#of course the same way the foster and adoption system is not good

[barbiegirldream]

Every single anti surrogacy post is just "god how dare you rent that inanimate womb like that fuck you" as if the entire person attached the womb has no say and is in fact a car at a rental shop

[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.

[fernslivers]

MODERN MIZU THOUGHTS

Kicking off my Hyperfixation with some silly little thoughts about modern-day Mizu!

Just a mix of headcanons and imagines, maybe I'll write some of them out into proper imagines if there's any interest! I have some spicier movie imagines already partly written!

Let me know if you like them, I definitely have MANY more thoughts--

This is my first time attempting to post my writings like this, so apologies for any errors.

(TW: canon-typical mention of SA due to Mizu's backstory)

So, of course, in the modern day, she wouldn't be as immediately ostracized the same way, but...

The closest I could think of was that her father was one of four very rich men/CEOs and her mother/baby Mizu were targeted to try to keep the "affair" quiet.

Still believes herself to be the product of SA (I know there's speculation among some fans as to whether this will be true, but since it's what she knows in the show, I'll just say that's true as far as she knows here too)

This still left her with a similar huge complex about her self image, bc she knows she has her dad's eyes, and that he got her mother killed

Went into the system after her mother’s mysterious “death”, got adopted by Eiji after she just wouldn't stop sneaking away from foster care to bother him/stare at his swords

He's still a swordsmith because people DO still do that in modern day. It just would make him even more famous/special.

The whole thing with M*k*o did happen, they divorced, she is aware that that woman is not her biological mother and they are No-Contact

Since she knows that was a maid, she still has the belief that her mother was killed for the reason listed above and still wants revenge.

I debated SO HARD about what she would go to college for. Because her two biggest passions are the sword-making, and revenge, both of which are hard to translate to modern day by themselves, much less in a combination.

(I thought about business, like maybe she wanted to take down a CEO father by taking over his company, or about law enforcement/law school, but they all felt wrong for her character.)

Because let's be honest, those four men in modern days would be involved in organized crime, so Mizu would probably just go straight for that kind of situation as well in order to tail them.

She isn't one to play by the rules of ANY organization

So, she's involved in organized crime on the down-low while going to college.

She doesn't work for anyone in particular, but she does run in shady circles and knows certain names and places. Nobody knows much about her, though.

She's definitely made enemies.

She's only in university at all because Eiji demanded she do something good with her life, and she can't stand to disappoint him so she does try somewhat hard to balance both.

I saw someone else on here say she would pursue Materials Engineering, and I think that’s probably a great option for technical sword smithing. (Sorry, I can't remember who it was, but it was NOT my suggestion.) That or something involving Metalworking in art (my fav cuz it's what I do).

She does sword training privately. She's not in any clubs on campus because, similar to in canon, she prefers a mix of them and actually does use her skills when she's "working", not just for what she considers play-sparring.

She's an older student that went back to school after her divorce.

DON'T ask her about that.

You two meet because you're both looking for a roommate halfway through a semester.

You had a nasty cheating-related breakup that culminated in you kicking your ex AND old RM out, leaving you with an apartment you couldn't pay for alone.

She used to room with Ringo, but just simply could. not. stand. Ringo’s intensely social atmosphere. He's a culinary student who is very respected in classes, and constantly inviting people over for dinner. (Edit: This was also partially someone else's!)

She noticed your ad that specified looking for someone quiet, in an off-campus place that offered a small courtyard for her training.

Perfect.

Your first thought when you meet her is “god damn.”

A tall drink of water with gorgeous eyes and a voice like crushed silk.

Haha I'm in danger

But you keep that under wraps. You tell yourself that you don't need to be rebounding with the person that just moved in.

So much for a roommate that doesn't offer any distractions, though. Her training in the yard pretty much means you get zero work done in that time unless you close the curtains.

…She is very quiet, at least. Even if she keeps odd hours with her strange "job".

However, Ringo is going to be stopping by almost every day to make sure she eats, so expect a lot of humming and a LOT of friendly questions.

Ringo is actually responsible for the two of you getting to know each other initially, because he asks questions of you that Mizu won't ask, and subtly makes sure to do it when Mizu is around to hear the answers.

She pretends to ignore you both, but can't help but tune in a bit.

He also chats a bit about Mizu, as long as it isn't anything she's told him is a secret, and ignores her glaring at him.

She stays stoic about it, but secretly she's rather flustered when you seem interested in a positive way by what Ringo blabs to you about her.

She also appreciates that you don't bug her about it when Ringo isn't around even if she kind of wishes you did

He is Very Excited that Mizu now has TWO friends! :)

Mizu acts annoyed by him, but she is secretly pleased when you seem to like him.

She would not fw you if you didn't. He's like a beloved sibling; she gets to complain about him, but she'll fight anyone else that doesn't like him.

You finally get to ACTUALLY start becoming friends when you both happen to stay on campus over a break.

You aren't on good terms with your family, so you assume you'll have the place to yourself, but...

Walking by Mizu’s room you notice that she's still here.

Her door is open for once because she also assumed you would be gone.

After staring at each other in mutual surprise, you awkwardly ask her if she wanted to maybe hang out over dinner and watch a movie or something.

She would normally have said no, but with nothing else to do over break, she chose to focus on doing homework continually (She is perpetually behind because of those Extracurricular Revenge Activities of hers), and she is just so done with it

So she awkwardly agrees

And you learn the hard way why Mizu is not allowed in the kitchen EVER.

You try, you really do, to keep that first bite in your mouth, but…

She shamefacedly asks if you're alright while you're still coughing over the garbage can, but your coughing turns to giggling.

You joke to her that you're actually glad to know she isn't perfect at everything, and she seems surprised that you admire anything about her to begin with

You're willing to start over ON YOUR OWN, but she insists that would be unfair and orders you both takeout.

Since she bought dinner, you insist that she gets to pick the movie.

She kind of wants to put on that new slasher flick that just came out on streaming, but she isn't sure what you like and you seem like such a sweet little thing.

And after nearly killing you via spices, she didn't want you to think she was a TOTAL psycho.

(She doesn't want to talk about why she even cares what you think.)

So she chose a documentary on modern sword-smithing that she knew Eiji had been interviewed for.

(This surprised you, because you were EXPECTING her to choose a horror. She just seems like the type. And maybe you were hoping for an excuse to snuggle closer…)

But this is actually really interesting, and you find yourself fascinated. You never knew about the details and craftsmanship that went into this!

She tries to sit quietly, as usual, but she just can't resist the urge to point out Eiji when he appears.

She's just too proud of her sword-father. That pride is obvious in her voice and makes her seem almost soft for once.

This makes you feel ever so slightly brave, and leads to you pausing after his section (because you don't want to talk over him), and asking all sorts of questions.

Normally she wouldn't be thrilled about this, but she can't resist questions about Eiji the way she can about herself.

Somehow this leads her to ask some minor question about your major, related to something you told Ringo, and she's startled at the jolt that runs through her when you light up, just beaming at her.

“I didn’t know you listened to any of that!”

You start excitedly explaining, but she's distracted by the strange thrumming in her chest at the way you smiled at her.

(This is not going to be a problem for her. It's NOT. )

[amultitideofdrops]

Random AU because I love alternate character origins/childhood.

Julian grew up on Cardassia, as a ward/totally not adopted child of Kelas Parmak. Let's just say that Cardassia attacked his family's passenger ship on the way back from adigeon prime or something, with Julian being a lone survivor. Tain suspects the reason why the Bashir's took their child to the planet so gets his personal doctor to check the kid- out the secrets of true genetic enhancement are too good an opportunity for the head of the Obsidian Order to pass up.

And soft hearted Kelas obviously gets attached to this soft skinned child way too quickly, and Julian whose brain is overwhelming him and doesn't understand what happened to his parents, is equally quick to cling right back. Kelas dutifully reports back that he's just a normal child, and it was likely one of his deceased parents who was augmented. When Tain decides it's best to get rid of the last bit of evidence of their unwarranted attack on a civilian ship, Kelas manages to convince him to let the doctor keep the child.

(So Tain gets some extra bonus leverage over the person he has to show weakness around, quite a win in his opinion.)

Kelas doesn't know how to interact with children, let alone a human one. So he just tries to be kind and involve Julian in all the things that interest him. Which is just what the newly genius child needs. The two bond easily, though Kelas always has to maintain the facade of this being more a mentor relationship than anything. Keeping a distance around the few Cardassian's who ever see the child. He's taken aback each time Julian gets clingy, wrapping his arms around Kelas' waist and holding on like a barnacle, or small hands gripping near possessively into his.

Julian's nearly as lonely as Kelas is on Cardassia, but they have each other.

He goes once a month to Tain's office, at first just accompanying Kelas on his check ups, but as he gets older Tain asks he makes his own visit, and they play Kotra and Kal-Toj and near a new game every week which he always wins. He tests Julian's Kardassi, and then teaches him Romulan and Vulcan, just to keep his mind sharp he says. He presses large volumes to his hands each week and asks his opinion the next one. Kelas sees Tain's knowing smile as he sees the human off at the end of each visit and despairs.

Of course Kelas still dissents. Of course he stills gets caught. And 15 year old Julian shouts and screams and fights like a vole when they come to arrest Kelas.

Garak's interrogation with the doctor goes even quicker here, unbeknownst to him that the dead stare of his eyes are promising retribution against someone else entirely.

Kelas goes to the labour camp. And Julian, after Tain is overruled by Central Command, is sent home to Earth in a hostage exchange with the Federation.

Julian gets debriefed and counselled to shit, before living with a foster family up until he applies to Starfleet Academy because he never forgot.

(He briefly considered going into Intelligence rather than medicine, as a quicker way to find out what he needed, but if he finds Kelas again he's going to take after him, not the man who locked him away)

Cue the start of DS9- which Julian couldn't apply for fast enough. His superiors are aware of his Cardassian knowledge, but not how he got it, and everyone's just generally thankful they have someone who can deal with the systems and any diplomats that come by.

And how useful for Julian, that the protege of Tain is exiled on the same station, so full of secrets and so willing to approach Julian straight away.

All this to say Julian hatches a plot to honey trap Garak and get information on where Kelas was sent to and how to free him. It's a brilliant plan really, and no his feelings aren't confused on the matter. He's staying up days to help Garak detox from the Wire because the man isn't going to die from hating the cold too much dammit. If he's enjoying the book club discussions it's because it reminds him of the same titles he discussed with Kelas. If he's entranced by the movement of grey hands, he's probably just remembering the blood on them.

Julian eventually plays his hand sometime prior to Improbable Cause, and Garak is both scared and horny, and mostly confused because my dear doctor, what makes you think I'd know where he went?

Idk how this goes for the rest of the middle, but there's some awkwardness in the dominion camp, even more awkwardness between the two trying to reconcile their feelings and their past, and of course post season Cardassia sees Julian and Kelas reunite.

And then the worst meet the parents dinner you can imagine happens.

[holy-obsession-batman]

Switching Dick and Jason order prompt

Bruce gets them at the same age, same origin story, but just the order switched.

Jason, 12, tries to steal the tires of the batmobile and gets caught by the Batman. Batman tries to bring him to child service, Jason yells about child trafficking, so instead Batman brings him to his ‘good friend’ Bruce Wayne, who agreed to take in Jason (just long enough to fix the foster system, and other lies Bruce tells himself.)

Cue Jason distrusting the rich playboy, like in canon. BUT. Without the first exemple of Robin, Bruce won’t hastily reveal him his identity to gain his trust, and certainly not allow him to become his sidekick.

so two ways it can go:

either Bruce ends up breaking and revealing his identity,

or he doesn’t and earn Jason’s trust little by little just as Bruce, and Jason kinda guess on his own that the reason Bruce disappear every night, returns at 5 (the floor creaks when he passes his room) and sleep to noon, and is covered in bruises he tells the press he got skydiving when Jason knows he never went—yeah, he’s Batman and not subtle.

In any case he just never acknowledges it and just lives in the manor with his Batdad and rolls his eyes at the unsubtle excuses. He’s Jason Wayne too, cuz when Bruce accepts that he became attached, he proposes adoption, and Jason says yes (no "I already have a dad" attached).

unlike Dick, Jason wouldn’t even have the idea to suggest he becomes a crime fighter. The only reason he did in canon is because Robin!Dick was the prototype, the proof, the inspiration the competition

and when Jason is 15 the circus happens. Bruce takes in the son of the murdered acrobats, and instead of being all alone in the big cold Manor with a British butler, Dick has Jason to stick with.

When the angry 9 ys old starts sneaking out to track his parents murderer, and Batman brings him back to the Manor, he sikes Jason on him. Jason is very unimpressed at the unsubtlety of "Young mister Wayne, you should watch your, er, brother", but he does start babysitting Dick (aka sitting on the baby whenever he tries to sneak out)

To stop Dick’s panick/temper tantrum, Jason ends up telling him that Bruce is Batman and showing him the Batcave. Dick wants in! Want to go out too! *Jason slaps him on the head* "the fuck itsy-bitsy saying?"

Batman handles the Zucco case on his own, and using Dick’s testimony the man is convicted.

Dick doesn’t let it go though, and he makes drawing of his costume! And he has a name: it’s Robin, listen Bruce!

and he successfully starts chipping at Bruce’s resolve, getting him to agree that some training would be useful for self defense, for him AND Jason of course! *cue unhappy book deprived nerd noises* and since Bruce has no idea what is a *normal* amount of self defense training, of course Dick gets him to push them to ridiculously overtrained level.

But. When Dick thinks he won. That finally Bruce is giving in. Jason puts his feet down, threatening to go Supervillain: if ever ‘Robin’ hit the streets, Batman should fear the crowbar of the ‘Tire Master’.

*cue Dick sulkily focusing on his olympic career* The Acro-Bat is biding his time.

addition with Tim & Steph to come

(Masterpost)

[hwangism143]

pillow talk

synopsis: the three times in which you sleep over at seungmin's childhood home as his friend and the one time you're something more.

pairing: non-idol!seungmin x gn!reader

genre: hurt, comfort, angt

warnings: mentions of abandonment, reader is an orphan and in foster care, swearing, food

word count: 3.3k words

now playing: you make me feel - easha

requested: by the lovely @booksndpoetry

a/n: wrote this is two days no wonder it's so bad (pls dont kill me)

"the colors of your love came so suddenly"

The first time you slept over at his childhood home was accompanied with the dull throb and apprehension of yet another new beginning.

Your one solitary bag and the pillow that was your only prized possession were the only things you had with you. Your bag hung off one shoulder and the pillow was clutched to your chest.

You found yourself wondering what Seungmin's family was like. Being a pessimist, you didn't hope for the best and braced yourself for the worst. When the door opened, warm yellow light spilled through the silhouette of a middle-aged women and temporarily blinded you.

Your posture slightly relaxed. Families with an abundance of yellow lights rarely mistreated you.

Your situation was laughable really. You weren't even a full two weeks into the Jang's care, and yet the neglect had already begin.

Stop, you told yourself, at least they were willing to take your old ass in. The Jangs' were away for a business trip and informed you last minute that their flight had been cancelled. They told you to g once she locked up left.

It wasn't that you weren't grateful to the Jangs; but the years you had spent being grateful and getting nothing in return caused you to offer a cautious thanking to their actions. They were sweet to you so far, but you didn't blame them for wanting you out of the house when you were gone.

Foster kids and newly adopted kids had a history of stealing, and while you had never done the same, the feeling of paranoia was one that you were well accustomed to.

Mrs. Kim had a kind, slightly wrinkled face and a wide smile. "Hello dear. You must be Y/N. Come in, come in. Don't stand in the cold for too long."

You could instantly feel the maternal protection that radiated from Mrs. Kim, something you felt in dots and dashed from Mrs. Jang. You knew the Jangs cared, but they didn't quite know how to care. You knew that the Kims had two kids however, an older daughter in college and a boy, sixteen and your age.

Younger you would be mentally cartwheeling in happiness at the thought of being under the care of Mrs. Kim, even if it was for a night. Older you couldn't care less.

Two years until I leave the fucking system for good.

You shifted uncomfortably as you gazed around the house. Wow. It was well decorated and definitely reflected the luxury that the Kims resided in. Everything in sight was in warm and inviting shades of color that made you feel very appreciative.

Interior design had always been a point of interest for you. You realized that there was a lot you could learn about a person from the way they designed their home.

Mrs. Kim turned to look at you. "Ah, you'll be in Seungmin's sister's room. I have told him to clean it up, so you won't have to worry about that. His father is out playing golf, but he'll be home soon too."

Mrs. Kim handed you a glass of water which you accepted with a genuine smile. You were gazing at the family portraits on the wall as you sipped quietly. The entire family looked like they were surrounded by an aura of calm, unbothered by the qualms of the world.

Oh how sweet would it be, to live like that.

"Can I- can I go change upstairs please?" you asked Mrs. Kim softly.

She looked up from the chopping board, lettuce diced evenly. "Oh, of course darling. No need to ask. As long as you're here, this house is yours."

"Seungmin!" she yelled to an unknown entity who must have been on the second floor of the house.

"Coming!" yelled back Seungmin.

The sweetness of his voice took you aback. Just one word made you crave to hear more. His voice was smooth and rich like honey, washing over you. You wondered if he had an inclination towards music, singing in particular; with a voice like that, it would be a shame if he wasn't.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs and a boy with a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants appeared in front of you and Mrs. Kim. He was cute, almost puppy like, with flappy hair and defined features. Seungmin bounded over to his mother and looked at you curiously.

"Seungmin, this is Y/N. Take her upstairs, will you?" Mrs. Kim asked.

"Okay," Seungmin replied.

You extended you hand. "Hello. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Seungmin accepted with a non-judgmental, but curious expression. Mrs. Kim visibly smiled into the large pot she was currently stirring, clearly amused at your outdated usage of language. You cringed internally, mentally cursing the British family that you were with for two years from the age of five for forcing you into greeting people this way.

"It's nice to meet you to," his warm hand grasped yours and let go with a firm shake.

"Come on," said Seungmin, cocking his head towards the stairs in front of you.

You followed his slowly, taking in the houses beauty. Somehow, everything worked with everything. This must have been artistic living.

Seungmin opened his sister's bedroom door and motioned you to go in. You gave him a small smile, if it could be called that, and shut the door. When you turned around, you were met with a lot of surprise.

When Mrs. Kim mentioned that Seungmin was cleaning up the room for you, you were prepared to face a light skimming and dusting of things. In reality though, everything was meticulously arranged and kept in it's place.

Such level of neatness was slightly terrifying.

You changed and kept your things to one side. When you came out, you went downstairs with the clear intention of trying to get a read on the enigmatic Kim Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

This was going to be a disaster.

Both you and Seungmin were quiet by nature. Albeit for different reasons, you both sat awkwardly, waiting for the other person.

Seungmin was quiet because he liked observing. He was a listener, and enjoyed hearing what others had to say rather than talking himself. He found the art of listening to be the most brilliant that there was.

You, on the other hand, were forced into being quiet to the point where you forgot what it was like to hold meaningless conversation. All your life, you had been taught that the key to a successful life in the foster system was to remain submissive and deferential.

You never even bothered to make connections with people. You had learnt the hard way that when you bounced around houses and cities, it was difficult to maintain contact with people. You had made up your mind at just the tender age of eight that making friends, hell even acquaintances, was pointless. You were just saving yourself and the other person from future heartbreak.

As a result of being alone so much, you didn't exactly know how to hold conversation with people in your age range.

"So, uh, wanna do something?" Seungmin asked.

You shrugged. "Sure."

You both sat in his basement, a bowl of popcorn in between and half drunk iced tea beside you. Seungmin was very respectful, not once brining up your living situation. He brought the drink to his lips and downed the rest (which was very little) in one go.

"Okay, um, twenty questions?" He asked.

You instantly felt discomfort rise in you. Ah, here it was. His opening to ask you intrusive questions. "I- fine," you relented.

You were ready for whatever shade he was going to throw at you. He didn't ask about your personal life apart from the usual questions (favorite color, movie, etc.) a single time. You were slowly warming up to him.

"Last question. What's something you haven't told anyone?" asked Seungmin innocently.

You snorted, "Why would I tell you that?"

Seungmin smirked, "I mean, I'm very trustworthy. Plus, it's always better to tell your secrets to a stranger rather than a person you know."

You found it strange, but conceded. It felt nice to talk to someone after so long.

"You know the pillow I brought with me, right? That's the most important thing in my life. I was found near a train station laid on top of it, covered in a blanket and a sweater. Those were taken away from me a long time ago, but the pillow was something I fought to keep."

You finished nonchalantly, suppressing a laugh at Seungmin's expression of pure shock.

"I was expecting something along the lines of breaking something fancy or something. I mean, I was going to tell you about the time I broke into my parents liquor closet but chickened out and never drank anything."

You regarded him with a guarded smile. Kim Seungmin was an enigma, but for the first time in your life, he was one which you felt an odd temptation to solve.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time you slept over at his childhood home was full of fear and anticipation that was directed towards your college entrance exams tomorrow.

Although the Jangs never formally adopted you, you had stayed with them for close to two years now. You formed an interesting bond with Seungmin: you weren't quite friends, but you understood each other on a deeper level.

Seungmin was easily the only person you would talk to. You both started engaging in combined study sessions, filled with silence interrupted only by a pen scratching against paper or a groan of frustration.

The night before, you needed to go to Seungmin's house to revise. Or rather, to confess.

You were pacing in his room as he lay on his bed. Seungmin was on his back, flipping through one of his textbooks. Finally, he let out a sigh.

"Alright. What is it?" he asked.

"I need to get the top score," you insisted. Seungmin looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Everyone does," he said matter of factly.

"No, everyone wants it, but I need it," you repeated.

Silence with Seungmin was never uncomfortable, post your initial interaction. Silence with Seungmin alleviated your tensions. This silence, however, felt pressing.

"Tell me something you have never told anyone," he asked you quietly.

The routine asking of this question had become a habit between you two now. Whenever you noticed that the other was shifty, holding something back, this was their cue to tell you what was wrong.

"I'm being selfish," you groaned, "I need to so that my name gets published somewhere, anywhere, so that my birth parents know I'm alive and find me. I'm not giving them the liberty of me searching for them. They lost that a long time ago. If they want me, it's them who need to look for me."

You plopped onto Seungmin's office chair and pointlessly spun in circles. He studied you carefully.

After a pause, he responded, "I'll be honest. You are being selfish. You want this, no, apparently need this for reasons that have nothing to do with your future studies, which is what college entrance exams are all about. But considering you situation, I believe it's completely justified."

You instantly felt at ease. This boy you only know for two years astoundingly always knew the right thing to say.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Seungmin had the house to yourself. His parents were visiting his sister, helping her settle into her new apartment. You ads Seungmin had to share his room, the other rooms stored with his sister's things that needed to be moved.

You were practically asleep in his bedroom but an uneasy churning in your stomach kept you awake. You could hear Seungmin lightly open the door and step inside.

"Wait, I'm gonna go get the air mattress," he voiced in the dark room.

You turned towards him. "No, just sleep with me."

"You sure?" He asked.

Seungmin knew about your hesitancy towards forming attachments and committing. You hummed in affirmation, knowing that he would get little to no sleep on the air mattress and wouldn't let you sleep on it either.

He slid in beside you, his face facing yours. You both just looked into each other's eyes until you broke away, turning to the other side. Seungmin felt a part of his heart chip away for reasons he couldn't really identify.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You felt bile work it's way up your throat and knew you wouldn't be able to suppress it. Carefully getting out of bed to make sure Seungmin didn't wake up, you made your way to the bathroom.

Routinely swallowing your vomit, you got to the bathroom and without even switching on it's lights, heaved out the contents of your stomach as quietly as possible.

Or so you thought. A drowsy Seungmin materialized at the doorway, turning on the light and watching you in concern. You flushed the toilet and violently splashed your face with water.

"Being half asleep is a very good look on you," he mumbled dryly.

"Likewise," you panted, an apologetic expression on your face.

You hated physical touch. Seungmin knew you hated physical touch. But when you reached over to lightly squeezed his hand as an apology, Seungmin felt a similar constriction in his chest.

To Kim Seungmin, you were a mystery he hadn't quiet solved, but he was still, willing to do anything for you, and the unfamiliarity of such a feeling scared him beyond belief.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The third time you slept over at his childhood home was full of nostalgia and memories.

You both were twenty two, finishing up your undergraduates, when you mentioned to Seungmin in passing that you would be in town on your way for an assignment that would require you to travel. Seungmin jumped at the idea of you staying with him, since he was house sitting for his parents that very weekend.

Seungmin would be lying if he said that he wasn't hurt by your slowly decreasing contact. Conversation between you both slowly dwindled, but he never pried as to why. He understood that you rarely ever maintained an attachment, and that he was lucky for what he had.

You wondered what it would be like when you went back. The Jangs had never fostered a child after you, but never called you their daughter. They maintained contact with you but never attended events like graduation.

Still, deep down, at the end of the day, you knew you carried two things in your heart: Your now battered pillow and Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You both were sitting in his backyard, legs crossed over each other on Seungmin's folding chairs. Stars littered the sky the way they littered his eyes, and you couldn't help but be entranced by the wistful gaze that Seungmin held.

"Tell me something you have never told anyone," you asked, leaning your head over, near his shoulder. Just a few inches, and it would placed on it.

Just a few inches, and everything would mean something.

Seungmin knew his words carried gravity, but he was tired of walking on coal around you.

"I missed you," he said, a near whisper.

You stilled. "Your turn," came his voice after an eternity.

"I talk to my pillow sometimes. I pretend like it's a family member. It stopped, when I used to live here. But it grew in frequency during college. There is something inherently wrong with me, and I think that it's either me being undeserving of love or me never having been loved."

When your voice finally faded, Seungmin turned to look at you. Your eyes were glassy and unfocused. He wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into you, tell you that you were loved. Hell, he was proof, if you needed it.

"You're loved. If you weren't you wouldn't be here," Seungmin said hoarsely.

You snorted in response. "Yeah, I sure as hell wouldn't be here if I was loved."

Your words stung but Seungmin wasn't deterred. "I love you," he said softly.

Your eyes widened fractionally and you turned to look at him. "What?"

"No," he laughed, "Not that way. I love you as a friend, a confidant, as someone I know I can always talk too. Not... whatever it was you were thinking."

You visibly eased under the effects of his words, but noticed that Seungmin didn't do the same. His body was still tense, still rigid.

"What is it?" you asked.

"I- I know I said I love you as a friend but," Seungmin's voice faltered.

"But?" you prodded, your own heartbeat increasing with each passing moment.

"I would be falsifying my emotions if I said there weren't times when I wanted to love you in different ways as well. Romantically. Intimately. Devotionally," he added in an uncharacteristically shy tone, "If you'll have me."

And you realized, with a start that you did want him. But doubts started plaguing your mind, started seeping into your body and mixing with your being. What is the pain of it was so irreparable that you would never be able to love, if you ever could in the first place, again?

"What if I can't recognize your love for love?" you questioned meekly.

"Then I'll say it to you everyday. Platonically at first, romantically, maybe, afterwards, but I'll say it to you every single day. If every hour if you want me too. Because it's the truth."

You felt the warmth that accompanied thoughts of Seungmin blooming in the pits of your stomach. Or maybe it was the barbecued chicken you just ate. In the heat of the moment, you weren't quite that sure.

"And what if I can't love you? All I have ever known towards this world is hate."

"Then I'll teach you. We have all the time in the world to do so. If all you have known is hate, then love should come easily. They're very similar emotions," Seungmin said softly.

He hesitantly moved his hand towards yours, and laced his fingers through the pads of your knuckles. You did the same and moved you head to place it on his shoulder. Now, everything did mean something.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fourth time you had slept over at his childhood home, Seungmin taught you that love could be found in every aspect of the world.

It was hidden in the way sparrows flew towards each other in the summer, in the way mothers looked at their children and the way a child looked at candy. It came in droppings, reflected in the way you felt about rain and cherry blossoms.

Seungmin taught you how love was found in the grand and the simple.

Love was when he sent you large bouquets of roses that you had know idea where to keep and the surprise picnics you planned for him. It was the coffee he prepared for you every morning without question and the way you paused whatever you were watching when he had to step out for a phone call.

At the Kim house, you experienced even more love.

Sisterly love, when Seungmin's sister showed off the clothes she brought for you. Maternal love, when Mrs. Kim squealed in excitement when she spotted you holding Seungmin's hand. Paternal love, when Mr. Kim placed a bet against his team while giving you a wink. Brotherly love, when Seungmin's cousin tried to steal food off your plate.

You felt love everywhere, and slowly but surely, you spread love everywhere.

That night, Seungmin held you close and sang into your hair the way he did every night.

"I love you," he yawned, and snuggled into you.

And, you wanted to say it back. Mustering up the courage, you replied, "I think I love you too. No, I know I love you too."

Seungmin looked at you in astonishment and you realized that you were right all along.

He did have stars in his eyes.

You didn't know much about love. You were still learning, still faltering. But you knew one thing for certain: the love you held for Seungmin and the love he held for you would never go away.

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

main taglist (reply to be added):

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @stayinlimbo @farfromsugafanfic

@hongshuaknow @cookiesandcreammy @kayleefriedchicken @toomanybiasz

@seooj444

[jazwritesalot]

In Bloom

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/Bakugou Katsuki, ShinBaku Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Word Count: 2.3K Tags: past KiriBaku, Kirishima and Bakugou break up, Foster Kid Shinsou Hitoshi, Shinsou and Bakugou are good friends, Ambiguous canon compliance, they could be heroes or this could be a High School AU, Getting together, ShinBaku, angst, fluff

Link to AO3

Summary: Christmas was a difficult time for Hitoshi. Year after year, he wished for a better life, and a way to combat loneliness. Only to be sorely disappointed. Will the holidays in his third year be any better? Or will it be another disappointment in the books?

Written for my dear friend Foxy for the holidays <3

The holidays were hard for Hitoshi—they always were when one grew up in the system. He almost loathed Christmas at this point. Too many bad memories attached. Year after year, he would find himself hoping that he would get adopted, only to be severely disappointed when the day would pass, and he would still be at the orphanage. 

By the time he was in High School, he had all but given up hope that anything good would come. So imagine his surprise when one of the teachers took an interest in him. One that wasn’t even a part of his homeroom. It made him feel special, but he refused to get his hopes up—that would just be setting himself up for heartbreak. And he had enough stress to deal with, what with trying to keep up with his courses. Luckily, he had met someone who was just as passionate as he was about his schooling—maybe even more so than he was.

Bakugou Katsuki was an enigma to him; a man that seemed out of his reach. And boy, would he love to reach more for him. They met during his first year in High School, and immediately they butted heads. Bakugou was brash and arrogant; all things Hitoshi was not. At least, that’s how he seemed on the outside. 

As second year approached, with Hitoshi transferring courses and being fostered by Aizawa-sensei, he got to know Bakugou as he was roped into his friend group by Kaminari. He saw how protective and caring he was, and how he showed his love for his friends through acts of service. It made him more enamored with the man, but alas he was a forbidden fruit—already claimed by Kirishima. 

And to his credit, Hitoshi tried not to let it get him down in the dumps too much, even if it was his luck to develop feelings for someone who was already in a relationship. He tried his own hand at dating, but it just wasn’t the right shade of blond he would dream about at night. Which always made him feel guilty and would end with the relationships fizzling out early.  

So, one night, when a knock on his dorm room came, he was extremely surprised to see a puffy-eyed Bakugou standing on the other side. They were in their third year at this point, and the two had grown quite close as friends. Their snark rivaled one another’s, and the rest of the group just couldn’t wrap their heads around how someone so loud and explosive could be friends with someone so quiet and calculative. Though the same could be said for how Bakugou could be with someone so ‘sunshine incarnate’ as Kirishima (Kaminari’s words, not his), not that Hitoshi wanted to think about Kirishima right now. Or ever.  

Seeing Bakugou wasn’t the surprise—it was the raw display of downtrodden emotion on his face that gave him a pause. And damn Hitoshi for his heart starting to race as he ushered his friend into the room. This probably wasn’t even what he thought it was, so no need to get his hopes up. 

“Sorry for intruding.” It was weird hearing him sound so soft, so meek. Where was the Bakugou that was confident to a fault? The Bakugou that wasn’t afraid to be the loudest in the room.

“It’s okay, really. What’s got you up and about this late?” The ‘and here with me instead of Kirishima’ was implied. The clock was flashing 2am—well past Bakugou’s bed time, and well into Hitoshi’s prime hours. 

The silence stretched on after the question, the hope that was growing in his gut threatening to overtake him. A deep exhale came from Bakugou, who walked past Hitoshi to sit on his bed. 

“We broke up.” The three words were short, the bitterness and sadness rolling off the blond in waves. So much so that Hitoshi felt bad for being grateful. Only slightly though. Silently, Hitoshi joined Bakugou on the bed, mulling over his words and trying to tamper down the sordid excitement that was coursing through his veins. 

“That’s unfortunate to hear. I am sorry, Katsuki.” It wasn’t a lie—Hitoshi was sorry that his friend was hurting like he was. Bakugou looked over at him, eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Hitoshi.” He blinked in surprise; even though they were close friends, Bakugou normally called him by some crazy nickname. 

“What do you mean?” Best for him to feign ignorance in this moment rather than to piss his friend off even more.

“I know you were never a fan of Ei-Kirishima,” he corrected himself, “so you don’t have to pretend to feel sorry for me.” Bakugou looked away from Hitoshi, who was gaping at the blond. He didn’t realize he had been so overt about his feelings toward the redhead. But he had no idea how to rectify the situation.

“Maybe it was a mistake coming here,” Bakugou sighed, standing up. In a panic, Hitoshi reached out and grabbed his wrist, pinning the other man in place. 

“Don’t go.” His voice cracked as he begged. Bakugou looked over his shoulder at him, eyes roving over his face before silently making the decision to stay, sitting back down next to Hitoshi. What surprised him, however, was that Bakugou did not pull away from him, letting his wrist sit loosely in Hitoshi’s grip. Once again, the silence stretched on, not uncomfortable, but not wholly pleasant either. 

“While it’s true that I never was a fan of you and Kirishima together,” Hitoshi started, focusing on the calming pulse beneath his fingertips, “I would never go as low as to pretend to feel sorrow for you.” He felt a spike in the pulse, but it could have been his imagination, his own heartbeat doing erratic acrobatics in his chest. “My feelings are as authentic as yours are—while I cannot deny that I am happy to hear that you are no longer with him, I can also empathize with you and can imagine the pain you must be feeling.” 

“You like me or somethin’, Eyebags?” Bakugou asked, a smidge of humor in his voice, which was a godsend to hear. If only it wasn’t that question being asked. A humorless chuckle left Hitoshi, and Bakugou turned his scrutinizing gaze on the other man. The silence was deafening and all the answer that Hitoshi needed to give the blond. “You’re kidding me, right?” Hitoshi wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole at this point. The man literally just got out of a two-and-a-half year relationship, and here he is confessing his feelings to him. 

“I’m sorry, Katsuki.” It was the only thing that Hitoshi felt was right to say at that moment. What else could he possibly say? ‘I’m sorry—please give me a chance?’ Yeah, that would go over well. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“Because it’s not fair to you. You loved Kirishima, and I fell for you anyway.” Here it came—the word vomit that’s been lying dormant for years. “I watched from a distance, hoping that there would be a chance that we could be, but knowing deep in my heart that there would never be any way for us to work out. Not now, at least. And then I am a bastard for being ecstatic that you are now single. I should be helping you mourn the loss, not sitting here rejoicing that there may finally, finally be a chance that we could be together.” He trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to put his foot in his mouth any further. 

Bakugou, to his credit, just stared at Hitoshi unblinking. He didn’t threaten the man, nor did he get up and leave. Just sat there, gaping at him like he had told him what was inside Pandora’s box. What confused Hitoshi the most was that instead of pulling away, Bakugou twisted his hand so their fingers intertwined. Hitoshi blinked owlishly at him, this time him frozen in place while Bakugou thawed enough to speak. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” The words, normally an insult, were said with such fondness that small tears sprouted in Hitoshi’s eyes. “Would you like to hear why we broke up?” The question seemed both out of place, yet pertinent to the building tension that was bubbling up between the two of them. 

“Sure,” Hitoshi rasped out. 

“We realized we were growing apart, rather than stronger together.” That seemed simple enough—but Hitoshi was wary. Bakugou was an all-or-nothing kind of guy; for him to give up so easily went against the very fiber of his being. “We also realized we were starting to harbor feelings for someone else.” The words were said with a pointed look, one that made Hitoshi’s face flush. 

Oh… 

“We decided that it would be best to end the relationship rather than continue to string one another along. We owed that to each other. And yeah, we will still be friends after the sting passes, but it’s what’s best for us.” Hitoshi could only nod along to what Bakugou was saying, his mind reeling from the possibilities that were trying to play out before him. 

“You make it sound so easy, but I know that you’re hurting too.” Bakugou squinted at him, like Hitoshi just wasn’t getting something, but Hitoshi would be damned if he let himself get his hopes up like that. Bakugou said “someone else,” but he didn't specify that it was him. And Hitoshi would be damned if he let himself be some sort of weird rebound for Bakugou. 

“Of course I’m hurting. Kirishima was my everything. But things change—feelings change. And that’s okay. Because, like I said, my feelings for someone else started to develop into more than feelings of friendship.” This time the words were accompanied by a squeeze of their entwined hands, and Hitoshi finally let the small spark of hope fester. 

“How long?’ He had to know, had to make sure that this wasn’t something fleeting that would fizzle out in a month’s time, leaving Hitoshi as broken as Bakugou was the moment he entered his room at 2am. 

“I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but probably at least a month by now. For me at least.” Bakugou shifted closer to him on the bed, which caused Hitoshi’s face to heat up.  

“A month?” Hitoshi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Bakugou had been harboring feelings for him for a month, and he had been blind to it. True, he was probably repressing said feelings since he was otherwise taken at the time, but still. To know that the object of his affections felt the same way about him was empowering.  

“A month.” The confirmation was followed by a quick glance to Hitoshi’s lips, which made his head spin. The gravitational pull between the two men was impossible to deny or to resist. They were inches apart when Bakugou stopped and looked Hitoshi in the eyes. 

“Is this okay?” The question felt loaded, but in a good way. All the years of pining coming to fruition made Hitoshi see stars. Briefly, he thought about Kirishima, and how they literally just broke up thirty minutes ago, but he pushed the thoughts of the redhead to the side. Sure, maybe they should be going slower than this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Especially with how passionately Bakugou was looking at him—a moth being drawn into the glowing embers of a pyre. 

“More than okay.” That was all the reassurance that Bakugou needed before bridging the gap between the two of them, their lips pressing together softly. Kissing Bakugou Katsuki was like taking a first breath of fresh air after being submerged in water. It filled Hitoshi with hope. Hope that maybe, for once in his life, the holidays were something that could be worth looking forward to. As they pulled apart, Hitoshi felt himself leaning forward for more, which earned him a chuckle from Bakugou.

“Easy there, ‘Toshi. Don’t want to get too carried away too soon.” Which made sense to him, but the nickname got him right in the heart. Damn Bakugou for being so desirable. And desirable he was, sitting on his bed in his black sweats and t-shirt, a cocky yet soft grin on his face.  

“Can’t help it when there’s someone as great as you in my bed with me.” The teasing words made Bakugou blush, which was a far better look on the man compared to the tear-stained cheeks he sported not more than thirty minutes prior. 

“Oi! Shuddup!” Hitoshi could only laugh at Bakugou, which earned him a non-heated glare before he yawned loudly. “I know this is pretty bold of me, but do you mind if I sleep here?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. 

“Kissing me AND trying to get into my bed? How scandalous. You haven’t even taken me out on a date yet.” He expertly dodged the Snorlax plush that was thrown at him. “But to answer your question, of course you can stay here.” It wouldn’t be the first time that Bakugou had crashed in his room, and as it now stood, it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

“Thanks Hitoshi. For everything.” Another brief kiss was pressed against his lips before Bakugou curled himself up under the covers, the weight of the day seeming to disappear as his breathing evened out. Sure, they had a lot to talk about tomorrow, when they both woke up, but Hitoshi was about 99 percent sure he was going to be spending this holiday with his new boyfriend at his parents’ house. Which filled Hitoshi with a hope that he realized he had been missing out on for years. For the first time in his life, he actually was looking forward to Christmas.    

[noname-nonartist]

thank you for making takaken real here too 🙏🙏🙏🙌👏 which form of kenjaku is present in this au? :3

i believe i read somewhere on this blog that choso's working with the ootoris. is he doing well?

gojos behavior here is really interesting.. it's rare to see an antagonistic approach to him so it's a breath of fresh air! hopefully he'll watch a concert one day and warm up to the leoni girls lol. is his cocky and more unforgiving nature as an adult due to the lack of moral direction in his past? did he meet geto in this world? congrats to tsumiki on winning the legal battle :)

and i have similar thoughts with yuuta's actions and heightened confidence in this world. is he without his tragic history with rika? was he born into affluence here? for a cuter question to balance things out what's each member of the cooking unit's favorite vbs member/friend?

sorry for the question spam again, especially with question after question bringing up new characters from the jujutsu cast. i just keep finding more things i want to know about ajdjfjsj... you're seriously thorough with this au!! thank you for putting the time into answering all these pesters too,,

WAHHHHHHHHHH!!! Thank you again for being so interested in my AU!!! >///<

And Yasss TakaKen be realll~

Kenjaku’s Form within this AU is the one that they had during the heian era in jjk! :Dc

I choose this version of Kenjaku since Geto is still alive and kicking in my AU, and Kaori is herself in my AU too! (Although she too passed away on the same day as Jin sadly, I’ll explain one day lol).

And I was tempted to use Kenjaku Kamo form too, but ngl… it would look too similar to Emu’s dad (since Kenny wouldn’t have their iconic stitches) so I scratched that design. =v=

Ahem! For the Choso question… Yes! Choso is doing great!

Or like. Way better in comparison to the jjk version (then again it’s not a high bar lmaooo). Basically Choso works at the Otori as a personal chef for their house!

(Explanation + the rest of the answers under the cut! :3c)

Choso Backstory

So basically his backstory is that Choso’s mother unfortunately died when he was extremely young (whoa, lots of parents deaths within this AU lol), so because of this he was sent into the foster care system.

Even though he did not have a good time there, he was able to make some deep bonds with a few of the younger orphans in there. Those he calls his younger brothers.

Of course, those brothers would later be in adopted into different families or with different foster families. But they all vow that they will still be forever brothers no matter what.

Due to this. Choso grew up with a strong sense of family.

So like as he grows up, he decided to make it his personal mission to reunite with all his siblings. Both his he bonded with in foster care, and any other siblings that are blood relatives too. (Hence why he took Yuuji in as his new guardian after Wasuke’s death)

How did he got hired as the Otori’s personal home chef?

… Uhhh… That’s still in a work in progress ngl. =3=;

Like I got a vague idea that invokes Emu’s grandfather, but nothing is completely set in stones yet.

(And yes. Choso does view Emu as a sort of younger sister as well too. They have a wholesome bond)

Gojo’s Behavior/Backstory

Ngl. I’ve always sort of view Gojo as a bit antagonistic. I mean. I’m not saying he’s a villain in jjk. But he does have similarities in both attitudes and mindset of the antagonists within jjk. Such as Sukuna and Toji in a sense. :oc

Like Gojo always has the “Might = Right” mindset. Where he only really care about the strong. Like. Gojo only really helped Megumi, Maki, Yuuta, and Yuuji due to them being strong. And he is actively demeaning and insulting anyone he deems as weak. Yes, he is protecting them and does seem to care and trust them. However, just because he cares does not mean his behavior is justified. For he does low key harassed them. A good example is how he treats Ijichi. Like Ijichi has low deprecating self esteem, and it’s all due to how Gojo has treated him all that time.

Hence why I sort of wanna explore more within my AU. But rather than caring about “the strong”, Gojo instead cares about those he views have “Innate Talent”.

Of course, this is just my personal interpretation and take on Gojo! I completely understand if ya disagree! ^w^/

Anywayyyy.

Gojo does meet Geto in my AU! However, I’m unfortunately not gonna have a flashback arc focusing on them. For like. They are not the focus of the story. Yes their backstory will be mentioned and even hinted at. But I don’t want them to actually take away from the actual pjsk main characters (+the jjk kiddos too).

But I will give ya the basic run down/speedrun on what happened between Gojo and Geto in the past.

Gojo and Geto meet in High School -> formed a band together with Riko, Utahime, and Haibara -> Geto and Gojo get picked up by a large record label company -> Geto get intense burnout and believe the music his makes is pointless -> Geto quitting due to him wanting to make more “meaningful” actions to “improve” Japan

Andddd yeah! That’s pretty much the run down!

Oh! Also to note. The hugest reason why Geto has that burn out was because he saw how absolutely devastated Riko was for she can no longer make music with all of them again. Sooo… Good news! Riko is still alive in my AU! Yayyyy!

Yuuta’s backstory

Yes. Yuuta being having that rich family moneyyyy. Like basically, the Gojo, the Kamo and the Zenin family be old money rich. And Yuuta is still a cousin to Gojo. Soooo… yeeee

Yuuta’s backstory is actually gonna be pretty different. Since like jjk never really go into depth what he’s relationships with his parents and his younger sisters were.

So like. I sort of want to make Yuuta’s relationship with his family members be like the opposite of Tsukasa’s. What do I mean by that? Well. Yuuta’s younger sister would have a chronic illness too. And due to this, Yuuta’s parents unfortunately neglected Yuuta in order to care for his sister. And like Yuuta wasn’t really strong enough to handle the loneliness. So Yuuta, basically subconsciously rejected them. Of course he doesn’t mean too. But in a way (similar to Megumi in the beginning), Yuuta pushed them away and never really tried to reach out or really get to know them.

The reason why Yuuta in my AU is so loyal to Gojo was because Gojo was there to help mend away his loneliness when his parents and sisters cannot. Hence Yuuta’s flaws of not actually really caring about others that much, and only care about those that showed him affection and attention that he craves.

Anywayyy, Rika. So like. It’s actually gonna be less traumatic, but I do still want their relationship to be a reflection of Yuuta’s flaws too. So like there will still be that iconic scene where Rika promised Yuuta that they will marry each other when they grow older. But like, a few months later, Rika moved.

And like Yuuta hasn’t seen Rika in forever.

And like I actually want a scene where when Yuuta does finally meet Rika again. It like not what he expected.

Like Rika is still kind and such. But she’d grown. She actually doesn’t love Yuuta. For even though she does care deeply for him as kids, they were also. Ya know. Kids. So when she made that marriage promise, she actually wasn’t committed to it for she didn’t understand/fully comprehend what marriage meant yet.

And while Rika does care and cherish the memories she has with Yuuta. Rika unfortunately does not feel any romantic feelings towards Yuuta. And like. It would show how Yuuta’s love more one-sided than he lets on.

Of course, Yuuta’s arc/growth is about him growing past this, and actually like. Start thinking about other people rather than himself lol

But yeah! Once again, those are my interpretations of Yuuta! ^w^/

Flaming V 음식 + VIVID BAD SQUAD

The cooking unit group, which I named as Flaming V 음식 (Flaming V Eumsig), are very closely associated with VBS but in general as Viivid Street as a whole.

Since I want the group theme and focus being about culture, community, and connection through foods.

Flaming, as a reference to the fire used for cooking but also to represent the groups passion too.

V is a reference to Vivid Street, due to how important the town is to them (especially with Kasumi, Toge, and Maki).

음식 (Eumsig), which means food In Korea, is a reference to how the group is gonna focus on the important of other cultures (since I do headcannon Vivid Street being a very diverse community). But it also a reference to Toge’s personal arc of reconnecting with his Korean side of his family history again.

Anyway! Enough about that! On to ya actually question!

Maki’s favorite VBS member is definitely An Shiraishi. Not only is it because An was the first one to helped Maki out when she was at her lowest, but it’s also because Maki admires An’s dedication and passion for singing. Maki even sees An as a sort of spunky little energetic sister.

Plus Maki and An have that similarities of trying to put up a front of being cool/strong and hides the more vulnerable and that’s been slowly eating them up and-

Even though Kasumi knows An longer than Maki. Kasumi’s favorite is actually Kohane. This is sort of due to the fact that, even though she does see An as a friend. She also sees her as like. Ya know. Her Boss’s daughter too.

So there’s that unfortunate distance between them at the start of the story.

Kasumi connects more with Kohane because she understands and even connects a bit more with Kohane’s social anxiety and fears. And that initial feeling of not having a drive in life, until one day ya do. And all ya wanna do is to do your absolute best to reach it.

Side note: Toya loves Kasumi’s coffee and would always asked if Kasumi is around so she can make his drink.

Toge favorite is gonna be… probably Toya. Like Toge is friends with everyone at VBS, but he just vibes a bit more with Toya. He especially relates to Toya about the struggles of connecting with others and his emotions. And relates to how he never experienced much as a child (Toya due to his strict father, and Toge use to his albinism).

Yuuta… uhhh. Well at the moment he doesn’t have a favorite. He just sort of see VBS as people that Maki, Kasumi, and Toge deeply care about and nothing else atm.

But that’ll change in the future! You’ll see! >:Dc

Thank you once again for asking me these questions! They always make my day!!! >///<

[sparkleboiswagger]

I need help crafting head canons and backstories for a BSD au I'm creating

I'm working on making head canons for a normal world no mafia no Ada or whatever au. For the most part I'm trying to take canon events and adapt them in a way where they could realistically happen, but for characters with more unknown or vague pasts I'm great for any HCs

Starting with Dazai, Dazai is not an orphan he was removed from his home by CPS when he was about 2. He was in the foster care system for a while, tossed around until he ended up in a home with Mori from ages 9-16. Mori was abusive, so Dazai ran away and lived in a shipping crate for a bit. Eventually he was taken in by Oda, who was a foster parent to mostly younger kids. He was there for 6 months but when he was out with Oda, Oda was killed in a mass shooting.

I know Dazai "improved" in canon after Oda died but I didn't give him a chance for this big long speech and there wasn't any reason for Oda to anyways, so Dazai completely spiraled after that. I have like a whole story written about that. But short things is his alcohol addiction got worse, he often spent days just not moving from Oda's grave and since you see him inject himself in season 5 and pop a pill in season 2, I have him experiment with drugs like fenty, shrooms, and heroin. Not addicted, just trying them out. Dazai is my most fleshed out in the au I'm creating, idk why.

Dazai bullies Akutagawa in school because of course he does.

Now for Chuuya I haven't finished stormbringer so my HCs for him might change. But.

He was also in foster care. I haven't fully fleshed out his life yet and I want some ways to integrate the sheep some how? But he entered the system when he was 8, I don't know why because I haven't finished storrmbringer. It varies from Verlaine killing his parents to them dying in a car crash so. Working on that. Verlaine went to a different home from Chuuya, he doesn't know him well he just hates him. I've been debating between having Kouyou be his sister or foster mother, but since I put Dazai with Mori I figured Chuuya could go with Kouyou and she'd just be a younger foster mom. I was also thinking I could find a way to make them in the same house? I really want the whole betrayal thing where Dazai leaves Chuuya and I thought it could be cool where Dazai left Chuuya in an abusive home to deal with it himself but I'm not sure, would it even make sense for him to have been with Mori?

Chuuya is in college, Dazai is struggling to get by. They still have their personalities obv so Dazai isn't like this sad mopey mess he's just a sad mess who mopes when he's alone and everyone doesn't really realize where he's at mentally

Mori has also fostered Yosano and Q, while having Elise as his bio daughter.

Atsushi and Lucy's backstories are basically the exact same as they are in canon

Akutagawa is homeless ofc, he just moves from place to place with his sister. His clothes are shit and he smells because he never showers so he isn't treated well at school. I'm tryna think if he'd go to college, also he's still got his terminal illness. I'm not sure how his need for Dazai's validation would come out in this au

Ranpo was adopted by Fukuzawa. His life was also basically the same. Yosano was also adopted by him.

I'm thinking Kunikida has a normal ass life with normal ass parents, just too much of an overachiever and on the verge of burnout but not allowing himself to burn out

Poe is rich. He was born rich, he's got money, that's all. I've got for him lol.

I'm trying to find ways to add the rest of the cast, I want to get all the characters in and get them lives and stuff made up.

If you have any suggestions to how I can expand this world I want to write fan fiction on it once I've fleshed it out a bit. Feel free to be like "actually no I dont like your idea, I think this would be better" because I'm open to any criticism on this, I just want it to be good and I'm not stuck on my ideas

[pleasantspark]

Small Bump

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters - Yamcha x Orion (OrCha)

Summary -

After the Cell Games, Yamcha and his girlfriend Orion had decided to take the next step and move in with one another. While the living arrangement is... less then likely Orion decided to at least stay with Yamcha in a dingy and unkept apartment. The same apartment where they couldn't afford basic necessities. They had to squander and barely get by, which was the course for a couple of months until Orion found herself up the duff, things take a unexpected turn and due to the now new news they had to figure out what their options were next...

Word Count - 1,141

Warnings - No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N - It's pretty sad and one of the few times where I write something that isn't E or M rated. So be happy it's something angsty.

🔗 x

“No, no we don't. I need to eat to sustain the amount of food for the baby, and we can't even afford actual food nor electricity! It's a miracle we haven't gotten sick from eating raw noodles everyday!” Orion said, and wiped her tears away. She was right, they cannot take care of themselves so how would they navigate caring for such a fragile life, that's dependent on them? But the idea of giving away their blood like that, just rubs him off the wrong way. He's always DREAMED of being a parent. After being dumped by Bulma and seeing Vegeta and Goku as well as Krillin have families he always wished to have this with Orion.

But overtime their situation didn't get any better. They couldn't afford their lifestyle and the meals began to shorten. Puar offered to ask if Master Roshi would allow them to stay, but Yamcha refused as he wanted to be independent. Puar moved out to live with Roshi instead leaving Orion and Yamcha to rough it out in the dirty apartment. He couldn't blame them. Puar was going to get sick in an environment like this, and he allowed his old friend to go.

Yamcha's thoughts raced, one by one and there were alternatives they could try. And neither of them were good. He took a deep breath. They could put the child up for adoption, or send them in the foster system with hopes of reuniting them... Then there was abortion. His face paled once he thought of that option. He couldn't imagine something so harsh like that, something so traumatizing as well. 

But this wasn't about how he felt, this was what Orion felt, he sighs and gets up. “Well,” he swallowed. 

“What do you want?” He asked, and Orion stopped sniffling and looked up at him. Almost as if she never had that question be asked to her before.

”What do I want?” Orion asked.

“Mhm, what's your choice? We already established we couldn't keep the little bugger...” Yamcha trails off. 

“I haven't really come to a conclusion. I know there's so many options and all of them hurt as much as raising them in this environment.” Orion said, and Yamcha nodded.

[braveasnouns]

so before i forget, here's the au i mentioned:

becky is a foster kid, but she's had really and i mean really bad luck with adopted parents. tell me if u wanna know more about that because i have three of her past parents so!

anyways, so becky is 16, and not many people adopt teenagers compared to kids, so rani (who, in this au, is a social worker) brings her to aimee, who has fostered many, many kids before, adopting only one: wendy, of course.

the animal army are kids in school, all outsiders in their own ways and they make friends with becky. the rest of it is just becky learning that she has a family that has her back now.

(also yes, wendy being the baby of becky's first adopted parents is still here.)

I love the idea of this so much!!

I feel like it would be really cathartic and interesting to see Becky actually being a teenager and doing teenager things!! (even with the trauma that comes with the foster care system).

and to see how different of a character Becky would be in this AU while still having the same values, she’s of course going through things but she’d get to have a coming of age story in her own right!

also wondering if the kids would still be hybrids? either way I think it would be good just wondering what you think?

this is great i’d love to hear more if you want to send it!!

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

Okay hiii just ignore me if you want-

ZEEP ZEEP ZEEP IMAGINE WITH ME

LEO AND USAGI WITH THEIR KID RIGHT?

IN THIS INSTANCE THIS CHILD IS ADOPTED, EITHER WHEN THEY WERE YOUNGER OR WHEN THEY WERE A TEEN IMMA IMAGINE BOTH FOR YA

CHILD GETTIN’ A GO FIRST

JUST JUST IMAGINE

This tiny child meeting these two big men, this tiny little child who’s life has been unstable and unpredictable is faced with the prospect of adoption, the promise that they’ll finally be in a home

Of course, before the adoption is complete and finalised, there is that uncertainty about “what if it doesn’t go through or get approved?” And the Fruitbowl Dads™️ can’t always be there all the time, but whenever they DO get a chance, and I mean EVERY SINGLE CHANCE, they’re reminding You that they already love them, and being so young it’s hard to not follow every glimmer of hope that peaks through. It’s just so exciting and scary at the same time. Their own room?! Forever?! Well just faint now.

Making this tiny rascal laugh so hard at Dad Jokes, it’s such a good thing to laugh. Two huge strong dads who are going to be the strongest support this tiny little one has ever seen. Gettin’ carried? A must, imagine all the things you could see from up there! It’s the world! Free for You to explore.

Getting adopted?! The process being finished?! The cheering and hugs? Immediately getting pizza (or some other food of choice) right after? Movie night? It’s such a warm welcome to Your Official Home.

THE TEEN? THE TEEN!

Oh poor child, passed through care home to foster home back into the system, back and forth to and fro, when will it end? Well the Fruitbowl Dads™️ are here to help!

It genuinely surprises You, the prospect of adoption. You had just assumed it would never happen, I mean? A teen? Don’t be ridiculous, it’s completely out the question. Couldn’t help but overhear people debating if it was worth the trouble for someone who’d move out in a few years anyway, and it’s hard not to assume this is all one big dream, and you’ll wake up soon. But every time You pinch Your cheeks, close Your eyes, half wanting to wake up, You never do, opening Your eyes to see two kindhearted individuals in front of You, ready for a huge hug.

After the gruelling process of adoption is complete, You can finally lay in bed and officially say You’re home. I mean, sure, You have been fostered here for a while, but it just feels so much more real and yet surreal at the same time. Cuddle piles are a NECESSITY for this, or maybe not at first, You had learned that getting close to people makes it harder to say goodbye, but now? Now you don’t *have* to say goodbye, now you can bury Your face in incense smelling fur, or bury Yourself into a plastron and not worry about it slipping through Your fingers. It’s here, and it’s staying.

Dad’s are probably gonna have to work with Ya on unlearning bad coping mechanisms, teaching You they don’t have to cry alone, it’s alright, having a rock hard shell is helpful sure, but not all the time. It’s gonna be tough, but who said parenting is easy?

No no, wait- wait. I-i just-- hrrrmmmmmmgn, hold ON- holding on. I, I cannot-- you just-

You just did-

How did you-?

I, I, ueue- ueueueeee.

^^^ my live reaction when reading this.

SHAWTYYYYYYY??? JELLY. MY JELLY BABY. MY FUDGIN' CINNAMON APPLE.

The way you WROTE THIS OUTTTTTTT. I am ROLLING AROUND IN MY BED (¦ꒉ[▓▓] IN LIKENESS TO A GLEEFUL SLUG 🪇🪇🪇🐛🪱🐛🪱🐛 THE WAY YOU JUST.... GRRAAAAAAAAHHHH GRABS YOU AND SHAKES YOU AND HOLDS YOUR HAND AND AND!!!! YOU!!!! YOU'RE JUST SO!!! ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)♡ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)♡ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)♡

I literally. Wanted to cry while reading this through. That's how good it is. Slash very complimentary. ✨Extremely✨ complimentary, if you will.

Seriously pookie, I couldn't have said it BETTER??? You're undeniably one of my favorite writers on this site. The way you completely understood what I was going for & added to make it even ✨🪽BETTER✨🪽

like it's so good it's making me run my deadlifts:

🎱➖✊➖➖✊➖🎱

🌟 \ / 🌟

⭐ \😁/ ⭐

✨ 🎽 ✨

/ \

👟 👟

Look at the stars!! Look at the sparkles!! That is the exudes of my OVERFLOWING JOY AND HAPPY STIMS!!!! 💞⭐🌟🌸✨💫🌷🌈☀🌻☁🩷

I was already in love with the child imagine but then I read the TEENAGE SECTION AND bro. I don't think I can live without this anymore, actually.

Rests hand on your shoulder and gazes deeply into your eyes. (/plat) I don't think I can live without you, actually.

Lemme tell you the things I loved:

All of it. 🌈🌸🩷

............nah nah but fr, lemme appreciate you in full rq-

the way you explicitly mentioned the foster/adoption homes, system, and process and tied it in very smoothly with the plotline!! - I realize now that I didn't mention it much, despite the whole point legitimately being an adopted reader. so you centering it in the way you did just really did sumn to me, no lie no lie. (/vv pos!! ☀)

taking the head canons and dividing them into the aspects by age, and making it work SO SO WELL LIKE--!!!! AS A WRITER? A FELLOW WRITER??? I am frothing at the mouth very impressed!! it all just fits together like a puzzle piece and I just, graaaaahhh ( ✧Д✧) YES!!

bustin in and having the, 💥audacity💥 to say "ignore me if you want" SUCKAAAAAAAAA????

(will legit hunt u down don't ever speak such none sense, I said NONE ❗💥 SENSE 💥❗ e'er again, ya hear?)

the realness of it. like, you. ...... that's it bro, legit just you.

Now I've got even MORE brainworms and, they say, they're already formulating a part two of sorts. ૧(ꂹີωꂹີૂ) now fellas I love my goobers but-- *dogs barking, truck horns blasting, random screaming on the background*

((*now I must indulge the child!*))

[polyhexian]

How would Jasper parent a difficult child that doesn't respond to his initial gentle parenting, doesn't feel guilty of what they do and is a big bully?

There's an interesting amount of overlap between training animals and raising children, and I think it's because those parts are the psychology of building relationships with a power dynamic. It's important to let people have a sense of control. In the US to be licensed as a foster parent you have to go through a course in responding to kids that can be angry and violent.

Positive reinforcement can be pretty hard actually. If you have a foster kid who's furious and violent it's probably because they're feeling a debilitating lack of agency. They are trying to find control in their environment any way they can, even by destroying it. And the response is to give as little reaction as you can to that kind of behaviour and then put a huge focus on rewarding good and healthy behaviour. And to address the root cause of these issues, usually by going out of your way to offer opportunities to take control over parts of their life- offering choices instead of orders and giving options in actually making decisions for themselves.

And a bigger one is testing. If you have a kid whose been failed again and again and again when you promise you're going to be different, you're not going to be like the others, they're going to test you. They're going to destroy things, hit you, scream, get in trouble on purpose because they want you to hit them. They want you to prove you aren't different. So like. You have to be able to come home and see your foster kid smashed the living room TV with a baseball bat and stay calm and say "do you want to help me clean it up or do you want to go to your room and think about what you did?" And refuse to react with anger, you have to prove that even the most extreme provocation won't make you break that promise.

Jasper knows a lot of child rearing knowledge. He has done a ton of reading. I think he knows all of this and some of it because it's applied to himself in the past. I think he is ready for the smashed in TV and for picking the kid up from school after they beat up a classmate.

My mom is a psychologist and she worked with kids with the most severe trauma imaginable and dealing with foster and adoption agencies and with the legal system and testifying in court and all. And like. Different foster caregivers often fill specific purposes; ie there are certain people set up to take infants same day from emergency situations because they have everything you need for infants all prepared. And they often only take care of these infants for a few days or weeks before they are returned or placed in a more permanent or long term placement. And I think jasper is like THE go-to for those cases of severe anger and violence and trauma. He has the strength and tolerance to deal with children who might be able to legitimately hurt their caregivers or others and needs some extreme support. And for other dangerous situations, IE, a foster child coming from an abusive household or one from a divorce case with custody issues and there's a real fear the parents might try to hurt or kidnap the child like. That is THE safest place for that kid to be

So I think like. He is fucking READY

[fleabagdiaz]

come talk to me about your wildest dream plot lines for season eight these are all of mine :) this got a little out of hand but i have no regrets

eddie: obviously this is the most important to me. I have a series of demands. 1) get his gay ass out of the closet I’m so fucking serious. catholic guilt and leaning on Bobby can be a part of it. it will be torturous and like pulling teeth but he’ll be girl who is going to be okay afterwards!! 2) (strongly tied in with #1) him exploring what he likes/wants/who he is as a person outside of fatherhood (bc he’s been a dad since he was!! a teenager!!!!). give him some new friends (Maddie and Karen!!! preferably!!!!!!). give him some new hobbies that he actually enjoys and isn’t just using to escape from The Horrors. AND let him go to gay night at a line dancing club 3) he comes head to head with his parents about um everything. actually sets boundaries about their relationship with Christopher (I.e. you cannot just show up at my house to take my son away even when I’m having a mental health crisis. maybe actually support me next time or just fuck off) 4) drop him in the middle of the woods and have him presumed dead due to a plane crash when he does go to pick up Chris (maybe midseason? but I really don’t want chris gone for that long)* 5) feelings realization re buck in the second half of the season. I think he actually realizes at the same time he realizes he’s gay but it is simply too scary so he’s like okay I have to deal with one thing at a time. but then he simply cannot ignore it anymore. probably due to buck is being insane after his own feelings realization. 6) spurred on by his self-discovery arc in star first half of the season, he starts working towards his paramedic license yayyyy

buck: princessa….. okay I don’t have much for buck. I want him to mostly be background to other people’s arcs. bc I actually think that’s where he thrives EXCEPT: 1) I want him to start really struggling with the fact that he doesn’t have kids yet, and like even looking into ways to have kids on his own (esp. since he knows he’s bi now) like surrogacy and adoption and stuff. and 2) actually think this could be an interesting point of conflict (and breakup??) between him and Tommy (where Tommy is just not that interested in having kids) because it would be an actual discussion and require buck to actually examine what he wants out of a relationship 3) presumed deaddie leading to feelings realization. this makes him insane, obviously, and he makes it everyone’s problem. yay :)

hen: 1) she kills Gerrard with her bare hands. the boys can help if they want but she should land the killing blow. and by this I of course mean get him fired and make sure he never works for the LAFD again. bc it’s crazy he still has a job. or maybe she actually does kill him that would be so fine too 2) she and karen (I actually think Karen might lead this bc hen will be busy killing Gerrard) tear down the entire DCFS system to get their daughter back. I genuinely think she has to be home by the end of the first three episodes. or I will go crazy. 3) the gerrard and bobby situation leads to captaincy succession drama between hen and chim, where they actually sort-of fight about who should be captain and they both make very good points. the resolution to this is 4) hen’s nightmare with councilwoman ortiz gets her interested in local politics, and she runs for city council (or something), and decides that’s what she wants to focus on right now rather than trying to become captain

chimney: 1) fostering mara gets Maddie and chimney talking about the possibility of having more kids. chimney really wants to, and specifically wants to adopt kids, because he was given a home when he had none as a child and really wants to offer that to someone else, and he doesn’t want jee to grow up without a sibling. this leads to some more exploration into his childhood and confrontation of his past grief. they ultimately decide it’s not what’s best for their family, but do decide to keep their house open for emergency temporary foster placement 2) captaincy succession drama with hen, as aforementioned. he struggles with his whole inferiority complex when it comes to leadership positions, and ultimately realizes how much he’s grown in that regard and that he actually could be a fantastic captain. because he loves hen he’s willing to give it up for her, but then she encourages him to go for it so he starts down that path 3) can we revisit the fact that this man has come within kissing distance of death more times than anyone else on this team???? like, what has that done to his psyche???? how has it changed him as a person???? it’s years too late but I want it so bad.

maddie: 1) aforementioned family planning discussions with chimney. because of her traumatic experience after jee’s birth, she really cannot see herself ever having other kids of their own, because she just knows it would bring her back to that place emotionally, and she feels that their family is complete with jee. this causes a lot of tension between her and chimney for a while, as they come to understand each other’s points of view. but she does love what they’re able to do for mara, and wants to continue with emergency foster care 2) I just really need her to bond with eddie. they have so much in common and I feel like could really be a support system for each other, especially as they’re both grappling with parenthood struggles 3) she starts considering taking on a leadership position in dispatch alongside chimney starting down a captaincy path and maybe there is even like maddie-josh drama or maddie-linda drama that parallels the chimney-hen drama

ravi: because he WILL be a main. trust 1) struggling with fitting in with A-shift after coming from B-shift, because they’re so tight-knit and he’s been in and out, but ultimately realizing he’s part of the family already. and they throw him a surprise party obviously 2) baby’s first life threatening injury!!!! and everyone is freaking out bc that’s their little guy and they JUST officially adopted him. and of course this is his begins episode, so we get to see some of his childhood growing up in hospitals and stuff and how he got into firefighting. I would love for it to be like. his family is actually super supportive but he struggles to fit in and be a part of a team due to he was sick all the time as a kid. this would work together nicely with him feeling like he doesn’t fit in with A-shift! I also think it would be funny if he was in the hospital and the 118 assumed his family wouldn’t show up and then they ALL do like parents siblings everyone. and they’re like oh. that’s… never happened before?? 3) it would be very funny if hen and chim were trying to get everyone to pick sides in their captaincy drama and they were fighting over ravi and he was so sick over it. like I can’t choose i love them both. why is this happening. do I need to talk to HR?? and everyone is like no this is just how things are around here bro. but he kind of has to stand up for himself a bit and be like dudes. I’m not doing this.

bobby: 1) the Gerrard stuff is going to have Bobby actually considering retirement and not just in a suicidal way. and ultimately I think he’ll decide that he wants to back away from the day-to-day stuff and do more oversight stuff, so he starts the process of stepping up the ranks to ultimately become fire chief, in part so that no one like Gerrard can stick around in the LAFD. this is a big factor in hen and chim thinking about captaincy. 2) I would be really interested to see his reaction to buck thinking/talking about having kids, since he sees buck as a surrogate child, and if it makes him feel a certain way about like fatherhood and mortality and legacy and stuff. buck obviously is like ‘well and would the kid call you grandpa or pops or what. because pops would be so funny considering.’ and bobby just starts crying. 3) I want Bobby’s special blood thing to come back lmao like maybe the blood people are like hey so that other guy in Australia died um do you have any siblings?? and he has to reconnect with his brother because of it. and deal with some of his unresolved stuff about his father’s death. this can happen for reasons other than his special blood I suppose but I would love for it to be special blood related 4) he has to go back to Minnesota for some reason (maybe related to reconnecting to his brother) and it like literally almost kills him but it’s ultimately really good for him

athena: all love to ms bassett but I’ll be honest as a certified cop hater the only athena arc I’m interested in is her quitting her job. I would love for her to get in trouble due to her abuse of power wrt Amir, and realizing how many other times she’s abused her position of power. I would also love for May and/or harry to be involved in helping her realize this. and then maybe she gets into like an alternatives to policing model or community organizing or something. this will of course never ever happen. but I actually feel like thematically it would align well with the rest of the characters’ arcs (self-discovery, transition periods, stepping into new roles, etc.)

other stuff:

-*to elaborate on presumed deaddie, no one kill me but maybe it’s on the way BACK from Texas and Chris is also in the plane crash? and in part due to eddie being concussed, he has to kind of step up and use what hes learned through osmosis about first aid and emergency stuff to help people and keep them calm. he’s literally a baby and he shouldn’t HAVE to do this but I think it would be so beautiful to see him like confidently helping out in a horrible situation because everyone he knows is first responders lol. so he knows what to do and how to keep a clear head about it. my brave brave boy!! of course if eddie and chris were BOTH presumed dead buck would kill himself For Real so there has to be hope that they’re alive. maybe eddie wanders into the woods (due to he’s concussed and disoriented) away from the crash site so they find Chris first and then spend the whole next episode looking for Eddie. and they literally have to sedate buck and/or put him on a physical leash so that he doesn’t run off into the woods to die with Eddie. of course. and the will comes up as a part of all of this obviously which is associated with the feelings realization AND the kid stuff.

- I would love to have another female firefighter on the team, especially if Ravi joins as a main. I think like a really tiny angry 20 year old female probie who picks fights with Buck specifically would be a really iconic addition. and I think Hen would LOVE to mentor a younger female firefighter. and she and eddie and ravi would all be best friends. she would take a while to warm up to buck and she would think chimney was kind of weird but in a fun cool-uncle kind of way.

- controversial but if Taylor came back in some way I think that would be so funny. maybe they want to turn her book into a movie or something so they come to interview the firehouse about it. and they would all hate it so bad, except chimney who would be thriving

- more emergencies in general. hopefully with an 18 episode season they can actually do this

- stuck-in-the firehouse bottle episode where there are zero (0) calls all day but they are being discouraged from driving around for some reason so they literally have to stay inside all day. and the AC isn’t working. this overlaps with hen and chim’s captaincy drama AND buddie mutual pining era and they all make it everyone’s problem

- ending the season with a buddie cliffhanger (maybe a first kiss? confession?) but also ending with a cliffhanger of someone else in serious danger, like maybe hen and karen getting into a car accident or something????, and then they couldn’t do a time jump and would have to resolve both things simultaneously and the tension and chaos would be wild and I just think that would be a slay setup for the start of s9!!

[fetteredhope]

—— ( emilio sakraya. demi man, he/they. ) recently seen skateboarding at the boardwalk: enter ZAKARIA QADIR. twenty-seven years old & a sagittarius, usually observed in oversized t-shirts, baggy ripped jeans - far more jewelry than is safe for a skater; zak is a devotion local known within their circle as SPRIGHTLY + TENACIOUS, a perpetual hum of have you ever seen the rain by credence clearwater revival on salted mouth. something of the AUDACIOUS + OBTUSE follows, regardless … something to do with losing yourself to nothing but the wind thanks to the board beneath your feet - it feels eerily like home now, perhaps ? strange, what a GHOST can get up to. they’ve been heard waxing lyrical about a dream they had recently, a strange tale of a family that’s finally accepted you after years of hopping home to home. this one doesn’t stand long - there’s heat and smoke and breathing is impossible, but they always wake up before it can end the way they think it does. pay no mind to fanciful star - gazing, though: rather, mind the tangible. focus on knees that have been skinned so many times they’re perma-scarred now, choosing to laugh instead of cry whenever he’s upset - crying never did any good for him anyway, becoming attached to friends easily; they’re his found family after all. / committed to legend by bri, twenty6, they/she, est.

below are mentions of abuse, death, fire, & violence!

stats.

name: zakaria qadir.

nickname: zak.

age: twenty seven.

gender identity: demi man.

pronouns: he/they.

sexuality: bisexual.

birthday: december 22, 1995.

star sign: sagittarius.

myer-briggs: esfp.

occupation: n/a.

place of birth: devotion, south of tene.

last played on spotify: slide feat. frank ocean & migos by calvin harris.

general disposition: breezy and bullheaded.

background.

when zak was born, he spent all of 5 minutes with his mother before she was up and running off from the hospital, leaving him behind with nothing but his name

life after that was more or less the same theme - people took him in for weeks, months at a time if he was lucky, before he was eventually either kicked to the curb or a ‘better family’ was ready for him

none of the foster homes ever wanted to take him in; witches and nymphs thought him too lackluster, humans never understood his obsession with the creatures of devotion - he just never seemed to be able to fit in

of course he had friends growing up, foster siblings he kept close to his heart and still does to this day, but he’d always been obsessed with the idea of found family, of someone picking him because they actually wanted him, not because there was government money involved

there were bouts of abuse, neglect, days where zak would run away and spend freezing nights on the streets, but it didn’t change his personality; deep down to his core, zak had always been loving and selfless, albeit a bit too reckless and temperamental for his own good

around the time he was 17 and just about to age out of the foster system, a family took him in, and zak immediately knew something was different with this home - it didn’t take them a week before they were asking him to allow them to adopt him into their lives forever

it’d been a good 10 years after that; zak found his family, and he had a good set of friends, maybe he could use some work with the head on his shoulders, he still found himself in constant trouble but he was loved and taken care of, so it didn’t matter

visiting home for his birthday and the christmas holidays last year was a tradition - but when zak went to bed that night, it would be the last time he ever fell asleep, waking up weeks later confused and disoriented, and a ghost after the only family he’d known had died tragically alongside him in a house fire

ever since, zak’s known something was off, wrong about him - it was easy to just assume his family was like all the others in the end, never reaching out to him anymore, leaving him behind

it was even easier to stick with this theory when he found himself incapable of going near where their home used to stand; every time zak gets close, there’s a reason to turn around, an excuse to abandon his search and just leave them behind, make everything easier

zak’s never expressed to any of his friends he still has that he’s a ghost, mostly due to being unaware himself - he still knows there’s something off, but there’s also something keeping him from getting the answers he wants and needs, and after years of fighting, zak’s just found it far easier to pretend everything’s fine. even if he can’t go home, his chest feels hollow, and sleep escapes him no matter how exhausted he feels.

details.

literally just. a loving goofball, super protective, has gotten into several dangerous fights for his friends before he just loves too fiercely when he accepts people into his life

an adrenaline junkie through and through

still loves skateboarding, can be found stuck in a loop for hours sometimes of him just coasting down the boardwalk and laughing without realizing he’s been caught in the same moment - once for almost a whole day straight

becomes very attached very easily!!!!! its honestly destroyed some friendships and has definitely ruined relationships; becomes clingy, untrusting, scared of people leaving him etc.

it’s also made hookups a mess tho he does in fact. Participate in those Quite Frequently

there are of course details in his past life that he’s forgotten, and struggles to discuss if they’re ever brought up, accepting his death is just. Not Going To Be An Easy Task.

connections.

zak is definitely still close w a lot of foster siblings he’s had in the past so any of them!!

maybe. someone that was a part of the foster family that passed and wasn’t there the day of the house fire…….

just friends in general :D from childhood, high school, more recent etc.

ppl he’s fought in honour of friends/partners he’s had in the past

enemies fr other reasons mayhaps???

exes….. he’d have lots on both good and bad terms</3

current and past hookups!!

thats all i have so far but tbh hes an open book lets get wild.

[shrinkthisviolet]

your OCs have been replaced by a mimic! how do their loved ones figure out they're fake?

Love this question!

For Morgan...if this is post-s2, then it's a no-brainer—get Jesse to try and "link up" with her (their telepathy link can be open or closed by either of them). Specifically, it would have to be on the same Earth, face-to-face because...Jesse would connect with the real Morgan no matter where she is—they’d have to make sure she’s connecting to this one. And also, opening the link for either of them when they're on the same Earth is very painful…so either Jesse would feel no pain at all (thus, Morgan is on a different Earth) or this imposter/mimic would be unable to mimic the pain properly/convincingly (thus, this isn't Morgan).

Of course, if it's pre-s2, then Team Flash would have to test her memories of them. Though if she shares memories with Morgan, then Barry dials up the sibling affection, knowing that if she's really not his baby sister, she'll get uncomfortable.

For Lucy...well, Luke and Leia share a Force connection with her (Leia doesn't know how to use it, she just has feelings from time to time, but still). If the imposter/mimic isn't Force-Sensitive, one of them (probably Luke) will ferret them out. If they are Force-Sensitive...well, Luke knows how his sister feels in the Force, so he'd still figure them out. Non-Force-Sensitives, or those less experienced like Leia, would have to get creative, asking questions to probe her memory.

For Reyna...Nora would be the key, but Cisco could be too. Even if the imposter/mimic stole/copied Reyna's powers, she wouldn't feel the same to Cisco as Reyna does—everyone has a unique frequency, and Cisco would be attuned to that as an experienced breacher/viber.

Nora, meanwhile...Reyna's her best friend, later her girlfriend and lightning rod. She could use some good old-fashioned interrogation (peppering her with questions about very specific childhood memories). She could maybe also try going for a kiss if they’re dating by the time this happens, but the impersonator/mimic might be dedicated enough to go through with it. Maybe she kisses differently and Nora can tell? Hmm but if she’s a skilled enough mimic, then maybe not. I guess it depends.

For Amelia...oh this is tricky. If it happens pre-Snap, then ofc Gwen, Peter, or May could figure it out. During the Snap though...no one would 🥺 she doesn't know anyone well until she befriends Norman, and Otto and Rosalie foster and then adopt her, and even that trust takes time to build. Even then, Amelia likely wouldn't be totally open about her childhood, because it's too painful to talk about.

Post-Snap, she'd at least have more of a support system, but...it's really getting May and Gwen back that helps. And Peter...well, things are tense, and even when they're better, her memory of him gets erased pretty soon after. A mimic/impersonator, if she picks the right time to impersonate Amelia, could go undetected for years

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