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saetoru · 11 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。RIGOR — AL-HAITHAM.

contents. mild injuries (al-haitham), established relationship, fluff, really bad banter, al-haitham is left handed because i say so

notes. literally just 2k embarrassing words of you taking care of al-haitham after he’s injured from a trip to the desert. yeah.

“that stings,” al-haitham hisses, glaring at you—which earns him an equally as harsh glare back. “why don’t you just pour the entire bottle of antiseptic down my arm at this rate?

“don’t yell at me,” you hiss back, scowling as you dab at the (already clean) wound some more, “i’m not the one who came back with this. why didn’t you get it checked?”

to your utter dismay, al-haitham comes home from a visit to the desert injured. gravely.

well, truth be told, it’s not really grave. that’s just how you see it because anything beyond a scratch is enough to throw you into a fit of panic. he’s not really used to coming home to someone fretting over him like this—standing between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, dabbing ever so gently at the small (and hardly deep, he’d like to point out) cut on his arm.

running into eremites is an inevitable part of most visits to desert ruins. usually, al-haitham manages to come back unscathed, but sometimes, things don’t always go accordingly. in his defense, he’d thought he’d be able to dodge the blade of the eremite he happened to be fighting. al-haitham has the precision and athletic ability to not only manage, but excel at dodging things that are thrown at him. but still, even he has his moments of miscalculation, and just by a hair, he feels the sting of a blade’s edge tearing through the surface of his skin.

it’s unfortunate, but it’s not a big deal—at least, that’s what he thought. apparently, but not unusually, you have a tendency to disagree with him on most things.

“i was going to check it myself,” he says simply, “it would’ve been fine.”

“oh, i didn’t realize you graduated in linguistics and biology,” you raise a brow.

al-haitham is a well rounded man—he reads books from just about any subject so long as it’s informative and offers him new knowledge that can assist him in being well versed in any topic. more importantly, al-haitham rarely loses arguments, and in order to be able to always win said arguments, his understanding of most subjects is required to be thorough.

he knows how to treat a small wound or two, especially with as often as he lands himself in small fights as he explores ruins.

he looks up at you with an unimpressed stare as he mumbles, “i’ve taken at least a few classes from every darshan.”

“i hate you,” you huff. he exhales tiredly.

“it’s only a cut,” he argues, “there’s no need to be so worried—”

“i’m always worried,” you sigh, staring dejectedly at the injury littering his arm. no one should ever leave a mark over his skin—unless it’s you, and that’s only in a very different context. “does it hurt?” you ask quietly.

a small part of him feels guilty that he’s worried you over his well being, that he’s come home harmed even the slightest bit and disrupted your peace. but the larger and more rational part of him reasons that injuries of this nature are common and inevitable in trips to the desert like this, and he’s skilled enough to ensure that nothing serious ever happens.

still, for your sake, he mumbles, “no.”

it’s a bit of a white lie—it does sting a bit, and the antiseptic you pressed just a few moments ago didn’t exactly help, but admitting to you that he’s in any sort of pain is only opening up more avenues to making this into a larger deal than it really is.

al-haitham is fine, and he’s doesn’t need anything for the slightly inconvenient but not serious laceration on his skin. he’s sure of that.

but then, you cup his cheeks and press a small kiss to his forehead as you murmur, “my poor baby,” with a small pout, “i’ll feed you dinner, okay? they got your left arm.”

he wants to tell you that his motor skills are good enough that he can function with his non dominant hand—being left handed in a world catered for right handed individuals forces you to acquire functionality in both hands. but before he can open his mouth, you kiss down his cheeks, tracing your lips along him until they map out his jaw.

it distracts him for a moment, making hie eyes close and his breath hitch as he lets your warmth settle into the deepest crevices of his skin.

“don’t worry, haitham, i’ll take care of you until this heals,” you murmur sweetly.

and just like that, al-haitham is a bit conflicted now. in his two plus decades of life, he has always been an independent and capable individual—more than most his age. he doesn’t need the assistance of anyone, nor has he ever really needed the assistance of anyone. but you’re making it very hard to resist with the way you’re doting on him with affection.

“i’m fine,” he tries to argue, “really—”

“i should run you a bath,” you mumble, cutting him off. he gets the strong feeling you’re taking more to yourself than him. “and i’ll wash your hair for you too.”

even with the self control someone like him has, even he can’t help but sigh in content when your fingers slip into his hair, stroking through the strands and scratching gently at his scalp. it’s a bit nice—he has to admit that being taken care of, even as minimally as fingers in his hair, is nice.

“you don’t have to do all that,” he mutters.

“i don’t want you moving that arm,” you huff, “would it kill you to stop acting high and mighty for once? most people would take advantage of being spoiled.”

“i don’t enjoy taking advantage of others like most people,” he shrugs.

“you know what i mean,” you glower, rolling your eyes.

it’s a common understanding to most that al-haitham is a bit difficult—you don’t think you ever remember a time where he hasn’t been. he’s stubborn and always believes his views to be correct, and he’s not ashamed of arguing his point no matter who it is. you’re surprised that mouth of his hasn’t landed him in trouble yet—although, you suppose he’s not exactly in the good graces of most at the akademiya.

and as the akademiya’s acting grand sage, you admire his unwillingness to back down. but, as your boyfriend and the man you love, you wish he’d just compromise sometimes—and maybe let you wash his hair and hand feed him dinner for a bit as you nurse his injury back to health.

just this once….and maybe just a few more times later on too. you don’t ask for much, you like to think.

“i’ve gotten injuries like this before,” he reasons, “i’ve survived.”

you look at him with that delicate look of yours, the one that makes him feel like maybe he’s been living his life wrong this whole time. that it only became correct once his life involved you.

he thinks that’s might just be the case when you grin slightly, pinching his nose as you lean down, pecking his forehead and mumbling, “you don’t always have to just survive. you can indulge a bit, you know.”

“is that so?” he raises a brow, his good arm snaking around your hips.

“yes,” you hum, “if you give it a try, you might just enjoy indulging here and there,” you grin, stroking a thumb over his cheek as you admire his features, relearning every curve and every angle of his face. you don’t think you’d ever get bored like this—just standing in your bathroom, staring at him. you think you could comfortably stay right here like this forever.

maybe longer.

“i see,” he says slowly. al-haitham has always had a strong sense of control. but that was before you—he’s now forced to admit that his resolve is a bit weaker, just a bit shakier after you’ve come along. “does this begin with washing my hair?”

“and feeding you dinner,” you nod, tracing your thumb over his brow, letting it wander along the hook of his nose. “do you want me to kiss your arm better too?”

“is that really going to help?” he asks in amusement, making you giggle.

“oh yes,” you tease, “it was in a class i took from amurta. you probably didn’t take it—it’s far too rigorous for you.”

“oh,” he nods playfully, “of course. you’ll have to excuse my lack of understanding. not everyone can be as advanced as you.”

“here,” you grin—and it’s wide, and it’s warm, and it’s far too bright to ever be dimmed by the light of your bathroom as you stare at him, “i can demonstrate if you want. hands-on learning is always the best.”

“i must ask—have you ever learned hands-on like this with anyone else?” he raises a brow.

“and if i have? would that make you jealous?”

“perhaps a little,” he admits, fighting desperately to keep his own smile hidden. it’s hard not to smile when you’re around—how could he not when you swallow the sun with your lips every time they curve upwards in that honeyed way that they do?

“don’t worry,” you giggle again—and god, he thinks, he really loves that sound. he watches you lean down and kiss softly along the edges of his wound, tracing the cut slowly as you say, “you’re my only academic partner now.”

“i’m most grateful.”

“well?” you peck his shoulder, “a kiss helps, doesn’t it?”

“it does,” he chuckles quietly, “maybe you can show me a bit more.”

he’s given into you completely by now—you can tell by the way his body is relaxed on the edge of the bathtub. you can tell by that easy grin plastered on his usually blank face. you can tell by the way he leans into your touch every chance he gets. you can tell by the way he asks you to kiss his wound some more—the same wound he didn’t think you needed to care about.

but you always care, and he’s starting to understand you always will. so he stares at you hopefully, expecting just a few more presses of your lips.

so you do, kissing along his arm, peppering scattered pecks along his shoulder, pressing your lips gently along the column of his neck as he sighs softly and closes his eyes.

maybe being taken care of isn’t so bad—maybe he’s been missing out all this time….but then again, he thinks it’s just that he’s always been missing you. like he was born to find you. like he was made to be yours and you were made to be his and you both were made for each other if nothing else.

if nothing else, al-haitham is glad to be yours.

“does it still hurt?” you ask after some time.

“just a little,” he lets himself admit, “it’s nothing i’ve never dealt with before.”

“you really worried me you know,” you breathe quietly, making him squeeze your hips in reassurance, “don’t hide next time you’re hurt.”

“and will you kiss me back to health if i tell you?” he hums, leaning his head back to let you kiss his jaw easier.

you smile against his skin, letting your touch linger for a moment before you mumble, “of course, it’s only the best treatment. only those who take rigorous classes would know that.”

“good thing i have you to teach me.”

“yes, you’re really quite lucky,” you say with a cheeky smile.

there’s a warm bath waiting for him after this. and a hand fed meal. and perhaps a few more gentle kisses. but most certainly a lifetime of you—that much he knows.

i feel like i’m borderline violating myself by posting this bc it’s so self indulgent but here u go

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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bunnyshideawayy · 1 month

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a rumored bastard and a proven, disinherited, legally illegitimate recognized bastard are not the same.

Rhaenyra’s sons are rumored bastards, i know the show has a lot of team green stans feeling bold but just as in the books, they are never legally considered bastards in the show either. they are speculated to be via their physical features and Laenor’s apparent sexuality, but since Laenor and the KING (btw Westeros is a absolute monarchy, meaning the king IS law) both claim all three boys as legitimate heirs, unless someone demands a medieval dna test, those kids are legally Laenor’s true sons.

this is apparently a very hard concept to understand for some, hell even Alicent in the show says something like “we can all tell” which fair point, but that is not proof enough. looks, accusations, and rumor are not the same as actual proof of adultery or bastardy.

someone i was having a “discussion” with used Joffrey as an example to point out a flaw in my logic, but ultimately proved my point. Joffrey was a rumored bastard. Ned himself had no more proof than Alicent does, just hair color and a hunch, so Joffrey was never legally disinherited from the line of succession. I hate to defend either of these men but King Robert never publicly disowned him and called him bastard, which is why Joffrey ascended to the Iron Throne. now the rumors did hurt, and caused huge political issues leading to the War of 5 Kings, which is exactly why Alicent and Team Green is so insistent that Rhaenyra’s children are illegitimate, they know they cannot legally or physically prove her children are bastards, especially when Laenor and the King are claiming them are true born, but they can spread the rumor and call into question Rhaenyra’s honesty and morality. think episode 8 when team green takes their chance with Vaemond to attempt a coup of sorts for the Driftmark Throne, why would the succession of Driftmark need to be settled if Rhaenyra’s sons are true born? why would Alicent / Otto need to make this decision in place of the sick king and mia lord of tides who both had already been stating Luke would inherit for years. it’s all apart of the scheme to tarnish Rhaenyra’s reputation as Vaemond has no other proof either, and promptly loses his head (both metaphorically and literally) by calling the recognized heir to the throne a whore and her children bastards with no proof in front of the whole court.

it is a political scheme on both sides, Alicent cannot prove anything, and Rhaenyra cannot disprove the rumors no matter how many times they are claimed as true born sons. Rhaenyra has to live in the comfort the law gives her, as legally her sons are seen as legitimate, and thus legally they are protected. and from an unbiased pov with both in universe and historical references, those kids might be bastards in actually but not legally.

Rhaenyra goes through hell to keep her children legally protected, not only for their sake but for hers because should the truth come out both her and Laenor would be seriously punished, i wouldn’t go as far as executed but that would depend on if Viserys was old and bed ridden or dead. which is why im making this incredibly long post repeating myself in every point. you can argue all day about Rhaenyra’s children and their parentage but i am making this to make it clear that her children are not *legally* bastards by Westeros law. in order for Jace, Luke, and Joffrey to be illegitimate bastards Laenor, Rhaenyra, Harwin, and/or Viserys would have to publicly acknowledge them as such and disinherit them. no, Laenor and Viserys dying do not magically make Rhaenyra’s children legal bastards either. they would, again, need to be claimed and proven as such and disinherited.

and at the end of it all, true or not true, the rumors made a lasting impact on the story. so much so this fandom is still debating this topic, and frankly i am dreading the season 2 release when all the bad takes and bad faith arguments start up again.

anyway other famous rumored bastards are in Targ history are:

Maegor

Daeron II

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 26 days

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AITA for refusing to be friends with people who don't have any siblings?

I (20F) have two brothers and two sisters, I am the middle child and luckily I have a good relationship with my siblings even though we argue sometimes like most siblings do. so a few weeks ago, I was at uni and I met this goth girl, she was extremely witty and funny, and overall I rlly enjoyed being around her. I would laugh my ass off because she's hilarious and I can tell she's also intelligent and kind, I liked her so much I even gave her my number after a few days.

we sent each other memes and at some point I mention how I couldn't talk anymore at that moment bc I had to take my youngest brother out since he wanted to go watch a movie. afterwards, I told her a little more about my siblings and she says it's easy to tell I'm a good sister for looking after my youngest brother, and that she thought it'd be cool to have a sister like me, but she's an only child.

for some reason...this made me completely lose interest in her? which is weird bc like I said I do enjoy her company. I then realized all my friends have at least one sibling. I didn't know how to explain this to her so I ended up just ghosting her. I feel like people who are an only child just don't GET me and I want to be able to relate to my friends. I have been inadvertently avoiding people without siblings all my life. I realize I just don't want to be friends with someone who has no siblings but I know this seems like a pretty stupid reason to not want to be friends with someone. tbh if this girl had at least one sibling I would still want to be her friend.

I do feel like an asshole however I don't think forcing myself to be friends with people is a good idea. I also feel bad bc I was the one who wanted our friendship to progress faster and then I just ghosted her completely even tho she did nothing wrong. what should I do? AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

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idyllcy · 10 months

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don't miss me

word count: 9.4k

warnings: smut, nsfw

summary: it's you. It's been you, and it'll be you.

"uWAHHHHH!!" You sob, slamming your head into your hands.

"You have got to stop confessing to people who don't like you." Dick grumbles, sliding you the box of tissues on the table. "He's made it pretty clear that he has no interest."

"I'm bound to get to him at some point." You sit up, blowing your nose. "Come on."

"He's the school's hotshot."

"And you're captain of the varsity football team," You cough. "If I can tutor you and become friends with you, then the captain of the baseball team should be no big deal."

It's a strange place to find himself in. Dick had gone to you for help in one of his classes in exchange for enough money to fund your four years of college, and in exchange, you had taught him everything he needed for his classes. He went from risking the chance to stay on the team to having the best grade out of all of his teammates. He's thankful for you, he supposes, and he's the school's most wanted boy. He has more than enough of a fan club behind him.

He wonders why he was put in a public school instead of the private ones his brothers were put into. It wasn't as if Bruce lacked the money to put him into one.

"ANYWAY!" You toss the tissue into the trash behind you, stand up, and throw your fists in the air. "I will continue to confess!"

"Why not just go out with me?"

You pout at him, batting your lashes. "And potentially end up on a good chunk of the school's hit list? No thank you, Richard."

"Dick. Come on, it's not that bad."

You shrug, going back to the papers in your binder. "I'm not into you."

"We spend so much time together. We're bound to end up together, you know?"

"If you pull a psychology term on me I will punt you."

"You don't have the strength for that."

"I'll kill myself to change the trajectory of your life forever."

"That'd be very flattering for you to do."

"Ew."

But in the small classroom walls that confine the two of you, there's not much for the two of you to argue over. It's just a tutor-tutee relationship. There's nothing more. You don't understand why you rant out all of your frustrations to him when he has nothing to do with them, but you suppose it's not that much. Maybe it was silly to think that he would care. He probably doesn't. Dick was never your friend by choice, after all. It would be foolish to believe that he could care about you at all.

"I like you!" You yell from the bleachers, blowing a kiss, the rest of the school screaming along. The baseball captain shoots down your confession with a flick of his hand, and you pout.

It's fun to waste your youth pining over someone who doesn't love you back. It's not as if it mattered either. You would all scramble once you finished high school. Graduation was just around the corner. It didn't matter if he didn't like you back. It was so much funnier when they didn't.

You hear a chorus of screaming behind you, causing you to glance, just for a moment, at the reason for the screams.

"Oh, look who showed up." You smile. "Miss me already? Our session isn't until Wednesday."

"Don't flatter yourself." Dick's hands guide you to sit back down, standing next to you. "I came to scout out my competition."

"I thought you were still in that friends with benefits thing with Kori." You raise a brow at him.

"Broke it a while back." He hums. "How do you find this interesting?"

"I don't." You hum. "I'm here because he's here." You point at the baseball captain. "Obviously."

Dick clicks his tongue disdainfully. "I come all the way for you and you tell me that you're here for him?"

"I was here first, Dick." You wave happily as the captain stares at you. "I've been here."

"Well, I've come now. Let's get you home."

"I want to watch him finish his game."

"Why him and not me?"

You tilt your head at him. "No reason. I just think the baseball captain's hotter."

"Hotter than me?"

"Yes. Hotter than you."

"Did he reject you?"

"He waved down my kiss."

"I wouldn't do that to you."

"Yeah, but I don't want you."

It's funny. Dick hears all about how you got rejected again in the most delusional way possible, from the way of "oh he breathes the same air as me so surely he's in love with me" to something more mellow like "yeah I got rejected again lol". But that was something he got used to, he supposes. The empty classroom that the two of you always sat in but never got yelled at for was a staple in his life, especially when more than half of the time he was showing up to class with bruises all over his body. Maybe fighting crime at night wasn't something he should promise to do so often. Bruce would let him focus on school if he asked. Maybe.

"You look like shit as always," You click your tongue, raising a brow at the sight of Robin coughing up blood on your balcony.

"Sorry, pretty girl," He chuckles. "Bumped into someone awful today, as you can see. Care to lend me a hand?"

"The joker? The riddler? I don't even know who you fight anymore." You haul him onto the couch, pulling the curtains behind you. "How deep is it?"

"A little wrapping will do the trick." He mumbles. "Sorry for the problem."

"You're here more than I can count on one finger." You sigh. "I'm used to it. Where's Batman?"

"He went back."

"And left you alone?"

"Yes." Robin hisses as you press the alcohol to his wound. "I'm sorry, again."

"It doesn't matter. I was up, anyway." You pause. "How long have you been fighting crime again?"

"I don't know."

"Mm." Silence. "You should rebrand soon. I heard there are two Robins now."

"I'm close." He chuckles, lifting his shirt so you can wrap the bandage around his waist. "What do you think about Nightwing?"

You grumble. "Superman said something about that the other day in his interview. I stayed up all night drawing what I think his suit would look like."

"Can I see it?"

"If you want."

"You're graduating, right? Where are you going after?"

"New York City." You mumble. "Haven't told anyone yet, but I got into my dream school. I'm set."

"Really?"

"Yeah." You mumble. "I'm moving over summer, so don't crash here anymore unless you want to give my parents a heart attack, alright?"

"I'll miss you."

"That's cute. I can't imagine the number of people who would die to hear that from Robin from Teen Titans himself."

"I will."

You stare up at him. Maybe it was strange. It had been three years since Robin would crash land onto your balcony in the city and beg you for first aid. It had been two years since Dick Grayson had asked you for help in math, and even shorter than the time you had started designing suits for him to look at. Maybe that's why you had grown used to the way he would rest his chin on your shoulder and stare through the lazy sketches you had of what you thought he should change his outfit into. He likes the way you picture Nightwing. He's like some disco guy in the first draft and much more chill in the second.

"Can I take the pages?" He mumbles. "Please? I want it."

"So you can steal my design?"

"No. I like the disco suit you drew."

"That was a first draft." You groan.

"I can start with it."

"It's too flashy! It doesn't fit the whole Batman aesthetic!"

"Doesn't matter." He grins. "It looks like my current Robin one but in blue."

You raise a brow at him incredulously.

"I'll buy these off of you."

"With your legal account?"

"I'll send you money each month anonymously like a patent. Wait. I can't see you anymore."

"Yeah." You exhale. "You can take it, though. I can't let anyone know I've been drawing Robin's clothes. I would get targeted by too many villains."

"That's true." Robin pauses. "Has anyone seen it?"

"No."

"Can I take all of them?"

"How are you going to get all of them to Batman?"

"I'll figure out a way." He grins. "I am Robin, after all."

"Well, then, Robin," You rustle the papers, dropping them in his open hands. "I hope you keep all of them."

"I'll pin them in my room's wall."

"That's just creepy."

"Maybe to you."

Dick never expected you to let him in three years ago, in his defense. He expected you to cower in fear like the rest of people or even just slide him a first aid kit. He was not expecting you to drag him into your room and start disinfecting his wound. He learned so much more about who you were through his interactions with you as Robin than he did as Dick. All he hears from you during the day is how you got rejected by the captain of the baseball team again. He wonders if he should just woo you as Robin instead. You seem to like his separate identity more.

"You forgot the number in front of the integral."

"No way." He grumbles.

"Yeah." You point. "Minor mistakes. It'll be fixed with some practice. I'm sure."

"When are we stopping this?"

"Eager to get me out of your hair already? After senior finals, of course."

"Are you going to keep confessing to captain until then?"

"Why?"

"I'm suggesting you give me a chance, of course." Dick stares at you.

"There you go again with that," You yawn. "Are you sure it's not because I'm your type? Scratch that. I don't even think I'm your type."

"And if you were?"

"That would be very interesting considering your dating history." You grimace.

Dick grumbles in response. He didn't have something for that one.

It's ironic to think that someone else in the school would die to date the man in front of you. You wonder why you don't like him sometimes. You're sure he's someone straight out of a movie, a guy who everyone would want to be with at least once in their life. He almost reminds you of the other football boys on his team. Maybe this was a movie. The jock ends up with his tutor. Some sort of cliché love story that you would never touch, ever again.

Robin crash lands on your balcony again before you can think more of it.

"Sorry!"

"What brings you here today? Ivy?"

"Yeah! How'd you know?" He sits up, a grin on his face.

"You smell like herbs all over you." You grimace.

"Woah, sharp nose." Robin mumbles. "Can you ramble about your high school to me?"

"Oh. You wanna hear about how I have a crush on the captain of the football team? The guy I tutor?"

"yOU WHAT? I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU LIKED THE BASEBALL GUY." Robin gasps, jaw dropped in shock.

"I changed my mind." You hum, fishing out the disinfectant from the first aid kit. "I won't admit it to his face, of course, but I think he's kind of fine. That man is infuratingly attractive. Who gave him his bone structure? He looks like a greek statue or something. I want him carnally."

"Are you going to ask him out?"

"And do long distance in this day and age?" You laugh. "No. I'm going to keep pretending that I like the baseball captain until the end of graduation. I'd like to be remembered as a fool. Besides, I don't think Dick actually likes me that way. I heard something about him and Kori in the halls and I don't want to be part of that. I heard he slept with a good chunk of the girls sports team captains too. I don't know. I'd prefer not to know. All I know is that I don't want to be part of that mess."

Robin peels his shirt up, pouting. "I thought you said confessing was the best form of closure."

"Not when dating your crush is going to get half of the school on your back. I've lived without being in the spotlight for long enough. I plan on doing that after school." You press the gauze to his wound, causing him to hiss. "You good?"

"Hurts."

"I'm sure it does." You deadpan.

"Why not tell him?"

"You seem very invested in my love life with this dude."

"I'm bored. I keep getting beat up these days, so I have to listen to something to get it off my mind." Robin pouts as you wrap the bandage around his waist.

"Did you gain more muscle?"

"Does it look that way?"

"A little." You raise a brow.

"I work out more in my free time."

"You know, maybe I like the stupid football guy because he reminds me of you too much."

"You like me?"

"I thought you were a good detective."

"I am."

"And you didn't know?"

"I didn't want to point it out." He mumbles. "Maybe you'd get uncomfortable."

"Alright." You yawn, closing the first aid kit. "This is one of the last times you're crashing. ever."

"Why?"

"I go on vacation in a couple weeks and I'm going to start packing for moving. You aren't going to be able to see me in a long time."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" He pouts.

"You're a nightmare, Robin," You help him stand up, pressing your lips to his cheek. "I hope I see you as Nightwing one day."

"I can promise you that."

You wonder some days if you should just tell Dick that you have a crush on him. You call him his government for shits and giggles, and you barely pay enough attention to what he does in tutoring these days. Maybe you were just destined to be stuck with someone like him. Yet, even as graduation approaches, you find there's no use sticking close to those ideas. You'll never see him again. It's pointless to admit your crush now.

"So? What's your answer?"

"I'm still in love with the baseball guy," You sigh blissfully, eyes far away. "He's so... dreamy."

"The only difference between the two of us is that I have better grades." Dick raises his brow.

"Richard." You yawn. "I could fix him."

"You absolutely could not."

"You're right. I could not." You laugh. "Isn't it fun being delusional? I think it's great."

"It is absolutely not."

"Maybe to you, Richard." You yawn. "I find it quite amusing to daydream about myself with a person who would never look at me twice."

"If you ask me." He clicks his tongue. "I'd say he thinks about you a lot more now."

"Oh, really?" You tilt your head. "I still don't find myself believing that fact."

"It's hard to think about it." He grimaces. "He asked me for your number the other day."

"Did you give it to him?"

"You said to ask first. I forgot to ask."

"Are you sure you forgot?"

"I didn't give it to him on purpose." He grins.

"Sly, sly, boy." You chuckle. "Oh, right. I forgot to give you the worksheets."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"Too bad." You rummage through your bag, handing him a stack of papers. "I'll see you after school."

"You expect me to do this during practice?"

"You're off-season. You barely train." You stand up, dusting off your hands. "Have fun."

Dick glances at the papers. "Wait-"

The door clicks behind you, and Dick sits there, staring at the stack of papers.

Dick lets his curiosity get the best of him, flipping through the pages, reading through your sketches and messy notes. It's neat, uncrumpled, to the point. The drawings are messy, but each part of his suit as Robin has been noted down. His weapons have been detailed, and he wonders if you had been doing more than just checking out his gadgets whenever he crashed your apartment. Maybe you were carefully calculating everything just as you had with his math homework. Perhaps he would get separated from you years later and never see you again.

He finds himself at your final period of the day, knocking on the door.

"Come in."

"Ah, Mrs. Baker," He smiles. "My tutor left this during lunch, so I came to hand it back to her."

You stare at Dick, getting out of your seat to take the papers from him with the actual packet in your other hand. "My apologies. I will see you after school."

A girl in the class faints while the others scream.

You sit back in your seat, staring at the note he left in your stack.

There was no point in caring for things that would inevitably pass.

So, neither of you mention anything ever again. The tutoring goes on as normal, the confessions do as well. There's something consistently hanging in the air between the two of you that neither addresses. The elephant in the room is neither seen nor discussed. The stories of your youth no longer matter to you, and you graduate top of the class, valedictorian, going to the school of your choice. It didn't matter that you had just stopped pining after the baseball captain one day. No one would know why. Maybe. Except Dick.

Dick learns to move on with life, slowly. You sit in the back of his mind when he's bored while on patrol, staring down at the city, wondering if you had ever considered him to even be an option. But he finds no space in thinking about you. He had his own job. The two of you had grown up, maybe you before him. The two of you were just. High school friends. Maybe not even friends. He thinks about your signature in his yearbook often. Maybe he would find you one day. It would come slower. Maybe.

But he leaves your mind as quickly as he had been there, left behind with Gotham when you had stepped foot into your dream school. You find your success in life as easily as you had executed whatever plan it had been in high school. You're quickly where you want to be in life, top of the city, sipping margaritas with your friends when you grow bored. It's something that someone has dreamed of, and it's something that you have considered. Maybe you would consider staying where you are longer had it not been for the obscenely high crime rate lately.

"I heard Jessica got mugged the other weekend." One of your friends sighs. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am." Jessica mumbles. "Oh, but there was this super hot hero who saved me! I tried asking for his name, but he never told me. Black suit, blue bird thing on his chest. He was so... dreamy!"

"Jessica, darling," Another woman chimes in. "I'm sure you've gone delusional. New York City does not have people saving them. Our crime rate is just a nightmare in itself."

"Was it Nightwing? You know, the... superhero?" You furrow your brows. "I think that's what he is."

"Is that his name?!" She gushes. "He's sooo romantic!"

"Jessica, aren't you engaged?"

"Awh, it's not as if I'd ever get a chance with him."

You chuckle. "Did he look good?"

"So good. God. His black hair? I thought I was going to lose my mind."

"Darling," A woman reaches their hand for yours. "How do you know about Nightwing?"

"I read Gotham Daily for fun." You smile. "It's good to keep up with what's been going on in my home city."

"Right! Then surely you know Nightwing?"

"Know is a little bit of an overstatement." You grimace. "I don't know him personally. I know about him."

"Oh, well." Jessica chuckles. "I'm sure you'll get to know him so much more soon."

"What."

"He asked if I knew anyone by your name, so I told him your add-"

"You gave my house address to a random man who saved you?!" You yell. "That's stupid!"

"He was asking for you!"

"Why?"

"I don't know." Jessica holds back a laugh. "I told him your studio address."

"At least it wasn't my house address," You mumble. "But I'm holed up in that hellhole when I get bored, so I suppose it's the equivalent of giving him my house address."

"He's got real defined muscles-"

"Okay, Jessica, I think that's enough for the night. I'll call your fiancé for you."

"Ugh. He's so fine."

"We get it, darling."

You help her into her fiancé's car, watching as the two of them drive away. The other ladies all head off, and you stand there in the night. It's not half as cold as you're expecting it to be, but you suppose being alone at night is a little lonely. You purse your lips, clicking on your phone to call an Uber to your studio. You didn't feel like staying home. Maybe sketching your frustrations out in the studio would do something better.

"Alone at night, sweetheart?"

You turn to face the voice.

"...Nightwing?"

He's in the second design.

"Miss me?"

"I don't know, actually." You mumble. "I was just feeling a little betrayed that Jessica just gave you my address like that."

"I checked it out. It's a nice little studio. Are you still up to big things?"

You shrug. "I bet you read the magazines about me."

"I do." He chuckles. "I have your sketches pinned on my walls still, even when I moved." He leans in, breath tickling your ear. "Shall I take you home?"

"To the studio, if you will."

"Hold on tight." He wraps an arm around your waist, launching the grappling hook. "I don't remember if you've ever flown with me."

"I have not." You cling onto him, grimacing. "Please do not drop me. You aren't Spiderman."

"Should I be offended that you're comparing me to a fictional superhero?"

"I'm going to die if you do."

"We're here." He lands on the rooftop.

"Why the sudden move?"

"Am I not allowed to follow my favorite designer to the ends of the earth?"

"Yeah. It's a little creepy, honestly." You scrunch your nose. "Did something go wrong with your suit?"

"No." He mumbles. "Maybe. I don't know."

You raise a brow at him.

"Nothing went wrong. I just missed you."

"Missed me or having a place to patch up that wasn't Batman?"

"Both." He mumbles. "Can I see your designs?"

"So you can steal them?"

"Not fair. You're the one who let me steal them." Nightwing pouts. "I still have them on my wall, if you want to visit my place."

"That's a little too early." You imitate his pout, leaning back, his arm still around your waist. "Don't you think?"

"For someone who's caught you naked when you were in high school, I don't think so." He hums, hand leaving your waist. "Will you show me around?"

"Since you asked so nicely."

It's strange to see him again after so many years. You were sure that Robin — Nightwing — would come to forget you at some point. You had heard more stories about how he had been such a great protector of the city at dark alongside Batman, so you suppose that inevitably he probably had found someone on the way. You heard he had a thing with Batgirl at some point. You wonder why he didn't stay with her. The newspapers were just as shocked as you were when they found out they broke up.

"I heard you had a thing for redheads." You hum, opening the door on the rooftop. "You know. With the whole dating thing on the magazines."

"I suppose I am weak to them." He follows you down the stairs, pausing when you fish out a key and open the door. "Jealou-"

You cut him off. "Welcome to my studio."

"Are those superhero suits?"

"I was trying to figure out what fabrics would work to avoid acid burns." You shrug. "Old habits. I was thinking of visiting Gotham a little later and I was worried I'd get caught up in another attack."

"You'll be fine. Robin is surprisingly competent."

"Are you guys like one big family or something?"

"No." You catch the way he pauses in inhaling. "Nope."

"Sure." You yawn. "I'm crashing. Please be gone by morning."

"Aw, you don't want to see me?"

"I can't tailor anything for you. Go to bed."

"Superheros don't sleep."

"You're human. Night." You close the door to the bed in the studio, and Nightwing looks around at the papers scattered on the floor. New York could survive a day without him.

You wake up the next morning to Nightwing still in your studio, staring at the sketches on the floor.

"Did you end up giving this one to Kid Flash?"

"There's no use. He's dead." You yawn, opening your laptop.

"Didn't need to remind me like that."

"Nightwing. Don't you have a home to go to?"

"I'm exhausted, true." He yawns. "You're contagious."

"Whatever helps you sleep." You grumble. "Stupid emails. Go home."

"And if I want to stay?"

"I'll peel your mask off." You sigh. "Now go."

"Can I crash some other time?"

"If you can find my apartment."

"Shall I bet on it, sweetheart?"

You tilt your head at him, raising a brow. "Be my guest."

Sometime between where you are now and where you had left Dick, he had caught up. Maybe it had been a chase he was doing unconsciously. Maybe he missed the way you would patch him up in your apartment at night no matter how late he found himself in your room. Maybe he missed the way you would take him out for dinner if he did well on a test. Maybe he just missed you. He finds himself staring at you in the grocery store, lips parted in mild surprise. He wasn't expecting to run into you here. He thought you'd stay holed up in your studio for the day.

"...Richard?"

"Dick." He corrects.

"It is you!" You mumble. "What are you doing in New York? I thought you were working for law enforcement at Gotham."

"Change of plans, change of place." It wasn't exactly a lie. He needed to leave that place. He doesn't know why he picked your city of all places, though. "You?"

"I've been here."

"I suppose." he hums. "Is it nice here?"

"Safer than Gotham." You laugh dryly. "I can't believe Nightwing left that place."

"Why?"

You turn to stare at him. "I figured he'd want to stay close to Batman."

"The first always wants to leave and explore." Dick smiles.

"A psychology fact or just something small?"

"An observation not proven by experiments." He hums. "Why are you here?"

"Low on oat milk." You mumble, reaching for the fridge door.

"You're really living that New York City life, huh?"

"Maybe."

"Do you miss Gotham?"

"Never." You pause. "I only miss it because someone used to crash my place."

"Someone?"

"Secret." You smile at him. "Have fun in New York."

"If you don't mind." He mumbles. "Can we exchange numbers again?"

"I never changed my old one."

It never struck Dick that maybe you would keep your old number. You had no reason to keep it, after all. Yet, as he clicks open a conversation that he hadn't touched in years but still kept, he wonders if the two of you had just stopped in time. Maybe he had just chosen you from the start. It wasn't as if his high school life was conventional. The popularity at school meant nothing to him in retrospect.

So, he finds himself staring at the ice cream aisle for a little too long, staring at your favorite flavor an uncomfortable amount of time. Maybe it would be his housewarming gift for you as someone crashing into your room. He should go home soon, he supposes. The sun was setting quickly, and he had to do nightly patrol.

He wonders if he'll just crash into your apartment out of instinct.

So, after a quick clean-up and call to the police, he finds himself landing on a random balcony. He could be wrong. He was sure this could just be some complete stranger's balcony, but it could also be right. He had a feeling that you were inside, as he always did. He finds a strange sense of deja vu, especially as Nightwing. He wanted to pay you a visit on the first day in your super-suit, but you had taped the notice that you were already gone.

"I'm surprised you actually found this place." You tilt your head at him as you open the door. "Come in."

"Weird sense of deja vu, no?"

"Almost." You yawn, noticing a bag in his hand. "What's that?"

"Housewarming."

"I don't recall telling you my favorite ice cream flavor, ever."

"Lucky guess."

"Sure, hero." You hum. "I'm too tired to be a good host, so do what you want."

"Could you wrap me up? That's all I want."

"You're hurt?"

"It's not easy out on these streets."

"Better be no cuts."

"Just a handful of bruises."

"I'll get the ice." You sigh. "Why do you always come at the most unconventional times of day."

"Maybe I just like you when you're half drunk on sleep depravity, pretty girl."

"I'm going to punch you." You grumble, activating the ice pack from your first aid kid, and throwing it at him. Nightwing fails to notice the way your ears burn from the nickname.

"Is it just one bedroom?"

"Did you think I lived in a penthouse?"

"Kind of."

"I live alone. There's no need." You blink. "Knock yourself out. I'll be in bed."

"Sweetheart."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever considered me to be a man?"

"As in jump me? No." You hum. "I have security cameras in all four corners of the room. If you did, I would have the evidence to prove you as some creepy guy in my house."

"Even if I'm Nightwing?"

"Even if you're Nightwing."

Dick watches as you completely fall asleep in your bed, ignoring the way that he gets up to sit by you, staring at your sleeping form. You were always too vulnerable with the wrong people, maybe. You had handed him all of your designs in a heartbeat, spilling out everything that had ever plagued your mind in a breath. He rests his chin on the plush of your mattress, breathing matching yours, staring at you. He wonders if this was what he had moved to New York for. Crashing your room at the unholy hours of the night and catching up with you. It's a foolish dream of his. You could never love him back at himself, so he resorts to crashing your apartment and asking for patching up as Nightwing instead.

"Pretty girl." He mumbles, sitting up, pressing a kiss to a lock of your hair. "Missed you."

You wake up to Nightwing gone, the balcony door closed, thankfully, and a splitting headache. You wonder if your all-nighters have finally caught up with you. Maybe they have. You're caught between wondering if you should text a friend to bring food for you or just ordering off of some overpriced delivery app in the most overpriced city in the country. You decide against both, falling asleep in your bed covers as your fever rages on. How exhausting.

You wake up to the sound of your doorbell, tugging yourself out of bed, taking your gun with you.

"Who is it?"

"It's me."

You open the door to your apartment, squinting at the man.

"Come back another time. I feel like shit right now." You grumble, reaching to close the door on Dick.

"If you're sick, shouldn't you need someone to take care of you?"

"My secretary can."

"You have a secretary?"

You sniff. "Yeah."

"I heard she's on break from the twitter updates account. Let me in. I promise I won't burn your kitchen down." Dick mumbles.

You frown. "And you're not going to jump me?"

"No."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Well, if you do." You mumble, showing him the gun in your other hand. "I have this bad boy."

"You have a gun?"

"You never know who's going to break in." You grumble, opening the door to let him in.

"Do you have groceries?"

"I was at the store yesterday. Make do with what I have. Or something." You blink, pulling the blanket further over yourself. "I feel like I've been struck in half by an axe."

"Go rest up." Dick places a hand on your forehead, resting his forehead on yours. "You're burning."

"I think I know that much." You shuffle back to your bed, laying flat on it.

"Do you have Advil?"

"Tylenol's in the cabinet. Might be expired. I've had it forever."

"It's not." He mumbles, getting a glass of water for you as well. "Come on."

You sit up, swallowing the pills with the water, head still spinning. "Thermometer's in the same cabinet."

Dick presses the infrared thermometer to your head, staring at your temperature. "You're awfully hot."

"Thanks." You grumble. "You haven't said that since high school."

"What do you usually do when sick?"

"I haven't been sick since I moved out." You blink slowly, lying back down. "Don't trash the place."

"I won't."

You pass out.

It's ironic. Dick was in your apartment less than twelve hours ago as Nightwing, and now he was in your apartment cooking you soup that he doesn't remember ever learning the recipe of. He missed this. He missed you. Maybe that was why all those women had looked at him at some point in their relationship and told him that he liked someone else. How pitiful of him. To love someone yet date someone else.

But you recover just as quick. Almost as if you were waiting for him to just enter your apartment and take care of you. It was as if your body just needed him once. You don't know. You wake up to Dick sprawled on your couch and your body all dehydrated. There's a bowl of soup next to you that's still warm, and you start eating it as you take your own temperature. It's day. You don't know if it's the same day or you slept through an entire day, but the sun is out, and you feel a little better.

"Do you want help?" Dick opens one of his eyes to stare at you, and you blink at him.

"I'll be fine. Thank you for staying overnight."

"Of course." He hums.

Nightwing crashes two nights later, tumbling down your fire escape. You clutch the gun in your hand and stare at the balcony.

"Just me, sweetheart."

"What a crash landing." You mumble, opening the window to let him in. "What is it this time? We really shouldn't have that many supervillains here."

"Less, that's true." Nightwing hums. "But I still got a good beating." He laughs.

"You're going to be permanently bruised at this rate." You haul him through the window, sighing. "What do you want this time? More bandages? Gauze? A trip to the ER? My soul?"

"Nope. Just checking to see how my favorite girl is doing."

"Now that's just creepy."

"That is not!"

"Oh, no it definitely is." You sigh.

"Are you feeling better?"

You tilt your head as Nightwing pulls his suit up to show you the bruise. "I had a splitting fever yesterday. I'm better now."

"That's good. You didn't answer when I knocked yesterday."

"So you guessed I was sick?"

"Greatest detective in Gotham, remember?"

"Yeah, but this is New York." You mumble, breaking another ice pack to press to his bruise. "I'm sure there's someone better than you."

"Really?"

"I'm sure of it."

Nightwing swings by your apartment every other night. You don't understand how he has the time for that, but you don't question it or anything else. Too many questions lead to too many thoughts. You try not to think of much when you're hanging out with him every other night.

"At this point, I'm going to become nocturnal." You grumble, hanging off the edge of the couch.

"Just for me?"

You raise a brow. "No."

"Are you still designing?"

"Here's a new sketch." You hand him a random paper from the ones all over the ground, and he stares at it.

"A new design for me?"

"No. Just an alternate outfit."

"Can't you get it sewn up for me?"

"I don't like you that much." You grumble.

Nightwing rests his chin on your shoulder huffing.

Somewhere between the crashing apartments and movie nights, you found yourself tangled in Nightwing's limbs, closer to him than you could have imagined in the past. You wonder if any traces of Robin are there, the bruises and scars littered all over his body. You wonder if he had ever liked you. In the empty nights that you had spent with Robin, you found yourself enamored by him. It was foolish for you to ever develop those feelings, so you wonder if Nightwing can read it off of you. He probably can.

"I can't make it in two days." Nightwing mumbles, adjusting the blanket draped over the two of you.

"Mm," You mumble. "Why not?"

Nightwing goes silent, staring at the screen. "Breach of privacy, don't you think, sweetheart?"

"So now I'm not allowed to hear about what you're doing in your free time?"

"Hero's secret." He rests his hand on your shin, tracing mindless circles on your skin. "You'll forgive me, right? Sweetheart?"

You grumble, looking to the side.

"I'm not going to be patroling that day, anyway."

"Oh, yeah." You mumble. "I'm not home that day either. I'm supposed to help Dick move into his new apartment."

"Cheating on me, pretty girl?"

"I was two timing you guys in high school, sure." You pause. "Speaking of Dick. I don't remember ever giving him my home address. How did he even find me?"

Nightwing taps your shin twice. "You sure you didn't text it to him?"

"I swear I didn't-" You pause when you see a conversation with Dick, sending him your full address. "Strange. I don't remember."

"Are you showing early signs of memory loss?"

"Don't be a dick," You pout. "Maybe I texted him while half delirious."

"I have to go, sweetheart," He mumbles, brushing your hair back and pressing a kiss to the corner of your eye. "The city calls."

"I was thinking about it," You tuck your legs back to your chest, staring at him as he clasps everything back onto his outfit. "We should really stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Whatever it is we are doing." You mumble. "The whole... situationship thing."

"Do you not want me anymore?"

"I'd prefer to actually find someone." You adjust the blanket on yourself, clicking to lower the tv volume. "That's not right. I can't date a superhero. I think that's more normal. I don't even know who you are."

Nightwing opens his mouth, closing it when he remembers he can't argue with you on it.

"Does that mean I can't crash anymore?"

"No." You huff. "No more cuddling."

"And if I ask you out?"

"No point." You grumble. "I'd be dating a superhero and not a human."

"I thought you said I was human?"

You pause. "But I don't know who you are. You could be some creepy forty year old for all I know."

"'Kay, now that's just rude, sweetheart. I am not forty."

"Yeah, yeah," You grumble. "Ask me out in your civilian form if you really want me that bad."

"Is that a deal?"

"As long as it isn't out of nowhere."

Nightwing disappears into the city, and you glance at the movie still playing in the background.

Dick thanks you for the help with moving apartments. You wonder how he managed to end up as your neighbor, but as he kicks the remaining boxes into the complex, you don't really complain. You could be sitting in your room drawing something insane for Nightwing right now. Maybe it was a healthy break from the guy you've been falling in love with. You wonder why he didn't just stop seeing you once he found out you liked him.

"You look like you're thinking hard."

"That's definitely not something you know how to do?"

"Ey. I'm not stupid. Remember? I was salutatorian." Dick raises a brow, opening one of the boxes.

"I forgot." You pause. "Wasn't your brother suspended?"

"Yeah. He was quite a handful."

"He was funny," You hum, opening another box. "I found him really amusing."

"Makes you think hard about family dynamics."

"Really does." You hand him decorations to go around the apartment from the floor, and you pause when you see a binder. "What's this?"

"Oh, you weren't supposed to see that." He takes it from your hands, holding it behind himself. "You were not supposed to see that."

You glance at the paper flutter out of the binder, and you reach for it, pausing at the familiarity.

"Did you... where did you get this?"

"I found it at a thrift store." He smiles.

"Thrift stores don't sell old sketches by people drawn during high school for superheros." You deadpan.

"An antique store?"

"Spit it out, Richard." You furrow your brows, pulling your lip up. "Are you Nightwing or did you rob him? I doubt both of them, so your explanation better be convincing."

"I like you."

"what."

"Let's go out."

"Where is this coming from?" You shake your head in confusion.

"Um. Two nights ago?"

You pause. "I didn't see-"

You blink at Dick tuck the paper back into the binder, placing it on the kitchen counter.

"YOU'RE ACTUALLY FUCKING NI-"

"I'd prefer if you kept that revelation to yourself. These walls aren't soundproof."

You gawk at him. "I was wrapping you up every single fucking night at Gotham?"

"Yes?"

You sit there, hands lax, hanging from the box, questioning every single thing you had ever told him up to this point.

"YOU LISTENED TO ME TALK ABOUT HOW INFURIATINGLY HOT I FOUND YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL?!"

"...yes."

You slam your head into your hands, head spinning from the impact and realization. You told Nightwing you found him hot. You told Dick, who had crashed into your room almost every day at Gotham, all about how you thought he was attractive, but there was no point in telling him. You kissed him on the cheek in high school. The more you think about it, the more you question your presence in the room and the more you want to dig a hole and die in it. You were such an embarassment.

"I think I'm going to dig a hole and bury myself." You look up from your hands.

"Please don't do that." Dick mumbles, stepping next to you. "Do you hate me that much? You said you-"

"Yeah." You purse your lips. "Yes. But this is very out of the blue and I need a couple days to process all of this information."

"Your break ends in a couple of days."

"UGH!" You cry, dragging your hands down your face. "I would say yes but oh my god. This is embarassing. So embarassing."

"Yes."

You blink slowly.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's a yes." You answer in a heartbeat. "Please give me a couple days to come to terms with it, though."

"Anything." He mumbles, kissing your forehead.

Dating Dick Grayson is an experience. He's quiet, slow, and he takes his time with you. You find yourself in his apartment more and more despite the ever-sinking knowledge that he's Nightwing. You forget sometimes — only for him to crash through his balcony and roll into your arms. It's worrying now that you're actually dating him. There's a fear that he'd go missing like his brother and maybe even die. The idea that he was returning to the police force wasn't any more comforting.

"Why here?" You mumble, peeling the suit off of his body. "We can go back to Gotham if you really want."

"Why would you move back to Gotham with me?"

"I've been working online for the past year." You sigh. "I never knew when you'd come crash landing into the house during night so I sold my studio. I'm always worried you'll go missing on me one day."

"You're willing to move back with me?"

You heave, picking the mask off of his face.

"Really?"

"Your family is there." You whisper, almost scared as though your voice would give out on you. "Mine is too."

"You'll go back with me?" He holds onto your forearms, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah."

You don't know what prompts you to tell him that at the dead of the night only a month into dating him, but it just felt right. It was strange to believe that you had been so willing to move so quickly despite dating him for such a short time. You weren't even sure if you would be able to last past the three-month mark. Maybe it was a mistake of some sort. To move with Dick so quickly. You don't know how you're supposed to decide so fast.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Dick grabs your wrist, causing you to stop with the wrapping. "You've wrapped four more layers than you usually do."

"Do you think we'll last past the three month mark?" You whisper, almost as if you were asking the wind and not him.

"Yeah." Dick hums, helping you rip the bandage. "It'll be fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles. "I haven't lied to you before, love."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." He kisses you gently, body warmth grounding you. "I promise."

You tuck the rest of the bandages back into the first aid kit, and Dick pulls you into his lap, peppering kisses over your face and neck. It causes you to giggle, smile erupting on your face as butterflies had when you had fallen for him the first time. The worries melt away as Dick runs his hand up and down your back soothingly. You were lucky. The wait was worth it, you think. He was an angel.

"Let me know when to stop," He mumbles against your lips before going back to making out with you, kisses light on your skin.

You squirm in his lap, his hands holding your hips down, giving you just enough space so that you don't bruise. His tongue slips into your mouth at some point, your eyes going half-lidded, welcoming him with fervor. Dick's hands trace circles on your hip, hands snuck underneath your shirt to tug at your bra, unclasping it with his free hand, lips never leaving yours. Your hands reach down for his shirt, tugging at the fabric, fiddling with the fabric. Dick smiles against your lips, pulling away.

A strand of saliva breaks from your lips as he does. "Struggling, pretty girl?"

"Yeah." You huff, watching as Dick pulls it over his head.

"Pretty baby," He laughs. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," You mumble, leaning down to bite his clavicle. You suck on it gently as Dick traces a hand past your shorts down to your clit, drawing lazy circles on your clit, humming lowly, vibrations traveling straight to your core.

"Pretty girl..." He sighs as you let go of his collar with a pop, sliding a finger from your clit into your cunt, sighing slowly as he slides his finger in further, earning a whimper from your lips. "Feel good?"

"Mhm." You gasp. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, pretty girl." He whispers against your skin. "Want me to help you out?"

"Yes, please," You mumble. "Please, Dick."

"Anything for you, sweetheart." His hands speed up, thumb trying to brush circles on your clit as his index finger curls inside of you. You wonder if he's teasing or if he really doesn't remember where your g spot is — You choke on your own thought as he finds it. "There it is."

Your fingers reach for his chest, nails digging into his pecs as he continues curling his finger, adding another one inside of you. He hisses quietly as your nails dig deep enough to draw blood, a trail of red following the scratch as he continues with his fingers inside of you.

"Pretty girl, on the back please."

"Sorry," You move your hands to his back, yelping as he starts again. You clench on his fingers as he curls them once more, your orgasm ripping through your skin; the sweat wraps your body in a thin sheen of white, reflecting the dim lighting of the apartment. You curl into him, your whole body shaking from the orgasm, lips parted in a silent cry. You blink to try and catch your breath, coughing.

"Sweetheart?"

"I get why you've had so many exes now." You mumble.

"I like you the best." He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your eye.

"I bet you say that to all of them."

"Only to my favorites." He hums. "Just you."

You look at him doubtfully.

"I promise."

You close your eyes, head ringing. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

You move to get rid of your shorts as Dick slides his boxers off, straddling him and sinking down slowly. You stay there to adjust, and wait, mind wandering slowly as Dick starts bouncing you. You keep your voice to yourself, only small whimpers and light gasps slipping past your lips. Your eyes cloud over as your brain goes on autopilot. Dick notices quickly, stopping altogether when you don't seem to respond.

"Babe?"

You stare at him.

"What's wrong?"

"I'll be fine." You smile.

You count with fingers in your mind, from one hand to the next, then back to the original hand, changing so that one counts the fives and the other counts the other single digits, and then the tens and the single digits. You don't know why you're counting them, but it seems like a lot or too little — too little yet too much. Your mind spins gently, slowly, almost as if the thoughts were like murky water, pulling you down slowly, waiting for a moment to drown you wholeheartedly.

"Babe." Dick tries again, calloused fingers brushing over your hip. "Talk to me."

"I thought you were the one who sucked at communication." You blink back slowly, not registering your words. "You know?"

"I usually do, but I learn."

"I suppose you do." You stare at him. "I'm scared."

"Of us?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "It's in the back of my mind constantly. What if you return dead one day like you did to Barbara so many years ago?"

"I wasn't dead-"

"You were shot in the head." You whimper. "You." You go quiet, resting your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. "I've done nothing with you."

"Pretty girl-"

"Your life as Nightwing was in Barb's hands." You start. "The two of you have done so much together. The news went insane when they found out you were engaged to her and set to marry her. I was so ready to see the news of a marriage, and then it seemed that you had just broken the engagement out of nowhere — and then I find out that you moved out of Blüdhaven and disappeared from the very city you poured your whole heart into and find you out here on the streets of New york? What — what kind of madness did I read in the morning newspaper, you, you left the city you fell in love with for the streets of New York?? Do you know how — how preposterous you sounded when you said that? It was as if I had been told that Batman was actually Bruce Wayne or something, it was so—"

"Babe." Dick whispers. "Babe."

"... insane of you to just do something — yeah?" You mumble. "Sorry. We're having sex and I'm—"

"I find it endearing," He laughs, resuming the circles on your hip. "But I'm with you now. Not with Babs." He smiles. "You. I moved here to New York after becoming Blüdhaven's billionaire savior because of you. I didn't move anywhere for any of my exes, right?"

You avoid his gaze, swallowing out of guilt.

"Don't feel bad for doubting me." He smiles. "I understand why."

"I guess that makes two trust issues havers in this relationship." You frown playfully.

"Well," He hums, standing up, switching positions to place you underneath him. "If you don't mind."

"God. I think I should get fucked silly. I hate my brain."

"Then what'll happen to all of my outfits?"

"Just find someone else." You grumble, kicking your legs over him. "I'm sure you can handle it."

"Really?" He thrusts into you sharply, causing you to gasp. "Really."

"Dick Grayson, just get on with it." You grumble.

You wonder sometimes where he had all the energy to patrol, work, and fuck you, but you suppose stamina training might've been part of the curriculum with Batman. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he pounds into you, mess of slick and cum following Dick's cock as he slides in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Dick pants into your ears, head spinning, drunk on the lust as he continues, fingers flying to your clit frantically, desperate to get you off. You're drunk off the same lust, hands moving to pull his lips to yours, mouth open and drool all over you two's chins.

It's messy.

You gasp and curl as you get closer, heels digging into the back of his thigh to try and have him deeper, his name slipping past your lips like a mantra, your mind melting into mush over him. Dick mumbles under his breath, marveling at how pretty you look with drool slipping down your chin and clouded eyes. You're gorgeous when you're reduced to a mess that can only gasp his name and pull at his hair. Crying lightly, you whimper about how you were close, spurring Dick to move impossibly faster. You cum with a clench of your walls and a cry caught in your throat, and Dick joins you, hips stuttering as he spills into you with a whimper.

Dick pulls out and collapses on top of you, a soft 'oof' slipping past your lips as he does.

"So... Gotham?"

"Give me two business days to recover from you."

"Yes babe."

The flight to the Wayne Manor is a little strange to you. You keep your apartment, and Dick ends his lease. You're told you get to fly back and forth whenever necessary, and you wonder if staying at the Wayne Manor and publicly getting involved with Dick was a great idea. Yet, you don't really care. You like sketching suit designs for the family in the Batcave. You also like going through the mess of Batman's closet and looking through every single design he has ever sported. Some of them were atrocious.

You turn to stare at the person enterring the Batcave.

"Pretty girl."

"Hey." You hum, leaning back to look at Dick.

"Drawing again?"

"I got bored and ended up here looking for inspiration."

"I figured." He sits next to you on the ground. "What are you drawing?"

"I was redrawing your original outfit as Nightwing," You smile. "The disco suit that you said reminded you of your parents."

"Does it look better now?"

"Slightly?" You raise a brow at the drawing. "There could be improvements."

"Like?"

"It's too flashy," You giggle. "I like my latter design better."

"What about the red one you hid in the back of the papers?"

"Oh, god, I'm embarassed about that one." You mumble. "But you did look good in it. Didn't it help you pull? I'm sure a good chunk of people were staring at your ass."

"You bet they were." He hums. "Didn't you like staring at me in it too?"

"Yeah. Your cape as Robin got in the way too often." You deadpan. "It had to be out there."

"It looked better out."

"Definitely."

"Do you want anything to eat or drink? Alfred's upstairs preparing dinner."

"Just call me when he's ready."

You sigh as Dick presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you."

"Love you too."

#nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick x reader #grayson x reader #like look at how easy it is to tag for dick #dc x reader #if you haven't caught on: there has been an abrupt change of fandoms over the 1 month I didn't post sorry guys #☾.nsfw #☾.fics

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saturns7moon · 6 months

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{ ASTRO OBSERVATIONS 1 }

.saturns7moon

i find familial synastry so interesting tbh. for example, i have such a karmic relationship with practically everyone in my family.

— my younger sister is an aquarius stellium with a leo moon whilst 4/6 of my big 6 is taurus and scorpio. we square each other and have heavy 12H and 4H synastry and we argue all the time, sometimes to the point we have to be pulled apart. my mother is literally earth dominant, not sure of her rising but she’s a taurus sun, capricorn moon and virgo stellium, and i’m water dominant and while that would be good, the absolute lack of water in my mothers chart makes her so emotionally disconnected and unavailable, which is shown in my chart as neptune in aquarius sits in my 4H, making me grow up not having an emotional connection with my mother, and with her moon conjunct my chiron, it is very apparent in our relationship.

— house placement is so important because my best friends brother is a sagittarius stellium but he’s a virgo rising, his stellium mainly in his 3H and 4H, so whilst he’s quite quiet at first he’s really talkative and intellectual the better you know him. he also loves his family a lot, and can be sentimental quite unexpectedly.

— i love looking at synastry so much, not just because it tells you about you and your person’s relationship, it tells you so so much about yourself, what your like and what themes in a person that attracts you. for example, i adore capricorn and gemini placements, like omg if i have a crush on someone, that placement is somewhere. i have a 9° capricorn venus in the 3H, the house with themes of communication, mental stimulation and learning. and i also have a 22° gemini juno in the 8H. juno is the asteroid that represents marriage, the type of person you'd want to spend the rest of your life with, and who you are in your partnership. with my juno being gemini (one of the signs ruled by mercury, planet of communication – mental stimulation) in the 8H (e.g. intimate agreements, possessions, things hidden from the light) anyone that reside in my 8H somehow in some way we share a deep connection, whether good or bad that has changed my life in some way. also since one of the themes of the 8H is possessions, i have shared either physical or emotional pieces of myself with these people, shining on the darkest most intimate parts of myself with them, whether by choice or not. for example, my best friend is both a gemini sun and mercury, my mother a gemini venus, my little sister a gemini moon, and recently i found out my crush is a capricorn moon and she’s a pisces rising, and my moon is in her 3H and my sun and rising are in her 8H (i use placidius).

— something i’ve noticed is that people with mutable mixed with cardinal placements within their big 6 love heavy feeling music, like rock for example. my best friend is a gemini sun and mercury and has an aries venus and cancer mars, and she told me she finds listening to rock music comforting when she’s about to go to bed. another friend of mine loves rihanna and she’s an aries moon and capricorn venus (whilst rihanna is an aries stellium lol).

— this is just a question from me, but to the people who have moon aspecting mercury (significantly or not), how do you feel about asmr? my moon inconjuncts my mercury and i listen to asmr almost all the time, even during moments i don’t even need to sleep. i’m very sensitive to noise i realise, so asmr is very calming for me.

— i resonate so fucking heavily with my moon persona chart. my natal moon and mars are exactly conjunct, and so both my moon and mars persona charts are identical. i’m a cap rising opposed to my (conjunct) cancer moon and mars, and when i tell you the way my eyes well up when i start to get mad? no cus it’s actually a set up. it seems like as if i’m blubbering on my words, when really i’m imagining the most violent life-changing way to end your life for pissing me off, especially cus i don’t get angry often (natal 7H taurus moon and mars), and it makes my body shake. lmao it was such a cool thing to realise.

— currently as i’m writing this, mercury is in sagittarius aka my mercury return, and i’ve been getting so many likes and attention for speaking on any type of social media platform i post on and it gives me so much anxiety 😭. i have a 1H scorpio sun square my 10H leo mc (saturn and lilith are there) and i hate hate hate being in the spotlight for too long. i’d genuinely rather be appreciated privately by people i love or just be acknowledged in public for a short amount of time. i hate hate hate being perceived lol. which is ironic cus i have this astrology blog, but at least i don’t have my face on here and i usually don’t post often haha.

— my venus persona chart is a capricorn stellium with a few aquarius placements as well, i’m genuinely not surprised that i have commitment issues 😭. plus i have natal venus-saturn and my moon squares my saturn, so 🧍🏾‍♀️🚶🏾‍♀️.

— i saw someone say a while back that you resonate very deeply with artists who have placements in your 12H and personally i agree with that a lot. a lot of artists i absolutely adore have strong libra placements within their chart, like ariana grande and alina baraz for example, and i love their music so much. it hits me so deeply.

— i genuinely adore foreign languages and music. like so much? i have a 3H capricorn venus opposed to my cancer 9H, and i’ve noticed i genuinely love music from foreign places, like k-pop for example. i’ve been a fan since 2016(-ish?).

— my 2022 solar return asc was a scorpio asc, same as my natal. and last year the nodes were in my 1H-7H axis and the way i’ve learnt so so much about myself this year is crazy. very painful yet beautiful journey i’ve been on.

— also i just need validation from other fixed signs, specifically scorpios and taurus’s, did you find this year easygoing for you? i feel like it’s been quite stressful and all over the place. i’m grateful for the lessons i’ve learned this year, but i feel like whatever astrologer that said 2023 would be great for fixed signs were lying outta their asses 😭.

anyways, that’s it from me loves, thank u for reading my rambling c:

love, lola xo.

#astro notes #astrology observations #astro observations #moon persona chart #synastry observations #persona chart #tropical astrology

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the-alarm-system · 3 days

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How Anti Endos made me in denial even longer, and how Pro Endos made me Accept it

When I was younger, I always had Red at my side. Red is my protector, he always has been. I didn’t understand him, I didn’t understand his existence. I’d hear about DID, I met people with DID, but to me Red didn’t match what they have felt. I would tell people that I had another person in my head, someone who may allude to DID but I’d affirm that it was not DID. It was something else to me, something I didn’t know for sure. At some point I thought that Red was given to me by the Gods. He would deny this but it’s what made sense to me.

I was in anti endo circles, I still saw myself as a singlet and my system friends were very anti endo. I thought it was just the right non-harmful sides, I didn’t know the actual arguments. I just thought that’s how it was supposed to be because DID hasn’t made sense to me yet. I was a “singlet” who didn’t understand why there was another with me. anti endos circled around r/fdc and I didn’t want to accept that I may have a headmate because I didn’t want to be a dirty faker like they all hated. I didn’t want to be harmful towards my friends

One time I saw this pro endo term, it was about a system granted by deities. This made me think, but I ended up just blocking them because no endos are bad right?

then I saw an anti endo argue that schitzogenic is dangerous and thoughts in someone’s head was stupid and fake and just hallucinations. I thought “but between you and them, what is the difference in the idea that they have someone in their head too?”

then I found the term plural, it was inclusive, it made sense to me. But I stayed in denial

then scald appeared, he was loud, he would front a lot, he wouldn’t just appear when I was in danger like red did. I decided to take the term plural, I didn’t call myself a system yet, at the time plural is what made sense. I felt like I didn’t have the right to “appropriate” the did struggle. I was plural, I was many. Then finally at some point

I realized I could have DID, my headmates were sourced from trauma. Things started to connect, I stopped denying it. I had to the way Scald would be. Anti endos held me back, pro endos saved me. I owe them everything.

#endo safe #actually plural #plural community #pluralgang #plural system #plurality #traumagenic system #system things #did osdd #osdd system #pro endo #syscourse #tw syscourse

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subdee · 3 months

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The more I think Phantom Troupe thoughts, the more I become convinced that "actually the phantom troupe wasn't responsible for the Kurta Clan massacre" is the funniest twist the manga could make, BTW.

Not in a "the Phantom Troupe did nothing wrong" kind of way (bleugh), but in a "they are a group of thieves and mass murderers but THIS PARTICULAR mass murder was someone else" kind of way.

Partially because Kurapika starts the manga SO SURE it was them, and instead of asking what evidence he had we all just accepted it.

Partially because it would be in character for what we know about Uvo for him to lie about committing mass murder to Kurapika just for the purpose of motivating him and making it a better fight.**

Partially because FOR YEARS the fandom has interpreted Chrollo's cryptic remarks when Kurapika kidnaps him and interrogates him in the car as evidence of his solipsism or his sociopathy... But what if he's being cryptic because he doesn't want to tell the truth about what happened (that the phantom troupe didn't do it), for whatever reason*** but he also knows someone on Kurapika's team can tell if he's lying? So he just says something technically true, and let's Kurapika draw his own conclusions...

But mostly because it would make some parts of the fandom real Big Mad. Haha.

Anyway, I'm going to like ...convince myself this is true if I keep this up, so just to be clear, I don't have any evidence that they didn't do it. I DO think that would be a massively funny (read: interesting, unexpected) turn for the manga to take.

**The 1999 anime actually has a similar plot point with Killua during the Hunter Exam... It's been a while but I FROM WHAT I REMEMBER Killua takes credit for killing this girl's father and fights her even though it was Illumi who killed him, just because karmically he is guilty of killing a lot of people so it's not like he's innocent in general, even if he didn't kill this particular person. And because avengers trying to get him is such a common thing that he doesn't even bother trying to explain himself to them... it's episode 11 of the 1999 anime btw if someone wants to check that I'm not totally misremembering this.

***Why would Chrollo not simply say they didn't do it, if they didn't do it? Maybe they were paid to take the blame. Maybe they have accepted blame for 10 years to bolster their rep as mass murderers and it would be weird to back out now. Maybe he doesn't think Kurapika would believe him - Melody or not - if he said they didn't do it, and he doesn't have evidence they didn't do it, so he finds it pointless to argue. There could be many reasons. But those lines in the car have been weird for a long time, I would love an explanation from Togashi for why Chrollo was such a weirdo in that scene.

#hxh #hxh meta #phantom troupe thoughts

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octuscle · 6 days

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Hello, support? I think I need your help. I am opening a new nightclub in a couple of nights, but I am having a lot of problems finding a bouncer for the door! It seems it is a troubled neighborhood so almost no one wants to work as security here! And the few who are willing are asking for a fortune! And I don't have the skills to do it myself either! Can you help, please? I have invested a fortune and I really need to open ,and safely!

Your mother asks you if you have a job for the son of your hairdresser's neighbor's friend. For whom, please? You ask for the name. You look for a profile in the social networks. The only thing you find is the homepage of the local high school's debate club. He's obviously the president there. Holy shit! What's he going to do as a bouncer if there's a problem? Argue the people who cause trouble to death? Your mom sent a phone number. You give him a call and ask if you can meet up, you might have something for him. He says he's at the mall right now. That works for you, you're close by. You arrange to meet …. In the bookstore!!!

His name is Hank. And he looks like a Hank. You didn't expect anything else with that name. Actually, you can end the conversation right away. Hank looks at you… A book about Siegmund Freud and the Vienna School in his hand. He says that you don't look like you could have an intellectually challenging job for him.

You reply that you're looking for someone who can deal with people. For someone with a C- grade point average, that should be challenging enough.

Hank puts the book about the 2022 football season back on the shelf. He thinks that doesn't sound so bad now. He wants you to tell more.

You say it's cool that he's interested in football. He's looking for someone who has the qualities of a good linebacker. Someone who can take a beating and still remain a wall.

Hank rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck muscles. Pretty impressive neck muscles. He says he's not averse to a good brawl. On the football field. But not off it either.

"Lit" you reply. And you tell Hank that you like his haircut. It looks brutal. Fits the job you're looking for. Hank strokes the back of his shaved head and neck. He does his best to flex his biceps to the max. His hair on top is fixed with so much gel that it almost looks like a helmet.

"Yo dude, I'm always grinding at the gym till 10pm. Can't make it earlier. Cool with that?" asks Hank. "No sweat," you reply. "The club doesn't pop off till 11 p.m. anyway, so if you roll in later, I'll be the bouncer till then. Deal, bro?" Hank gives you a fist bump that almost breaks your ankles.

You couldn't ask for a better bouncer than Hank. An impressive figure who attracts guests like moths to a flame. But who also doesn't talk back. Hank has his door under control. And all he wants is for you to organize some steroids for him and that he doesn't get stressed when he fucks a guest in the staff bathroom during his breaks. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you are his object of desire.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #getting dumber #nerd to hunk #nerd to jock #ai image

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ratboydefenselawyer · 2 years

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This is my first and probably last post I will ever make. I’m here to consume the content, not necessarily create it.

I see all of you fighting the good fight for Billy and his story. And I wanted to add my thoughts into the ring.

As someone who works with children and adults from abusive backgrounds EVERY SINGLE DAY. I can tell you that Billy checks every single box for being in his survival state 24/7.

I have had extensive trainings about trauma, how to recognize it and the effects it can have on a person and how they act. Personally I have endured a lot of trauma myself and had to unlearn a lot of unhealthy behaviors and ways of thinking because of it.

With that being said: someone who is in a state of survival constantly is not capable of thinking rationally, the only goal is to…survive.

Billy Hargrove was an abused child. A CHILD. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Does this forgive his actions? No. But it explains them. Gives us a deeper insight into the “why?”

Neil hit his son, he insulted him, called him a slur and then reminded him that Max, his younger stepsister’s well-being is in his hands. That’s a lot for a 17 year old to go through. Then he goes to the Byers residence where he’s insulted and lied to. His sister (who’s well-being is in his hands) is alone with 5 boys, one of them is his age? THEN to top it all off, Steve punches him? All that built up rage from what just happened with Neil comes spilling out. Oh and to make matters worse, he gets sedated and Max MIRRORS Neil’s abuse by making him repeat himself. Keep this in mind, while all this is going on Billy has absolutely no idea what is going on. He still doesn’t know what Max is doing with all of these boys in this house.

Moving forward- Billy gets possessed by the mind flayer, he still has no idea what is going on and loses control of his own body. He had to watch as his hands take the lives of many people to feed this creature from his worst nightmares. Then this group of children lock him in a sauna, he is FINALLY able to beg for help and sobs. Even then NOBODY tells him what’s going on, no one really makes an effort to help him. It’s only in the final episode of season 3 that El breaks through to him, she see’s his past, his mom leaving, the abuse. Even standing up to the mind flayer Billy has no idea what he’s up against, he’s still in the dark. All he knows is that it’s him or this child that showed him how to come back to himself. It’s him or Max, and as we already know Max’s well-being is in his hands. Nothing is more terrifying than Neil’s wrath. And in his dying breath he apologizes.

For my fellow Billy Stans- Please never let anyone bully you about what characters you can and can’t like. Your ability to see deeper into the characters and push past the hate is needed in this world. Not just in fiction, but in the real world. If you relate to Billy as I do, from past trauma, I am so sorry. I am so very sorry that you have to fight, explain and rationalize your love for him every time. For whatever reason you stand behind Billy Hargrove, it is valid. And unlike Billy’s story, I hope that yours doesn’t end in tragedy. My inbox is always open for those who need to talk.

Now, for the Antis- I want to say, good for you. You managed to take a broken and deeply complex character and reduce him to a heartless villain in your minds. Think what you want about him, it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is how you act to the people who do relate to Billy. The name calling, the hate, the wild assumptions about real people!! It’s so insane to me. I hope that turning into the bully to make a point was worth it. How other people relate to a character doesn’t affect you in any way at all. Somehow many of you have managed to put people down and make them afraid to express their love for a character. It’s not something to be proud of.

I am not willing to argue with anyone on this, this is just my views and my opinion. Dacre Montgomery stated that he worked hard to humanize Billy Hargrove. Seeing his character be dragged through the mud and continuously be turned into the irredeemable monster by the Duffer Brothers and the fans is just really sad.

Billy Hargrove means a lot to me. For a lot of different reasons. He deserved so much more than he was given. He deserved a chance to redeem himself and to tell his side of the story. He deserved a chance to apologize for everything he did in his survival state. He deserved the chance to finally be happy and be surrounded by people who actually cared for him, who wanted to help him.

Just keep going everyone. ❤️

#billy hargrove #billy #harringrove #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove stan #billy hargrove gifs #billy hargrove is alive

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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A Fresh Start [3]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of reader’s fake name, reader is on the run from her past, remember?, self-doubt, i think that’s it🤷🏻‍♀️

Word Count: 4,045

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Chapter #03: MARSHAL DADDY

Chapter Summary: It’s difficult to eat dinner with someone who wears a helmet.

“The greatest act of courage is to be & own all that you are. Without apology. Without excuses & without any masks to cover the truth of who you truly are.” ⏤Unknown

They say it takes three days to build a habit. Three days of an activity then your body and brain begin to crave that routine. You found that to be true, and by the fourth day of living and working for Nevarro's Mandalorian Marshal you were mostly comfortable. You had a schedule at least. In the mornings, you’d get Grogu up and start on breakfast while Mando got ready for work. Like you assumed, Grogu slept in Mando’s bedroom. There was a hammock style set up in a corner of the room surrounded by plush toys, animals, and thick blankets⏤ like a little nest. Then the Marshal would go to work and you’d spend the day with Grogu. Doing light chores around the house when able. Mando would be back from work before the sun went down and you’d have dinner ready for them. If that were all that was involved you’d consider yourself a pro already.

However, like most things in life, it wasn’t quite that simple.

Dinner time still felt rather awkward and you weren’t sure what to do with that. Mando didn’t plan on taking his helmet off around you, information you had gathered not been told, and Grogu was accustomed to seeing his father’s face in the evening. The first night you stayed in the house, you took dinner to your room to eat with the excuse of having to unpack. That’s where you hid until the house grew quiet because you were terrified of stepping out of your room and accidentally seeing Mando’s face. You weren’t sure the logistics of it all, but obviously the stories about Mandalorians not showing their face to the public were true and you’d feel awful if you screwed that up for him.

The next few nights you tried a similar tactic, but you could tell Mando felt odd about the entire scenario. Maybe he felt bad that you were hiding away in a house you technically lived in, or maybe he hated the idea of someone lurking in a back bedroom, but it was obvious this was not going to work. So, you made the excuse that Nima wanted to hang out, and on your third and fourth night you met your friend at the local cantina to drink. Mando preferred to do Grogu’s night time routine anyways so he got the kid into bed. You just had to be there in case he got called into work⏤ which hadn’t actually happened yet.

The point was, your system needed adjusting, but you were still in your first week of work. Obviously there would be issues and hopefully time would be the solution to it all.

“So, is this just where you’re going to live from 7:30 to 9:30 every single day?” Nima asked.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course not.” As a side note, you mumbled under your breath. “I can’t afford to drink that much.” Mando and you had agreed on a more than fair wage, but your salary wasn’t going to go far if you kept blowing it on drinks with Nima. “We’re still figuring things out.”

“Has he offered any solution?”

“I don’t want him to offer. I want to figure it out myself.” You argued. “That’s his home. I’m intruding. I hate that he feels uncomfortable in any way.”

Nima pointed her glass toward you. “Counter argument. It’s your home now. He’s paying you to be there. You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable either.”

“It’s⏤It’s more complicated than that.” You said. “It’s not like he’s doing this just to do it. The helmet thing is part of being Mandalorian, I think, and the only time he is free of that is with his son in the evening. I don’t want to take that from them.”

“Cara says it’s not all Mandalorians.”

“What?”

“Apparently there are different kinds, or something, and they have different beliefs.” Nima replied. The two of you were sitting at the bar on stools you had claimed to be your own this week. Behind you the cantina was buzzing with life and music. This was a popular place to be in the evening, you weren’t alone in your routine. “The Marshal is part of the group that can never reveal their face to any living thing. But he shows it to his son so maybe that’s the exception.” Nima clapped you on the shoulder. “That’s it! You just gotta be adopted by him!”

“I don’t want to be adopted by the Mandalorian.” You snorted and lifted your drink to your lips.

“Why? You can call Marshal Mando ‘daddy’. Mmm, Marshal Daddy.”

You inhaled your sip of spotchka at her words and began to choke. Nima laughed in glee while you tried to cough up the blue, burning liquid that now resided in your lungs. When it was clear enough for you to speak, you glared at her. “Seriously?”

“He’s hardly my type, but there must be something about him considering how worked up the single women in this town get over him.” Nima shrugged. You chuckled in response. She wasn’t wrong. On your first day of being a nanny, Torlee had given you rather a cold greeting and she hadn’t been the only one. There were a handful of random people around town who would give you the stink eye as if you had stolen something from them. “So? What is it? You date guys. Tell me the secret.”

To be honest, you weren’t entirely sure. You had your guesses. There was something about the strong silent type that tended to strike up intrigue, and Mando was nothing if not strong and silent. It was really cute hearing stories about how serious and deadly he could be as Marshal and then watch him hold full conversations with his son at home. Duality of man, you supposed. Then there was his figure alone. Somehow, it left nothing to the imagination while also leaving plenty for a person to imagine. You, and everyone else it seemed, had no idea what he looked like under all that armor, but by the Maker was his shoulder to waist ratio godly.

Personally, you hadn’t caught the bug for him. Probably because, despite knowing he was human, you couldn’t stop picturing large green ears tucked into the helmet. As if Grogu had taken after him somehow. It was ridiculous, and you knew Grogu was adopted, but if imagining an aged up Grogu under the suit kept you from drooling over the man then it was for the best. He was your boss after all.

“I don’t know the secret.” You finally replied. “But if I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

Grogu’s eyes had already fluttered close, soft snores drifting from him, but Din couldn’t bring himself to set the child down yet. Peli told him dozens of times that it wasn’t good to let the kid fall asleep in his arms. Children were supposed to learn how to fall asleep on their own. Din figured Grogu could learn that skill later in life. Letting his son fall asleep in his arms was quite possibly his favorite part of their night time routine. It was when Din felt the most at peace.

Din continued to lightly rock Grogu as he stood in place by his bed. A soft buzzing sound had him reaching over to his dresser to pick up the communicator that rested there.

‘I’m home! Are you in your room?’

‘Yes.’ Din sent back. Seconds later he could hear the front door lightly click shut followed by quiet footsteps. They passed his bedroom, and Din stared at his communicator a second longer before typing, ‘Good night.’

‘Good night to you too. Hope Grogu didn’t give you too much trouble.’

Din struggled with a response before deciding to just set his communicator aside. You were hardly a stranger at this point, but he still found himself at a loss of words. It didn’t help that the two of you were caught in quite the dilemma. Din didn’t know how to fix this problem. Well, he did, but it wasn't a step he was prepared to take.

The easiest solution was to take his helmet off and show you his face. Easiest in the sense that it was the least complicated, but in terms of how ready he was to handle that⏤ it may be the most difficult solution. Technically speaking, he wasn’t a Mandalorian right now. Apostate. That’s what the Armorer had called him, and he could hardly argue otherwise. Din had taken his armor off with Mayfield in order to find where Moff Gideon had taken his son. Mayfield had seen his face. Then, when he thought he was saying good-bye to his son, he removed his helmet once more. Grogu saw his face. Cara saw his face. Fennec and Bo-Katan. At that point, he knew he should never place it on his head again, but he had.

When the Armor asked him if any living thing had seen his face, he knew what the outcome would be. His creed had been lost. Boba had spoken to him for a long time about the Children of the Watch and about the reputation his helmet carried. According to the older man, there was more to the creed than hiding his face. Boba Fett was someone he respected greatly. His opinion on the matter held great weight, but in the quiet of the night Din still found himself doubtful. The Armorer agreed to redemption after all. If Din returned to Mandalore, bathed in the Living Waters, then he would be Apostate no longer. That had been his plan until Karga offered him a home and job here.

Din's plan had been to turn it down, carry forth with his mission to redeem himself, but upon further thought he didn't want to take Grogu to a potentially poisoned planet. Maybe one day, but for now he wanted peace. He wanted a life with his son, and Nevarro gave that to him. As he hadn’t redeemed himself yet, as he was still Apostate, that meant Din was free to take his helmet off right now. Technically speaking he had no creed to uphold, not until he went on his journey to Mandalore, but he still hadn't been able to bring himself to reveal his face to anyone but his foundling. He told himself it was because he didn't want to break his creed any further than he already had before finding redemption, but sometimes he wondered if that was all.

He spent a majority of his life wearing this helmet. It was a shield that separated him from the rest of the world. To be honest, Din didn't know how to go about his day with his face out for any stranger to see. He never wanted to admit to fear, but this gripped his soul. Up until now, he was able to push the thoughts aside and just live his life with Grogu by his side. It wasn't until you came into the equation that things changed. Now, he was forced to confront these thoughts.

What were his options? Show his face to you or fire you? The latter wasn't a feasible. Grogu had already grown attached, and Din would be lying if he said he hadn’t as well. Having you around was a relief. It had taken a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t been aware he was carrying. Hiring you had been a very, very good decision. Now, he just had to figure out how to keep you.

At the end of the day, he did not regret the choices he made regarding his helmet. If Din had to relive those days he would make the same choices over and over and over again. In his entire life, he never thought he’d find something worth more to him than his creed, but he had been proven wrong. Grogu was more important. His son. Din would reveal his face to the world twelve times over if it meant he could keep Grogu safe. He’d suffer the Armorer’s disdain and be exiled repeatedly if it meant he got to keep his son by his side⏤ help raise him and watch him grow.

Din did not regret the position he found himself in, but he did not know where to go from here. He couldn't expect you to hide away when the sun went down every day. DIn could argue that showing you his face would be for Grogu's benefit. Revealing his full identity to you was for his son. That's a sacrifice he's always been able to make. Still, he struggled.

With a soft sigh, Din set Grogu into his hammock and tucked him in. He snuggled deeper into the space and Din smiled at the action.

Solving this issue would take just one minute of decisive action. Don't think, just act. He was good at that. Din ran a hand through his hair, probably only making it messier, and readjusted his plain shirt and sweatpants. He didn’t have a mirror in his room, wasn’t used to needing one, and for the first time he felt annoyed by that fact. Settling in his resolve, Din stepped out of his room and quietly treaded to your closed door.

Din went to knock, but he found his hand hovering over the wood, 'What if she doesn't like the way I look?'

The thought was involuntary. It shoved to the forefront of his mind without any kind of warning. What? Where had that even come from? His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That shouldn’t be something he cared about, yet now he couldn't shake it free.

He found you attractive. It was one the first thing he noticed, but he didn’t pay it any attention. His dating history was by no means extensive, but he was still a red blooded man. Din was just used to putting that kind of information to the back of his mind. Especially since Grogu became a part of his life. He hadn’t pursued anyone since he found Grogu. It just hadn’t been a priority to him.

Granted, you were difficult to ignore. He thought you were beautiful, and he thought it was cute that you tended to ramble anytime you got nervous. Plus, watching you with his son was addicting. Din could watch you play and chat with Grogu all day long. That had to be it. He was just hypnotized by the domestic bliss you carried with you. There was nothing more. If he was better at convincing himself of that then this would probably be easier. Din planned to knock, he wanted to, but despite logically working through the issue the question still remained and he found himself embarrassed that he had such a silly concern.

The sound of muffled steps alerted him that a decision needed to be made. His body was moving on its own accord, and he backpedaled silently to slip back in his room. Seconds later he heard your door open followed by the bathroom door opening and closing. Din rubbed his face and shuffled over to his bed to fall into it.

Tomorrow. He’d try again tomorrow.

As your alarm began to blare, you blindly reached out to your nightstand table to silence it. You laid in bed a moment longer, stretching each limb, then sat up with a groan. Around this time in the morning, Mando was getting ready for work and Grogu would be in the process of waking up. You climbed out of bed and wandered out to the bathroom to use the toilet and quickly brush your teeth. Still dressed in your pajamas, you peered into Mando’s bedroom assuming that since the door was open it would be safe.

“Grogu?” You whispered and tiptoed in. Typically, you’d find him chilling in his hammock waiting for you to scoop him up. He was always the cutest and most cuddly when you picked him up in the mornings. Today though, you were greeted with an empty bed. “Huh.”

You turned out of the room and walked down the hall. You could hear Mando softly talking to Grogu, and Grogu’s giggly, mostly nonsensical responses drifting toward you. There was something odd about Mando’s voice, something your mind couldn’t place, but in your morning haze you didn't think to stop and puzzle out why. You stepped through the archway into the kitchen just to freeze.

Standing at the stove was a man.

His back was to you and you could see Grogu’s ears from where he was being held in one arm. He wore a plain gray t-shirt that was thin enough to see the outline of his shoulder blades and back. His sweatpants hung on his hips and that shoulder to waist ratio was undeniably familiar. This was the Mandalorian. You were staring at Mando. His helmet was resting on the counter by the stove. Soft, messy brown hair covered his head. The ends looked like they naturally curled, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the tan skin rising up from his collar to where his hair met the nape of his neck.

You were so in awe that it took a second to realize the situation you were currently in.

This was Mando.

You were staring at Mando.

Helmet less Mando.

You couldn’t hold back the gasp that left you, and you quickly shut your eyes⏤ slapping your hands over them as well for good measure.

"Soran?" You heard Mando call out to you in surprise, but you spun around to leave the room. Unfortunately, in your panic, you misjudged where you stood and instead of rushing through the archway you ran straight into the wall. You yelped in pain and since you were too afraid to pull your hands from your eyes to catch yourself you ended up falling on your ass instead. You grunted, and Mando cursed. “Dank farrik.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You blurted. “I am so sorry, Mando.”

“Are you alright?” Mando’s voice was altered once more to the tone you were most familiar with as it came through the voice modulator. "Soran?" He called out again in concern, and you could feel him kneeling near you. "Are you-"

You shook your head and didn't let him speak. “Mando, I am so sorry. I swear to the Maker, I didn’t see you.” You paused. “That’s sort of a lie. I saw the back of your head. You have brown hair. Really nice brown hair, but definitely brown hair. I swear though, I didn’t see your face.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Mando said. “You can open your eyes.”

His voice sounded like he was wearing his helmet, but you still found yourself nervous. You peeked through one eye between your fingers, hesitant, but when you saw silver beskar you breathed out a sigh of relief. Mando was knelt beside you, one hand resting on the archway you ran into, so his entire frame hovered over you. It still felt odd to see his bare arms, and now with him facing you it was clear to see all of his neck and his collarbones. You were gawking. You needed to stop. Luckily, Grogu was standing in front of you with his hands held over his closed eyes much like you had just been sitting. You chuckled and at the sound he peeked through his own hands.

Finally, you lifted your gaze back to the t-shaped visor, “Mando⏤”

He held up a hand, stopping your flow of words, and spoke firmly, “Are you injured?”

“Not physically. My pride hurts a decent bit.” You admitted. Mando let out a breathy laugh and the sound caught you off guard. You really hadn’t spent all that much time with him let alone spent the time making him laugh. You were mostly with Grogu. “I am sorry though.”

“If anyone is at fault, it’s me. I forgot to warn you I wasn’t working today, and I’m the one out in the open without my helmet.”

“Yeah, but this is your house. You have every right to wander all over this place, helmet less or not.” You replied. Just last night you had been talking to Nima about this issue, and it was growing more problematic by the second. You sighed. “Maybe… Maybe I should move out?” Mando stiffened and slowly tilted his head at you. “I can get a place in town, real close, and just come here in the morning before you leave for work and then leave when you get back.” Grogu crawled into your lap cooing and you wrapped your arms around him. “If you ever need me in the night you can just message me and I’ll run right over.”

Mando didn’t immediately reply and you nervously began to play with Grogu’s ears. The kid giggled and the sound was almost a good distraction for the tension in the air. Finally, Mando spoke up, “Are you... comfortable living here?”

“Am I⏤? Of course!” You said. “You’ve been so welcoming and my room is great and the job is perfect⏤” You shook your head. “You’ve been wonderful, Mando. I just don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable." He replied in a tone that settled the matter. "And if you’re not uncomfortable then,” Mando shrugged, “I think you should stay.”

There was a warmth in his voice that brought a broad smile to your face. Grogu bounced in your lap and he held his hands up toward your face. You leaned in so he could pat your cheeks. “Okay. Besides, how could I stand to be so far away from my bestest buddy?”

Mando pushed to stand and then he held out a hand for you to take. The urge to stare and take in every inch of it was weirdly tempting, but you let him pull you up to your feet. Mando cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m actually glad you’re up. Grogu wants something for breakfast, and he’s unhappy with all my attempts.”

“Egg.” Grogu blurted, staring up at you. “Egg. Egg. Egg.”

“He sounds like a Jawa.” Mando mumbled. “I made eggs, but he didn’t want them.”

You glanced over at the stove where a frying pan sat by a carton of eggs. Grogu’s high chair had a small bowl of untouched scrambled eggs. You chuckled. “I think he wants an omelet. I made it for him yesterday and he loved it.”

“Egg!” Grogu agreed.

“Here, I can make it.” You held Grogu out to Mando who took him. The Mandalorian murmured something to his son in Mando’a that you didn’t catch. It reminded you that you meant to talk to Mando about this. Grogu used a handful of words in that language, but because you didn’t recognize them it made communication difficult. You had been working with Grogu on words in Basic, and you’d love to add some Mando’a vocabulary to it. You just needed to know it first. You went to the fridge to pull out cheese and a few vegetables that you knew Grogu liked.

Mando stood behind you, leaning against the kitchen counter top with his son in his arms, and you glanced over your shoulder only once to admire him.

“What?” He questioned.

“Sorry. It’s just so weird to see you out of the suit of armor.” You chuckled.

“Bad weird?”

“No,” You replied quickly, “It just ruins the mental image I had of green skin and big ears.”

Mando laughed again, “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’ll just have to learn to live with it, I suppose.”

The kitchen was filled with Grogu laughing as his dad tickled him and the sizzling of breakfast. Typically, you were here alone wrestling the green bean while trying to make him food. It wasn’t overly difficult and you still enjoyed it, but there was something kind of calming from having Mando here as well and that caught you off guard. The lack of his full suit of armor might play a role in that. In the early morning light wearing his pajamas and playing with his son, he looked so… human.

“I was wondering, do you, uh, have plans today?”

You flipped the omelets in the skillet then looked over at Mando with a grin. “Well, until five minutes ago I thought I was on Grogu duty.”

“Right.” Mando blurted. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner⏤”

“I’m joking, Mando. What were you thinking?”

He paused briefly, “Well, there’s a traveling market here today. Local vendors and some from neighboring worlds." Mando said. “I can show you around. If you're interested that is."

You finished with both omelets and went to grab a set of plates. “I’d love that!” You set both plates on the counter by Mando. “Sounds fun. Here. You boys have breakfast and I’ll go get ready for the day. Yeah?” Mando pushed off the counter and pointed to the omelet with a slight tilt of his head. You nodded. “It’s yours.” You point to his, then his son’s omelet. “You, Grogu.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not a big breakfast eater, don’t worry.” You shrugged. “Take your time too, don’t rush. I’m gonna take a shower this morning so you and Grogu can enjoy.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Excited for the day, you hurried upstairs to get ready. You were interested to see the small marketplace become more lively with outside visitors. You were sure the lively city was even more bright today. Plus, this would be an opportunity to get to know your boss a little bit better. Maybe if the two of you were a little more comfortable with one another then hiding from him in your room during dinner time would be a bit less awkward.

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