into your throbbing pussy.

God, you felt incredible – hot and wet and so fucking tight that he could feel his cock leaking in his jeans at the idea that he might have the opportunity to be inside you with more than just his fingers. Your velvet walls fluttered around him in desperate little waves as he gently thrust inside you, in and out, in and out, pressing deeper on each pass, seeking that elusive spot inside that he knew would make you see stars. After a handful of strokes, he added a second finger, and your hips stuttered at the stretch, hitching against his touch in a way that felt both needy and overwhelmed. You were so tight, and his fingers were so thick; it was no wonder it was a shock.

Din turned and dropped a tender, comforting kiss to the crown of your head. Fuck, you were so good, just sitting there in the back of the cab, letting him touch you, letting him finger you, letting him make you feel good. The ease with which you gave it all up to him was driving him insane. How long had it been since he had been with someone like you, someone who seemed to know innately what he needed, who fit with him so perfectly it was as though some divine being had had a hand in your introduction? Had it ever been this good? Had he ever needed someone as badly as he needed you?

Grinding the heel of his hand into your clit, Din sped up his thrusts. In and out, in and out, pressing, stretching, seeking. Your knees fell farther apart seemingly of their own accord, as your eyes had taken on a faraway look to them, staring unseeingly out the front windshield as you took what he gave you. In your lap, his leather jacket began to slip, and one end of it fell suspiciously down between your spread legs. Although his hand and the apex of your thighs were still hidden, if the driver were to take a look in his rearview mirror, he would clearly be able to tell what was happening in his back seat.

The same idea seemed to occur to you then, because in that moment, you broke his second rule – you glanced over at him with a fucked-out look of urgency on your face, and Din could swear he felt you starting to tighten. Fuck, this was turning you on. The near-exposure, the precarious position the two of you were in, it was making you drip around his fingers, making you clench around his thrusts.

You were a wild thing; Din had known it from the moment he laid eyes on you. Now here was the proof. You were going to come on his fingers in the back of a cab car, and then you were going to invite him up to your apartment and let him fuck you senseless –

“Here we are,” the driver said, his voice slow and unaffected, almost bored as he pulled the cab off to the side of the street and turned on his blinkers.

No matter how nonchalant his words, the sound of them sent a bolt of terror through the both of you, and in a flurry of limbs and fabric, each of you scrambled to put yourselves back together as the car came to a stop. Din yanked his fingers from your body, the quick withdrawal pulling a little hiccupping whine from your throat, but he paid it no heed as he tugged your skirt back down where it belonged around your knees. You gathered up his jacket and draped it over your arm, running your fingers through your mussed hair. By the time the car rolled to a complete stop, each of you were looking mostly put together, save Din’s raging hard-on tenting his jeans and your flush-cheeked, glassy-eyed stare.

Although he had already paid for the fare, as the two of you slid out of the back of the car, Din pulled a wad of cash from his wallet and discretely slipped it into the driver’s hand.

“Thanks for the ride,” he murmured hoarsely, and before the man could reply, he threaded his fingers through yours and followed your lead to the door of your apartment building.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been hoping that this would be where the night would end – Din’s broad, calloused hand in yours, your dress askew and your thighs damp, the two of you moving with urgency down the hall outside your apartment, breathless laughter on your tongue. You had never been strictly opposed to sex on the first date, if the chemistry was there and you felt comfortable and safe with the person, and he had checked all of your boxes and then some from the moment you spotted him outside the restaurant that night. You had decided then and there; if the date went well, and he seemed to be on the same page, you would be taking him home with you that night.

You had worried that your advances might be a bit much for Din, but clearly, those fears had been unfounded. He seemed a bit overwhelmed, a bit in disbelief, but that hadn’t stopped him from jumping at every chance you had given him – holding your hand as you walked, kissing you down by the pond…

Giving you one of the hottest experiences of your life by stealthily fucking you with his fingers in the back of the cab while you struggled to stay perfectly silent and still…

Your pussy clenched at the memory of his thick fingers inside you, the perfect stretch of them, the way they had both soothed your ache for him while also somehow making it worse, knowing how much better it would be if it were his cock filling you up like that. Fuck. You needed this man, and you needed him now.

Thankfully, Din seemed to have no interest in stopping. When you finally reached your door, he wasted no time in crowding up behind you as you fumbled for your keys, hands slipping around your waist as he dropped hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck. Your eyelids drooped at the sensation, your hands halting in mid-air, keys dangling from your grip, and you felt more than heard him chuckle against your skin.

“Don’t get distracted, sweetheart. Open the door,” he murmured, breath hot on the shell of your ear, making you shiver. What a little shit.

After another second of fiddling with your keys, you finally were able to work open your door, and the two of you nearly fell inside. He slammed it shut behind you as you tossed your keys onto the nearby countertop, and then he was on you – one hand gripping the swell of your hip, one hand slipping along the side of your face to cup your jaw, fingers tangling in your hair at the base of your skull as he cradled you. You could smell yourself on him, the scent of your arousal clinging to the hand that now held your face, and god, you could swear your insides turned molten at the idea. His mouth was covering yours before you could comment on it, and then every lucid thought evaporated from your mind.

For a man who claimed to have been out of the dating pool for a while, Din certainly knew how to kiss – he was passionate, meticulous, and completely relentless in the way he took you apart. His lips were soft, his tongue precise, and the single-minded focus with which he stroked your jaw, coaxed you open, and devoured you was enough to make you blush.

Almost absently, you realized his other hand had swept around the crest of your hip and taken a palmful of your ass, and you whimpered into the kiss, your hips hitching toward him of their own accord. His hands were fucking huge, warm through the fabric of your dress, callouses on his palms catching on the fabric. You needed them all over you – on your skin, in your hair, between your legs –

Pulling his lips away from yours with a gasp, he groaned, “If this is too much – if this isn’t what you want – ”

You shook your head, digging your fingers into his dark brown curls, pulling his neck down to your mouth so you could suck on the skin there. “I want it, Din. I want it,” you reassured him.

You felt a shudder pass through him, and then both of his hands were on your ass, dragging you closer, pressing the full length of your torso along his. “Know it’s early, know we just met, don’t have to do anything you don’t want – ”

“Din!” Yanking his hair sharply until he hissed, you watched as he finally seemed to focus on you, eyes darkening as he took in your flushed face, your swollen lips, your glossy, heavy-lidded eyes. “I want to fuck you,” you proclaimed bluntly. His mouth dropped open, just slightly, pouty lower lip trembling as he stared at you. “Do you want to fuck me?”

The man blinked a few times, seemingly taken aback, but he didn’t allow the question to hang in the air for too long. With a heavy, audible swallow, Din replied, “Yeah, baby, I want to fuck you.”

A bright, electric thrill of victory surged through you, and you couldn’t have smothered the grin that split your face if you tried.

“Okay, then fuck me. And don’t hold back.”

You winked at him playfully, and a dangerous smirk that had your pussy fluttering pulled at the corner of his lips. No sooner had you registered the expression and he was toeing off his boots, leaving them abandoned in front of your door, and driving you backward into the apartment. A breathless yelp followed by a laugh escaped you as you allowed him to push you into your living room, shedding your own shoes as you went, and then you were kissing again, and just like before, all of your surroundings melted away.

A rush of cool air met your thighs as balled fists pulled up the hem of your dress, gathering the fabric in worn palms as more and more of your body was revealed, and you let it go gladly. Lifting your arms above your head, you allowed him to pull the whole thing off over your head, and through the wild, fluffed-up strands of hair dangling in your eyes, you watched as he took you in – your blushing cheeks, your heavy, heaving breasts cupped in a black cotton bra, your soft, rounded belly, your thick thighs and wide hips, the narrow strip your black cotton thong completely soaked through and clinging to your pussy lips. You had no name for the expression on his face, but if you had to relate it to something, you would say it was close to awe.

Din was in awe of you, completely and utterly gone for you, and the surge of power that sent through your veins was like a drug.

“Take off your shirt,” you murmured, lip between your teeth, and as he rushed to obey, you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you don’t – ” he groaned, but your hands were already working his belt buckle open, already thumbing at the button of his jeans.

“But I want to.” Looking up at him through your lashes with wide, soft eyes, you held his gaze as you slipped his zipper down, as you felt the hardness poorly concealed behind it swell and surge against your palm. “So let me.”

He gave no further protests, simply watched as you tucked your thumbs into the waistband of both his jeans and his charcoal gray boxer briefs and shoved, pulling them both down around his knees in one, smooth tug. One more push and they were pooled around his ankles, and then Din was stumbling out of them, holding onto the back of a nearby armchair for support as he kicked them aside.

He was naked now, staring down at you with dark, heated eyes, broad, muscled chest rising and falling with every labored breath, and fuck, if he wasn’t the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Thick and strong with long, powerful limbs and a soft stomach, a fine dusting of dark brown hair from his bellybutton down, and miles and miles of golden tanned skin decorated with a heavily curated collection of black and gray tattoos that you hadn’t been able to see earlier. They looked like beautiful work, and you were eager to examine them later, but for now, something else was begging for your attention, and you couldn’t ignore it any longer even if you wanted to.

Inches from your face, long and thick and curved, flushed and leaking precum, his cock was just as beautiful as the rest of him, and you needed it in your mouth. Now.

Holding yourself steady with one hand on his narrow hip, one hand around the base of him, you leaned forward and dragged your tongue along the underside before taking the tip of him in your mouth and suckling gently. Slick musk coated your tongue, and you moaned at the taste, immediately surging forward and taking more. Above you, Din let out a colorful string of curses and dropped a hand to the back of your head, cupping the bowl of your skull in his palm as you worked yourself over him. He never put any pressure there, never thrust himself deeper than you were choosing to take him, but you could feel his restraint in the tension in his hips, in the grip of his fingers in your hair.

He was trying so hard to be a gentleman for you. You kind of wished he would give it up already.

Pulling back, letting his cock fall from your mouth, you took up your strokes with your hand and said, “S’okay, baby. You can take what you need from me. M’not gonna break.”

Din groaned, low and gravelly in his chest, and then he was using his grip on your head to coax you up and back onto your feet. “Need to fuck you, sweetheart – I can’t wait any more.”

Your cunt bottomed out at that, the swooping sensation deep inside you almost leaving you dizzy, and although you had been looking forward to sucking him off, you found yourself nodding your agreement anyway. “Where do you want me?” you asked, and the question had him tugging you forward into a hard kiss.

“On the couch,” he growled. “Just need to feel you around me.”

Pulling him deeper into the living room, you shed your bra as you went, tossing it who-knows-where in your eagerness. You could feel his eyes on you – on them – as your breasts swayed with your movement, and perhaps such direct attention ought to have made you self-conscious, but instead in made you bold. The moment the backs of your knees collided with the couch, you stripped your thong from your body while holding his gaze, and the pure, molten want in his stare had you feeling like the sexiest woman he had ever seen.

“Lie back,” he rasped, and you were quick to obey, laying down with your head at one end and your legs stretched out along the length of the couch. Snagging one of your many throw pillows, Din tapped the side of your hip twice, adding, “Lift your hips for me, pretty girl.”

You did, and he slid that pillow underneath your ass. Then he was clambering up onto the couch with you, all long limbs and big hands and sweat-damp curls, kneeling between your legs, urging one of them up to drape over the back of the couch, nudging the other down to drip limply onto the floor. You went where he guided you, happy to arrange yourself however he pleased as long as it meant you got to feel that gorgeous cock inside you.

But he started with his fingers first, coaxing and petting and caressing your dripping folds in much the same way that he had in the back of the cab, only this time, you were free to arch your hips into his touch and let out soft, breathy moans with every delicate stroke.

Din seemed to realize this at the same time you did, as he began to nod slowly, encouragingly as he slipped two fingers into your quivering, grasping pussy. “That’s it, let me hear you now. You don’t have to be quiet anymore, sweetheart. Let me hear you feel good.”

And fuck, but it did feel good – his fingers stretching you, filling you, pressing steadily against that soft, elusive spot inside you with every thrust, making you want to thrust against him, to drive him deeper, to take even more of him.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking wet. Is that good? Is that what you need?” he groaned, and you nodded furiously, too overcome to speak, just knowing you needed him to keep going…needed him to give you more.

Again, it was like Din realized what you wanted at the same time you did. Gently slipping his fingers from you, he used the thick coating of your wetness on them to stroke his cock as he shuffled forward on his knees. Pressing down on the blunt, swollen tip with his thumb, he dragged his length through your folds collecting your slick, starting at your entrance and sliding smoothly up to your clit. You let out a low, startled moan at the feeling, and you couldn’t help but grind against him, letting the tip of his cock press and circle against your puffy, throbbing clit. Shit, when was the last time you had hooked up with someone and been this outrageously turned on? You felt like you were on the ragged edge of your orgasm already, and he had barely touched you.

However, just as Din began to trail the head of his cock back down to your entrance, a shock of reality broke through your dazed, lust-fogged mind, and you found yourself pressing your hand against his stomach, stopping him from thrusting in.

“Condom,” you panted, sex-addled and breathless. “We need a condom.”

His dark brown eyes widened with a sudden wave of awareness, and you felt him pull back immediately. “Shit. You’re right, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You let out a winded laugh and shook your head. “Me, neither. Did you bring one? I have some if you need.”

Din nodded, hopping up from the couch and crossing back over to where the two of you had abandoned his jeans. Digging his wallet out of the pocket, he slid a conspicuous foil packet from inside then dropped the wallet back onto the pile of denim. A moment later, he was settled back between your legs, perched up on his knees with his hands on your thighs and the condom tucked securely between two of his fingers.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he asked, and you nodded urgently.

“So ready. Beyond ready.”

Your eagerness seemed to be all he needed to get back into the moment. With a few quick strokes of his cock, he ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth and slid it on. You watched with hooded eyes, lower lip trapped between your teeth, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to stroke him yourself as the latex stretched over his skin. Din groaned at your touch, and then he shooed your hands away and lined himself up with your entrance.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl. Want to see your face while you take me,” he groaned, and with one long, smooth thrust, he filled your cunt with his throbbing length.

“Ah! Fuck, Din!”

It took everything in you not to let your eyes fall shut as he thrust inside you. The stretch was incredible – just the slightest burn, but even with his size, it wasn’t too much after how he well had prepared you, how long he had teased you in the cab, how turned on you were. It was enough to feel truly full – stuffed to the brim, the weight of him absolutely gorgeous as he bore down on all your most sensitive spots. Above you, your date was gritting his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his nostrils flared, as he dug his fingers into your thighs with a grip so hard it would likely bruise. He seemed to be fighting very hard to keep himself together, and you immediately felt the sinister urge to clench around him just to watch him struggle. Instead, you chose to take mercy on him and simply roll your hips against his, driving him deeper.

“No – shit, baby, you can’t – ” he stammered, hands tightening on your legs even harder, hips surging forward in the smallest of thrusts completely out of his control. “I am…hanging on by a thread here, and if you – ”

“If I what?” you taunted, the power you had over him flowing through you like an aphrodisiac, making you bold, making you reckless. “If I do this?” You rolled your hips against his again, smooth and lazy, and you could actually feel his cock throb and twitch inside you.

Deep in his chest, Din released what could only be described as an animalistic growl, and in an instant, he had one hand tucked behind the back of your knee – the one up on the back of the couch – and the other gripping the couch cushion beside your head. Arching his broad, muscular body over yours, bringing his face down to your level, he pressed your knee back toward your head and thrust so deep into you, you couldn’t help but whine at the feeling.

“Naughty girl,” he rasped.

You nodded with a smile. “You like that about me.”

He huffed a laugh into the hot, humid space between you, shaking his head at you exasperatedly. “You’re right, I do. But right now – ” He pulled back his hips until just the very tip of his cock remained inside you, brows drawn low in concentration. “ – right now, I really just need to fuck you. Can I, sweetheart? Can I just fuck you?” He thrust back in, all the way to the hilt, and you could swear your cunt was literally dripping at the intoxicating feeling. Your body was writhing beneath him, completely out of your control, and you swore that if he didn’t just fucking rail you in the next three seconds, your head might explode.  

“I swear to god, Din, if you ask me one more time – ”

His mouth sealed over yours before you could finish your sentence, and then he was finally – finally – fucking you.

With swift, firm thrusts, he drilled you into the couch cushions, all hesitance and restraint fully evaporated. The angle was perfect, the extra height and the little tilt added by the throw pillow exactly what you needed to have his cock dragging against your G-spot on every thrust, and that combined with the way his pubic bone ground against your clit had you moaning and whimpering and digging your manicured nails into his shoulders in your ecstasy. Din was like a force of nature, the way he fucked – gripping your thigh, driving your leg back toward your head, holding your eye contact, watching with deep, unflappable intensity as you trembled and shook beneath him. Every once in a while, he would drop his gaze to trace over your soft, folded stomach or to watch the hypnotic bounce of your tits, but mostly, he kept his eyes on yours, and rather than making you self-conscious, it simply drove the heat between you higher, made it more powerful.

“Thought about this,” he confessed, a whine creeping into the edge of his low voice as his thrusts sped up. “All those fucking pictures of you – doing yoga – all bent and twisted and – flexible.”

A smirk made its way onto your face, and you ran your fingers through his hair, brushing his limp curls out of his eyes. “Yeah? You like a bendy girl, Din Djarin? How’s it live up to the fantasy?”

He groaned, leaning even further forward to press his sweaty forehead into yours, driving your leg even further back toward your face. Tucking your knee up onto his shoulder, the angle of his cock inside you deepened. “Even better,” he admitted. “You’re perfect – so perfect.”

“P-Perfect?” God, that soft, spongy tip was hammering your G-spot now; you could barely comprehend any of the words he said to you, let alone string together any of your own.

“Perfect body,” he elaborated, gritting his teeth, groaning loudly. “Sweet, soft, perfect p-pussy. Perfect – hnng fuck – perfect girl.”

“Din!” you gasped. That low pool of heat in your abdomen was starting to tighten, starting to pulse. You could feel it rising inside you, threatening to take you over. It felt…massive, life-altering in a way you hadn’t known orgasms could be, but fuck, if this one wasn’t promising to do it.

“Shit, baby, can feel you,” Din groaned. “You gonna come for me? Gonna come all over my cock? Hm?”

“Y-Yes, I’m gonna – you’re gonna make me – ” You hiccupped a sob, raking your fingernails down his arms in a move that had him hissing and his hips stuttering as he thrust. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

“What do you need? What’s gonna get you there?”

“My clit – can I – ?”

He cursed, dropping a wet, sucking, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Yeah, baby, touch yourself. Make yourself come. Need to feel it.”

Wiggling one of your hands into the tight space between your bodies, the tip of your middle finger found your throbbing clit and immediately began to play. You wouldn’t need much more – just something a little more direct, a little more concentrated, a little more –

“Yes! Fuck, Din, right there!”

And then you were gone – that tight, wet heat inside you bursting, dripping down his cock and flinging you into the stars on the edge of the event horizon. The walls of your cunt pulsed around him as you rode out your high, and Din was quick to follow you into his own abyss, unable to hold back anymore the moment he had felt you start to fall apart. With one final, deep surge of his hips, you felt his cock pulse and twitch inside you, and for a brief, wild moment, you regretted the use of the condom. You would have liked to have felt the warmth of him spilling inside you.

In the aftermath, Din was tender, as you had had no doubt he would be. After the two of you had taken a moment to catch your breath, he reached a hand down to hold onto the base of the condom as he pulled out. A low, husky groan escaped him as he withdrew, and you felt a sympathetic throb deep inside you at the sound. Even now, everything he did was unthinkably hot.

A moment later, he had removed and tied off the condom and retreated to your kitchen to toss it, returning with a warm rag he had clearly dampened in your sink. He was gentle and methodical as he cleaned you, wiping between and around your swollen pussy lips with steady hands before he moved on to cleaning himself.

He would need to go now, you realized. He had likely already stayed out later than he had planned, already imposed upon the generosity of his friends long enough. His little boy was waiting for him, and as much as you wished he could stay, you knew it would be unreasonable to ask him to.

So without prompting, you pulled yourself up to sitting, and when he came back from tossing the rag back into the kitchen, you rose to your feet.

You had to admit, you felt a bit exposed, a bit awkward, but even now, as Din looked at you, you could see all of the same warmth and affection you had seen in his eyes before the sex, and that eased your nerves a bit. The first real nerves you had felt since the start of the night, you realized.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, but I have to – ”

“I know,” you interrupted, giving him a smile you weren’t certain would reach your eyes. “I understand. It’s late. You have to be getting back.”

“I do,” he agreed. Crossing to stand just in front of you, he reached out a hand and traced the backs of his fingers down your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Thank you for tonight. I had a great time with you. And not just…this.” He gestured awkwardly at the surrounding room, at his own nakedness that matched yours, at the trail of clothes between the couch and the apartment door. You giggled in spite of yourself, and he joined in, the whole mood lightening considerably as the two of you found your way back to laughing with one another.

“I had a great time with you, too,” you said, draping your arms around his neck. “I’d like to do it again sometime, if you’re interested.”

Din smiled, soft and genuine, and pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I’m definitely interested. And, ah, maybe next time I’ll call in a few favors. See if I can arrange an overnight sitter.”

You snorted, tucking your face into his neck as joy began to bubble beneath the surface of your skin, making you feel light and filling you with an impish energy in spite of the hour. “Hey, if you can swing it, I’m definitely not going to say no. I’d like to actually, I don’t know, make it to the bed next time? Maybe?”

He playfully squeezed your sides in response, and you let out a squeal. “Can you blame me?” he quipped. “Driving me insane all night.”

Offering him a tongue-touched smile, you pulled away and started collecting his clothing from around the room. “Again. You like that about me, baby,” you teased. With a wink, you dropped the bundle of clothes into his waiting arms. “Now get your cute ass back in these jeans. And go kiss your son good-night.”

A handful of minutes later, Din was fully dressed and hovering by the door to your apartment, the scent of you still lingering on his skin, his heart lighter and freer than he had felt in years. You had gone and gotten yourself a robe to cover up with while he dressed, and now you stood, hip leaning against your kitchen cabinets, arms crossed over your ample chest, watching him attempt to delay the inevitable of having to say good-bye.

He didn’t want to leave you – he hoped you knew.

He didn’t want to sleep away from his son, but he also didn’t want to leave you. An impossible conundrum, and one that didn’t bear examination seeing as this was only your first time meeting in person. It was far too early for the direction his mind was heading; he headed it off before it could travel any further down the road.

Instead, he gathered you into his arms one final time for the night, cradled your face in his hands, and planted a soft, gentle kiss on your swollen lips. “Good night, sweetheart. Can I text you in the morning?”

“You can text me anytime,” you replied with a smile. “You could even, um…call me. If you wanted. When you have some free time.”

Din drew back for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, if that’s okay with you. I’d like to call you.”

Your smile widened, and he could swear he felt a piece of his heart leave his body and lodge itself in you at the sight. “Great. Then I’ll look forward to hearing your voice again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoed, and with one final kiss, Din slipped out the door.

[nyrasproblm]

And would you go ahead and just cry? 2/3

Jinx x fem!reader | Caitlyn x sister!reader

Summary: A conversation with your sister after Cassandra's death.

Word Count: 0,7K

Warnings: mention of character death, mention of PTSD attacks, mention of murder.

note: this chapter focuses on the reader's relationship with Caitlyn, so I apologize for not having any interactions with Jinx in it. But Vi does appear!!

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

< previous chapter next chapter >

You weren't surprised. You already knew she was going to do this, but not to this extent. It's not like you didn't understand her, Cassandra was your mother too, you were also grieving, your heart was hurting too.

But all of Zaun should not have to pay for the actions of just one person.

Walking quickly through the halls of the silent mansion, you could feel the anger emanating from you. Your steps stopped in front of the large door to Caitlyn's chambers, where you knocked and didn't wait for an answer to enter. The tall figure of your older sister stood in the center of the room, staring intently at the old map she left on the floor, and Vi's pink hair could be seen behind her, sitting on the bed.

You opened your mouth to question Caitlyn, but she spoke first: "You should measure your actions, like wait for me to answer before barging into my room. I'm sure you don't want to irritate me even more."

"Ah, don't start. I already know you know." you scoffed. "I'm surprised Commander Kiramman hasn't sent me to Stillwater yet."

"You have no consideration at all, do you? Or a brain?" she turned to you, the long blue cape shifting behind her. "How could you?"

"How could I what? Have a Zaunite friend? You have one there too." you nodded to Vi, who raised an eyebrow at you.

"Is it really that little to you?" Caitlyn sighed, her voice sounding weaker. "Don't you have any respect for Mom's memory?"

"I'm grieving too, Caitlyn. For God's sake." you sighed loudly. "But I can't let it take over me, or I won't be able to think straight."

"You don't seem like you're thinking straight." she raised her voice. "Mom dies and you're going to take comfort in her killer?"

"She didn't mean to do that! She was having an attack. You said you've seen it before." you exclaimed. "And I didn't come here to talk about her. The engineers told me that you want to shut down the ventilation system there."

"This is official business, it's about the search and capture of a criminal," she replied. "You shouldn't question me, I know what I'm doing."

"Have you lost your mind?! You can't do this, do you want to end everything?" you almost screamed. "How can you say I don't care about Mom's memory if you're the one trying to destroy it?"

"No one will get hurt. My team was only ordered to capture Jinx and nothing more." she said almost automatically.

"Caitlyn, our mom thought about the quality of life of those people when she had that ventilation system created. And I felt honored when she asked me to improve her creation." you murmured. "The Grey is toxic, you can't say no one will get hurt. You'll have protective masks, the people down there have nothing."

"You shouldn't even be here, you should be thankful I didn't have you arrested for siding with and not cooperating with the search for Mom's killer." she growled.

"What are you talking about now?" you fumed.

"Were you the one who gave her that hextech gem?" she frowned even more angrily.

"Of course not! Why would I do that?" you put your hands on your hips.

"If you stayed with her after she killed our mother, I don't doubt what you would do for her before that." She lowered her voice.

You laughed in derision, shaking your head, "You gave your girlfriend who just got out of jail an enforcer position, is that any different?"

Vi got up from the bed when she was mentioned. "I was wrongly arrested, I didn't commit any crime."

"Oh, shut up, you too." you rolled your eyes, irritated. "Aren't you ashamed of wearing that uniform? Your sister is alone and scared and here you are playing police officer."

"You don't know anything about me, and I doubt you know anything about Jinx either." she walked over to you and Caitlyn. "What do you think you are? A vigilante? Doing good deeds for the poor? You don't know anything about being in need. You've been up here your whole life."

"But I know very well what decency and loyalty are. Standing firm for what you believe in." you replied. "And I see that is not your case."

Vi's face twisted into an angry expression and she threatened to advance towards you, but was stopped by Caitlyn, who turned back to you: "That's enough. Our operation is going to happen, whether you like it or not. I suggest you stay away from Zaun, I'll leave enforcers to... look after you. Be thankful you're not trapped."

You huffed and turned to leave the room.

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part two. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & john have dinner together again & you finally come to understand him a bit better. at the very least, what you think he wants. and he lets you in just once, wondering if you can be trusted after all. · word count: 2,736

You sleep fitfully that night.

It takes hours before your body manages to calm enough for you to find rest after having exhausted yourself from crying, hugging a pillow to your chest for comfort—utterly terrified that he’ll come back.

Every small noise you hear makes you shoot up in bed, staring at your now-curtained balcony doors, praying to God that he’s gone. That he hadn’t meant what he said about returning. He’d been bluffing, you’re sure.

You need for him to have not been serious.

You drag the next day during your classes.

You stay fairly to yourself, not wishing to talk to anyone. But, of course, all that any of them have on their minds, and seem able to discuss as you pass them in the halls is him. Including your best friend, Emma.

It only serves to turn your stomach. The fact that she worships the ground that his corrupting boots walk upon—that she has no idea that he’s a soulless monster. That he had so easily threatened your life before proceeding to humiliate you before stealing away your first sexual experience for his own benefit.

He’d done it to be cruel, you’re sure. To disrespect you like he’d felt you’d done toward him.

As if refusing to make eye contact while hundreds of others gazed upon him with admiration was anything like what he’d done to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around the incredible difference between who he is in front of a camera versus who he had turned into in your apartment last night… He’s a psychopath, clearly. All you can manage to return to time and again was him staring at you with red eyes, threatening your life. A threat that had rolled off his tongue as easily as asking you about the weather.

You wonder how many lives he’s taken that no one knows about, or that Vought has taken diligent measures to cover up. Wondering why they do it—why they would protect him—has a simple answer: he’s indestructible…right? A man with that much power, and with no remorse—with no weaknesses—is a terrifying thought.

You really fucking hope you never see him again. That whatever he was after he managed to get out of his system last evening. After all, what’re you compared to Queen Maeve, or a model, or fellow actress, or supe?

Thankfully, it’s a slow day at work. Usually it is, in truth. Not many people seem to have much of an appreciation for buying and collecting antiques anymore. Unless it’s Christmas time…the store is almost always dead. A fact you’re quite grateful for today as you arrange a shelf of Precious Moments figurines, avoiding the section of the store dedicated to superheros at all costs.

You ring up maybe half-a-dozen customers in not quite as many hours before heading home for the day, practically dead on your feet.

You take a long shower—the pleasant feel of the hot water nearly serves to put you to sleep—repeatedly telling yourself that you’re safe here. He’s not coming back. This is your home. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re sure he’s already forgotten about you by now, anyway.

When you emerge back into your bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants—ready to just throw something in the microwave so you can go to bed straight after—you halt in your tracks when you see a silhouette with wide shoulders and a billowing cape on the other side of your closed curtains.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re seeing things. He’s been on your mind all day and you’re exhausted on top of that, not to mention starving.

It’s not real. He’s not—

There’s a gentle knock against the glass. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in. But, then you’ll end up having to pay to replace the glass, and you’ll have to explain things to your landlord, and, well—”

You come over to the door then, frustrated tears stinging your eyes, and you flip the lock, heading in the direction of the kitchen without a word.

You know it’s useless to try and hide, or pretend like you’re not home.

He lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He says in a sing-song tune, following you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter with crossed arms and a smug look on his face.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

You open the freezer, throwing a microwavable dinner on the counter, refusing to even look at him.

And then he sighs, grabbing the meal away from you, throwing it back into the freezer.

He leans down toward you. “What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.”

You grip the edges of the counter in each of your hands, dragging your nails across it. “I never asked for any of that. I begged you not to.”

He leans in closer, grabbing your hip painfully as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He pauses. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Your chin wobbles and your stomach fills with lead.

“Now,” he starts again, sliding his gloved fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.”

You bite your lower lip to try and keep your tears at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you.”

You turn to the side, facing him, reluctantly looking up, meeting his empty blue eyes. “Thousands—no, millions—of women across the world would love nothing more than to throw themselves at you. To be at your beck and call. What the hell do you want with me?”

He gently caresses your chin between his fingers, smirking softly. “I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.”

He smacks your rear then, causing you to squeak in surprise. “Now, feed your man.”

You raid a brow at that. Your what?

You watch as he leans down, removing the milk jug from your fridge and you cross your arms. “I’m not doing all the work while you just sit there and watch.”

He looks at you with a displeased expression from your back-talk, but you don’t back down.

You remove a loaf of bread from the bread box, tossing it on the counter in front of him. “You’re in charge of making toast.”

Quite astonishingly, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks at you with a surprised look in his eyes and a gentle smile. “How many slices do you want?”

You have no idea that it gives him a sense of normalcy and home, even if just for a moment. Like you’re a mother instructing her child, giving them a small responsibility to see to at dinner time. You’re making him a part of the process, and he likes that. Appreciates it, even.

You’d begun giggling ridiculously from nerves in the middle of making spaghetti.

Homelander had looked at you with a raised brow and a sour look on his face, until you’d explained, with tears streaming down your own. “I’m cooking dinner with Homelander. You’re—”

You’d gasped for breath, doubling over. “You’re in my apartment! Making toast!”

And then you’d begun to actually cry—your exhaustion catching up to you all at once—hysterically, at that. He’d considered multiple courses of action. One: simply leaving. Two: threatening you to shut the hell up or he’d really give you something to cry about. He’d taken the third option with no fucking idea as to why.

He’d gathered you in his arms, ignored your tiny fists beating against his chest and your demands that he let you go, and held you until you calmed.

Once you did, and your breathing and heart-rate had both returned to normal—the smell of adrenaline no longer coming off of you in waves—he told you it was time to eat.

So, here you sit, slowly eating spaghetti and toast in silence with America’s poster boy.

He takes a long sip of milk, studying you.

“You’re very attractive,” he says, briefly pausing. “In an ordinary ‘girl-next-door’ sort of way, I suppose.”

Your eyes flit to his, swallowing your noodles. “T-thank you.”

He hums in response, a small smile on his lips, fingers splaying outward expectantly.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. “You’re…handsome.”

His smile fades at your unsure tone of empty platitudes. “Why don’t you like me?”

Oh God, not this again.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your toast. “You’re asking that after what you did to me?”

“You mean what I did for you? You seem to forget that I gave you an orgasm without so much as asking for anything in return.”

Bile rises in your throat. “You stole my first sexual experience away from me.”

“I think stolen is a nasty way to word it. I gifted it to you.”

You grip your fork tightly in your fist, having half-a-mind to drive it through the back of his hand. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to even imagine how such an action would end. Probably with your apartment becoming a bloody mess and your twenty-one-year-old life at an end before it ever got a chance to truly begin.

So you set the utensil down.

“You want me to like you?” You ask quietly, having no clue as to why your meaningless opinion of him should matter in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, brow twitching in response.

You fold your hands in your lap, leaning back, staring at him. “Tell me something, then. Something real and that no one else knows.”

He stays quiet, so you continue.

“Because the very opposite of that is why I dislike—no, scratch that—despise you: because you just look like an empty suit to me. Something manufactured by the media. A man unable to think for himself without a teleprompter in front of him instructing his every move.”

He grinds his teeth, his face twitching, his gloved hands now squeezed tightly into fists.

And you immediately fill with regret. Being exhausted typically left you one of three ways—all of which you’d experienced in one evening alone. Giggly and easily amused, emotional, or irritable.

The first two he’d tolerated. This one…you worry it ends with your landlord discovering your corpse the next time rent is due.

“You think they control me?” He asks with a sneer.

“I have yet to find a reason to think otherwise.”

“You think,” he says, leaning in toward you, his boot pressing against your foot beneath the table. “I’m just some puppet manufactured by Big Media? Hm?”

He stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor and you stand as well, your own toppling over in your panic as he backs you into a corner.

He must like doing this—intimidating. Invoking fear.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ve done things… Things that would horrify you. Things that even Vought doesn’t know about.”

He shrugs. “They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile. You think you’re so…different, though, don’t you?”

You brows furrow and you feel completely terrified, but quickly decide upon trying a new approach.

Aggression is getting you nowhere—it’s only begetting more on his part. And you worry how far you can push him before it ends in catastrophe.

And it’s then that you realize that he does have a weakness after all: he’s desperate for approval. Why the hell else would he be here yet again, demanding to know why he doesn’t yet have yours? Is he just that much of a narcissist, or is it something deeper?

You slowly reach up then, cupping his cheek, your other trembling hand coming to rest gently upon his chest.

Touching him in such a familiar fashion may end horribly for you, but something tells you it's well worth a try.

“What happened to you?” You ask in a whisper.

His features shift—softening—the look in his eyes that of…confusion. He even goes so far as to lean in slightly to your warm, comforting touch.

Your eyes flit between his, taken aback by his embracing your kind, physical gesture. “You haven’t always been like this, have you?”

You take a tiny step closer, bridging the gap between your bodies, since you think this attempt might just finally be getting you somewhere.

“You want me to like you? Trust you? Actually enjoy your company, and, much more, want it? Tell me something no one else knows, then. Something that will make me see past all of it.”

Your eyes trail along his suit, before meeting his own again. “Past this. I have no interest in getting to know Homelander. Because that’s not who you really are, even if you’ve forgotten it. There’s still a man in this costume. A human being.”

You watch with shock as tears gather in his eyes that continue to stare into your own, his lips pressed into a firm line as he remains silent.

You shoosh him softly. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. You may not want to believe it, but you can trust me. I haven’t even told anyone about you coming here last night, because I’m not the type to gossip. I have no interest in it.”

That’s not the reason whatsoever, but he can think whatever the hell he likes, so long as it gets him to calm down and give you a moment of vulnerability.

You brush a tear away as it slips down his cheek.

“You want to know what people have told me time and again since I was little? That they feel like they can trust me—even complete strangers. They’ll share things with me that they won’t even tell their closest friends and family. For the longest time I couldn’t understand why—what it was about me—and then I figured it out.”

You gently run your fingertips along his cheek. “I know what it feels like when someone betrays your trust repeatedly. When that one person in all the world you’re supposed to be able to rely and lean upon just…uses the things you tell them against you just to hurt you. Because they’re incapable of empathy. And I refuse to do that to others. Because I won’t be like her. I can’t. I just…I guess people can sense that about me. I hope so, at least. It’s the only explanation I have.”

You pause. “What I’m trying to get at is that you can, too: trust me. You’re safe here.”

He blinks, another tear slipping down his cheek, which you softly wipe away.

“John,” he whispers, finally speaking. “My name is John.”

You smile.

“John,” you repeat, and his chin wobbles at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“Thank you for telling me. That’s all I wanted: to know something about you. Something that comes from you.”

His face shifts then, his vulnerability quickly vanishing. “If you tell anyone—”

You slip your fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

His eyes flit between yours, debating, considering.

And then he nods and you release a breath of relief.

He leans down then, pressing his lips to yours—tenderly. A wholly different sensation to how he’d been with you last night.

It’d worked.

You pull back slightly.

“Y/N,” you whisper against his lips.

His own twitches. “I already knew that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Who was it? You said ‘her’.”

You swallow, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk about it tomorrow night?”

He likes that you want him back again. That you’re admitting it. That you’re planning on it.

He smirks. “Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, sweetheart.”

[vendetta-if]

Hi! Sorry if you've already answered this but what does each RO feel and think about MC path of either Justice or Revenge? (Heir path)

(Love to see what everyone else thinks as well)

I'm just curious to know what Rin truly thinks about MC going for revenge, because I feel like he's a bit reluctant? But also, an heir to a crime family going for justice? (Giving him over to the police after getting enough evidence to convict him) I can't really see him approve that, either.

I'm also curious of what their "preferred" heir MC is, Ruthless or Merciful, admired or feared etc.

Am definitely curious to know how that affects Ash as well. I love my little psycho MC (Definitely some Jinx vibes going on there) but then I get concerned and worried when I see Ash being like "Whoa, so cool! Never seen a body rain blood before, awesome! Whoo, murder! 🥳"

Then i'm like "Wait... No, this is bad Ash, BAD! Blood rain isn't awesome! It's horrifying! It's literally what happens in the APOCALYPSE! That's it, we're going to have a long talk when we get home about Wrong and Right!"

...then later when she gets her birthday present she'll giddily ask Luka if she can try torturing him too 😭

I feel so conflicted when Ash asks MC about what she will do with the killer... Then says what he wants, which is exactly the same, so I can't really tell him not to do the same... But it makes me so concerned every time, and guilty.

I don't want to bring my sweet, beloved firecracker down and even darker path than the one we're already on 😭

Ash and Rin prefer revenge to justice (letting the justice system do what it was supposed to do a long time ago). Probably because of the families and environment that they’re both raised and live in, they believe retaliation against such personal slight should be taken into their own hands.

However, whereas Ash’s revenge might be explosive and impulsive as they chase the quickest way to personally get their hands on the one who wronged them, Rin’s revenge is cold and calculating.

It’s full of reckoning, scheming, and pulling of strings behind the scenes and they’re content to let others to do the dirty work. They don’t really care about seeing the one who wronged them face-to-face and kill them with their own hands like Ash does.

That doesn’t make their revenge less personal though, and dare I say, sometimes, their revenge ends up being more drawn-out and torturous for the poor schmuck. The true definition of “revenge is a dish best served cold”.

And Rin does prefer Ruthless MC in the sense that they both have a more similar mindset. Of course, they’ll still love Merciful MC the same, but being with such kind MC makes them highly protective of them since they don’t want to see them get hurt or taken advantage of.

They’ll do whatever it takes to keep MC safe behind MC’s back, doing the necessary things that Merciful MC might not have the heart to do themself. Same thing with Ash as well, which is why in the Ash/MC/Rin poly, Ash and Rin will actually become really close and trusted confidantes of each other because they—almost all of the time—have the same mindset and overarching goal.

Santana and Skylar, of course, prefer justice and letting the right people dispense due punishment. Although, a more cynical Santana might not be too opposed to MC having revenge as well since they’ve seen firsthand how corrupt and sometimes incompetent the system is; they can’t really blame MC and the Morozovs to want to take matters into their own hands.

And as for your last sentence about Ash… 🥺 They’ll gladly walk with MC down a darker path. They actually feel they are already walking down that path a long time ago, especially since they accepted working as the Family’s enforcer… 😥

[vaultdwellerbarbie]

Enchanted (To Meet You)

Javi (Twisters)/Original Female Character (14.1k wc)

Summary Having been born and raised in New York, Emily jumps at the chance to join her co-worker Kate on a journey to Oklahoma. What she doesn't anticipate is how drawn she feels toward her friend, Javi.

this can honestly be read as a reader insert, there are no physical descriptors - only that the main character is a woman. it's easier for me to write with a name, so i wrote with a name, but i left no physical descriptors so it could be read as an insert. anyway, please enjoy! i've been into anthony ramos for a long time. yes this is the only post on my blog, dw about it.

Growing up in New York City, the idea of a tornado was something that Emily had never needed to worry about in a capacity other than the worry that any child feels when they first learn about something that could be dangerous to them. To her, it felt like being worried that the bermuda triangle or the Titanic were going to be much bigger issues in her life as she got older. 

That fascination, though, was something else. She enjoyed learning about weather, and she wished that she could do more to protect people when something like that did happen to them. Of course, she had no real experience with it. That didn’t mean that she didn’t care, and that was why she ended up becoming fast friends with Kate when she joined the team that she had only recently started working on.

At the time, Emily had only been working with the company for half of a year. She hadn’t really made very many meaningful friendships, and she wasn’t sure if she was going to any time soon. When Kate joined, she finally had someone her age who was a little bit left out of a conversation because they were both new, so she befriended her quickly after. 

Kate had been a bit closed off when they first met, but when she opened up about her past and what brought her to the city, Emily understood why. Kate had lost people who mattered to her, people who were the closest to her. She imagined that she felt some kind of survivors guilt, knowing that her friends had been killed by a storm that she had miraculously been spared from. All but one friend, one friend who she wasn’t really in contact with.

To Emily, it was clear that Kate was trying to shut out the past because of her guilt - because it’s the only way to protect her own mental health after what happened. It wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but it wasn’t Emily’s place to say that.

That was the real reason Emily had been she asked Kate if she could accompany her to Oklahoma. Kate was adamant that it was a bad idea. First, she was worried about going in general. When her friend Javi showed up, she got a bit clammy. She didn’t want to go with him because she had no interest in facing her past or being face first with another storm. When she finally did decide to go, her worry became about losing another friend. But Emily knew that Kate was going to need some sort of support system, and she just wasn’t sure that Javi could be that. She didn’t know him, she hadn’t met him, and he was the one bringing her back into this. In the beginning, Emily was incredibly wary of him.

When the two of them left for Oklahoma, after Kate finally agreed that she was okay with Emily coming along so long as she listened to everything she said and didn’t do anything dangerous, that was when she finally met Javi.

The first thing that she noticed about him was his freckles. Emily had been told that he looked different when Kate knew him. His hair was longer, he looked a bit messier, not as put together as he was now. She didn’t question that, but she did insist upon seeing pictures once she was face to face with him since he absolutely did not fit the description that she had been given when she first heard about him anymore.

That curiosity that she felt at first seemed to morph into something else by the time they had actually arrived in Oklahoma. Maybe it was the field of freckles that covered his cheeks, or the way that his eyes lit up when she explained to him how weather patterns in New York had worked. Or, maybe it was the way that he grew instantly worried when she admitted that she had never seen a tornado in person. She wasn’t sure what it was that started it, but she knew by the end of their first interaction she had the unmistakably familiar feeling of a crush gnawing away at her mind every time she thought about Kate’s friend. 

Even though it was nothing serious, Kate could read her like a book. She didn’t shy away from pointing it out to her after dinner that first night, but Emily brushed it aside. Even if she were to admit that she had a crush, it didn’t matter. Neither of them were staying in Oklahoma, Emily’s entire life was in New York - even though some part of her had been yearning for a change from the mundane normality of the life that she had been used to for her entire life, she wasn’t just going to uproot now. Not because of something so small as finding some guy who she had only just met more attractive than she should. 

Kate understood this, but some part of her liked the idea of seeing her two friends get together. Javi had always been alone, she always really seemed to want someone by his side but never seemed to have that. She had hoped, with how well he had done for himself since she last saw him, many he had found someone. But he had devoted his entire life to his work and, seemingly, just didn’t consider himself to be someone who had time for romance. She could understand his thoughts, but it certainly wasn’t healthy. He needed to have something stable, and chasing tornadoes wasn’t stable. But, dating someone who lived so far away probably wasn’t the stability that he needed either. She let it go after that, but she did still find it amusing the next morning when the three of them were in the car together and her good friend just couldn’t keep her eyes off of her other good friend no matter how much she tried to hide what she was doing. 

As the day progressed, Emily was almost surprised that Kate intended on sticking around for the entire week. She had promised Javi that she was going to stay, but she figured that Javi would understand if Kate couldn’t do this because of the trauma that she held closely to her chest after everything hat happened with the rest of their friends. Emily, however, wasn’t opposed to staying. Even though that day had been her first time seeing a tornado, she was excited to see more of them. It was scary, but it was thrilling. Her life had become so utterly mundane that something so thrilling felt foreign to her, but not foreign enough to scare her off. 

By the time she was meant to retire for bed, Emily couldn’t help but sit outside and watch the people enjoying the weather. While tornadoes were rather unpredictable in many cases, and caused devastation, it almost seemed like these people enjoyed them not because of what they could do - but for a number of reasons. Maybe it was human resilience, seeing something without a face, without a person to blame, that could do that much damage to their homes and their lives and spitting in its face to tell it that you weren’t afraid of it. Or, maybe it was just because they were so desensitized to tornadoes that they genuinely were no longer afraid of them - maybe it was just like a roller coaster to them; terrifying, but something that they were used to enough that it didn’t bother them anymore. She wasn’t sure which reason was more plausible. Maybe, some of these people just felt like they were in the presence of a celebrity when being around the Tornado Wrangler and were only so excited because of their proximity to him. 

Her thoughts were cut short by someone beside her, her grip on her sleeve tightening for a moment before she recognized that it was Javi.

“You’re not in New York anymore, not every guy is a threat.” He teased, moving to stand beside her. She was pretty sure he would have gone home by now, but she had seem him speaking with Kate for a moment. 

“I don’t know, your kinda mean friend seems like a threat to me.” 

“Scott? Scott won’t do anything. He’s all bark, I promise.” He responded, but there was something more to his voice. He almost sounded like he didn’t believe that, in a way. Or, there was something deeper. But, she had only been here for a day. If she were to start creating conspiracy theories, she would at least need to make it to the midpoint of the week before she allowed her mind to truly start wandering in that direction. 

“Figured you would have gone home.”

“Kinda hungry, Kate wanted to go back to her room. I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat.” 

“So nice to be your second choice, I’m honored.” Emily was clearly joking, something that Javi picked up on. Of course she would come second, he was catching up with an old friend and she just sort of tagged along because Kate said it was okay. “I’m sorry if I intruded, by the way, I kn- you invited Kate, I just wanted to come.”

“If I was upset, I wouldn’t ask you to come to dinner with me.”

“Dinner at eleven? Is this a meal time?” She questioned, but moved away from the balcony. “We should probably go before every place in the area closes.”

“Some places don’t close here, do you not have that in New York? I thought that city never sleeps.” 

“Some places don’t close there.” She replied, shrugging. It felt as though a conversation about the city’s insistence to close buildings and bathrooms past a certain hour so they could refuse their services to homeless people didn’t feel like polite conversation, so she opted to change the subject. “You ever consider moving away?”

“I’ve considered it, but what I love to do is here. You?” 

“I’ve considered it.” Emily responded, but she wasn’t sure where to go from there. She was considering it now, but she wasn’t sure where she would go. Her entire life - her history, her family, her friends, her work - was all in New York. “I kinda want to go somewhere else, I’m kind of bored of New York.”

“Seems like there’s so much to do there that you could never get bored. Here, the kids just go to the Wal-Mart parking lot for fun.” 

“Sure, there’s things. But they’re the same things I’ve always known.” She wasn’t sure where exactly she would go, or what exactly she would do. 

“Does Kate know?”

Emily got into the passenger seat of his car, not ignoring the slight flutter in her stomach when he held the door for her (really, she didn’t ignore it because she was internally scolding herself). 

“Kate doesn’t know because it’s barely an idea. She knows I wanted to experience something new, that’s why I came here. But uprooting my whole life is a big thing, and I don’t even know if it’s plausible. No need to stress out a friend when it might not even work out.” 

Javi was quiet for a moment, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. The people in the parking lot faded away, but she couldn’t help but allow her thoughts to linger on them. Did those people all know each other? Or was it just a little bit easier to make friends in a place like this?

“I think, if you want to do something now, you’re probably going to regret not even looking into it a few years from now. It’s probably best to do it… you know, when you have less years invested. What’s really holding you back?”

“Money.” She answered, maybe a bit too honestly. “I have five years experience at this job, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to find another one. I really don’t want to report the weather on a local news channel.”

“I’d offer you a job, but you seem to hate Scott.”

“I don’t- I don’t hate him, I just think he could be a little bit more… chipper.” 

“Is that how you describe yourself while watching a tornado, usually?”

“Well, since I’d never watched a tornado in person before today, I guess I wouldn’t say usually.” 

“Never?”

“I thought Kate told you.”

“That explains why you looked…” He wasn’t entirely sure how to describe it. “I wish I could feel that for the first time again.”

Emily turned to watch him as he drove. It was clear that there was something about him that she didn’t know, not just because she had only just met him. Perhaps it was because he was harboring some pain within him that she had seen within Kate, but it seemed like he had adjusted differently. Considering the fact that he hadn’t narrowly survived the storm like Kate had, she figured that it made sense that he would adjust differently. He, also, hadn’t left right after. Maybe his coping mechanism was just different, or maybe there was just something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on yet. 

For some reason, it felt like a better reason to be heading out with him in the middle of the night because she was curious about who he was than it did to admit that a good portion of her reasoning was just because she found him attractive.

Truthfully, she was curious. But, she also knew that a majority of the things she wanted to know were things it would be impolite to ask about since she had only just met him. She wanted to know more about his past with Kate, but she knew that what the two of them had been through was something she probably wasn’t close enough to hear about from him. She wanted to know what he thought about Kate’s coping skills, friend to friend about their mutual friend, but she doubted that was something he would divulge to her having only just met her. There were a lot of things that she absolutely wanted to know, but she didn’t fell equipped to ask them because she didn’t think it would be polite - because she didn’t think she would answer if she was in his shoes.

Still, she knew that he was curious about her friendship with Kate. She knew the entire reason he probably asked her to come with him to dinner was because of her friendship with Kate, because it was worlds apart from what friendship he had with her and because he was curious about what Big City Kate and her Big City Friends had been getting up to since she had left Oklahoma. She was certain he would worm those questions out of her at some point, and by the time that their dinner was done, she knew that she was right. 

Some part of her wanted to believe that was the only reason he had invited her out, and she was sure that it was a big part of it. But it became entirely clear to her that it wasn’t the only reason because it almost seemed like he genuinely did want to get to know her as a person. There was something about Javi that seemed inherently lonely, but that loneliness didn’t make any sense to her since he was surrounded by people. Was it because those people were technically under his employment? Was that something that just came along with her knowing about what he had been through? She wasn’t sure, she just knew that there was something about him that made her feel like he craved closeness with people - maybe that was part of his true motivation for bringing Kate back to Oklahoma. Maybe he was just lonely, and maybe he was just relieved that he got two people who wanted to talk to him instead of just one. 

“I thought they would’ve been out here all night.” Emily commented as he pulled back into the parking lot. He was able to park a lot closer to the staircase, even though there was still some heavy machinery and cars that were preventing him from parking as close to where she would need to be as possible. 

“They’re out here a lot, but they’re mainly just groupies. Following the Tornado Wrangler is kind of what they do, he just happened to go to bed.” Javi commented, watching as she moved to exit the car.

“Thank you, by the way. It was nice to talk to you.” She said, moving to get out of the car. “I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

“What kind of guy do you think I am not walking you to your room? This place is safer than New York, but not that safe.” 

She raised an eyebrow, but stepped out of the car with him anyway. “You get a lot of murders around these parts?”

“I just wouldn’t be so trusting of motel guests, that’s all.” 

That was a fair assessment. Motels were never given reputations as the safest places in the world, so he was probably right about worrying about her walking to her room on her own. Anyone could be lurking in the shows, especially since it was pushing two in the morning at this point. The only people outside were people like them - younger people, just having a good time - and creeps lurking around places like these hoping to find younger women having a good time. 

“Well, now I’m a little worried about you walking back to the car alone. Should I give you my pepper spray?”

There was a small smile on Javi’s face as he moved to stand next to her, but he simply shook his head. “I’d rather you keep that. Give me your number, I’ll text you when I make it home safely. Sound fair?”

“Sounds fair enough to me.”

Now, the issue with Emily in this instance was simple: She had no romantic experience beyond a few failed dates. She was constantly working, and she always had trouble meeting people in New York. There were so many people there that it could get overwhelming, and because of the vast number of people she saw every single day, any opportunity for a meet-cute was shattered by the realization that she was probably never going to run into that person again. Lost connections aside, Emily had no idea when anyone was flirting with her.

Sure Javi had asked for her phone number, but she had asked for reassurance that he was going to be safe. Was she flirting with him? Was he flirting with her? She didn’t know, she just knew that it was easy to talk to him and she found him rather easy on the eyes. As far as she knew, she was probably never going to see him in person again after this week - at least, not for a good long while. So, she had no apprehensions about just living in the moment. Maybe it was something, or maybe it was nothing, but she wasn’t going to know if she just ignored it entirely. 

Emily watched as he quickly texted her number so she could add him to her phone, but she thought nothing of it. Or, she tried to think nothing of it.

How many people had she exchanged phone numbers with in a similar manner while working in a professional setting? They were both professionals, in a sense. It was true that she was predominantly here for personal gain, that it had nothing to do with work. But, she also knew that they both worked in very similar fields and could - ultimately - help each other out. Was that actually why they were exchanging phone numbers? She wished that she had more answers to her questions, but she also wished that she didn’t have any of these questions. Having only just met Javi, it felt nonsensical to wonder if he also has a crush on her - it felt childish, and she felt far beyond worrying about something like that when she very next day she was going to put her life on the line (again) in the name of science.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Javi.” 

“Can I call you Em?”

“Only Kate calls me Em.” She replied, but she also figured that was where he got the idea. “Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll see you in the morning, Em.” 

With that, she turned to go back into her motel room. There was almost a palpable awkwardness that they both definitely wanted to break away from as quickly as possible. It felt like there was something that should have filled that gap. If it was her saying goodnight to Kate, she would have given her a small hug. If it was her saying goodbye to someone who had just brought her to a romantic dinner and not one that was simply between two friends, she would have probably leaned in to kiss him since it had gone well. 

It was neither of those things. 

That left her returning to her room, wondering if there was something more going on. But, even if there was, she wasn’t nearly awake enough to give it time to think about. She was exhausted from such a long day, and she barely found the energy to change into her pajamas. The idea of having a long thought about how she, at her big age, was having such feelings about someone who she was likely never going to see again was even more tiring than just going to bed. Even in exchanging phone numbers, she doubted that she was going to have occasion to come back here. At least, not any time soon if she wanted to keep her job. Considering the fact that her job was the thing keeping her fed, she really didn’t feel like being fired because she kept going to the midwest to fornicate with some guy. Some guy, who she must note, she’s only just met, knows barely anything about, and simply has a crush on. 

The next morning should have been better, but it was when things when awry. 

Kind of.

Emily and Kate had made their way to a local diner, the same diner that Emily had found herself sitting at with Javi the night before. But whatever personality that she had seen in him had been gone. He seemed drained, sitting there beside his friend who couldn’t hide his rude comments about Kate and some man who just screamed evil corporate manager. She couldn’t prove that there was anything inherently bad about Scott or the old man that was sitting across from him, but she was certain that she didn’t feel any good vibes radiating off of them. 

“Is he not a morning person?” Emily questioned, following Kate outside. 

“He’s… no, he’s not. But he’s not usually like that, either.” She replied, seemingly just as confused as Emily was. Whoever that man sitting across from him was, he looked familiar. Not only did he look familiar, but he screamed bad news to the both of them. She couldn’t make any outright accusations that he was a bad person, but she didn’t feel like it would be a good idea to not be, at the very least, wary. “How was your night?”

“Wh-”

“I saw you go to dinner with Javi, I’m just curious.” There was a teasing tone in her voice, which only made Emily more embarrassed than she otherwise would have been. 

“We didn’t do anything, Kate. He only invited me because you didn’t want to go and he didn’t want to go alone.” She replied, trying to brush off her almost accusation. Nothing had happened, nothing besides them exchanging numbers. Even then, Javi had only texted her to let her know that he was safe and she had only added him as a contact and liked his message. There wasn’t much more to it than that. In fact, there was nothing more to it than that.

“In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve always been so concerned with getting your sleep. You said yes because you wanted to go out with him.”

“Maybe I just wanted to look at him.”

“Same difference.” She commented, but she parted ways from Emily after a moment. Though Emily was far from unintelligent, she wasn’t nearly as gifted with storms as Kate was - nobody was as gifted with storms as Kate was. When she went somewhere, Emily knew that she was doing what she needed to do, and she knew that she was going to do it with more accuracy than any other person. Or, even any computer.

After a moment, she felt the presence of someone beside her. For a moment, she allowed warmth to fill you, because she knew from the smell of his cologne that it was Javi. But, she also noted that there was someone with him. Presumably, Scott. 

“You girls planning on pulling another stunt?”

“Only plans on my mind are a hot date with your mother.” 

“Alright, no need for that, guys.” Javi tried to be the voice of reason, but as far as Emily was concerned, the real reasonable behavior would have been keeping Scott far away from her and every other person on planet Earth since he had no interest in acting anywhere remotely normal. He was just, overall, incredibly rude. It rubbed her the wrong way, but it also rubbed her the wrong way that Javi was associating with someone like that. “We should talk about seating in the car today.” 

“What about it? 

“Well, you sat on Kate’s lap yesterday. I don’t think that was particularly safe.” 

There were only two seats in the car. The rest of the room was designated for equipment. “You saying I should stay back? Because I’m not riding with him.”

“He’s right here.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Okay, okay. No. Not what I was saying.” Javi to place a hand on her shoulder, Emily’s eyes glancing from his hand to his face. Last night, he was just as attractive as he was now. But, in the sunlight, his freckles were easier to see, and his warm expression was far from what she had seen just a few moments ago in the diner. “I spent a little bit of time making it possible for you to sit between us, I just wanted to let you know. Okay? Are you calm?”

“I’m always calm.”

“She’s lying to you.” Kate started her from behind, but she had a pep in her step. Wherever they were going, they were doing it now. 

Emily, maybe, should have had more briefing on what sitting in the middle actually entailed. She was sitting shoulder to shoulder with both Javi and Emily since there was barely room for another person. She was harnessed in, and she couldn’t reason how this was any safer than being held by Kate. But, it was the thought that counted, and he probably wouldn’t put her in a situation that was entirely unsafe.

“If you feel like you’re insecure, let one of us know. You can share a seat with one of us, right Kate?”

“Absolutely, but I think she would be safer with you, Javi. You’re probably a little bit stronger than I am, even when you’re driving.” Kate, seemingly still giddy from whatever she had figured out, saw no harm in doing her part in setting up her two friends. Emily, however, saw that as a challenge to remain in her makeshift seat the entire time. But, she would swallow her pride if she absolutely had to. 

“Thanks for that.” Javi responded, taking the comment at what it was rather than really trying to consider what Kate was actually trying to do. Meanwhile, Emily couldn’t help but wonder if this seat was secure. She wasn’t bumping too much, it was clear that ‘a few minutes’ actually meant that he put a lot more effort into this than what he had originally let on. Still, her upper half wasn’t feeling very secure, and she was certain that she needed to at the very least keep her neck secure as to not get whiplash.

“You excited to see another tornado, Em?” Kate asked, glancing over at her. Emily smiled, but it was clear that her smile was nervous. She was excited, but she was also petrified.

“Absolutely. Terrified, but excited.”

“Don’t be terrified, just tell yourself that everything is going to be okay.” She reassured her, squeezing her hand for a moment before letting her go. Emily kept her eyes on the storm, the darkening clouds that she knew were soon going to turn into something a lot more damaging than some rain. 

For most of the journey, everything was okay. Kate was back in her element, and though she had initially been distracted by the constant feeling of Javi’s shoulder pressed against hers and the fact that she could vaguely feel the muscles in his arm working when he maneuvered with the steering wheel, she quickly became distracted by seeing her friend in a way that she had never seen her before. Kate had always been excited, but she had never gotten to see her like this before. It felt like this was natural for her, like this is where she belonged. Maybe it was, maybe it was a mistake that Kate was only agreeing to come back here for a week.

But, that intrigue into her friends mind was quickly distracted by the tornado. As much as Emily wanted to trust Javi’s driving abilities, whatever the definition of insecure was, she was certain that she was feeling it right now.

The moment it became clear that they couldn’t outrun it, she wasn’t sure what to do. She was absolutely petrified, her head down, her hand gripping onto anything and everything to give her some sort of stability. They were clearly, currently, inside of the tornado that was passing them. The loud noises on the top of the truck could either be from heavy debris, or something coming off of it. But she wasn’t sure what it was, or really what was going on, until it stopped. Well, when it stopped being on top of them. 

Her eyes slowly opened, meeting first with Javi’s. In her haste to grab something for stability, she must have ended up grabbing onto his hand (that and the gear shift beside her, she was grateful, at least, that she didn’t switch it into drive). 

“You okay, for this being your second tornado and all?” 

“I think so. Are we alive?”

“We’re alive.”

“Then I’m okay, probably.” She replied, slowly letting go of his hand. She really didn’t want to. It made her feel safer to have something to hold onto, but she knew that they were no longer in harms way. If they were in harms way to begin with, since they had survived what had happened without a scratch on their bodies. “But they won’t be.”

“Who?”

“It’s going toward a town, we need to help them.” Kate interjected, and it was clear to Emily just how serious this was based upon the way that Kate had paid no mind to her friends holding hands. It had been a heat of the moment thing, it would be wrong to tease her for it - but she knew under any other circumstance, Kate would have. But this took precedent over that, this was important. Because those people might not make it, and as cute as she found him, Emily certainly didn’t like the way that Javi valued his equipment over going somewhere that needed them to be there. 

Emily wanted to believe that Javi’s decision to help the people in the town who were going to be recovering from the storm was based upon his own desire to help people in need. Some part of her wondered if it had more to do with the fact that he felt like he needed Kate’s skills to help him, the fact that he had two people sitting beside him looking at him incredulously and pressuring him into doing the right thing. But she also couldn’t help but wonder if his apprehension about helping had less to do with himself, and more to do with the man who was sitting across from him and his obnoxiously rude friend. 

Anyone investing in any company is expecting a return, it’s the fundamental of business. What return was that man getting? In an ideal world, the desire to help people would be enough - but Bruce Wayne didn’t happen to be a majority of wealthy investors in the real world, and she was almost certain that a man who brought along company like a callous person like Scott was looking for some sort of financial return. The equipment Javi had was expensive, and she had seen the way he looked at that diner. But she chose to ignore it for a time being, they had more important things to worry about than her unfounded conspiracy theories. 

By the time they had arrived in the town, it was too late to do much other than help people recover. Emily had never seen a town after a tornado first hand, she had only seen the videos of it at work, on the news, on her phone. Everything through a screen that disconnected her from it personally, and made it impersonal in a sense. 

Seeing this in person, seeing rooms from people’s houses that were once covered, that they could have raised families in, ruined up close invoked a feeling in her that she couldn’t quite put a name on. That feeling was what led her to spend almost an hour speaking with an older woman in a rain covered wooden chair in her now roofless kitchen. Though she felt remiss not out there, not cleaning up, she didn’t quite realize what help she was giving to the woman who was able to have a conversation, to speak to someone interested in her story, to distract her from the financial struggle she was going to have to endure - from the struggle she was going to have with insurance companies over the phone for the coming weeks, and how she was going to have to leave this place in which she raised her entire family for a time. Even when she came back, no matter how much the insurance companies and contractors tried to make it the same as it was, those memories were never going to fully be repaired. 

At some point, Emily parted with the older woman and joined the rest of the people outside. Cleaning up houses, giving extra care to people’s photo albums and scrapbooks, helping them to salvage any food that wasn’t sucked up into the tornado or ruined by the rain. She even had the privilege of helping rescue a kitten from the debris, something that she often tried not to think about when researching storms since the toll on animals was something that made her heart ache. She remembered the stories from the famous Joplin tornado, the pain that the cows must have endured - animals were a sore spot, so it made her heart warm to be able to help one, to be able to return the kitten to the little girl who was worried sick on the sidewalk hoping beyond all hope that her beloved pet was okay.

Being involved in something like this in person was wholly different than it was just seeing it on the television. She ended up getting a ride back to the motel early into the evening, and quickly passing out from exhaustion from having worked so hard. The only thing on her mind as she went to sleep was how different it was, and how she truly felt as though she was making more of a difference here than she ever could have from her cushy office in Manhattan. In Manhattan, she was so disconnected from it all - so desensitized - that most people saw storms like these as an outlandish nightmare. On top of that, thy tended to see the victims of them as more of a number, than a person. That wasn’t their fault, they had no face to place upon them. But she did, now. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to feel more satisfied doing something like this, volunteering to help people in the most need, than she was sitting in an office and researching weather patterns. 

When she woke up, it was to the sound of someone pounding on her door. 

Emily bolted up, thinking that someone was trying to break in - maybe this place really was unsafe? But it was in that moment that she grabbed her phone, going to dial 9-1-1 before realizing that she had missed a number of messages from Javi and, somehow, a tornado watch that had shifted into a warning. 

Moving quickly, she opened her door and put her shoes on as quickly as possible, the panicked shouts of her friend signaling her to follow him. Moving to grab a coat, he took her hand and quickly gave him the one that he was wearing. The only thing she had time to pick up was her wallet as she followed him down to his car.

“How did you sleep through that?” 

“I don’t know!” 

“I tried to get Kate, I can’t find her. We have to move, okay?”

“Alright, okay.”

Emily has no recollection of there being a storm predicted for that night, but that was just the thing: tornadoes could be unpredictable. It was the most unpredictable, the nocturnal ones that were the most difficult to see coming, that she knew were the most dangerous. It felt like there was some sort of being creeping up on them - they knew that it was there, lurking in the night, but they just weren’t sure where exactly it was until it was too late. 

Javi’s car was rather strong, so she felt safe in it. But she also knew that no amount of strength could prevent the damage an especially strong tornado could cause. She just trusted that he knew what he was doing - after all, he had been living through things like this for seemingly his entire life. Assuredly, he knew where he was going.

“Isn’t this Scott’s car?”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. Scott didn’t seem like an overly emotional person, and he also didn’t seem to care much about other people. It didn’t surprise her that he hadn’t cared enough to come along with Javi, but it almost made her wonder what he was doing instead. She was certain that, wherever he was, it was somewhere safe. But, what motivations did he have for whatever it was that he was doing. Some part of her didn’t want to know, she was certain that there was something about him that she just couldn’t trust. 

“You okay?” 

Emily’s silence must have been a worry for Javi, but she knew that he interpreted it in a way other than her thinking about what was actually on her mind. She was worried about the tornado, but in some weird way, she was calmed because she trusted that Javi wouldn’t have snatched her up in the middle of the night if he didn’t think she would be safer with him. She was certain that he believed that her silence was her worrying about the storm, when in reality it was her worrying that there was something about him that she should be privy to before she decides to trust him entirely, at this point.

“Where was Kate?”

“I was hoping she would have been with you.” 

It was odd, because Emily had no idea where Kate would have been if not with either her or Javi. Well, maybe she had some idea. Kate had seemingly been talking to Owens more than she should have been, maybe she was with him. That was the only other place where she could think of that she would have been, but even that didn’t bring her peace. What if the man was being reckless? What if he brought her on a nighttime chase? 

“Hey, we’ll find her, okay? We’ll go back to the motel when the storm ends.” He had stopped the car at this point, pulling into a place that gave you both a bit more coverage. A place that, he seemed to believe or know, was out of the path of the storm. Her eyes locked on his, taking in the way that he looked in that moment. He was tired, but he still looked more energetic than he first had when she saw him in the morning. She wanted to trust him, she wanted to not be worried that there was something lurking under the surface that she just didn’t know about, but it was difficult for her to do so without answers.

“Who was that guy this morning?”

“An investor, I told-”

“Yeah, but like… what’s he gaining? I don’t live that far from Wall Street, I know the type.” Emily felt bad asking him this. He had gotten her out of a dangerous situation, stuck his neck out for her when he had only just met her. She liked Javi, she trusted that he had no intention of doing anything to hurt her. But, she also knew the type to fall victim to financial traps. If he wanted to do what he did professionally, he needed investors, and if he happened to have someone who supported his project - maybe he just felt like he had no other choice. Having no other choice, just following orders, doesn’t absolve him of any wrongdoing. But, some part of her still doesn’t want to believe that there’s something inherently wrong with Javi. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

He was silent for a moment, regarding her in a way that told her what she already knew - she had crossed a line. But he kept his eyes on her, his soft, warm eyes that made her want to stay here forever. But she had to remind herself that she didn’t know this man. That her little crush was nothing more than that, a little crush. 

“He buys properties from people, he helps them rebuild.” There was a tone of defeat in his voice, but it also felt like that line was rehearsed. He knew that one of you was going to ask at one point, but he also seemed ashamed of it. He was doing what he was doing because he had to. He had to do this, there was no other way for him to fund his project. While the first part of his sentence seemed correct, the second part seemed entirely like course correction. The man bought the properties of victims, but it was clear it wasn’t to help the town rebuild or even to financially help the victims. He supported the chases because he wanted to be first on the scene, to make it appear that he was a caring guy. He wanted to make that money, to own the most land. He wanted to turn other people’s tragedies into a profit.

Emily wanted to say something in response, but she could see the defeat on Javi’s face. The worry in his eyes. Mainly, she wanted to help him get out of that situation, but she wasn’t sure how. Instead, she opted to change the subject.

“I like it here, you know. Helping those people today… I really wanted to make a difference tracking storms, but I was just one person in a sea of people and I really wasn’t doing anything meaningful.” She had made some progress. She mainly enjoyed leading groups of people around the place, groups of students who struggled to understand what a tornado even was. She liked helping people, that gave her a greater sense of fulfillment than any paycheck she had ever received. But it didn’t much matter, not in this economy. She had bills to pay, and she couldn’t just go without a job because she wanted to serve the greater good - how long would that last without gas money or a roof over her head? “I like most of the people I’ve met here.”

Javi’s eyes lit up for a second, because for the first time since they had started interacting, she was positive that she had actually gone through with flirting with him. He had picked up on it, noticed it. He would be naive to not realize what she was doing, and that was enough to distract him from their previous conversation. But it wasn’t enough to distract either of them from the sound of the tornado that was getting closer to them.

Emily could feel her heartbeat picking up, her eyes focusing on the mirrors in the car but knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to see anything. It was too dark, if she could see the tornado itself, that meant that she was probably not going to be seeing much after that.

Picking up on her nerves, she watched as Javi offered his hand. It was odd, really. She had only just met him, but she knew she felt more comfortable with him than she should. He made her feel safer, made her feel a whole lot less afraid of the impending storm. Reaching over, she took ahold of his hand and kept her eyes locked on the mirror. Lights in the distance were knocked out, lights that were getting closer and closer to her. At some point, she was certain that she had a tough grip on Javi’s hand, but he didn’t stop her. If it hurt him, he didn’t show it. 

By the time they were certain it was over, there was only one thing on either of their minds: finding Kate. 

Emily moved to let go of Javi’s hand, but stalled for a moment. She liked the feeling of his hand in hers, and since she was so nervous that they weren’t even going to find Kate, she almost didn’t want to let go because of that. Maybe they were both scared, maybe that was why he decided to drive with one hand so she could keep holding onto him. Javi would tell himself that he was doing it solely for Emily’s comfort, because he knew that she had to be scared since this was a whole new experience for her. But, he knew that he was doing it for himself, too. As much as he wanted to deny it, since he really hadn’t made any moves to commit to a relationship with anyone or act on any attraction he felt in quite some time, he couldn’t deny that he felt a mutual attraction toward Kate’s friend.

It was Kate herself who brought it up, Kate who put the idea into his mind when she noticed that he had been looking at her for a little too long. Kate, too, who pushed him to bring Emily to dinner with him the night before rather than going with him herself. She wasn’t sure what her motives were entirely, since they all knew that Emily didn’t live in Oklahoma, but that that didn’t mean that they couldn’t… well, they really weren’t doing anything at all. Javi saw that look in Emily’s eyes when he admitted just a piece of what his investors actually do. Once she sees it in action, once she does her own research, she’ll want nothing to do with him. Hell, she might want nothing to do with him the second they both find Kate. 

Those worries don’t stop them, though. Her fingers that had started to loosen from his hand maintaining a firm grip once she realized that he wasn’t going to force her to let go. If he had to have both hands to drive because of debris, he would, but she also needed to keep in mind that he was acclimated to this. 

When they did, eventually, find Kate Emily was left with a question. Kate left without much notice, and as much as Emily wanted to follow her, she didn’t feel that it would be right to do so. This was something that she needed to do on her own, some journey that she needed to go on to cope with what had happened. If Emily went with her, she knew she would be intruding. But, she also knew that it looked like she was choosing Javi over her, not only that, but that she condoned what it was clear to both of them that he was doing to support his business that wasn’t really helping anyone at all. While that wasn’t at all what she was doing, she knew that’s what it looked like. Still, she had no one else to go with, so she stayed. She stayed even though she would rather eat dirt than spend more time with Scott than she needed to. She didn’t really know the stormchasers that Kate had gotten acquainted with, even though she knew that they seemed to actually have a vested interest in helping people.

Perhaps, then, her path toward helping people could be a little bit different. She wasn’t naive, she was sure that there were a number of factors that drove Javi to continue supporting the businessman he worked for - the businessman who took every storm he could to cash in on people’s lives being ruined. She was also sure that he wasn’t going to change his ways because she - someone who he had only just met - insisted that ‘this isn’t you’, and ‘you need to worry about the greater good, it’s in your heart’. Emily has no idea what’s in his heart, but if she can try to convince him in some way that what he’s doing is wrong, Storm Par can’t function on the capacity that it is without him. If that’s the case, maybe the people who actually are helping won’t have so many people that need as much help as they do. Maybe her journey could simply be trying her best to encourage Javi - the only one she imagines isn’t too far gone - in the opposite direction without being too outwardly clear about her motivations. 

Sleep doesn’t come quite as easily for Emily that night as it hand earlier in the day, or even as it had the night before. Eventually, her mind stops racing and she’s able to get some sleep. 

Woken up at roughly nine in the morning to the sound of someone knocking on her door, she squints at the light coming in from the doorway as she opens it to find Javi standing before her once again.

“Starting to think you don’t own pajamas.”

“I just didn’t think about it.” She commented, glancing down at what she had fallen asleep in. She quickly removes the jacket that she had been wearing, the one that he gave her when she was rushed out of her room the night before. Handing it too him, she feels instant relief from the humidity coming from outside of her room. “Give me like twenty minutes, I’ll be ready to go to… where are we going?”

“Actually, I think you should stay back today.”

“I’d rather not.” 

“You saw a lot yesterday, you almost died twice.” 

As nice as the sentiment sounded, she knew that it wasn’t genuine. Javi, if he wasn’t so concerned with his finances and shady donors, would have been rightfully concerned that Emily had almost died and seen so much after having seen no tornadoes ever in her life before. But, she knew that there was something that he was hiding.

“I also just don’t want to force you to be around Scott.”

“Well, you’re not forcing me. I want to come.” 

“Kate has my car too, I have no where for you to sit.” 

“I’ll sit with the equipment.” 

He contemplated for a moment, but shook his head. “I don’t think that’s safe.” 

“Okay, you said I could share a seat with you.”

“Not safe-”

“You don’t trust me, I get it. But I came here for a week, I paid for a flight, I paid for this motel room, and I’m getting my money’s worth.” 

Javi desperately wanted to say no, but agreed regardless of what he wanted. If you were going to insist upon coming, you were going to insist upon coming. He couldn’t simply tell you no, it would only make you distrust him more. Some part of him wondered if it even mattered if you distrusted him. If Kate wanted nothing to do with him, what did her friend who he barely knew actually matter? But those thoughts were the rude, uncaring thoughts that he knew that the people surrounding him carried in their hearts. That fear alone, that fear of turning into them and forgetting how to use his heart, was enough to make him give her what she was asking for. 

“Fine, you can come.” 

“Thank you, Javi. Let me get dressed, and if you leave without me just know that I’ll track you down.” 

“Noted, I won’t leave without you.”

Shutting the door, Emily started getting dressed while trying to figure out what her exact game plan here was. She knew that she could really say anything to change Javi’s mind, but she also knew that she needed to do something. What he was doing was more dangerous than she felt he recognized, the people supporting him went against everything that Kate had told her that he stood for. 

Kate. Right.

Checking her phone, Emily opened it to find a missed call from Kate that was followed by a text message. Checking out of the window to ensure that Javi was waiting down stairs and out of earshot, she called her back. It only took one ring for her to pick up, instantly bombarding her with a question of if she was okay.

“I’m fine, I’m- that’s why I’m calling you, I’m worried.”

“I’m okay, Kate.” She reassured her.

“I’m worried that you- let me just give you directions to my mom’s farm, you can come here. Javi- he’s not what he used to be, he’s not who he used to be.”

“That’s why I stayed.” She admitted, setting the phone call to speaker phone as she continued to get dressed. “What he’s doing is hurting a lot more people than just himself.”

“You don’t think you can change his mind, do you?”

“With enough effort-”

“Em, you just met him.”

“It’s not about him… entirely.” It was, predominantly, not about him. There was one sliver of Emily that believed it was, because she wanted better for him, because she had recognized that she enjoyed helping people and he needed some help. And, yes, because her kind of wanted to kiss him. But, that small sliver was not the largest part of her reasoning. “If he keeps doing this, more people are going to get hurt when they don’t need to so some old man can make a buck. It’s awful, Kate. I don’t- I don’t think he’s a bad person, I think he’s just working with bad people. I think he’s the only one who may change his mind.”

“What’s your plan then?”

“Not sure, working on it.”

“Em-”

“I’m not telling you that I can fix him, I’m just saying that I think I need to try to help. If just one town suffers a little bit less because of me, I’ll be satisfied. I’ve done nothing in the last five years but silently watch things happen, I need to do this.” 

Silence was what you heard on the other line, before you heard a sigh. A sigh that you knew all too well from Kate. “I trust you, but don’t blame me if Javi is unfixable.” 

“I’ll have nobody to blame but him.”

“Okay, stay safe out there.”

“You too.” 

With that, Emily finished getting dressed before meeting Javi downstairs. Though she could feel his glare, she avoided making eye contact with Scott as she climbed into the back of the car with the equipment.

“Sure you wouldn’t rather share a seat?” Javi seemed genuinely considered, eyeing her harnessless torso. She merely shrugged, there were no massive storms predicted for the day, so she doubted that she was going to be in as much danger as she had been. 

“I’ll be okay.”

“You could always have her stay back, if you’re so concerned.”

“She’s coming with us.” Javi didn’t pay Scott’s comment much mind, and Emily did her best to ignore it as well as she found a position in the back that felt comfortable enough. She wasn’t fully sure where she were going, she just knew that she was going to be a part of it one way or another. Maybe it was a good sign toward progress that Javi had ignored Scott asking him to insist Emily stay back, or, maybe he had just already conceded his protests and didn’t want to have the same conversation with her again.

What Emily couldn’t have predicted, even though she spent the entire car ride trying to predict and plot things, was that Javi would end up driving to Kate’s farm that Emily had said that she wouldn’t accompany her at. Maybe that was why he didn’t want her to come, because he knew that the conversation between the two of them wouldn’t go well and he knew that Emily was going to be upset about it. But, as upset as she was about it, she kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t until Javi motioned for her to follow him to the car that Kate had borrowed, that she finally got out of the awkwardly silent car she had been in alone with Scott for a few moments to follow him to the other car. 

Though she wanted to consider changing her mind for a moment, Javi had done Kate a small favor. Kate, in turn, seemed to have a more understanding expression on her face of Emily’s efforts. Granted, Emily didn’t think she had done anything to change his mind, nor did Kate. She could, however, see the tiny bit of light that was still inside of him. Maybe Emily’s idea wasn’t that far-fetched, but neither of them could be too sure about that. 

Taking the passenger seat, Emily watched as Javi spoke with Scott on the phone. 

“He’s taking that car back, do you want to get lunch?”

“But what about…” She motioned upwards, the sky becoming grayer than it had been for most of the ride there. 

“We have about two hours before that, and the ride back isn’t that long. Do you want to work on an empty stomach?” 

Emily was a tad surprised. He was inviting her to lunch, he was sending Scott back specifically so they would have lunch alone. She thought about saying no, believing that might be a step too far. But she almost wanted it to be a step too far, especially as she looked at the hopeful expression in those bright eyes of his. She couldn’t deny that she found Javi attractive, she knew that from the moment she met him. But she also knew that she was supposed to leave this place, that she was supposed to go back to Manhattan, that she was supposed to be doing this to make Storm Par less of a threat to the general public because of the creepy, shadowy donors that operated behind the scenes. 

She was supposed to be responsible, not just on time - but early. But that was why she never had much luck with romance, wasn’t it? She never had time for it, never had time for the distraction of it. She knew there was a storm coming, she knew that they were going to be in a time crunch, and all of her sensibilities were telling her to say no because it was what she had been doing when it came to desire for her entire life. Instead, Emily simply smiled and agreed to go to lunch with him. It, honestly, felt a bit freeing to do what she wanted (even if for only a short amount of time) rather than what she knew was wanted of her. 

Besides, going to lunch with Javi gave her more time to talk to him. Emily had a lot of questions that weren’t being answered when she was surrounded by people that he worked with, he almost seemed like a different person when it was just the two of them. Maybe that was just the way that he was, some men did seem like entirely different people when they were around their friends. But, for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to think that was the case. Javi was easy to talk to, easy to be around. She liked speaking to him, and as much as she wanted to think logically and consider her plan, some part of her was screaming at her to just enjoy the fact that the guy she had found attractive at first glance wanted to go to lunch with her. Even if his reasoning was different from hers, it was at least nice since it was something she didn’t participate in a lot back in New York. Some part of her, as much as she wanted to deny it, really didn’t want to go back to New York.

Once they got to the small diner that they were going to eat at, Javi was quick to hold the door for her. She hadn’t even really seen him get to the door, so how he had moved that quickly while she was getting out of the car was beyond her. Still, she didn’t think about it too much. She couldn’t, since she was focused on the five seconds that he had his hand on her mid-back to guide her in to the restaurant. It was polite, but it made them look like a couple to onlookers. Even with that in mind, she couldn’t bring herself to mind. 

Sitting down across from him, they both ordered something simple before he finally started really talking to her. 

“So, you said yesterday that you were thinking about leaving the city.”

“I did say that.”

“Still thinking about it? Or did some sleep change your mind?” There was almost a hopefulness in his eyes, like he had a particular answer that he wanted her to say but wasn’t willing to push for it. He really couldn’t push for it, since they had only just met recently. 

“I’m still thinking about it, I didn’t really have time to look into… work.” She replied, honestly. 

“You seemed to put up with Scott that whole car ride so, uh- offer- offer stands.” 

“I didn’t remember there being an offer to begin with.” She replied, but she couldn’t deny the way her breath hitched. “You want me to stay?” Her voice was quiet, hopeful. She wanted him to want her to stay, but him wanting her to stay could be a bad thing. It meant a lot more than she wanted to admit, but she wasn’t sure how to deny that it would make her happy if he did. 

“I… yeah, I want you to stay.” Javi didn’t seem like he wanted to say that, but not because it wasn’t true. He did want her to stay, he wasn’t sure exactly why. He liked being around her, he found her attractive, he thought she was intelligent, and she was kind enough to not hate him after finding out some of the things about him that he wasn’t even sure why he told her. But, he also barely knew her. Asking her to uproot her entire life was insane, but he wasn’t really asking. He was leaving it on the table since she said she wanted something new, wasn’t that the kind thing to do? “I just don’t want you to miss out on doing what you want to do because of money.” 

He knew that feeling well, rejecting his own wants, desires, morals - rejecting his own heart and soul for money, because that was the one thing that kept him where he was. He didn’t want that for her, he didn’t want her to feel like she was under the thumb of some corporation where she didn’t feel like she was doing anything productive, where she really didn’t want to be, just because of money. He wanted much more for her. Plus, they were in the same boat with romance. He had waited, wanted, hoped for something. But he could never give anyone the time of day. 

Back in college, he wasn’t exactly a catch. Constantly sleeping, eating hot chips first thing in the morning like it was a normal breakfast, he was incredibly lazy. As he got older, he was less lazy. He worked hard to be where he was, but because of how hard he had to work, he didn’t have time for romance. He wasn’t sure yet if he wanted to date this girl, he barely knew her. But he knew that he felt drawn to her, and he knew that- well, he didn’t know. He wasn’t confident enough to make a move, he didn’t know if there was a point in trying to pursue someone who was just going to leave. Long distance was one thing when you’re a train or car ride away, but a plane? If she stayed, maybe he would be able to gain the confidence to try. 

“I just need to think about it, but don’t think I’m brushing you off. Okay? It’s just a big decision.” Truthfully, her mind was in the same precious position. She didn’t have the confidence to make a move, but if he did make a move, she would stay. At least, she would think about it a lot harder. Maybe extend her trip to consider her options in this situation for longer than she had at present. 

“No, I get it. It’s your whole life.” 

She hummed in agreement, taking a sip of her coffee. “You should tell me more about life around here, you know, so I can consider it a little bit better.”

It was clear that she was talking more about his life than just life in Oklahoma, and he had no issue picking up on that. Nor did he have any issue telling her about his life, his interests, his hobbies, his sort of perpetual loneliness since he was constantly on the road and didn’t really have time to be tied down by friendships or relationships. She was delighted to learn more about him, and in turn shared a pretty similar story. Well, a similar story in the sense that they were both, ultimately, rather alone. The key difference being the fact that Emily was surrounded by people, where Oklahoma was pretty quiet. She was stationary and remained lonely, but he was lonely because he wasn’t stationary. A part of her brain felt like there could be middle ground there if they wanted to continue working together, but she also had a fear of his company looming in the background.

Javi had built Storm Par, it was his baby and she couldn’t blame him for being proud of it. But, she also understood that his baby needed funding, and his funding was coming from people who were manipulating it to use other people’s suffering for their gain. There was some moral inadequacy in a person who was willing to do something like that just to keep a company afloat, but she also understood why. This, also, could be a part of how he was coping with everything that he was going through with the loss of his friends. Maybe he felt like it was the right thing, or maybe he had never really coped with it and didn’t feel much at all - let alone remorse. 

Actually getting to know him made it different, though. She didn’t feel equipped to judge him for the things that he had done, even though she couldn’t help it. Even if he had some terrible skeletons in his closet, she couldn’t help but notice the difference in the way he acted when he wasn’t around Scott and his investor versus when he was. He was calmer, more normal, and just as dorky as Kate had described to her.

Truthfully, even though he had been a bit messy in the pictures that Kate did show her (which wasn’t many, since the memories were rather painful for her), she had always thought he was cute. She never really imagined that she was ever going to be face to face with him, let alone that they were going to be sitting at a diner without the company of anyone else. Talking about their lives, about their ambitions, about their hopes and dreams and their stark lack of romance and lasting friendships besides Kate, who Emily had become friends with after Javi had left the picture. She never quite realized that they would have anything in common at all, judging by what Kate had told her about him. They did have a lot in common though, that’s what made it so easy for her to talk to him even though she had a crush that she wished she had an easier time ignoring. 

By the time that they left, they left with a closer relationship. She couldn’t ignore the slight fluttering in her stomach walking alongside him, feeling the back of his hand brush against hers for just a moment before he noticed it and moved it into his pocket. His personality was easy to mesh with, and his smile made her a little bit weak at the knees. She was a lot more confident going in to this storm, knowing that she could trust Javi even though she knew that she really couldn’t trust a single one of his friends. Since she had been in a few storms at this point, she doubted that this one was going to be any different. 

At first, it wasn’t that different. They both arrived back together, her mind lingering on the momentary touches and the look in his eyes. The way he smiled, the way that it made her heart flutter like a teenager getting asked to prom. She was almost giddy, even though she knew that they were both about to do something difficult - something incredibly dangerous. Still, she reasoned, he knew what he was doing and the rest of the team did too. She didn’t feel like she was in danger at first, she didn’t think the tornado was going to be that much of a risk. It wasn’t forecasted to be that much of a risk, so she was a lot calmer than she had been the previous days. Sure, maybe that calm was coming from her eyes continuing to linger on Javi, or the fact that his eyes continued to linger on him to. Even if that was the cause, it didn’t matter, because she did feel calmer… at first. 

But Scott was pushing harder than he maybe should have been. While Emily felt secure in the back with the equipment for a few moments, she found herself gripping onto anything she could find to keep herself from flying around. It wasn’t until everyone was screaming and worried that Javi shouted at her, insisting that she get in the front seat with him. Being a whole lot more willing to sacrifice her pride and sit on his lap than get whiplash or break her neck, she quickly obliged and climbed into the front seat. 

The belt wasn’t really built for two people, but it just barely fit over them. Just like she just barely got into the front in time. Judging by how the car jerked and the heavy machinery in the backseat flew with it, she knew that she was seconds away from having her head smashed against the wall. 

Somehow, that wasn’t the worst of it. There was no escaping this tornado, not with the vehicle flipped over. Emily’s calm was gone an an instant, but she wasn’t screaming in fear. She had only been so paralyzed with fear that she couldn’t get words out one time in her life before, but this was another one of those instances. She was barely remembering to breathe, let alone speak, or scream. She was certain that her face was coated in sweat and tears, but absolutely nothing was coming out of her throat.

The only confirmation that Javi had that she was still conscious was her strong grip on his arm, her wide eyes focused ahead as she considered all of the things that she had never gotten the chance to do. She had never gone to one of those balls that she wanted to go to as a child, in a big fancy gown with someone on her arm - granted, she had never had anyone to bring. She had never gotten a promotion beyond her yearly pay raise and being raised up from a junior employee to a regular employee with little added benefit. She had never learned what it was that made Kate want to talk to her. She’d never ridden a horse, only sat on an NYPD horse when she was in elementary school and got scolded for trying to make it move. She had never gone to Europe, constantly being too busy with school or work to even consider something like that. But, she also couldn’t help her thoughts from lingering. She had never been in an adult relationship, unless her college flings constituted as ‘adult’. She had never kissed the man who was also currently, seemingly, about to die with her. She really wanted to kiss Javi - unfortunately for her. 

Somewhat fortunately, Javi knew in that moment that he also definitely wanted to kiss her too. Whether that was a cruel fate or it was going to end up being a beautiful coincidence if they made it out, neither of them knew for sure until eventually - by some miracle - they were able to escape within an inch of their lives. 

While her and Javi insisted that it was important that they go help the people in the town who were about to be dealing with this absolute monster of a storm, Scott didn’t seem too convinced. In fact, he out right stated that he didn’t care about them. Now, she knew that is Javi agreed with him, if he was okay with what he was hearing from him, he might be too far gone. Just as he seemed to be doing the thing she feared he was going to do, he turned the car on as fast as possible and drove away. She doubted that his decision had much to do with her, but she was grateful for it regardless. Grateful, because he was freeing himself from the shackles of the people who had given her any apprehensions about him in the first place.

“Is it safe for me to have my own seat?”

“If you trust my driving.” 

“You’ve steered us well so far.” 

Emily moved over to the other seat, letting him adjust his buckle and buckling herself in. She wanted to say something, because with that realization that she really wanted to kiss him and the fact that the small apprehension she had about trusting him was now gone, she just really, really could not get the idea of kissing him out of her mind. They had almost died, and by some luck, they were alive. She knew she couldn’t take that for granted, but she also knew that right now was not the right moment. There were real people in danger, and every second mattered. Asking him to pull over or drive recklessly wasn’t a good idea, and it certainly wasn’t the idea that she could make without worrying. Plus, she still had no idea if the feeling was mutual. 

Arriving in the town itself was arriving into chaos, but the amount of people who had no idea what to do told her that they had made the right call. While these people, having lived in tornado alley for presumably at least a little bit of time, had to have experienced a natural disaster before, it was clear that they have never experienced one this strong. Emily had never experienced one this strong before either, but she knew that she couldn’t think about that right now. Not when she could see Kate, struggling to get someone out from underneath a fallen water tower. It had to have been Tyler Owens, she was certain.

Rushing out of the vehicle, Javi grabbed something that he could use to give leverage to them while Emily joined Kate in trying to get Tyler out. In the knick of time, they were able to get him out from under the water tower and into the movie theater. The theater itself, though, was old. The structure of it certainly wasn’t built to outlast this storm, but that didn’t mean there was no where to go. Splitting up, she ran to find somewhere that could lead to a basement, to no avail. Meeting up with Javi and Tyler again, she found that nobody could locate a basement. Guilt filled her more than fear, because she had helped lead people to believe that this theater was a save place to be when in reality it was no safer than being outside. At least, not much safer than being outside. 

That guilt was quickly forgotten when she realized, like the others, that Kate was not with them. Kate had mentioned very little of her past, but she had explained what she had been experimenting on to Emily a long time ago. That was what made her trust her in the first place. She wasn’t in this because she wanted to, some day, be on the television reporting the weather. She wasn’t doing this because she wanted a pay raise, or even just because she found it interesting. She was doing it because she wanted to help people, but right now, that desire to help people was going to get her killed.

Emily’s heart told her to run after her, but her mind rejected it. She needed to survive, they all did. 

Rushing back in the theater, nobody was given much time before they were all gripping onto a the seats in the theater for dear life. If she had been worried about dying before, she was petrified now. This time she wasn’t paralyzed in fear, her hands were gripping the chair as tightly as she possibly could manage, her screams being absorbed into the army of screams and the loud storm looming just outside. Chairs were being taken, more and more rows of chairs that were leaving her wondering if she was next. If it wasn’t her, what about Javi? She wasn’t even sure where he had went, she had been so hasty in grabbing onto a chair that she didn’t keep track of him. Was he still alive? Was she?

Just as she felt her death-grip beginning to loosen, the wind slowed down. She couldn’t be too sure if she was safe until she felt herself able to move her elbow. Getting up, her first instinct was to look for Javi. She had nearly died enough times without kissing that man in one day, and she certainly wasn’t going to run the risk of doing it again.

After a moment, she found him. 

As it would seem, he had the same idea that she did. The moment that they reached each other his hand was on her cheek, his thumb pressed against her chin to tilt her face towards him. She gripped onto his shirt, pulling him closer as their lips melded together. They were out of breath, soaking wet, and barely even positive that they had actually survived at this point. But the kiss was grounding, it was grounding, but it was enchanting. She was nearly mesmerized by the feeling of his lips against hers, the feeling of his warm hand pressed against her wet cheek.

For just a brief moment, she allowed herself to forget about the chaos outside, slowly pulling apart from him only to let him rest his forehead against hers. She had been through a lot, and it was a lot more of a thrill than she was even remotely used to. But even with that, she knew in her heart what the right choice was.

“I don’t know if your company is still operational, but I want to stay.” 

“I want you to stay, you don’t need to worry about- don’t worry about housing. I’ve got you, I promise I’ve got you. Just- please stay.” 

She leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth. “I’m staying, I won’t leave you.”

While she wanted to stay there kissing him forever, to continue to be close to him, she couldn’t. They both needed to find Kate, and with the help of Tyler, they found her relatively quickly. She was battered and bruised, but she was alive. She was alive, and she was smiling. With a breath of relief, Emily sent her friend a thumbs up when - even in her slightly out-of-it state - she raised an eyebrow at her holding hands with Javi. Despite all of the stress, despite all of the moving parts that still existed, Emily knew that everything was going to be okay. 

When the week was over, Emily and Kate were both at the airport, but only one of them was ready to board a flight.

“You really should be paying me for packing your stuff for you.” 

“I told you my cousin could do it, Kate.” Emily reminded her, a smile covering her face regardless. “And, I’m sorry, who was the one who insisted that it would be ‘really cool’ if I dated her friend? I’m thinking that was you.” 

“Your cousin is a shit packer, I’ll do it.” She responded, glancing back toward the car. She didn’t miss the gaze that Javi had on her friend, a warm smile covering her face. “And it is really cool, you’re good for each other.”

“I know, I really like him.” She admitted, before sending her own curious glance toward Tyler. “What about you and your cowboy? Sure you don’t want to stay with him?”

“My cowboy, give me a break.”

“He’s definitely your cowboy, and he’s coming this way! See you soon.” Emily’s voice came out in a sing-songy tone, giving her friend a final hug before getting into the car with Javi. “He’s definitely her cowboy, look at him. Like a puppy watching his owner leave. Think he’s gonna work up the courage to ask her out?”

“He’s gotta.” She watched their interaction, watched the way that it almost seemed like Tyler would give in and go without her. Thankfully, though, he didn’t. A grin covered her face as she watched them, as she finally got to see her friend recover from what she had gone through. “Attaboy.”

“So… does everyone come out of storms in a relationship? I hadn’t heard of that before this week.”

“Just the really, really cool people.” He leaned forward, her smile not fading from her lips as she closed the gap and pressed her lips against his. Javi brought his hand to rest on the back of her neck, his own lips in a smile as he kissed her making the kiss feel a bit messier than the one before. She sighed into it, no longer bothering to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling in her chest. 

Leaving New York had originally been a big risk, filled with nothing but curiosity and unresolved questions. Emily never could have imagined that it would have ended with her finally finding someone who she deeply cared about, someone who she was willing to move her entire life around for, someone who she was willing to almost die in storms with once in a while. But she did, and that’s all that really matters to her now. No moving parts, no apprehensions, the only thing she can truly bring herself to care about is the peace that she’s managed to find in situation that can be described as anything other than peaceful.

[cherllyio]

Li Jing has trapped Nüwa - A season 5 theory

Now I know, this sounds crazy, but dont worry it will all make sense when i show you my evidence for it:

Evidence number 1: How he has the power to do

Evidence number 2: How he has the right motivation to do so

Evidence number 3: Its is shown IN THE LEGO SETS

Evidence number 1: He has the power to do

First of all, Li Jings "Pagado" is weapon used to "trap" people inside of it(sort of like the calabash). He even used this in the original mytholgy against Nezha, when Nezha tried to kill him(Dont worry, i will make an analysis about them soon).

And we even see Li Jing! trap MK in the Pagado in the trailer! (Notice how MK is the only one being pulled forward, while the other are getting pushed back) (This was metioned in a breakdown here)

Second of all, we know this Pagado, is IMPORTANT, with how it placed in the direct middle of the season 5 poster. MK and the rest are even IN A PAGADO IN THIS POSTER. (picture of real life pagoda underneath)

Evidence number 2: He has the right motivation to do so

If we want to understand how Li Jing's motivations works, we first have to look at where he got his ideals from: The Celistial Realm.

Since season 4, we have all been made aware that the whole "Celistial realm system" isnt that great. The Jade Emperor being a prime example of this, as mentioned by Azure.

Azure: "But overtime it became clear for me, that The Jade Emperors only concern was kepping his subjects under his boot"

And if we actually start analyzing it further, we realize that The Celistials realms biggest flaw is that they focus too much on "Order".

Bassicaly: Everyone has their roles and needs to follow them, like how Nezha was so intense about his whole "protect the celistial realm" role. So much indeed, that it was WORTH MORE THAN HIS OWN LIFE.

So it would make sense that in this next season, we would get a direct antagonist(or even villian) who is FROM The Celistial Realm.

Because lets be real, even though MK and the rest are heroes, they dont really follow the celistial realms whole "order system".

They are so incredebly chaotic, that of course someone like Li Jing(whom seems very happy for "intrapping the chaotic", aka putting a circlet on Wukongs head) would not like our protagonists.

And with all this in mind, how would someone like Li Jing then react to Nüwa? Someone who seems to embrace the chaotic as not "something that needs to fixed", but as something that is vital for this world (a real philosophy in dualism btw).

Yea, Li Jing would not like someone like that.

Anyway last evidence:

Evidence Number 3: It is shown in the Lego sets:

The only time we have seen Nüwa in the lego sets was something called the "Celistial Pagoda"

Notice how Li Jing is IN that Lego sets, holding his Pagoda, that looks suspingly a lot like a smaller version of the big Pagado.

With all this in mind then....This is how i imagined it went down:

How Li Jing trapped Nüwa

Li Jing one day learned that the creation godess, Nüwa, was creating something called "The Harbinger of Chaos". He didnt know what it even was, but he DEFINITELY didnt like the sound of it.

Therefore, Li Jing goes to confront Nüwa, trapping her in the process, but... what about MK you might say?

Well as RV sketch theorised in their video: "What is MK", MK is acutally Broken/ not complete yet (hence why he is glitching, and also why his stone has that crack).

Therefore they also theorised that the reason that he isnt Broken/ not complete yet, is because that something happend to Nüwa while she was making him, leaving MK alone and unfinished.

He then, somehow, got brought to live, and found his way to Pigsy.

This then meaning, that if both our theories are correct, Li Jing was the one to trap Nüwa and leaving MK all alone on that mountain.

Li Jing might even have found MK's half finished stone and tried to DESTROY IT. And thinking that he finished the job, he just left it there (not knowing that MK is now the result of that).

Conclusion:

Li Jing not only ruins his own family, but also ruins other peoples(deities) families too!

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au 2

authors: well....this is happening. don't ask. we're just going with it. gotta read part one before consuming this.

don't know who's interested, so only tagging the people i know have read and would be okay with a tag!

taglist: @sayyestoheav3nn @fearlesschimera @annfg8 @zoeyybellex3 @cyberdejos2

Solana never expected to see Roman Reigns again. Not in person, at least. That up close, especially.

It was a one off. A fluke. An anomaly. Her happenstance literal run-in with quite literally the most dangerous man in their world was just one of those things she'd never forget but nothing beyond that.

She could never forget his intense gaze on her, the heat that shot through her body when he touched her, his arm holding her, protecting her almost from a man who clearly doesn't understand boundaries.

But, while she tried her best to put the weekend's unexpected happening behind her, life, or maybe fate, had another plan in motion. One she could have never expected or seen coming.

She's sorting through one of the few remaining boxes that still needs to be tagged and put out for sale when a throat clears behind her.

Putting down the iPad, Solana stands up, wiping her hands on her shorts and loads up her typical, usual smile. Turning around, she readies to greet the probable customer but falters a bit, taken back by his appearance.

Wild, red hair that's surely seen better days. Tall with an almost lanky build, he wears one of the friendliest grins she's ever seen on a person, let alone a man.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "How can I help you?"

Again, he clears his throat, pulling out a wrinkled little piece of paper that seems to have writing scribbled on it. "Yes, I'm looking for a Sol---Solana?"

She laughs at his pronunciation but proceeds to confirm her identity. "I'm Solana."

He makes a sound, slapping his hand against his forehead. "Of course, my apologies!" She giggles. His demeanor is so amenable. "Umm, yes, if you could, umm, come with me?"

At that, Solana's smile drops. "I'm sorry?"

He leans over a bit, and she naturally moves back a little. "I'm sorry." His cheeks are heating with redness. "I'm here on behalf of the Tribal Chief."

Solana goes still. "Roman?" He nods. "He's---he's here?"

When Solana mentioned Roman coming to see her, something she still can't figure out where it came from, she wasn't actually expecting him to follow through on that.

And yet....

The man continues to explain, "he would come in, but....you know."

Yes, she does know. Roman Reigns coming into her little, quaint bookstore would certainly attract an audience and attention, the last two things she wants, that she's ever wanted.

Solana nods.

She should reject it. Should try to find some excuse as to why she can't. Why she's busy. But, she's also not dumb enough to say no to this man.

You don't just say no to Roman Reigns. You can, but it's bound to not end up well. And Solana would rather not find herself on his bad side.

Pushing back her anxiety, she finds herself agreeing. "Of course." Hooking her fingers through the hoops of her denim shorts, she asks, "w-where is he?"

The man whose name she realizes she still doesn't know motions with his arm. "Ladies first."

He really does have a gentless about him that doesn't seem to make sense considering who he works for.

Solana silently and wordlessly follows him out the emergency exit in the back of the store, ignoring the fact that that's probably how he got inside in the first place, which makes little to no sense to her. How did he get by without the security system going off? But, for her own sanity, she doesn't push it too much.

This is Roman.

He gets what he wants.

And speaking of, Solana finds her stomach knotting a bit when she's outside in the alleyway behind the strip. There's three black SUV's with tinted windows lined up, but he's standing by the one in the middle. Leaning against the middle door, his arms are crossed over each other, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes she secretly wishes she could see.

Moving closer, Solana has to take in once again the magnanimity of him. Roman is such a big man, his presence alone something that's both overwhelming and strangely satisfying.

But, when she gets her wish, and he lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head, she finds that feeling in her stomach intensifying. He's raking those beautiful eyes over her entire body, from the top of her head to the sole of her feet.

And Solana is suddenly wishing she'd maybe put on a little makeup or done something more sophisticated with her hair. Not that that seems to stop this man from looking like he'd take her in the back of this alley if he could.

Before she can say anything, the man with the wild red hair is speaking again, his voice suddenly riddled with anxiety.

She gets it.

"Ms. Solana, as you requested, sir." He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and just when Solana expects him to walk away, leaving her along with the one man she probably shouldn't be left alone with, he continues to talk, offering an unexpected save. "And might I say, my Tribal Chief, she is absolutely beautiful. I mean, if I wasn't already married—" At the same time Solana looks at this strange man confused, Roman's gaze is borderline murderous. "But I am m-married, happily so, might I add. And I would never betray my Tribal Chief—"

"Sami."

"Yes, My Tribal Chief?"

"Leave." It's spoken to the man, but Roman's intense gaze is back on her. "Now."

Sami.....it fits.

"Of course," Sami clears his throat and scrambles away, getting in the SUV that's farthest from them without bothering as so much as a goodbye.

Once alone, she finds herself admitting in that same small voice, "I-I didn't think you'd actually come."

He chuckles, and it's such a beautiful sound. "I'm a man of my word, Solana." He flicks his eyes to her mouth. "I said I would see you again, didn't I?"

He did. She just wasn't counting on it.

Swallowing, Solana toys with the string of her top, unintentionally dragging Roman's attention to her cleavage that's showing more than usual. Of course. "How did you find—"

"That was easy. If I want something, I get it." She should know this, know that this man could probably have her social security number at this point if he wanted. "What are you doing tonight?"

Oh.

This is escalating. Quickly. So quickly. She should pump the breaks, should find someway to dead this now. But, she instead finds herself answering him, "n-nothing. Why?"

"You are now." Roman kicks off the SUV and instead moves toward her. Instead of backing away like she did with Sami, Solana stands still, only silently and internally panicking when he snakes his arm behind her and jerks her toward him, into him, into his body. Solid as steel. He's so big. Naturally, her hand moves to his chest, something Roman notices and smirks at. This man. "I'm fighting tonight. I want you there."

It takes her a second to think about what he's referring to, and then it hits her. WarGames is tonight. It's one of the few main events he still participates in. She hasn't attended an event in years. It's never been her setting, but instead of finding a way to tell him this, she's still limited to one to two word response.

"O-oh."

His smirk deepens as he brings his hand to her chin, thumb glossing over her skin. "I'll send a car to pick you up."

Picking up on something, she asks, partially concerned, partially flattered almost. "You-you know where I live?"

Roman's eyes continue to study her face, and she's never felt so under pressure. Like this is a test of some sort that she has no idea if she's passing or not. "I know a lot about you, Solana Miller, but there's still more I want to know." Oh my god. "Wear red."

Just how much does he know? Had he looked her up? Done research on her? Why? What would be the reason? What's so interesting about her that not only has he gone out of his way to gather information on her, but beyond that, is now seeking more info.

It just....it doesn't make sense.

Eyes shutting a bit from the overwhelming nature of this all, she finds herself asking in a breathy voice, "w-why?"

And as if she wasn't already an apprehensive mess, Solana's knees nearly give out from under her when he dips his mouth near her ear. "I like seeing you in my color." She exhales shakily and nervously, as he ghosts his lips over the shell of her ear. "Though I'd rather see you in nothing, but we'll work up to that."

That's not exactly what she was asking about, but regardless, it takes the pure will of God for her to not pass out when he finally pulls away, the lack of his touch on her body something she notices almost immediately.

Roman lifts his hand and snaps, not even a full minute later, one of his men emerging from the passenger side of the SUV to open the car door for him. "I'll see you tonight, Solana."

He can clearly see the reaction he's evoking from her and obviously finds great enjoyment in absolutely toying with her sanity. It's something that leads to her asking, "How-how do you know I'll be there?"

She never accepted. Never agreed. Never mind the fact that she's already thinking about what she owns red that could work for the event....

Roman gives her a curious look followed by another chuckle that she finds so much more attractive than she should. He answers so easily and confidently before climbing in the truck, door being shut for him,

"Because you're just as intrigued by me as I am by you."

[akirathedramaqueen]

No rest for the wicked

What often keeps my mind occupied and worried for the last couple of... weeks, or even months, maybe, is what might happen to Stolas's relationship with Octavia in the near future.

We know something bad is brewing. The trailer gave us enough information to freak out but learn nothing from it. I think though that I have found yet another foreshadowing, and I am sad I did. I was not sure if I should post it since predictions and speculations are not quite my style, but fuck it, I’ll roll with it. I want you to suffer with me <3 Besides, after yesterday's @tealvenetianmask's wonderful post about Stella and how society enables her behavior, and my rambly reblog, which delves more into Stolas's relationships with Octavia and how they are affected, I decided I need to let it out of my system.

So, you see... while I believe this screenshot is our last hope for us, the Stolitz nation—that these two dumbasses will have ANOTHER chance to talk properly...

It implies that something arguably worse than their breakup is going to happen. Something on the 'whole palace is in ice and Stolas is in immediate mortal danger' level of 'worse.' Something bad enough to make them forget all the shit they’ve gone through with their disastrous miscommunication and unite to face a common threat.

Andrealphus.

Something that would make Stolas to leave quickly and forcibly. Run for his life. Disappear, sweeping off his trail, without Octavia knowing...

And let her think he ran off with Blitzø.

Are you gonna run off with him and leave me behind? Go away, where I can't find you?

Make her run around the palace looking for him and not being able to find him. Because he isn’t there.

Daddy! Daddy... I had a dream! A really bad dream! I was looking all over the palace, and I couldn't find you anywhere! You weren't there!

And the worst part is that it would make her assume the worst: that he left her behind just for a weird red dickhead.

Why?

Because Stolas's relationship with Blitzø has caused a rift between the prince and his daughter.

Because he, unfortunately, has never told her what kind of mother Stella is, or what she has done to him. She is left to believe everything was okay until that imp came around, seduced her father, ruined her family, and wrecked her home.

Because Stolas grew distant and forgot about the important stellar event he promised to show her. Was he wrong for it? Of course not! Stella made everything to throw him off the rails completely that morning. But Octavia still has the right to be upset.

Not to mention that she’s nowhere to be found since that night in Los Angeles… Why isn’t she around? Is she resentful toward him? Is she being kept from him? Or is he keeping her at arm's length because of the assassination attempt and his deteriorating state of mind? What happened?

I can already see how Stella and Andrealphus could use all of it against Stolas, grooming Octavia and simmering her in hatred for him. Bluntly lying about true reasons Stolas fled.

Stolas kept silent about the abuse he survived, hoping to protect Octavia and let her live a perfect childhood. But instead, she won’t have a single soul to support her, since Stolas will be chased off and hated. By her. Surrounded by vultures who now prey on her, who have couped her father and forced him to break the solemn, earnest promise he made to her.

What?... No! No, no, never! I'd never do that. Never...

How fucking tragic is that?

[mochinomnoms]

A Floral Inconvenience

You came into Twisted Wonderland with nothing but the clothes on your back, a literally fiery cat, and an immune system not conditioned to handle the foreign antibodies in the air, earth, or water. It was honestly a miracle that you hadn’t caught some sort of incurable disease, probably because most diseases here required magical output to survive, like plants and water. You weren’t immune to your own feelings though, and magical disease and illnesses have a funny way of adapting themselves to their potential host. It was then that you found yourself prepared for springtime hay fever and allergies, after all pollen was pollen no matter where you were at. What was unexpected, and thus not prepared for, was the disease known as hanahaki, or the flower sickness. Long ago, there existed a family of mages that lived in a small mountain village deep within a jungle that was established by a family of mages. The family protected their village with fantastical and magical abilities, each unique and extraordinary as generation from generation grew. One of those mages, the Flower Bride, had the ability to grow a magnificent array of flora with just the wave of her hand! Flor de mayo, jacarandas, figs and vines all made their home with the Flower Bride. She had a heart so full of feelings, love for her home, family, and her beloved, of course, that her very emotions affected how dazzling those blooms were. The Flower Bride then decided that others should be able to demonstrate their love in the same beauteous display as she did: after all, who wouldn’t want their love developing into only the most lovely blooms? As such, hanahaki was born. Some see it was a blessing, a push, an opportunity for one to confront their feelings. It’s a realization that what they’re feeling is indeed true, the type of love that can only be achieved in fairytales. Others saw it as an inconvenience: after all, sometimes it just wasn’t the right time to confess your love, or they’d be coughing up petals mid-speech, kind of annoying honestly. Yet the sickness would continue until they acknowledge their feelings, the love died down, or it became a chronic illness. Officially dubbed hanahaki by researchers in the East, the disease was also referred to as the flower sickness, being twitterpated, and sometimes even the lovesick florae by the general population. The most commonly afflicted persons fit into two categories: the positively, without a doubt, enamored sort, the twitterpated or lovesick sort of folk. Or, they were the kind to bury their feelings deep deep down and just one day die. It wasn’t unique to any singular species either. It had adapted to afflict humans, beastmen, and even merfolk. Why, not even fae were immune despite their natural immunity to magical disease. Really, it shouldn’t have been any surprise that the emotionally stunted students of Night Raven College would be prime targets for their own bout of hanahaki.

An event to christen the creation of my blog! Please feel free to request or use for your own!

Requests Close 10/20/2023

Rules

Anyone can use this event and prompts on their own blog! Tag me in so I can read all your stories!

This event will be for TWST on my end, others are free to use for whatever they'd like!

All request will be up to 2000+ words, with a max of 3 characters per request.

Chose up one prompt for each character and indicate if you want romantic or platonic. You can also indicate if you want fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, etc.

No NSFW for this event (on my end at least, everyone else go nuts)

Reader will default to gender-neutral unless asked otherwise

Dialogue Prompts

“Why is your trash can full of flower petals? Are you secretly a botanist, or is there something you're not telling me?”

“So, I hear you've been coughing up daisies lately. Got any plans to enter the flower business?”

“You know you have it bad when you start sneezing petals every time your crush walks by. At least it's a colorful allergy!”

“I can't believe you're faking a cough just to get some attention. And you're using fake flowers for the petals? That's commitment!”

“I think the local florist is in love with me. Their shop is making a killing off my Hanahaki. Do you think they'll give me a discount?”

“You've got to stop sending secret admirer bouquets to yourself. The delivery guy is starting to think you have a dozen secret admirers.”

“I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.”

“I have a steady, loving partner. you on the other hand have a left hand and a sunflower cough.”

“Why'd I have to get a nose full of lilies? I'm allergic, this is so unfair.”

“You think with all the lavender on my head I could make my own syrup out of it?”

“No, I've been practicing my sleight of hand! Watch as I make a bouquet of tulips magically appear—ACK!”

“No, I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. Why would you even ask that?!”

“Here, your favorite flower! Hmm? Where'd I get them? Uh, I just found them, around…”

“I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!”

“Sooo, are you gonna apologize for puking dahlias all over my breakfast?”

“I've never heard of a flower sickness, are you talking about seasonal allergies?”

“Look, even if confessing would let me get rid of the poppies, I'd rather not. Maybe I'll just learn how to make poppy seed muffins or something.”

“Is this normal here?” “Only for the emotionally unavailable folk.” “Ah, so it is.”

“Dude, are your freckles turning into baby's breath?” “AHH!”

“Aren't lotus flowers really good for your skin? Babeeey, I'm set for life—” “NOT WHEN THEY'RE GROWING OUT OF YOUR EARS!”

“Look, I care for you and want you to get laid, but imagine all the money we'd save on tea if you kept growing chamomile from your head.”

“Blehhhg…” “You know I always knew I'd be holding your hair back as you puked your stomach out at a party, I thought it be from the alcohol though, not flowers.”

“You know, some people pay a lot of money for Hanahaki bouquets, have you considered—OW! It was just a suggestion!”

“I'm so happy that you confessed first.” “Why?” “If I had to dig out another hydrangea petal from my teeth, I was gonna lose it.”

“Man, sunflowers have got to be the worst to be puking up.” “Nah man, it's roses and their thorns! They scrap up all up your gums, my dentist bill after was ridiculous!”

🌸 a floral inconvenience masterlist 🌸

gardenias & peonies: silver x f!reader – #13

stargazer lilies: sebek zigvolt x f!reader – #5

dahlias; zinnias & cosmos: ruggie bucchi, trey clover, [separate] x gn!reader - #15, #1

teonanácatl mushrooms: jade leech x gn!reader - #18

lavender roses: floyd leech x gn!reader - #14

lavender: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader - #18

marigold: vil schoenheit, platonic!ace trappola x gn!reader - #7 & #12

blue hydrangeas: idia shroud x f!reader - #24

baby's breath & red roses: riddle rosehearts x f!reader - #14 & #19 [QUEUED]

amaryllis: lilia vanrouge x gn!reader - #1 [PENDING]

carnations: leona kingscholar x gn!reader - #18 [PENDING]

asters; purple hydrangeas: ace trappola, jamil viper [spearate] x gn!reader - #22, #24 [PENDING]

gerbera daisies: trey clover x gn!reader - #3 [PENDING]

orange poppies & water lilies: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader - #17 [PENDING]

sunflowers: jack howl x gn!reader - #8 [PENDING]

chrysanthemums: jamil viper x gn! reader - #1 [PENDING]

green roses: malleus draconia x gn!reader - #13 & #14 [PENDING]

pink poppies & cala lilies: jamil viper x gn!reader - #17 & #22 [PENDING]

sunflowers: leona kingscholar x f!reader - #8 [PENDING]

BONUS:

azaleas, cornflowers, & white roses: ace trappola, deuce space [poly] x gn! reader - #6, #3, & #22 [PENDING]

[serena-babes]

So i have this idea about the knights of hell. There can’t be a king and princess without some royal protection. So how do you think the others will react to a Hell Knight Reader? Like reader is like a commander of a group of elite knights. And they came to check up on Charlie and Lucifer! To see if the king and princess are okay after the attack on the hotel.

Brownie points if reader doesn’t smile and are serious all the time! Reader is very dangerous they can and will kill to protect their king and future queen! No romance of course, just platonic relationships. Like Charlie can see reader as an older sibling.

Royal Knight Reader x Lucifer Morningstar + Charlie Morningstar

platonic!˙ᵕ˙✰

Gender neutral!

1.5k

omg! this is too cute! i really love the whole knight idea! ⋆｡°✩ i did some research on the whole knight system and its SUPER interesting!

might make another one shot of a knight reader with my own little twist･°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°.

✧₊⁺⋆.˚꩜⊹ ࣪ ˖˚☽˚.⋆✧₊⁺⋆.˚꩜⊹ ࣪ ˖˚☽˚.⋆✧₊⁺⋆.˚꩜⊹ ࣪ ˖˚☽˚.⋆✧₊⁺⋆.˚꩜⊹ ࣪ ˖˚☽˚.⋆✧₊⁺✧₊⁺

Ever Since Lucifer and Lilith's fall from grace, protection has always been a necessary resource. Y/ns has been there since the beginning pledging allegiance to both the king, queen, and the then young princess serving them for centuries. Y/n and the rest of the knightage fought to make sure to keep hell orderly, or as orderly as hell can get. 

Y/n was much more serious compared to their fellow knights being a Grand Cross comes with its different sets of responsibilities that in their mind “allow for no error.” due to their seemingly frigid exterior outsiders would think Y/n was only following the chivalry code nothing more. But, on the contrary, Y/n did truly care for Morningstars.

This is why Y/n's heart dropped hearing about the extermination coming earlier than expected, it was always busier during this time of year. The number of casualties just from the royal guard was always a hard gap to fill after the massacre was over. But at least, the Morning Stars were spared. This time, however? Y/n wasn't sure everyone was going to come back alive, a direct attack from heaven? Some of their most skilled knights have fallen to the hands of exorcists. How in hell would Charlie ever come out alive? 

But, Y/n takes orders, and Lucifer stops her from interfering. 

“I don't understand why you won't let me do this,” Y/n exclaimed curtly, brows pulled tightly together. The confusion was evident in their tone, their body rigid like a sword. A still silence blankets the room after no response. Y/n, Moving forward through Lucifer's study smoothly dodging various piles of ducks. Continued.

“I am loyal to this family, eternally. And the one chance I am needed…you, tell me to stay?.. Why? She is your daughter. Do you want her blood to spill across the pavement? Because that is what will happen if you let this continue.” Anger started to bubble to the surface as they pointed an accusatory finger at Lucifer.

The silenced followed them 

“You must let me go I have-” Y/n pleading began

“Stop, I order you to stop,” Lucifer said weakly, looking away unsure. It was obvious he was going through his own anxiety and turmoil due to the extermination and the safety of his daughter.

“She has to do this, you.” he looked to Y/n glassy-eyed

“Cannot face heaven” he continued “I don't think anyone here really can… Charlie can hold her own. I mean if anything this could I don't know, um.. steer her away from heaven!” he said, his charismatic exterior seemingly returning to his body.

“Yes…but what do we do if she cannot handle it.” y/n said quietly, mouth pulled into a deep frown.

“Well, who better than me? King of hell! Eh! Eh!” lucifer exclaimed loudly elbowing y/n's rib cage

“This is not a time for humor,” she responded coldly. Lucifer rolled his eyes playfully.

“ Y/n I'm worried about her too, but this is something she needs to do. If I need to I will step in. You have enough to worry about with everybody else looking to you for guidance, have faith in her. So! I order you to stay here!…. Please.” Lucifer exclaimed albeit a little awkwardly since he was not used to giving many orders directly to Y/n's face

Y/n Sighed bending down to kneel “As you wish my king.” 

“Okay okay, you don't have to do all of that! I mean, come on! You're practically family.” Lucifer exclaimed in surprise. 

And so, Y/n trusting Lucifer they went back to their duties. Making preparations for extermination day preoccupied their mind most days. but silently anxiety seeped in. Truthfully, Y/n is terrified of losing Charlie and Lucifer they're the only family they've ever had. Even in life, Y/n wasn't close to anyone as much as they were with the MorningStars, which is why relief flooded Y/n's whole body hearing that both Charlie and Lucifer were safe in the end. After the hotel was rebuilt, they planned a visit to double-check. 

It was your average day at the hotel, Husk was busy cleaning the bar counter with a tattered rag as Angel Dust as well as Vaggie lounged on the couch. Angel, scrolled mindlessly through their phone while Vaggie worked on sharpening her spear. Charlie, of course, was planning new lesson plans with her father. Everything was calm. That was until three loud pounding knocks rumbled through the room.

Vaggie immediately jumped up in defense while everyone slowly turned towards the door, a menacing shadow shown through the glass. The only person who seemed excited was Charlie.

“Wait! Wait! This could be a new guest!” Charlie said excitedly jumping at the opportunity to greet the mysterious person at the door

“Okay everyone, let's remember to smile and introduce ourselves!” she smiled to everyone in the lobby, Alastor now entering the picture to observe.

Charlie swung the door wide open “Welcome to the hazbin hotel!- Y/n!!” 

Charlie embraced Y/n in a bone-crushing hug squealing and spinning both her and the reader around “I'm so excited to see you! It's been so long! Oh! Come and meet everyone!”

But just as Charlie was leading you over to the rest you spot a certain um. Eccentric! red demon

“Oh! What in the unholy hell is that..” y/n exclaimed obviously unsettled by the red demon 

Grimacing at the sight and leaning down Charlie 

“Charlie, I trust your judgment but what… what the HELL is that.” but just as y/n leaned up there he was.

“Alastor, Pleasure to be meeting you dear. Quite a pleasure indeed!” Alastor said enthusiastically jostling you around like a rag doll with his over-excited handshake.

“And who are you? The servant to the morning stars him?” he continued. Lucifer and y/n both make eye contact across the room silently agreeing about their mutual opinion of this “Radio Demon” as he likes to be called.

“More like, protector. What are you hm? The janitor? With that tattered suit, one might think you would be a stray animal who wandered in.” Y/n shot back with a frown and an unimpressed brow

“Alright! y/n! Let um let's meet everybody else! please..” Charlie said steering you away from Alastor you both looked as if you were about to be at each other throats if she didn't intervene 

“Everyone! This is y/n! They are a part of the…” she whispered over to Y/n “Is it the knightage..?”

“Yes, it's the knightage you're right.” y/n had responded quietly they were used to Charlie's struggle with certain words many nights they had to help Charlie with their spelling when she was younger.

“The Knightage! They work for me and Dad.” Everyone had gone silent at this news no one ever thought that they would be meeting the top of the food chain. Royal knights have been seen around hell usually around the time of the extermination, and almost everybody knew not to mess with them. Especially Y/n, just looking at them everyone would think they could snap someone in half without a second thought. Almost everybody there straightened their posture as Y/N's cold gaze flicked over everybody even Alastor tensed up slightly. 

“It's nice to meet everybody, Charlie is very enthusiastic about this hotel of hers, I'm glad it's made its reach to people,” Y/n responded professionally, Charlie looked over the cast of people in the room noting the uncomfortableness of everybody, She knew y/n was…Cold-looking, but she's never seen anyone react to just their presence in such a way. 

The silence lasted for what seemed like an eternity no one daring to speak up 

“So, are both your swords accurate about hitting certain deep spots, or just the one?” Angel spoke up flirtatiously everyone's heads snapping in the direction of the outburst

“What?! Just asking, geese.” replied angel

“My sword is made of iron it's manufactured to hit “deep spots” A knight does not possess two iron swords that would be .. redundant,” Y/n said calmly. Angel had side-eyed Husk when this was said triggering Husk to roll his eyes to mimic annoyance. 

“Speaking of weapons, Vaggie your spear needs to be sharpened. I suggest you sharpen it daily it'll really glide through people like butter if you do.” Y/n continued, they had met Vaggie prior to the hotel but only briefly as Charlie didn't come to the castle much anymore after Lilith left. 

“Oh! Um, thanks!” Vaggie replayed hurriedly intimidated by the tall stance Y/n possessed the heavy armor from neck to toe didn't help them look less menacing either

“By the way, thank you for protecting Charlie and everyone at the hotel.” y/n said slowly moving down to kneel “ I wasn't there myself due to my orders but I am glad to know Charlie is in good hands it brings peace of mind.” Y/n continues now fully kneeling 

Vaggie visibly flustered responded quickly “Oh! It was oh it was nothing really.” 

“Y/n?” Charlie interjected 

Y/n slowly rising to their feet, “Yes, Charlie?”

“How about you stay for dinner really.. Catch up!” Charlie said excitedly. Y/n glanced over to Lucifer who had two thumbs up. 

“Ah hell, why not.”

[fluff-n-cookies]

more dad dabi head content?! you write it so welllll🥺🥺🥺

*sighs.* It's been a long day for me so im coping by speedrunign this. thanks for requesting, I appreciate you interacting with me more so than the usual like or comment.

Author notes under the cut as well as links

Warnings: FLUFF (mostly, 90%), not proof read, SPOILERS, minor swearing.

reader has blue eyes like Dabi's (she's a toddler, 3-4 years old)

Dabi calls reader bunny, Dabi is addressed as "Daddy"

---

Dabi would be such a good dad you cannot tell me otherwise.

I mean sure, some times he forgets things, that you have school the next morning, and most days he feels like shit for not being able to rent a proper apartment to house you in; forcing you to live in this tiny cupboard of drywall and rotten carpet because he simply can’t afford better. Yeah sure, he sometimes loses his temper and tells you to go wait in your room when he has his "coworkers" over or when the bad man is on TV. But the moment he sees discomfort, prickles of tears in your eyes

He will shut the ever loving fucking up and back away.

But I think what makes him the best dad is his undying will to protect you, usually from himself. He'll lock himself in his own room or take it out on civilians and other villains before even thinking about coming to you in such a god awful state.

however it's also important to note that he'd do just as heinous things if he finds something that's more of a threat then himself. AKA, Endeavor.

(I just realized that by typing the rest of this paragraph, I'd be spoiling the plot of part three, forget I ever said anything.)

So rather than speaking of the devil we'll talk about how much of a worrywart Dabi actually is at heart.

He spends every single waking minute, and every unconscious second, to worry about you. This man lives in constant paranoia. Truly, deep down in his heart he wants to bundle you up in bubble wrap and tuck you under 10 blankets so you'll never be cold. So it's quite unfortunate that he can never quite express these feelings to you or anyone for that matter, trauma and internalized fear of emotional vulnerability and all that.

As a result, he will often express this through odd gestures of- I'm not quite sure what exactly it is.

What he'll do is he'll stare at you for prolonged periods of time, memorize your every schedule, demand to know all your friends, he emails your teachers once a week at least to ask them about your academic and social whereabouts. Everyone thinks he's a helicopter parent, no, he's a fucking psychopath.

he might as well have a GPS tracker on you. of course you barely get a say in this. he's your darling father, he's been like this since you were born, he only does it because he loves you and wants to keep you safe. he doesn't want to hurt you, even if he does, he's always apologized right after.

Dabi is also a cheapskate. the world's greatest in fact. despite the IRS never collecting his taxes he will forever never have enough money, he spends most of his "paycheck" the money stolen from innocent civilians on your college funds. He fully plans on starting a new life in Europe after All For One takes over and enrolling you into a top college so you can get your education (that is if the educational system is still intact.)

this is also why he is a Dumpster Diver and Pro Thriftier on the weekends! Everything, and I mean everything, is probably vintage and from goodwill. I have nothing else to say about that.

However, this did cause you to be heavily bullied and ostracized at school. A school in the pretty subarubs of japan where everyone's parent were either middle class or above, where you, you came from a different district, with the worn down shoes and the badly done hair, so excited to meet your new classmates. And it's quite sad really, never having many friends and all that. Especially if you aren't fully Japanese and were of color. (shout out to all my POC readers!)

and of course this wouldn’t be a proper story without Dabi being a little shit, but that's the thing about Dad Dabi, he is never a little shit in front of his child. never had been and probably never will be. It primarily roots from this need of an acutal father figure that he never had (endeavor was more so a mentor and teacher and, of course, abuser rather rthan an actual father to him).

he's nothing but serious around you, hell, he barely even talks, only ever grunts and hums in response to whatever you're saying so you know that he's listening to you. you may think he doesn't care, but he remembers it all as best he can, scribbles it down in broken grammar on the back of newspapers because he can’t afford a proper phone nor nice clean printerpaper.

Honestly, Dabi's a good father. But he's heavily insecure about it, he truly wants to lock you up in a castle like the princess you are to him and keep you there until the ends of time.

And on a simmilair note, he refuses to let you became a "bad" person.

AKA, someone who doesn't respect others, someone who cusses a lot, someone that doesn't show gratidute when given something good in their life. the reason he does it is because he refuses to see the current version of himself in you, he refuses to even think about you being tainted. Refuses. In his deluded mind that version of you can never exist lest they kill him.

He's genuinely the most strict helicopter parent to ever parent.

I'm talking monitors you 24/7, enrolls you in every after school club with even the tiniest bit of academic advancement (chess club, book club, math team), and he sits down with you every night to work through homework, he only ever buys nutritious meals for you; even though they take up the majority of his budget, and he only eats after you've eaten, drowning himself in the shitty dollar menu fast food.

Of course, he rewards you heavily for your hard work. Every day, he praises you for all that you’ve accomplished,

“Aww, good job honey.”

“A+, very nice.”

“You got a B? Oh, you thought you’d get an A? It’s okay, I know you tried. a B is good too.”

It not the most encouraging thing in the world but he wants your to know that he cares, he’ll takes you out for ice cream at the end of every month and give you an allowance to spend 10 dollars for every A on your report card. (This takes a huge bite out of his budget, but he made you a promise… he can skip out on dinner a couple nights, it’ll be fine.)

so far, you've been doing so well in school, one of the best students in your school, one of the more kind and respectful too. it's just that... you're so shy, you practically cower in fear when you have to talk to your classmates, especially after the incident. (Part 3, anyone?)

Dabi also puts this persona on for you, this persona of a kind man who is just a tad bit odd looking. he puts on the facade of being a normal civilian with a stable job and okay-ish income just so you don't worry. With you, he’s soft and trustworthy and only wants the best for you. Even if he does make you upset, he says sorry afterwards, always. He loves you, at least, that’s what he tells you.

And though it's not something he really worries about now, he dreads the day you become a teenager, then you'll know why he spends his nights out when there's criminals on the lose, who fears the day you'll understand what the news means, the day you'll take the hero's side. He just doesn't have the resources to keep you hidden from the outside world long enough for this wretched war he's fighting to be over. For the mean time, he denies you of much context on what he actually does all day, it's quite easy to do such a thing; he only ever needs to divert your attention to something shiny or pretty, like those little unicorn toys that he bought you for your second birthday, bought them brand new unlike many of the other things he's gotten you over the years. But he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up for, you’re smart, incredibly so, it’s only a matter of time until you know who he actually is,

another thing that he fears is of you growing up, caring for a small child is one thing, but he fears the day that you'll become a complex human being capable of properly understanding your emotions and failing to understanding that he truly wants the best for you.

he'll sit in the darkness of the living room some nights, you tucked neatly away on the other side of the couch, fast asleep, you never could finish a movie night without falling asleep half way through. his breathing's heavy as he runs his mind through the thousands upon thousands of theoretical fights you two'll have when you get older. How you’ll want to distance yourself, how you’ll cry yourself to sleep some nights because you think he doesn’t love you. he can't handle it, he won't stand to be your enemy.

because one day, you'll be an adult, you'll want to leave him, and you'll never come back. he can't live with that, he simply won't. he sometimes thinks about killing himself so he won't live to see the day you no longer want him in your life.

OR, OR, ALTERNATIVELY.

ProHero Dad Dabi.

I have been thinking about Dabi's ProHero Au since forever now. think teenage father Dabi but he got a girl pregnant the moment he's out of high school. (those after graduation parties be crazyyyy) and now he genuinely doesn't know how to balance his home life and his career and his daughter.

and obviously, just obviously, he CANNOT tell his father, he's already worse than Shoto, he's not gonna go lower on the scale.

so despite being the highest climbing amateur Hero in the past 7 years, he takes the longest hiatus of his life just to figure all this father shit out. his first plan was to but the girl up for adoption, and then he realized it would fail the moment the media find out, then he thought maybe he could tell one of his friends to take care of her, one of the ladies who'd fallen head over heels for him back in high school, he'd charm them, marry them, and then make em' into a house wife to take care of his mistake child.

honestly, it was a pretty good idea until he truly did start to love his child. similar to the main timeline, ProHero Dabi realizes he wants to be a better father than the one he grew up with, he decides to keep the child and raise her as his own, etc.

But in this timeline, literally everything is reversed.

Dabi's loaded with that money that the government gives him or fighting off a couple measly thugs, pair that with the brand deals he gets offered every other minute, and the trust fund his daddy gave him to get him through the "rough years" as he called it, he's practically rolling in cash.

oh God, you are going to be such a brat growing up. Life handed to you on a silver spoon is nice. I'm talking luxury clothes, top private schools, an allowance bigger than the gods. and Dabi did It all cuz' he loves you.

and the media goes HAM over a teenage ProHero that already looks like a villain having a daughter with a stranger! the press goes wild over it, but the whole time, Dabi covers your little tiny face with his hand so the flashes of the cameras don't frighten you and calmly explains that he will not be taking any questions. he holds you tight to his chest the whole time.

But you know who as the most furious? ENJI. big guy cussed out Touya for 3 hours straight all while holding you, at first the refused to give his son any right to hold you let alone raise you! In Enji's eyes, his son is the most malicious thing to ever grace this planet, he drinks, he smokes, he has ten thousand tattoos and piercings along his burn marks to match, Dabi's essentially the devil, and he's not going to let him get anywhere close to his first ever grandchild and possible child prodigy that he can turn into his puppet! Rei and Fuyumi had to step in and try and convince Enji to let Dabi have you rather than file to take full custody of you with the promise if Dabi even showed hints of negligence towards you, he can take his son to court.

okay that the end of my rant. and please let me know if you want to know more about pro hero Dabi from me.

---

For those who don't know, this post is related to these

Pt 1, Pt 2

my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box

Note: YA'LL READ MY RULES FOR REQUESTING DAMN. I GOT 2 ANONS (more than my usual of 0) AND BOTH OF THEM ASKED FOR ROMANTICS (I DO NOT WRITE ROMANTICS)

please, please, read a writers rules, please follow them, and thank you to this anon who decided to be reasonable BECAUSE MAYBE THEY READ THE RULES BEFORE DECIDING TO ASK LIKE YOU"RE SUPPOSED TO THIS HAS HAPPENED NEARLY EVERY TIME I GET AN ASK.

taglist: @blurryperrtymoonlight @harkenizalone @lostiolite @rllytriedrn @mellyxqz @cupkiki @xxnessinessiellexx @dehlieee @frog-fans-unite @rian1023 @aikobabe @double-gs @mitsuki3123 @wolvwa @red4-0

[dangermousie]

Something I really love - as I was discussing with @aysekira - is how the drama is subtly showing how messed up the polygamous wife/concubine system is.

You can see it of course vis-a-vis ML, who is a talented ambitious man held back by his birth in terms of his mother's (lack of) rank but it's even more stark with the regard of Lady Qiao's children. Her daughter has consistently been portrayed as scheming towards FL and almost caused her grievous harm but she's not a one-note villain (neither is her mother, but that's a separate topic.) She is a genuinely loving daughter to her mother and loving sister to her full blood brother - she is willing to sacrifice for them both. We don't see the brother much but he also seems a loving son to his mother and brother to his full blood sister. It is quite clear by now that in a monogamous family situation, both the siblings and the mom would have behaved decently enough and had a loving enough family unit. They are warped by the family.

And Lady Qiao - she may be awful in many ways but she is a deeply loving, sacrificing mother for her children (more than can be said for her "noble" husband.) She'd have been fine in a different situation. And she has a valid grudge - scumbag dad promised to marry her as a legitimate wife before he married FL's mom. And then to promote her before he married wife n2. And did neither. Now, his mother objected but (a) that is why you should not promise if you know you won't be able to carry it out or (b) then you should fight to fulfill what you promised. No wonder she's bitter.

That is a household full of messed up, wounded, unhappy people - there is a reason that the most functional and happy member of the family is FL who lived apart since childhood.

The only one truly happy is the dad - his first and second wives had a bad time, Lady Qiao did too, his children all suffered at one time or another but he? He's got a woman he fancies, another woman who pays for it all, and he's the boss. All those miserable people and the only beneficiary is him.

And the thing is - any family can have issues, bad spouses, golden child/scapegoat dynamics, but when you have polygamous marriages of mad power imbalance, it supercharges the potential for it all. Take ML - he is a smart, properly- behaved dude. But his mother's status is what it is, and dad doesn't like him so he's basically at the bottom of the family hierarchy. And granny doesn't like him either - she claims it's because he was not an endearing child (which btw is insane - your own biological child or grandchild doesn't have to earn your love - they should be loved just because they exist; not to mention to be able to coax adults just so in his situation would be a sign of manipulative sociopathy, not awesomeness.) But she also doesn't try hard either - she actually seems largely indifferent to all her grandkids male and female except for FL -and in a status type polygamous society where other women are in favor or have higher status and thus their children do - unless he has someone powerful (in terms of within the family) in his corner, he's screwed and that is viewed as totally acceptable - he even learns in secret!

It's pretty telling that his position in the family only starts slowly changing when the favorite granddaughter, and the most high status one, stands up for him and decides to be in his corner. I do love watching him being gradually dragged into the family and softening because FL is making some other members like him more - when the story starts there is nobody in that fam he can do more than tolerate - he views them, understandably, as a bunch of unpleasant strangers he dwells with. But by now he loves FL, he likes sixth miss and little uncle and stepmom and while he doesn't like grandma he'd protect her because she's important to FL. He is a sane person who treats others well if they treat him well, but he is not gonna care for someone just because they are blood.

One last point - I love that he finally has someone who puts him first. FL consistently aims to protect him and to take care of him (whether in the physical try to cover him during an attack way or metaphorical - working to put him on the registry - the way he can't believe it and yet she does and he watches her work on it methodically!) but also she views him as someone smart and capable and someone she should learn things like calligraphy from - for someone who's been viewed as the bottom of the totem pole to be viewed as competent (and in the traditional status subjects at that) and someone who should be teaching her is actually pretty huge. When he teaches her calligraphy, she tries to wheedle out of work and what not but even doing that is implicitly acknowledges that he has authority in the subject (because she could always be - you can't make me, who are you.)

Anyway, to get back to dad, I hope he rots!

[hesthermay]

𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

PAIRING: tech x gn!reader

SUMMARY: "when i met ana, i knew; i loved her to the point of invention." -sarah ruhl

WORDS COUNT: 1.1k

RATINGS + WARNINGS: general audiences. fluff. valentines day blurb. use of y/n. au where everyone is happy on pabu.

NOTES: bada bing bada boom this is 4 days laaaaaaaaate so sorry humblest of apologies please love it

STAR WARS MASTERLIST

“Tech?” 

“Yes?”

“...what is that?” 

Life on Pabu was breezy. Safe, protected, warm, and happy; Pabu was cut from a different cloth than the rest of the galaxy, light despite the unrelenting weight of Empirical oppression. Thus was why the Bad Batch had chosen it to hunker down and perhaps create some roots somewhere not centered around war and pain.

With the entrance of the Batch on Pabu, came the entrance of Tech into Y/N’s life. 

Peculiar, that one was, but you couldn’t help but find yourself enamored by him. Naturally, it was a slow progression between the two of you, with a friendship forming before the man even started processing the second layer of your relationship. Even with the ever so gracious help of Omega, Tech was oblivious to the little hints, the tension that organically formed, and could not fathom why you would go out of your way to do the simplest of things for him. 

Tech was more than capable of feeding himself, yet from time to time dinner was brought over with claims of having extra. He knew there was no way you, who lived alone, would have this much leftover food for one meal yet the possibility of you intentionally making this just to bring it to him was unrealistic—and even further, impossible. 

It had been Hunter who had let him in on the not so hidden fact that dinner nights with you weren’t really meant for them all. Yes, you were all of their friend—but those visits, that thought and care was for Tech. He had argued, of course, and it had been Omega this time who informed him that that was just what you do. 

“What they care for someone, they do things for them,” she explained as if it was the most obvious thing as she tinkered with some gadget. “Y/N makes dinner for all of us, but they always make your favorites, Tech. You know,” she turned, grinning at her brothers, “they always carry a cloth in case you need to clean your goggles.” With that, the girl stood from her seat, gathering her things and exiting the room, leaving behind an air of wisdom of someone much older than her. She did that often, and that was why Tech slightly believed her. 

Upon further research, Tech discovered what was known as a love language. The dots, how ever he missed them before, finally connected in his mind in the late of night. 

Rules he upheld with his brothers and Omega, he was more lax with you. Your presence when he was not in the mood to socialize was more tolerable than the rest, and he recalled all the times he had observed and factually stated that you were beautiful to himself. Beauty, though subjective in nature, was a natural occurrence in life. And Tech was not afraid of the truth, and the truth was that you had been beautiful all along, and he had thought of you slightly more special than most others he knew. 

That was what had led them to this moment. Tech had stayed up all night, working into the wee hours of morning on as many projects as he could manage. And then, waiting until he knew you would go about your usual tasks of the day, he trekked to your home and installed every creation he had produced. 

“You complained that the cover over your walkway floods your garden when it rains, so I created a funneling system to redirect the waterflow elsewhere,” he answered, pushing his goggles up his nose. “And you mentioned a draft because your front door would not close all the way, so I fixed it. And the side window that was previously cracked has been replaced with an upgraded version.” 

Your heart squeezed in your chest as you watched him rock ever so slightly on his feet, glancing at you here and there but not keeping his eyes on one thing too long, and it struck you that he must have been nervous. While Tech was known to fidget, nerves were not something he displayed signs of hardly ever, and heat gathered in your cheeks. 

The sun was warm, Tech was as handsome as ever, and your smile could not have been any larger. “An upgraded version, huh?” Your eyebrows raised playfully, voice light as you took one step closer. 

“Yes, upgraded,” he affirmed seriously before continuing, beginning to walk away. “As per your complaints, the window offered no privacy nor did it—” he cut himself off, stopping in his tracks when he noticed you hadn’t walked off with him. Instead of grumbling or giving a sarcastic quip, as he was ever inclined to do, he backtracked until your hand was grasped in his. He tugged your arm lightly, beckoning you to follow him as he resumed his explanation. “As I was saying, nor did it filter any of Pabu’s natural light in your home, so…” he trailed off until the two of you were planted right in front of the said window on the side of your house. 

It was your bedroom window to be exact, and true to his word, it was no longer cracked.

But instead of regular transparasteel, the surface had been frosted over. You could no longer see right into the room, but instead see little designs in the glass, swirls and such riddled all over the place. “I made this last night,” he offered, looking between you and the window, voice much softer than before. “The light, it will not be as harsh on you, and you now have privacy while still having the effect of an open window, which…” he exhaled ever so slightly, the weight of your hand in his heavy on his mind as he looked over at you once again, “which I know you love.” 

He was right. You had mentioned that the solution to your problem was as simple as some curtains, but then that would eliminate the natural light as a whole and that was the opposite of what you wanted. You had not had the skills or the mindset to create the solutions to these problems, though not detrimental in severity, but for some reason Tech had taken it upon himself to be the one to remedy them. 

“Tech…” you whispered, looking at him with a tender love he was not used to receiving. It made his heart rate accelerate in his chest, as he thought back to all of the acts of service you had done for not only him but his family as well.

You had loved him to the point of service, and Tech had realized that he loved you to the point of invention. 

“No need to mention it,” he whispered back, unable to fight off the blush in his cheeks as you smiled at him. “That is just what people do when they care. You taught me that.” 

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