#it's so much shorter than the lit one and yet it uses so many more words | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writerlyhabits · 15 days

Text

Aliit ori’shya tal'din

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Your second day in the covert reveals both new and familiar faces; hospitality and hostility.

Chapter 3 of the Shereshoy series | Masterlist | Ch. 2 | Ch. 4

Warnings: lots of Mando’a, mild language, soft Din, awkward Din, protective Din [he’s got a wide range, okay?], original Mandalorian characters… maybe a little bit of angst? It’s mostly worldbuilding, so I think that’s about it.

AN: A word from the author – “I’m in grad school, I take forever to write things.Soon I will start grad school again, which means I’ll write this instead of my dissertation. I’m quite fond of the Mando Legends Lore, if you haven’t noticed. I literally got Kad Ha’rangir & Arasuum tattooed on me.”

This is the third part of a sister fic for my one-shot (Courting) a friend of mine wrote based on this request, and I’m so happy she’s letting me share it with you guys! She is also sharing it on AO3, so be sure to send her your love and kudos there as well! We hope you enjoy 💛

Translations, in order of appearance:

Aliit ori’shya tal'din: Family is more than blood

Rejorhaa'i kaysh murcyur gar shupur’ika?: Are you gonna tell her to kiss your ouchies?

Cuyi ulyc, vod.: Be careful, sister.

Aliit: family

Ad(e): child/children

Kar’ta beskar: the central "diamond" of Mandalorian armor; lit. heart armor

Mirjahaal: peace of mind, "healing", general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement

Beroya: bounty hunter

Kurshi: tree

Sen’tra: jackpack

Buir(e): Parent/Parents

Akaanati'kar'oya: The War of Life and Death (Mandalorian myth), creation story

Verd'goten: a special trial for one to become warrior; lit. birth of warrior

So'haale: births

Urman'gedete: prayers

Eparave: feasts

Cyarir evaar'la: Courting

Alii'aliit: meeting of the clans, the closest thing mandalorians have to government or parliament; lit. "clan of clans"

Tsad: group (of people), alliance

Bes'ede: Mythosaur

Kandush : inevitable doom

Time moves differently underground.

With Odona, the hours passed quickly. As a team, you could disassemble and reconstruct nearly any ship in their small fleet, save for a few parts— which no one had yet found and delivered. The days were faster when the guardsman opted to join you in his free time, his first visit and subsequent dialogue with Odona still memorable.

To what do I owe the displeasure; Oh Mighty Protector of the Covert and Savior of Foundlings?

The pleasure of my company is for your friend, ‘Dona.

Why? Going to terrorize her again, Ik’? Ven’rejorhaa'i kaysh murcyur gar shupur’ika?

Cuyi ulyc, vod.

You had sensed there was a joke hidden within their jibes, one you were unable to decipher in their foreign tongue, but neither took the time to explain. Whilst Ikarus lacked use for the labor that required fine motor control, his presence disrupted the monotony of the many tedious and repetitive tasks you and Odona spent much of your time doing— their frequent banter kept you entertained throughout the day.

The time you had spent in the medbay was shorter— the most common injuries coming from the older adolescents early on in their training, whose resilience and constitution had yet to strengthen— as well as wrist and ankle sprains from poor fighting forms, the occasional laceration from knife safety training; and at worst, injuries from the teens and young adults earned from a vigorous sparring session.

But with Din, the mornings and evenings together never felt long enough. The hours were reminiscent of your time with him and the Child in the Crest, the warmth of your aliit protected by familiar cold walls; the stone of the cavern both analogous yet antithetic to the durasteel of your former home.

One forged of hands, and the other of time— one of the fires of a furnace, the other the fires of a planet’s mantle. Your time together before was that of contrivance, engineered— with agendas to follow and assignments to complete— your interactions affable yet somewhat artificial, a present barrier precluding your companionship from evolving into something more… More natural, more innate, more intimate. Here, your time together had been more candid, endearing— Din no longer shied away from any probing questions or physical closeness, which allowed that previous barrier to melt and slowly flow away like that of bedrock to magma, reshaping and remolding your times of leisure together to hours of unified repose.

The hours turned to days, the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turn to this moment, where seemingly no time passes at all— blanketed in the familiar darkness of your room. The unlit and chilled space, at first an unacquainted oddity, now a comfortable companion to spend the sleeping and waking hours in. The ritual remains the same— awaken with the Child, have the morning trade-off with Din, make the caf, and begin the tasks for the day— like clock work, a well-oiled droid.

This morning is almost no different, and yet, you hesitate to leave your bed, your conversation with Din the previous morning still fresh in your mind—

Din had sat aside the table, his body resting against the wall— unarmored, arms crossed, head tilted to the side, the same position as every morning. Once you handed him the Child and sat, caf in hand, he finally spoke.

“I’d like you to join me tomorrow,” he stated.

The lack of pleasantries from him was unsurprising, though a teasing ‘Good morning to you, Din’ was a tempting response. Instead, you greeted him with a grin and an unobjectionable reply—

“Alright, what are we doing?”

He hummed, pleased with your immediate acceptance.

“The adults alternate supervising the ade. Tomorrow, it’ll be our turn.”

You gestured toward the Child in his arms, in a playful retort. “Don’t we supervise this ad every day?”

The Child cooed in his arms, his ears perked tentatively at his mention. Din sighed, with a smile in voice.

“We do. It’s tradition for all of the adults to care for the ade… All have wisdom to share.”

Skeptical, you thought: ‘What would I possibly teach them?’

You observed the Child resting so comfortably on Din’s chest— his tiny hand gripped tightly into Din’s clothes, right where his armor’s kar’ta beskar normally sat. It was a stark contrast compared to the Child’s behavior upon your first meeting. With any loud noises and sudden movements, he would shrink inwards in his cradle— as if he could make himself any smaller. Medical scanners made him grimace, unfamiliar places and people made his ears droop— seeing others upset made him wary. And yet, he was endlessly curious. Despite his initial unease with the two new adults in his life, the Child was quick to trust you both— and with his trust, his personality came through… his affection, his laughter, his love.

From there, Din learned how to tend to someone outside of himself— what it meant to have someone that relied on him, and more colossally, someone that wanted Din, as he was. The Armorer branded him as the Child’s father, and the delighted squeal from the little one sealed the bond that Din had been trying to hide for so long. Just as the Child learned to trust Din with his welfare, so too did Din learn to trust the Child with his own mirjahaal.

Perhaps it wasn’t the lessons they taught, but rather the connection they made, and the wisdom they sought.

With this, the true question then inverted from the skeptic ‘what would I teach them’, to the sanguine ‘what will I learn?’...

“...When do we meet them?”

—

To the ade, the former beroya is nothing more than a tall kurshi fit to climb.

Somehow, Din appears endlessly patient and playful with all six of the young children. They utilize their limitless spurts of energy to continuously attack Din as a squad, bringing him to the ground— he’ll exclaim a faux wail, and collapse to his knees— and the collective giggles of the ade begin the cycle again.

Whenever a child grows tired of their battle, they come to you— wanting to be tossed into the air, or onto the nearest surface. Supposedly being gently thrown around aids in their brain development, and ‘it’s good practice for their first sen’tra flight’, Din tells you. The logic is questionable at best, but hearing their joyous squeals makes the ever-growing muscle fatigue worthwhile. Even the child of the Djarin clan is as equally amused, his own little spirit mightily lifted by the experience of being with other kids again.

During your time on Sorgan, the Child was happy to interact with the other children— but mostly, he watched them, rather than play. Perhaps he was still too shy or too wary to fully engage with so many people, but surrounded by these Foundlings now, he looks at home; like he belongs. Amidst this cohort, he’s made a new friend, Mara, the youngest of the lot. Her long and dark hair reminds you— and perhaps the Child— of Winta, Omera’s daughter. The two spent the most time together on Sorgan, and despite the little one’s inability to say, he misses her.

Mara and the Child sit away from the squad play-fighting Din, in front of the single wall of volcanic tuff— embellished with crimps and pockets, graven by many hands. You watch them, as they examine the wall, looking up and down, side to side. Your eyes travel upward to the small cavate, almost eight feet from the floor. You watch as Mara looks to the Child and nods, and begins her ascent up— using her fingers and toes to grip tightly onto the various crevices in the wall— and the Child begins to follow.

You step forward, almost instinctively, wanting to call out to them to stop, wanting to reach out to the children to prevent a fall—

Then, from nowhere, Din appears at your side, extending his hand to stop you. “Don’t,” he says softly, “Let them try.”

You look at him puzzled, and he continues. “If you distract them now, they might fall…” he pauses, and turns his head to watch them, “...but if you allow them to focus, they can succeed. Watch…”

The pair silently step closer, closing the distance between themselves and the wall, watching the two ade slowly make their way up to the cavate. Mara climbs inside first, and lays on her belly, reaching out to the Child to help him trek the final span of the wall. Once inside, the Child turns around, to face the entire room below him. He squeals a little clamor of excitement, proud of his triumph, before looking down to his buire.

“Good job, kid,” Din says. “Come on down, it’s time to go.”

The Child looks at you both doe-eyed, his ears drooping, as he peers over the ledge. He looks back to Mara, and back down over the ledge, contemplating his next move.

You lean slightly towards Din, speaking in a hushed tone. “I don’t think he knows how to get back down.”

“He can do it,” Din says confidently.

You challenge him, “He looks scared.”

Din insists, “Then he’ll do it scared.”

He steps forward once more, his body almost pressed against the wall, reaching one hand up. “Come on kid, climb down.”

The child’s ears droop even lower, letting out a quiet whimper, a little anxious look on his face. He looks back up to Mara, who gives him an encouraging “You can do it,” before he finally begins his descent towards you and Din.

Carefully, his little clawed feet grip into the same pockets he used to climb up, and his hands hold onto the ledge. He looks down at his buire with a slightly quivering lip, then back up to his hands. Slowly, he presses on, his movements deliberate and cautious, gravity tugging at his little limbs with relentless persuasion, clammy clawed-hands threatening to slip free from the cold stone. His disgruntled babbling fading with each tentative step, footfalls growing more steady with every downward stride.

His little foot finally reached something soft— the hand of his buir, waiting for his arrival. With an excited squeal, he looks to Din, holding out his clawed fingers for Din to grasp. Din takes the Child into his arms.

“Good job… I knew you could do it.” Din whispers to him.

With his ad in hand, Din looks back to the cavate, where Mara sits silently. “You too, Mara, come down,” he says.

Mara, unlike the little one, is less graceful, only climbing down two feet of wall before leaping off. You instinctively reach your arms out to catch her, but are a few seconds too late, as she lands confidently on her feet, smiling up at you. She giggles, asking the Child “Wasn’t that fun!” and the little one cooing affectionately with a bright smile.

“They need to rest.” Din says, before leading Mara and the Child back with the other ade. You follow him in toe, and aid him while he attempts to settle the children in preparation for them to sleep.

The chamber is bathed in the soft, warm light of the cressets along the walls. The ade sit and lay in a circle on the floor, looking up at the two adults expectedly, waiting for you both to join them. Din gently places the Child in Mara’s lap, seating himself amongst them.

The ade demanded a story before they would agree to their midday nap, and with only one long sigh, Din relented. As you sit beside him, the tale of Akaanati'kar'oya begins.

—

In ages past, when cosmic realms were naught,

Two gods emerged, each with a purpose sought.

Kad Ha'rangir, embodiment of change,

A dance of growth, His essence did arrange.

Arasuum, the god of slow decay,

In stillness thrived, where life would fade away.

Eternal foes, in battle they engaged,

Ideals clashed, the cosmic script was paged.

Kad Ha'rangir, with eyes of vibrant light,

Envisioned galaxies in endless flight.

His very step, a ripple through the void,

Transforming all, where life and change enjoyed.

Arasuum, with eyes as deep as night,

Desired a realm where stasis held its might.

Decay His touch, a silent, withering breath,

A universe in stillness, touched by death.

In ceaseless clash, their cosmic struggle roared,

A dance of gods, where destinies were stored.

Stoic truths emerged from this grand design,

A tale of action, life's breath so divine.

"For action is the breath that life bestows,

A vital force, as mighty river flows.

Inaction, slow demise, a creeping shade,

A silent death in stillness' dark cascade."

Through galaxies and time, the story spread,

Of Kad Ha'rangir, where change was bred.

Arasuum's touch, a cautionary tale,

A realm in stillness, where all things frail.

So heed the moral, in verses spun,

That action is life, beneath the sun.

For inaction's grasp, a silent breath,

A slow demise, an encroaching death.

—

The ade rest together in a haphazard heap of limbs on various bedcovers and furs draped across the floor. Exhausted from their Beroya Battles and abseil adventures, they finally sleep, leaving the two adults to quietly watch over them together. In the chamber’s silent embrace, the air hangs heavy and chilled— a symphony of stillness envelops the room, broken by the muted shuffle of shifting bodies, and the hushed breaths of the ade. The only audible rhythm is that of the pulsating cadence of your own heartbeat and the rush of blood moving inside your head.

Your eyes scan over the ade, finding a sense of calmness watching their steady breaths, in… out.

In… out.

Your gaze once again falls onto the Child, cuddled against Mara, also breathing steadily. In the gentle cradle of his friend’s arms, he looks peaceful. Had he ever slept this soundly on the Crest?... Who held him every night before us? Who will take care of him after us?

In the softest whisper, to not disturb the ade, you lean closer to Din, telling him the obvious— “He’s happy here.”

“...Yes,” Din replies, just as quietly.

“Was this your experience, too? After the Mandalorians saved you?”

“No.”

His visor is trained on the little one’s sleeping face—the same face of a child who was once trapped in the suffocating darkness of a sealed cradle—a cage, a cage whose opening only revealed another prison, in the form of two bounty hunters hovering over him like… a B2 Battle Droid, with a blaster pointed in a child’s face. A child rescued from death at the last possible moment by a shiny warden, offering an adiaphorous detainment.

“It was… a time of war. I was trained to fight in it. I hope… that they never have to.” Din says, his gaze scanning over the ade once more.

“I thought all Mandalorians were warriors.”

He, too, believed the same notion for many years. Training from the day he was rescued to the day he became an adult, after his verd'goten, life became a perpetual streak of jobs. Commission, retrieval, payment. Commission, retrieval, payment… Until a strange, golden, aureate armorsmith joined his tribe, bringing tales of the “Great Forge of Mandalore,” and the songs of the artificers that echoed through the speos as they worked. He remembers the first time he kneeled in front of her small, austere forge, in a dark room beneath a busy market above, listening as she spoke of the ethos, the rites, the latria, the true way of the Mandalore.

“No. Everyone is trained to survive. But… we used to live, too.”

“...Until Mandalore was taken.”

“Yes.”

So'haale, urman'gedete, eparave, cyarir evaar'la, alii'aliit… A cultus he could only dream of, but never truly have. Spoken knowledge fades into whispers, slipping through his fingers like sand as the voices of the ancestors grow ever fainter. Each decampment a dissolution of tsad res publica, each step forward a battle against oblivion.

“I’m sorry.” You lean over, resting your head on his pauldron. “...Maybe there’ll come a time when we’ll live in the light, on a planet that welcomes us.”

Din knows that within every Mandalorian is a patchwork of unfamiliar faces and ever-changing landscapes, their solace and safety as elusive as a bes'ede itself—and yet they endlessly repugn the kandush they have faced time and time again, guided by the conviction that within the uncertainty of the cosmos lay the promise of a sanctuary forged from the resilience of their spirit.

He tilts his head, resting it atop yours. “There will.”

Ali'nare vencuyanir yaim. This is the Way.

Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛

To show this author your direct support, go ahead and check this story out on A03 + leave some kudos and a nice comment 💜

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando'a #original mandalorian character #shereshoy #shereshoy series #not my writing #i have permission to post this

47 notes · View notes

spideycatt · 10 months

Text

Wig Thief || 1610!M.M x Black!Fem!Reader

[Oneshot]

Synopsis: The one day you decide to switch it up Miles just gotta be himself

Word Count: 1.1K

Song Recs: Change your life // Kehlani, Snooze // SZA, Garden // SZA

Warnings: Fem black reader, reader has a mom, banter, mentions of weed, one sentence in Spanish, cuss words (and use of the word nigga), Reader has a smart mouth (kinda), incense, screaming, reader has a chubby belly (I think it's so cute I can't help myself)

Not rlly warnings: Reader has locs (on the shorter side), Miles is taller than reader, use of aave, wig-snatchin (incase some of yall got ptsd LMAO), Reader's kinda on the boho side (not entirely tho)

Lmk if I missed anything!!

You recently got your locs retwisted and went through every hairstyle in the book. And if you were being completely honest with yourself, you missed your afro. You voiced this to your mother and she immediately shot you down to your dismay.

"Girl get the fuck out my face with that nonsense." She'd waved you off, obviously not willing to hear you out.

"But ma! I'm starting to get bored of my locs, there's only so much a girl could doooo." You whined, flopping on her bed as she side-eyed you for not listening to her.

"Just get a wig, you used to wear 'em all the time. You not taking out them locs, and if you do, I'm not the one paying to get them redone when you regret it." She argued, going back to her loud Facebook video. And honestly, even though you couldn't take them out, you still saw this small compromise as a victory.

This leads you to now, in the hair store trying to figure out which one you wanted. You didn't want any flashy colors just yet, wanting to do something tame for the time being. Deciding on a dark-colored afro, you buy some more products with the wig and leave.

When you got to your house you immediately played some tunes on the tv and lit some lavender incense, you were gonna smoke a blunt while you did your hair but decided to save it for later. You sit down in front of your long mirror, braiding your locs back while watching Bumblebee on your laptop. You were so into the movie you didn't hear your bedroom window open.

"Whatcha watchin'?" Your boyfriend, Miles, whispered in your ear, ripping a shriek out of you.

"Miles, how many times I gotta tell you to stop doing that shit?" You say with a hand on your chest, heart beating a thousand miles (haha) per second.

He shrugged.

The mother fucker shrugged.

"Don't make me get up and beat you up."

"Damn, ma. I'm sorry." He laughed sitting down behind you, wrapping his long arms around your torso. He kisses behind your ear gently. "And you didn't answer my question..."

"I'm- Miles stop rubbing on my stomach." You deadpan at him through the mirror. "My Ma said I couldn't take my locs out so she told me to put on a wig."

"Why'd you wanna take 'em out in the first place?" He raised an eyebrow at you expectantly. "Uhmm 'cause I'm getting bored of my locs. You question me too damn much."

"What it look like?"

"There you go asking more questions."

"C'mon, ma I'm just curious.." He said getting up and looking for said wig. He looked at a purple bag on your bed skeptically, picking it up and finding a mop of hair inside. He quickly grabbed the bag and your phone and ran into the bathroom.

A beat of silence passes before you realize your boyfriend was missing.

"Miles, why are you so quiet?" And where was your phone..?

"Huh? I'm not being quiet— y-you're being quiet?" He said in more of a question than a statement. You finish up your last braid and stand up, shaking your head.

"I'm coming in there. You bet not be in my shit."

"What? I'm not in your shit —why would you say that?"

You quickly got your answer as to what mess Miles was doing this time. Lo and behold, this grown nigga, wearing your wig. With your phone in his hand. The wig honestly didn't look that bad on him, but his hair was out, making him look like he had a giant head. That and the hairline being way too close to his eyes made you hold back a laugh, feeling more humored than angry.

"Miles."

"Yea?" He said tentatively, setting your phone down on the sink counter.

"Give it here."

"But I look so good!"

"Nigga give it back!" You lunge at him, snatching the wig off his head.

"Ma! Now why would you do that!?!?" He whined snatching the wig back and holding it up in the air, making you stand on your tippy toes.

"Miles! Te voy a matar." You say quickly, almost losing your footing as you jump up to grab the wig out of his hand. "Careful mami you could hurt yourself," He said with a smug look on his face, before running past you into your bedroom.

"Good Spanish, by the way!"

"Miles! Give it backkk." You stomped your foot and pouted at him. It looked like he was gonna give it up for a second, but he put it back on his head. Putting his hand up to look at his nails, he swayed his head dramatically.

"Nuh-uh, girl!! This all me, girl."

"You just have to be you." You huffed, dragging a hand over your face.

"Ok, ok, sorry, baby," He said, walking up to you, taking the wig off his head, and placing it into your awaiting hand. He stood close to you, almost too close, towering over you as he placed a long kiss on your cheek. "Forgive me?"

"Nah. You owe me for this." You glare at him, sitting back down in front of your mirror to finish your hair. "How do some incense and waist beads sound?" he said, sitting down behind you to paw at your belly more.

"And Starbucks for a week." You said, smiling, starting your movie again.

.luv4miles

liked by .luv4ynnie and 567 others

.luv4miles idk why he think he funny…

view all comments

.luv4ynnie idk why you still acting mad when i’m buying you Starbucks for a WEEK?!?!

luv4ynnie

liked by luv4miles and 439 others

.luv4ynnie Thas cuz I am😁

view all comments

.luv4miles no miles, ur not. 😾

BONUS:

Apparently, you made too much noise jumping up and down around the bathroom, because you got a call from your mom on your phone. You answer it and put it on speaker.

"Yea, Mama?"

"Y'all making too much damn noise! I don't know who you think you is sneaking Miles up in my house— but if y'all keep making noise, Ima walk up there and handle you myself. And I swear if I catch y'all asses naked and canoodling in bed, Ima whoop both of y'all! And then Ima send Miles home and tell his mama so she can whoop him too! And you gonna be out the house for a week. Bye." She hung up quickly, not letting you respond.

You look back at Miles with a shocked expression to see him making the same look on his face. You guys make eye contact before laughing loudly.

"Oh my god!"

"I can't believe she thought- that- that we were, oh my-" Miles stutters, making you laugh even harder.

Kkuet.

99 notes · View notes

readingadream · 1 month

Text

BE THE LIGHT

Chapter One

Word count 1,620

1 | 2 | 3

Wooyoung POV

What would you do if a random person came to you and asked to trust him? Saying that he would be the reason the world would change. Would you trust him? Would you think he was bat shit crazy like me?

Wednesday night, there was a full moon and a chilly breeze that made leaves fall so beautifully to the ground. Though like the story's told by our parents, the most intresging people came out that night. I should have stayed home, but of course my friends always loved to go out.

“Yah! Woo, hurry the hell up.” Shouted by my friend who was almost as short as I was, light brown hair that had just barely covered his ears and of course not styled much since he had been partying most of the night. I rolled my eyes and waved as our group of friends walked to the next bar.

“Mm, Go ahead without me. I think Imma catch the bus home. It's late and I need to wake up early anyways.” I waved my friends on as I walked to the convent store, grabbing a thing of ramen, a hangover drink, and some chips. Perfect late night snack plus medicine to help me not feel like absolute death right before work in the morning. The store was oddly quiet tonight which was unusual for a Saturday. Saturdays usually were busy, many drunk young adults like myself grabbing snacks or buying more alcohol. Walking to the front to pay I noticed a younger male who had red hair trying to do homework. Remembering those days I’d felt a little bad for the boy.

After paying I grabbed my bag and quickly ran to the bus stop that was just about a block from where I’d been. Hopefully my luck would work tonight and not miss the last bus back home. Though when has luck ever been on my side? Never. I watched it drive past me. Looking up at the sky I let out an annoyed yell. “Fuck!”

I was about to turn and call a taxi when a shorter male approached me, his hair was the color of dark chocolate, and his skin pale like someone who seemed to avoid being outside during the day, and lastly his eyes were dark brown as well but almost black. Though it was hard to see them clearly in the darkness that surrounded them due to the lack of streetlights where they currently were. Who'd have thought a bus stop in the middle of the city would be poorly lit?

“Apologies, I didn't mean to scare you. I know I'm a nobody but would you trust me? Help me out and I can promise you glory.” The stranger's voice was a slightly higher tone to an otherwise velvety smooth lilt, the kind of sound that the perfect melodie wrapped up in a song; a lullaby.

Tell me why I wanted to say yes? Why would someone like me decide to agree to help with something that my dumbass didn't know anything about. Shivering from the cold breeze I let out a breathy laugh as I looked at him. This male had a surrounding feeling of confidence and yet felt so mysterious as well.

“Who is stupid enough to say yes? Me apparently because I'm curious, also because your friend who has been standing behind you closely seems like he can trust you.”

I looked at the male behind him, white hair that looked like snow, was close to shoulder length, and the look he gave was one of seriousness. The male who spoke let out a faint laugh, waving off the one who stood behind.

“Seonghwa is very close to me, he's our most precious member. Ah, I'm Hongjoong by the way.” Holding his hand out for me to shake. His hand was cold, silver rings on most of finger as well as a few bracelets on his wrist. Was it wrong to mention the fact his hands were smaller then mine? Though this man whose name was Hongjoong was also shorter than me so it made some sense in a way.

“Wooyoung.” Giving the stranger my name so easily, probably not wise and used a fake name but we only lived once right? What could be worse than a stranger leading me to my possible death.

Seonghwa looked at me, like he was questioning why I'd agree so easily, who could blame him though? because I still was unsure. I used him as an excuse to be completely honest. Moving he points to the black BMW that had been pulling up and parking next to us.

“Our ride is here, you will stay with us from now on. You can gather your stuff tomorrow though Woo, right now it's late and you've seemed to have a long night.” Seonghwa spoke for the first time, voice sounded like thunder in the distance yet also a lullaby that if he sang a gentle song would make all worries go away.

Nodding my head I took a step towards the vehicle, “Promise you won't be killing me?”

“I promise doll, you are safe with us.” Hongjoong gently patted my shoulder as he walked to get into the front passenger seat.

Stepping into the back with Seonghwa, I noticed the driver. He looked around my age, tired, and his eyes dull like there was no life left in them. I noticed his hair was the color of a faded pink or maybe orange? It was hard to tell in the little light that was provided due to the door being open momentarily. Though, maybe that's because of how late it was and the male was tired.

“This is Yunho, our sunshine most days. I swear he isn't as gloomy as he looks, we just haven't gotten much sleep lately and it takes a toll on us.” Listening to Hongjoong explain who the driver was, I noticed a small smile appear from Yunho.

“That's because you made me wake up at 2am the other night because of your wild idea. Anyways, it's nice to meet you newbie.”

Newbie? He knew? Of course he did you idiot. “It's Wooyoung.” Letting out a soft yawn I just relaxed in the back seat. The leather seats seemed to be heated which warmed my cold bodie but also made it incredibly hard to stay awake much longer. Looking out the window as we drove, watching as city lights passed by quickly and things became a blur as I fell asleep curled up in my seat and just enjoying the warmth while it lasted.

Feeling someone shake me is what had finally woken me up, I usually slept hard and long so without thinking I shove them off. “Fuck off.” Mumbling and turning slightly.

That's when I remembered that I wasn't home, it wasn't Changbin waking my lazy ass awake. I shot up and met eyes with Seonghwa. He didn't look bothered by my actions.

“Well you clearly will get along with Sannie, he loves his sleep and once punched our captain in the face for trying to wake him.” He points to a warehouse, it was definitely worn down but also if someone looked closer they would see that the building had been worked on. Looking over to where he was pointing I noticed a few boys outside playing basketball. “Welcome to our little utopia, it isn't fancy but we all have adjusted. You will too in a matter of time.”

When the car parked I noticed a boy with red hair running over holding a basketball. “Hyung! Did you guys get the snacks? Please tell me you got more banana milk because San hyung drank the last one that I was saving.” He pouted and it was cute, like a little bear pouting.

“Wooyoung, this is our youngest member. Jongho, this is our new member. I want you and San if he's awake to get him all taken care of.” Hongjoong spoke as he got out of the vehicle. “Yes we got snacks and more milk, Hwa wanted strawberry milk anyways so he bought a few packs of both.”

San must have known he'd been spoken of, walking out to help with the groceries he took notice of the new male. Looking him up and down before shrugging.

“San, this is Wooyoung. I want you and Jongho to get him set up, we will get his stuff tomorrow after we've gotten some well deserved sleep.” All San did was nod. Handing me a few bags before walking towards the building.

Following inside I had noticed the couches in the middle of the building, a few desks around it and then another couch off to the side by the door. The warehouse was old for sure, and looked like they'd made the place for all 7 that there was. Well now 8.

Ladders led up to a second floor, everything seemed new like they had built the second floor themselves, so it was safe for them to walk on. Lastly, he saw the makeshift kitchen. Everything they would possibly need was there. A microwave, stove and oven, dish washer, a coffee pot, and just basic items you'd generally see in someone's kitchen. San points at the groceries “I'll put these away, so just set them on the table for now.” Of course, I just nodded my head, setting them down. Yawning for what seemed like the millionth time in the last 10 minutes. I walked around as the others all came in, talking about who knows what. He'd tuned them out for a moment as he realized things were about to be a lot different from now on.

#ateez fanfic #ateez #ateez au #woosan #seonghwa #hongjoong #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #yeosang #yunho #stray kids #park seonghwa #fanfic #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3

9 notes · View notes

zydrateacademy · 19 days

Text

Fury and Peace.

Deep in the north of Winterhold, a stranger walked into town. The town fell on harder times due to the harshness of its locale, mostly maintaining what they had through trade towards Windhelm. This stranger, garbed in dark, world-worn cloth with armor segments inspired by the akaviri blades. Three blades adorned her ornaments in the Tsaeci style. Her scales, a vibrant red, typically betrayed by her tired tail dragging along the snow as her wide-brimmed hat obscured a large portion of her face except by those shorter than her. The stranger had to see after all, she peered up beyond the veil of the hat, her bespectacled eyes gazed towards the tavern where she made her way without the courtesy of greeting the merchants who spotted her.

The patrons of said tavern were few. The bartender was doing idle cleaning work, tending to the clearly nord-preferred clientele though there was the odd Breton, shivering and shuddering in the corner as he tended to his cups. The stranger made her way in that direction, catching the eye of the patrons. Their gaze held for a few too many moments, as Marshborn don’t typically enjoy themselves in the frozen north. She paid them hardly any mind, and set herself next to the breton, much to his confusion. He narrowed his eyes at her, challenging her choice.

“...There’s an entire bar of seats, lizard. Find another.”

The stranger grinned, looking up at him with her barred teeth. She revealed her orange irises seemed to glow in the dimly lit conditions, “But you are the one I am most interested in.” The breton leaped from his chair, screaming towards all the other patrons, “Assassin! Assassin! Help me!” As the man had nowhere to run, he was sure to die freezing if he fled the town properly, he tried to use the others as cover.

Being the most exciting thing to happen here in weeks, the Nords stood up to challenge the two. The red stranger lifted her hands up, “No assassin here, fine northern gentlesirs and ladies. A hunter all the same, a rectifier of failed justice.”

Her claim wasn’t good enough. To some civilians, be they bounty hunters, vigilantes, or assassins, anyone to a tight knit community with the thought of violence in their heart is surely to be met with it in kind. The Nords located some improvised weaponry, an already-broken table leg here, a cleaver there.

The stranger sighed. Repeating to herself under muttered yet still audible breath; “Fury and peace. Fury and peace.”

A single brave Nord wanting to put his muscles to use charged at her, but in a single swift step she grappled his swinging arm, elbow to elbow and tightened her grip. After a single second of stunned silence, she forcefully extended her arm to bend against his, snapping it to the bone. As everyone’s eyes widened, the tavern fell silent as the Nord screamed, deep puddles of blood dripping from his arm onto the wooden floor. He went for a frenzied left hook, but not being his dominant arm the stranger easily parried it with a flat palm, using her free hand to strike him in the throat, leaving him collapsed on the floor and choking to recover his lost ability to breathe.

“Peace,” she uttered to the crowd.

Naturally his kin were not too keen on this, and three more went against the stranger. However they were not well acquainted and thus uncoordinated. Using this to her advantage, the stranger weaved around their swings easily, concentrating several swift strikes against the pressure points in their arms and ribs. At a certain point she was forced to draw one of her shorter Akaviri blades, seeking to down the greater foes that tower over her by a foot or so. There was one woman among them, a beast of a creature trying to bring down a mallet on her. Once it missed, crushing the floorboards below, the stranger struck her blade through both of the warrior’s outstretched arms, and then twisted the blade.

While the warrior cried out various Nord curses, the stranger once again uttered; “Peace.” Two fighters remained still. Still they tried to crush her with blunt weapons, which she would deflect the weight of. At one point she was able to take advantage of their frenzy, and redirected the weight of one man’s swing into the other’s jaw, effectively harming themselves in their stupor. They slowly backed her into a wall but managed to duck a swing, and one of the men broke his hand against the wall.

Taking advantage of the two wounded opponents, she jabbed her blade through one of their feet, pinning them down. A series of rapid maneuvers from her own fists left them both on their knees in proximity, to which she grabbed them both by their opposing ears and bashed their heads against each other. Then she did so a second time. Then a third, and she kept doing so until she heard bone break.

The two warriors barely held enough energy to moan out their pain, and she leaned down towards them both to utter once again; “Peace.” She let them fall where they were.

The Breton remained terrified. He spewed excuses at her, but she grabbed him by the throat to silence him. She forced him to his knees, placed the tip of her blade against the man’s lips, piercing them and drawing blood. Again he attempted to cry through her grip, begging and offering what little the criminal had left to his name.

She shoved the blade down his throat, into his stomach. Making sure not to sever her spinal cord brain stem, so the man felt several of his organs bleeding and failing in his last moments.

As he struggled, she uttered just one word to him.

“Fury.

#ESO #Elder Scrolls Online #TES #The Elder Scrolls #Argonian #RP #Roleplaying

6 notes · View notes

undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

"The Just and the Wicked": A Sneak Peek

[FULL FIC >>HERE<<]

We meet again, dear student! Have you met Hermes again? Well, perhaps he's grown fond of you. I know I have. You are such a great listener, always asking brilliant questions and never interrupting. But enough about you.

You know why you're here, there's no need for me to ask such a rhetorical question. It is also the reason we keep on meeting again and again. Last time we spoke of dreams, wisdom and the strange gift of divinity their union provided. Today, I'd like to tell you a story that my mother used to tell me. In fact, I've heard it from her so many times during my childhood that I'd grow furious any time I heard the word 'karma'. It is only in my old age that I finally understand the importance of this tale. Tell me, when you think of justice, what comes to your mind?

"Dear sister!" the young man exclaimed. He was dressed in a white robe that could hardly be called 'decent'. "My heart swells at the sight of you! But I'm afraid I'm not here to ponder our relationship and the lovely memories we share."

"Then what is it, Decay? The longer you stay in Dreaming, the more its genius loci shall rot towards oblivion. Speak fast, brother."

Decay leaned in towards you. His eyes were bright and his smile wide, making it truly hard to believe that he was the one making flowers wilt and corpses dissolve. Yes, he was, in fact, akin to the Trojan horse. "I know the spear is in here, Wisdom. My presence will not make a cloud disappear underneath your sky." For a moment, he stared at you with a strangely triumphant expression that seemed like genuine happiness only superficially - there was mischief, viciousness in his eyes as though he was gloating at possessing knowledge you did not share with him. After he got his presumed satisfaction, Decay stepped away from you to resume his monologue. "I came to inform you about a strange occurrence that needs your insight. I visited Karma not too long ago but not out of my own will. One of the Palaces died."

"Palaces of Justice?" Morpheus repeated slowly. His eyebrows furrowed instantaneously and it was a quite understandable reaction to anyone who knew a thing or two about those strange creatures. "How can a Palace of Justice die?"

"Not by a mortal hand nor by the hand of the Endless," you answered in quiet thoughtfulness. "Is there anything more you've learned, Decay? Tell me, what barbarity preceded this act of treason?"

"Truthfully, I do not know any more than Karma does. Unlike Death," Decay paused to look meaningfully in Dream's direction, "I do not gossip with my subjects, therefore Lion himself did not tell me about his passing. But I did, however, come into possession of something that you might find attractive. It is also, I believe, the very trail at which your insight begins, dear sister."

From the scarce folds of his revealing robe, Decay took out a torn piece of material. It was silvery white, glistening in the diffused rays that lit up Morpheus's palace. There seemed to be something embroidered in a dark thread but the tear run in the middle of the design, making it impossible to tell with utmost certainty what it had once presented. Extrapolating from the remaining lines, one could assume that the silvery, silky material once had an open eye inside a triquetra embroidered on it. There was only one unholy fraction that proudly wore such a sigil:

"Brothers of the Final Truth," you whispered to yourself while still examining the torn material. Finding it on your path, however, posed as many questions as it did answers, dissipating the unpenetrated mists of ignorance. "Without a doubt, the ones that told Rodrick Burgess of Metatron's Cube."

I fear the day is growing shorter yet again, dear student, and the darkness in the absence of the sun is filled with terrors even I am yet to learn about. As much as it pains me to say so, I do not know when we'll see each other again. Telling you this story, I have come to realize that an entire century had gone by since the last time I saw my mother. With the break of dawn, I shall be off to Shangri-La. Should you grow weary of my absence, borrow one of my books. Who knows, maybe between their pages you'd find a story of your own?

54 notes · View notes

thefluffychipmunk · 1 year

Text

Fruity Four Advent Day 5 - I Want to Grow Old With You

Fruity Four Advent Calendar day 5 - In the future, the holidays of ‘22. Just a short little ficlet today. Barely a thing. I was initially going to write this an AU where Steve avoids an office Christmas party and Eddie works tech support and has to fix his computer, with very heavy, very excessive flirting. After yesterday’s beast of a story, though, I needed something a little shorter, a little sweeter, a little easier (if you need clarification on any of the terms or language, send an ask and I’ll add them). So here we are. Chanukah 2022/5783

-------------------------------------------------------

Eddie pulled into the driveway, slowly, avoiding the ice patch he still hadn't bothered to put litter on. His house was mostly dark, a soft glow coming from the kitchen in the back but otherwise devoid of the multicolored light every other house seemed to have.

He cracked his back as he got out of the car and grabbed the two bags of Chinese food. It was Christmas. It was their annual tradition, a tradition shared by Jews the whole country over. They’d been to the movies at lunch. They had to have Chinese food at dinner.

It was also the last night of Chanukah. He could smell the oil from outside. Steve was making latkes. He wasn’t sure how well that was going to match with lo mein and fried rice but oh well. If Steve wanted latkes, they would have latkes. Especially if he was the one to make them.

Eddie kicked his boots off in the mudroom and hung up his coat. His gloves and scarf were dropped haphazardly by the washing machine. He left the bags of food on the dining room table and made his way into the hot kitchen.

"I like when Chanukah falls during Christmas break. It's the only time I can do stuff like this before sunset." Steve said, slapping his hand away from the draining tray. There was already a huge pile of latkes, more than the two of them should ever eat in one sitting.

"You could retire." Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve's waist, careful of the hot stove, and rested his chin on his shoulder.

"I'm only 55. I can't afford it yet." Steve dropped the last little latkes into the pan, slowly, so Eddie could move with him and not have to let go.

"You've got your inheritance just sitting there, sweetheart. We could live off my salary plus that." He felt Steve frown, felt his shoulders tense and his back go rigid.

"I'm not living off my father's money ever again, not if I can help it. I can teach for another five or ten years." Eddie didn't push it. He knew better.

“Besides,” Steve continued, “your book sales are good enough. You could retire and just be an author.” Eddie squeezed Steve’s belly in mock shock.

“And abandon my little lost sheepies in their time of need? We haven’t even cast the spring musical yet! I could never.” Steve chuckled as he flipped the latkes. They’d had this conversation so many times. They would probably continue to have it every year as teaching got more and more difficult.

He dropped a gentle kiss to Steve's neck and pulled away. He could at least plate the food and get the chanukiahs ready.

He was placing the last of the candles in his own, having gotten Steve set up first, when Steve came in with the plate of latkes. They didn’t usually light in the dining room. There was a table in the living room window, the big picture one facing the street, set up specifically for the purpose of lighting the chanukiahs every year. But they didn’t use it this year. They didn’t feel like they could. Things were getting pretty bad again, worse than he could remember in a long time, and it just wasn’t safe. He wasn’t going to hide his Jewishness, but he wasn’t going to flaunt it either.

Eddie lit the match and then each shamash. They lit the candles and sang the blessings together. Steve’s singing voice had surprised him, early on, when Steve was still learning how to be Jewish. They’d been together for years at that point but he’d never heard it, never even caught Steve so much as singing in the shower or along with the radio. But he had a good voice, a strong voice, and Eddie was able to harmonize with it easily. He loved to hear it now.

“Happy Chanukah, Love.” Steve raised his chopsticks to Eddie. Eddie raised his back in return.

“Chag sameach, Ahuvi.”

He’d spent thirty five years of holidays with the love of his life. He could only hope to have thirty five more.

#strangerthingsfestivefun #steddie #stranger things #fic

35 notes · View notes

snow-143 · 9 months

Text

The Truth Untold- Kim Taehyung |

Thirteen- i promise (1k words) |

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What am I doing? This can't happen. Why's she got to look so fucking cute? Why's my heart got to beat so fast when she looks at me like that?

She's still sitting in the car, me standing over her. I can't be around her right now. Not with how hard she's making me just with a simple squeeze of her thigh. Why am I acting like a hormonal teenage boy?

I don't look when she stands, not even when she adjusts her dress, but I can see it all out of the corner of my eye. When I can see that she's standing alright I begin to make my way to the door.

Slowing down a bit when I can't hear her steps. It's hard to fight the urge to look at her, even harder when she's close enough for me to hear her mumble to herself. Something about not wanting to go.

If I'm being honest I didn't want to go in too, she looks so beautiful with the moonlight shining on her, the wind blowing through her hair. Annoyingly so.

All I could think about the whole ride was how I wanted to brush her wild hair. Smooth it down and tuck it behind her ears. Get her clothes ready for her and help her get ready for bed. Take care of her like I promised, and now I am. We're in her room, and I'm doing exactly that.

Her face lit up so much when she realised I wasn't leaving. I swear my heart doubled in size at that. I still haven't spoken to her yet, not trusting my voice.

I honestly have no idea what's going on with me right now, all I know is that the over whelming urge to look after her is consuming me.

The brush glides through her hair rarely finding a knot, but I'm as gentle as possible every time I feel resistance. She doesn't seem to mind, I can see an out of it look on her face through her reflection on the mirror.

Its funny how different yet similar she looks from all those years ago. Her hair is shorter, features harsher but mostly her eyes are duller. Not as shiny as the once were. They still hold so much brightness, but they don't seem as carefree. As if she has more weighing her down.

Putting the brush down I take her hand into mine, trying in any way to ease that burden. Her hairs been done for a while now, but I couldn't bring myself to stop until now.

After a while I realise how tired she must be and begun to stand, giving her some privacy to change.

Not even a moment later her hand is wrapped back around mine, 'You said together.' The hold she has on me paired with her broken voice seems almost desperate, it breaks something in me. Something that's been broken before, many years ago.

'Together.' My voice seems brazen after the prolonged silence.

'Together.' Her voice is more authoritative now, as if she's unwilling to take no as an answer.

She looks so delicate staring up at me, it pains me to pull my hand away another time. 'I'll come back after you get changed.'

'No.'

'What?' I'm beyond confused at her outburst. Does she not like the clothes I picked out for her?

'Just don't go. I don't mind. Just, please don't go.' Oh.

'Okay.' She brightens up again, quickly going to get her clothes on shaky legs. She's so pretty like this.

Turning away I begin to look around her room instead. It's so her yet so not. A mix of the y/n I used to know and the y/n I'm yet to learn about. The thought warms my chest at the fact I've got so much yet to learn about her yet at the same time my stomach drops at the fact she's not the same person I know inside and out.

I'm so lost in thought I hardly hear her telling me I can turn around. She's enveloped by a hoodie and fluffy pants. My hoodie. My hoodie that she's kept all this time.

Slowly making her way over to me, she takes my hand it's her smaller one and leads me to the bed. I have to tell myself it means nothing when my heart starts beating like it's about to burst out of my chest.

Her beds smaller than mine, I wouldn't complain in a normal circumstance but at the moment I'm trying to keep my distance as to not make her uncomfortable.

That's all thrown out of the window when she shuffled over and places her head in my chest though. I circle my arms around her waist and pray that she can't hear my pounding heart.

She's soon asleep, and I'm not long following her.

—————

I'm woken up by y/n crying and clinging onto me, muttering incoherently. The room is dark and my mind hazy, I can't quite make out what is happening.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just, please don't go.' Shit is she having a nightmare?

'Y/n?' Shaking her to try and wake her up, she stirs a bit, so I attempt it again. This time she wakes up, she's still crying, and it physically pains me to watch.

'T- tae?' Her voice is so broken as she pulls me into a hug.

'It's okay, I'm here. You're okay.' Stroking her hair and back, I can feel her shake beneath my touch.

'Please don't leave.'

'I'm not going anywhere. I'll never leave you again.'

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

I continue to stroke her hair until her crying stops and her breathing evens out. Not letting go of her until the sun comes up, and I can't bring myself to lie around any more. Deciding I should make her breakfast instead.

Carefully, I get up making sure not to disturb her.

Making my way to the kitchen I'm surprised to see Jimin awake at this time.

'What are you doing up?' He doesn't seem to have an answer for me, so I just change the subject. He'll tell me later if it's important.

'Wanna help me make breakfast?' I grin at him knowing neither of us can cook for shit.

'Sure.' He just seems happy for the deflection.

prev | m.list | next

#books #bts non idol au #bts x reader #fanfic #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts fanfic #tae x reader #bts angst

12 notes · View notes

katelyn-scstudyabroad · 1 year

Text

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

If you’ve been following along, my mom came to Asia to visit and travel with me after classes finished. After she went home I returned to Ha Noi and my dad came to visit, as he also wanted to see Vietnam but my parents are on different schedules.

We spent a few days in Hanoi; I showed my dad to some of my favorite places and we even went to some new places that I had not yet been to. Like my mom, my dad also experienced quite a bit of culture shock, but he still really liked the city.

My dad wanted to see more of Vietnam, so I planned a trip to central Vietnam, my favorite region of the country. I had already been to Da Nang and Hoi An, but I wanted to return to the area to see more.

I have taken many forms of transportation over the past few months, but I had not yet taken a train in Vietnam so I booked tickets to take an overnight train from Hanoi to Hue. Vietnam is pretty well-connected by railway, there are train lines spanning the entire length of the country from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh. Trains have a mix of regular seats and sleeper cabins. Sleeper cabins can have either 4 or 6 beds. Since I booked last minute and there was a holiday I could only get us tickets together in a 6, which was not a good choice. Below I have a picture from the internet with the dimensions, which kind of gives a feel for how small the space was. I am a smaller person so I fit okay, but my 6 ft tall dad was very uncomfortable. Even the 4-person cabins were very small so I don’t think they would have been much better. As a general note, the average Vietnamese person is very small so any taller/larger person planning a visit should take that into account, as many things are designed for smaller people.

After a very rough night on the train, we were very relieved to reach our destination: the city of Hue.

Hue is located slightly north of Da Nang. It was the capital of Vietnam of during the Nguyen Dynasty. During the war Hue suffered greatly, with much of the city destroyed and thousands of people killed. In the past few decades, however, they have been able to rebuild and are becoming a growing tourism center. I did not have time to visit Hue previously, but I knew I had to go there before I left Vietnam.

Our first day my dad and I walked around the city center and took a trip down the Perfume River that snakes through the city on a dragon boat, one of the things Hue is famous for.

Hue is also famous for its cuisine, so we went on a food tour. This was the first food tour I had ever been on, and it was very worth it. Our guide, Linh, was a very enthusiastic and cool guy, and he had great food choices. We got to try many Hue specialties and they were all so delicious. My favorite was Hue’s most famous dish: Bun Bo Hue. This is a beef noodle dish that I had had before in Hanoi, but it was so much better in Hue. To finish the tour we also had some of Hue’s local beer: Huda. Linh also took us around the city and told us some about its history. Because of the holiday we also walked through a street festival and walked along the river to see all the dragon boats lit up in the water.

Besides food, Hue is also known for its historic Imperial City, a UNESCO World Heritage Site that is home to palaces, gardens, temples, and other structures from the Nguyen Dynasty. Due to heavy destruction of the site during the war it is still undergoing reconstruction, like many other historic sites around Vietnam. My dad and I spent a good portion of a day there exploring all of the different structures.

From Hue our next destination was Da Nang. We took the train again but had a much more pleasant experience, as this ride was less than three hours and we sat in regular seats that were more spacious than the sleeper cabin. We also had some very scenic views. While I would not recommend an overnight train, I would recommend a train for shorter distances for scenic views and affordability (our tickets for this ride were only about $5 each!).

Since I had already visited Da Nang, I was able to show my dad some highlights, like the best beach and the nearby pagoda. One new thing we did that I did not have time for before was visit Ba Na Hills.

Ba Na Hills originated over a hundred years ago when French imperialists built a mountain resort. In more modern times it has been turned into Sun World, which is basically an amusement park on top of the mountain. To get to the park there are several cable car lines up the mountain. The park is most famous for its Golden Bridge, which has become a landmark and symbol of Vietnam. The main part of the park is a village modeled after Europe with restaurants, gardens, games, rides, and live performances. There were so many performers at the park, we got to see several dance troupes, singers, acrobats, jugglers, accordionists, saxophone players, and characters. While most of the park was Europe-themed, there were also Vietnamese traditional buildings and a Buddhist temple there, making for a very interesting mix of culture. I originally planned a park visit specifically for the famous Golden Bridge, but I really enjoyed the rest of it.

We next spent a night in Hoi An (see my previous post for more details on this city) so that my dad could see the famous lanterns before taking a flight back to Hanoi. We were originally going to take another overnight train back, but after our experience we decided that airplane travel suited us much better.

Anyway, shout-out to my dad for going on this adventure with me.

4 notes · View notes

legobiwan · 2 years

Text

Writing time!!!! (aka, distraction from all the terribleness going on atm)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cody gave a firm shake of his head in an attempt to dispel the vicious auras. Primary strategy wasn’t just karked. It was shot through the heart with a Kell Mark II and lit on fire for good measure.

“Do we have backup?” he asked, taking down a row of battle droids with three expertly-placed shots. The victory (and marksmanship display, not that the General seemed to care) - was short-lived as more droids filed into the void left by their fallen compatriots, the advance not slipping for even a microsecond. About as useful as bailing out a sailboat on Kamino.

“No backup available,” Kenobi answered, peering over the edge of one of the shorter obelisks. His curiosity was rewarded with a blistering ricochet of ammunition, which, had it been real, would have outfitted the Jedi with a fiery new fringe.

“Additional weapons? Bombs? Blasters?” Not that anything short of a small artillery of rotary blaster cannons or a mid-range detonator or two would really put much of a dent in the droid defense wall. In fact, the only advantage Cody could identify at the moment was that the droids hadn’t already blasted them to the Unknown Regions and back, meaning their orders were to capture, not kill. If they could take out one of the flanks, they had a fighting chance.

If they had any weapons, that was.

“Our weapons are what you see around us, Cody.”

“That blaster?” Cody pointed to the A280 perched near the south wall. It was a basic weapon, preferred by local planetary security forces in crowd control situations - but it was something and that something was a rangir of a lot more than the jetti was coming up with at the moment.

“There’s little difference between the use of one or two spoons when attempting to dig out of a Grundarian earth pit,” Kenobi bit, eyeing the weapon with a curled lip.

Cody bit down on the inside of his cheek. Doesn’t like to use blasters. Guess Decker was right, after all.

There went alternate and contingency strategies.

“What about your lightsaber?” It was odd the Jedi hadn’t brought the weapon out yet, as he had in the previous melee exercises that day. Perhaps he was testing Cody’s ability to recall the Jedi weapon, not that many beings required a reminder, so synonymous were the unique blades and their Jedi owners.

“I lost it.”

“You what?” Cody yelped, adding a beat too late, “Sir?”

The Jedi shrugged, ignoring a concussion of missiles that sent the clone’s teeth chattering. “It’s been known to happen, Cody. We’re training for all situations here.”

All situations. The phrase settled in Cody’s gut like yesterday’s fel’lek-bread.

#hello there #writing #the eternal struggle #cody #obi wan kenobi

11 notes · View notes

willowelijah · 1 year

Text

Headdesking - Remus Lupin/OC

Read the rest

Summary: Follow Remus Lupin bury his head in various pillows as his friends tease him about a crush he’s developed on the girl they recruit to assist them in their mission to become animagi.

Content warnings: Swearing. Some angst.

Chapter 20: Werewolf

Remus was still refusing to tell the others where the Come and Go Room was located, meaning that they were powerless to stop Hazel.

No matter how many times they nagged Remus about it, or made big speeches about how helping them was the right thing to do, he remained intransigent on the matter.

After Herbology they didn't see Hazel for the rest of the day. By the end of it, they were sure that they'd lost the battle.

The next morning, when confronting Hazel about it at breakfast, she wouldn't speak a word to them. Whether the task was completed or not, she would neither confirm nor deny.

The gang remained in the dark until Lily entered the vicinity of the Gryffindor table at breakfast. They were all sullenly staring off at the Hufflepuff table when she sat down with them. She took one look at the expressions on their faces and smirked. The reaction would have gone unnoticed by them, had James not been there.

"What are you smirking about?"

The smugness she exuded increased by about 10% then. "I know something you don't."

Sirius placed his elbow on the table and slid it across until Lily was entirely in his vision. "That information is no use to us unless you go on." His tone was demanding, but Lily let herself be implored just this once.

She leaned in with the same pleased smirk as before. "The potions you're all so concerned with have not yet been disposed of."

"How do you know?" James ejected, having to pipe down midway through his sentence.

"I met her yesterday."

"And how come she told you of all people?" Remus asked.

"It wasn't necessarily willingly. But as I'm sure you're all well aware of by now, I have my ways of extorting information."

After that a spark of hope was lit.

Even stranger than the fact that Hazel would go against her own word of destroying the potions at her earliest convenience — when the boys took it upon themselves to confront her about this fact, they found out that she had postponed the deed not by one day, but two. The working excuse being that she had 'a lot of homework' that night.

Hazel had then parted the group without so much as a salute, and disappeared up the trapdoor to the Divination classroom.

"Very curious indeed." Sirius commented after the trapdoor had shut.

As the group made their way to their own class, Remus soon found himself encompassed by everyone's attention again, and the matter of whether he could ('please and for the love of Merlin') let them in on how to locate the box of potions was once again rekindled. Only this time, with a few days left before the next full moon and the bodily discomfort that came along with it, Remus was in honest truth finding it harder to care with each beg and plea being charged at him.

The altercations between the young boys got more arduous as the days rolled on, and with shorter intermissions between them.

The provocations reached a height on the fourth night, coinciding with the eve of the full moon. The boys had just got back to their dorm, having found out from Lily that Hazel had still not completed the deed despite having had more than three days at her disposal.

Instead of looking at this as good news, Remus' dorm mates took this as another segue to bring them onto the topic of whether he was going to help them or not.

"We're running out of time!" James yelled as he marched across their dorm. He kicked a pillow someone had left lying on the floor with the rest of all their clutter. "At any given moment Hazel could be taking it upon herself to shatter all our hopes and dreams. Do you realise what it would mean if she actually gets hold of the potions? We would have to start all over again. You do realise that right?"

Remus massaged his temple and went to sit down on his own bed. His wristwatch showed him 5:30 p.m. All he wanted was to lay down and let his body rest for the remaining few hours before it would be put through hell. He closed his eyes briefly in an effort to muster the strength needed to reply. "No James." He opened his eyes and coated his voice thick with venom as went on, "I've only had to listen to three idiots rehash that exact argument over and over for the last four days — but no, I hadn't realised that factor until just now."

"Don't get snarky!" Sirius spewed as he unlaced his shoes.

"Then don't test my patience!" Remus fumed, midway through his sentence having to dodge a shoe being thrown at him.

"You obviously have no regard for the effort we have put into this, and it's all for you!" Sirius stood up. He was still holding his other shoe, and Remus raised his arm protectively in front of himself until it had been lowered and dropped on the floor.

A pain came over his shoulders and neck, like ice chips digging into him, and he was forced to breathe out in an effort to fight it. Once the pain had subsided he felt sober enough to try and reason his way out of having to endure their arguments.

"If you're so determined to not give up on completing the transformation, perhaps you should stop to consider the fact that Hazel has so far had every opportunity in the world to stop you indefinitely — yet she still hasn't. Has it crossed your mind that perhaps there's a reason behind that? Perhaps you should be trying to convince her instead of whining to me about it." He motioned at the door, and his opponents' eyes followed his gesture.

About half an hour after that, Remus had been dragged down to the entrance hall by his friends. They were eagerly awaiting Hazel, hoping to encounter her at the moment of her getting back from dinner on her way to her common room for the night.

A heavy gust of wind blew by outside, making the large wooden doors rattle.

The three boys between whom most of the contention resided had managed to be quiet for a good long five minutes when Peter broke the silence. "There she is!"

Remus looked up along with the others, and spotted Hazel approaching from a distance down the corridor.

James pushed himself away from his resting position against the statue of the Architect of Hogwarts. "Should we hide?" he shout-whispered.

Remus rolled his eyes and grabbed James' sleeve with one hand, and Sirius' with the other. He pointed them so that they were facing the girl, who had now spotted them, and who was now slowing down with an apparent reluctance to.

He leaned in close to their ears. "You're going to respectfully ask her about what's keeping her from doing what she said she would, and see if you can all come to some agreement about it."

He then shoved them forward to stop at Hazel's feet.

"Hi Hazel." Sirius stated, pushing his long hair out of his eyes and straightening up.

Remus and Peter remained at a safe distance from the three.

"What do you want?" Hazel asked while throwing a longing glance at the stairs to the basement.

Large rain drops began hurling against the door then, and James had to raise his voice slightly to be heard over it. "We take it the box is still being safely stored in the wooden chest somewhere on the seventh floor?"

"For now..." she admitted, figuring that there was no point lying about it as she had found out earlier that day that Lily had not been keeping her promise not to tell them. "But I can assure you that it won't be for long."

Sirius took one step closer. "Oh yeah? Can we get a time report on that? Because it seems to be taking a lot longer than it realistically should do."

Hazel retracted her upper body and glared at him in response. "Surely that should only please you."

"Oh, we're delighted." James shot at her sarcastically. "We're just starting to get a little suspicious. Perhaps you were not as serious about stopping us as you originally implied?"

Hazel's eyes darted away and she smiled humourlessly. "I really don't see what the big problem is. Surely you have all the power to take the box yourselves? If it means that much to you, why don't you just?" She surveilled James, but upon receiving no response went on to the next person until eventually landing on Remus, who looked down at his own shoes when met with her appraisal.

The rain picked up outside, and James had to raise his voice even more. "We would prefer to come to some sort of agreement. Perhaps you could find it in your heart to forgive us? If so, then maybe this doesn't have to be the strife that it is currently turning into."

Hazel tugged her robe closer to herself, and crossed her arms over it to keep it in place. "If you didn't want a strife, perhaps you shouldn't have lied to me. If you wanted an agreement, perhaps you shouldn't have gone against ours." A rumble in the distance punctuated her sentence, like her hurt was echoing around them.

Sirius pressed his palms against his brow bones, shielding his eyes off. "Hazel." he grunted. Before continuing he hesitated; marched a few metres away from them, only to return immediately. "You have no idea what's at play here."

Remus felt his pulse accelerate. Every muscle in his body tensed as he deliberated what his friend was going to try next in an attempt to convince her, and prayed for his life that he wasn't about to reveal too much.

Another rumble came, louder this time. He exchanged a glance with Peter. They had both acknowledged the same thing, but dared not make any moves that would bring the situation to light. Instead his eyes fell back on Sirius while stifling an increasing urge to rub his own ever hardening shoulders.

"We have good reasons not to want to register ourselves." Sirius continued. "I know it's hard to understand when we can't explain it to you, but can't you find it in your heart to trust that we are trying to do a good thing here?"

"We swear." James chimed in.

Hazel remained silent for a full ten seconds. Remus held his breath, begging and pleading for no more rumbles.

Then Hazel burst out, "I don't care about your reasons! The fact still stands, it's against the law not to. You can't seriously be asking me to break wizarding law, can you?"

"If you're so resolute in making sure we don't break the law, then why haven't you stopped us yet?" Sirius roared, looking about ready to burst into a million pieces.

Hazel tugged her robe even tighter around her. Tears started to form in her eyes. "It's not so easy considering the work we've all gone through to complete this mission!" she exclaimed in a wobbly voice. "Don't you think I also realise that destroying it means that all we've been working towards for the last few months has been for nothing? It's not so easy to throw that all down the drain!"

Just as she finished ranting the whole room lit up around them in a flicker, creating large shadows on the walls from their silhouettes, disappearing and appearing three times over.

The group stopped in their tracks, perplexed by the interruption they all looked up at the walls while trying to make sense of what was happening. All but Peter and Remus, who didn't need any clues as to what was happening, and the latter of which clenched his eyes shut, fearing what was to come.

Then, not a moment later, came the deafening bang. The windows rattled and the ground shook as a result, followed by another cascade of rain gushing against the door.

The loud bang also brought with it a silence, which fell between them as soon as it had gone. It took no more than for everyone's eyes to fall on Hazel, for her to make a snap decision — and start running.

When she reached the stairs, the guys had caught up to what was happening and started after her. It didn't take long before they had caught up, and midway up the first set of stairs Hazel transformed into her animagus form. Suddenly she was taking the stairs two at a time, with a speed unmatched by anyone.

Remus lagged behind, and Peter beheld him anxiously. Only after Remus had grunted with displeasure and made to follow his friends did Peter decide to move as well.

"What are you going to do Hazel?" Sirius called out after her, but received no response. Besides, they all had a pretty good idea of what her intentions were.

She had the lead by a lot, but the boys were never too far behind, and the group made their way up the castle in junction with one another, with the seventh floor in mind.

When they reached the moving staircases another lightning strike crashed down near the castle. The sound of it echoed up the walls, and the people in the framed pictures gasped in unison.

They boys got on the moving stairs after Hazel, and the structure split in two, leaving her sailing away from them. Remus and the others grabbed on tightly, and looked wistfully after her as she was taken away to the sixth floor.

"Shit. There goes our chances." James muttered.

"Not necessarily. Look." Sirius pointed at the corridor they were being taken to. "It's the seventh floor."

"Yeah, but you have to remember that we have no idea where we're going." James jeered.

The stairs moved closer to their destination. A state of deep concentration overcame Sirius. His eyes became vacant as he looked off into the distance. He rubbed his hands together and mumbled, "Okay... We'll split up. That way one of us will most definitely run into her once she gets onto the seventh floor."

Just as the staircase clicked into place Sirius muttered, "Run as fast as you can." but locked eyes only with Remus.

The look Sirius was giving him surprised him. There was frustration and stress evident in his demeanour. But what he didn't expect to see was the pain in his eyes, like he wasn't just demanding something of him. He was pleading for it.

Sirius turned away, and Remus watched his friends rush off. He couldn't get himself to go after them, and remained still. He couldn't get himself to do what Sirius had pleaded for.

He stepped off the staircase onto immobile ground. They all disappeared in various directions. Remus walked with an even pace, and veered into the first corridor he stumbled upon with no intention of following the plan. As soon as he was alone his walking came to a halt.

He decided to be okay no matter what would be the outcome. But he suspected that his willingness to be accepting just this once was really coming out of an underlying assurance that his friends would fail.

He recalled Sirius' pleading expression again and felt a jab of guilt in his stomach at the image. They would always do anything they could to help him. If they could ease his transformations in any way, they would do it. Not only that, but it genuinely pained Sirius to know that Remus couldn't find it in himself to let them have his back. He had seen it in his eyes.

Perhaps the best thing he could do was to stop standing in their way.

He was just about to start making his way back to Gryffindor Tower when he spotted a small figure skipping into the corridor a few metres ahead. The squirrel stopped and looked at him, before turning and moving in the opposite direction.

"Hazel!" he called after her.

To his surprise, she stopped.

He jogged up to her, and she became human again, but it didn't make her tone any more humane when she snapped, "What?"

The castle was dark now. The storm clouds only let in a purple hue, making the most ordinary things appear otherworldly. Like her usually innocent eyes, now blackened by the evil sky and their betrayal of her. The draft from the outside storm made her clothes lift and hover. The sudden white light of another lightning strike provided a blank background to her figure, making her into a stencilled mark upon his world.

The sharp flicker disappeared a second later, and her eyes became brown again while his filled with anguish. He ripped the band-aid. "It's for my sake that they're doing the spell."

Perhaps if she really was as open as she said, she might not have the reaction he expected from people when they found out the truth. And if she really knew the real reason why they couldn't register, she might let them off.

Hazel opened her mouth and closed it. Her head turned slightly to peer down the corridor in a state of dazed deliberation. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to make a quick decision.

"Care to elaborate?"

She turned to him, giving him her undivided attention.

He felt himself start to shake, but trudged on. "I know it's against the law not to register. They know it too. But if they do, it'll defeat the whole purpose." He trailed off, preparing for the next thing he would have to tell her, but simultaneously he couldn't help but wish one last time that it would be enough to convince her.

"Remus, I know you guys have some special ulterior motive that you all seem to think puts you above the law. But unless you tell me the whole extent of it, I really don't see how what you're telling me is meant to persuade me."

He breathed in, closed his eyes, tried to grasp onto one last moment of bliss while she was still in the dark, then let his body push the air out of him needed to speak. "I'm... a werewolf..." He looked down at the floor, unable to bear whatever emotions were inevitable to flash across her face.

Hazel didn't move, and Remus still stared at the floor. He forced himself to keep explaining. "They just want to help me. If they become animagi, they can be with me during my transformations. That way it'll be easier for me."

He looked up. He did it without thinking. Hazel was stoic. Steady as a rock. He searched her face, knowing that she could see him doing it, but desperate for any hints at what she was feeling.

"That's not reason enough to break the law." she stated hollowly.

He hadn't expected her to comment on what he had just admitted to her, of course she would gloss over it. Of course there was nothing really that she could say, and she wasn't about to call him a name and curse him. That wasn't her, he knew that. But still, there was pretty much an infinity of ways she could hurt him without so much as uttering a word. The danger was not over yet.

"It is when you consider that being with me during my transformations involves being out after curfew. It allows them to be in disguise when doing so. That way no one ever finds out, and in turn they don't get expelled."

When he finished it was her turn to look at him for clues at where his head was at. She beheld him carefully, eventually voicing a thought, "Is this what you want?"

"No." he punctuated. "I think I've been pretty clear about that so far. It could be dangerous for them. They could get in a world of trouble for it."

"But you've decided to be on their side now. Why is that?"

He sighed tiredly. "They're all I have." As soon as the words left his mouth, her eyes darted away and she bit her lip. "And so I need them on my side. If that means that I have to switch sides, then so be it."

Hazel let go of her lip, but remained silent. She peered down the corridor again.

Remus went on, "They have my best intentions in mind, perhaps they're the only ones that do."

He'd barely finished when she blurted, "I have to go after them now." looking back at him finally.

"Okay but..." He couldn't think of anything else to say. If she was still not persuaded, he had no more arguments to make.

Hazel took one step away from him.

"Wait." If he could just think of some other angle. Some way to explain it to her so that she could see it from the perspective of his friends. But then again, was he really in it to convince her not to stop them? Or was his motive in this rather to get some indication that she accepted it — that she accepted him.

Her expression was apologetic when she took another step. His hand reached out instinctively for her wrist, and to his horror she jumped away in a skittish manner.

Their eyes met with a terror reflected in both participants.

"When is the full moon?" she blurted, as though it was in any way relevant to the conversation.

He let out a jagged breath, almost too tense to let one back in. "Tonight." He hated having to explain himself, especially to her, but forced himself to press on, "Don't worry, I'll be far away from you by the time when..."

In the skip of a beat, Hazel faded and disappeared from sight, taken over by her animagus form. But despite her quick transition, Remus still had plenty of time to register her reaction.

She skipped away down the corridor, and he watched her leave, paralysed by the terror he had seen in her.

After she had gone, he doubled over. The effects of every moon phase overcame him. His head exploded in a migraine. His muscles convulsed and he fell to his knees. His stomach cramped, and he clutched at it. His chest grew tight making his breathing short and tense. Black dots clouded his vision. He fell to the floor and shut his eyes. As his head came to rest against the stone, a high pitched screech blocked out the quiet her disappearing footsteps left behind it.

The floor was cold. So he lay there and shivered for a few minutes, regaining his grip on reality. When he sat up again he had to steady his shaking wrist with his other hand to be able to read his watch.

He knew what the logical next step was, and so it was on weak knees that he stood up and commenced the walk to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey was organising her medicine cabinet when he arrived. She turned, and not one moment after her vision fell on the boy, she shut the doors to it and rushed over to him.

"What's wrong?" She guided him to sit down on one of the beds. A sharp breeze rushed in through a slim crack in the nearest window. It flew up his sleeves and gave him another round of shivers.

She threw a blanket around him and sat down next to him. Her hand rubbed his opposite shoulder and stayed put. The gesture made the pain his body was enduring subside somewhat. But his muscles had been clenched for so long that, when finally relaxing, the shivers got more ferocious.

He tried to breathe evenly, but everytime he exhaled, his lip shook as a result, and his arms vibrated and buzzed. He looked down at hands and balled them up into fists in his lap to try and fight the shakes.

"I don't want to. Not tonight please." he pleaded absentmindedly. It took him a moment to realise what he'd just said, and how futile his wish was.

Tears began forming.

Madam Pomfrey bent forward to get a look at his face. "What do you mean?"

He sobbed. "I don't want to anymore." Two tears fell over his bottom lid and made their way down to his jaw. "I don't want to."

She wiped them before they fell, and refrained from asking a second time.

Hazel skipped up the last set of stairs until she reached the seventh floor. She turned corner after corner in a hurry. She was close now. Her heart rate increased. When she turned into the last corridor she could see a free path ahead of her. It was looking like she was going to make it there without encountering anyone else, and she felt herself slowing down.

She kept walking until the desired wall was only a few metres ahead of her. Everything went quiet and she realised that she had stopped moving. Only her heartbeat kept pacing. It made her ears beat.

To her own surprise she swerved to her right, into a bathroom. Well inside she grew back into her true form, and slammed open a door to one of the stalls. She sat down, concealed her face with her hands and broke into tears.

The knowledge of his condition disturbed her. The reaction evoked in her at the thought of the boy she had grown to share a romantic attachment with being turned into a monster tonight plagued her.

She forced herself to remain stationed in the bathroom stall until she could come to terms with her own prejudice. Time passed. After a while she wiped her tears, straightened and looked emptily ahead.

This is how it ends. By me being too closed off to accept him as different. In a way he is right, the problem is with him — but really, it's with my response to the truth about him.

She didn't want to feel this way. But she couldn't help but be put off by oncoming visions of him transforming.

What will he think of me now? How would he feel if he knew how my stomach turned at the thought of his mind being driven into lunacy at the culmination of the night? The thought of how his eyes would blacken with it.

She wiped some more tears, and fought back another few. It was time to leave. She was done torturing herself. The way she felt couldn't be changed. It was the way it was.

Yet she found that she couldn't move just yet. She had feelings yet to be reckoned with. She let her thoughts wander, let herself envision the very things that upset her most.

But at the heart of every vision, the emotion it always boiled down to was sorrow. It wasn't resentment for the fact that he had pushed her away, it was sympathy for the fact that he would never get to have life without limitations. It wasn't repulsion at the thought of what he became, it was compassion for the fact that he had no choice. She wasn't threatened by him, she was mourning the loss of the life he could have had.

When she finally left the stall she wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the bathroom floor was being lit up by moonlight. She walked up to a window. The grounds below were still and peaceful now. The storm had passed. The moon was just crossing over the treeline.

Tears streamed down Remus' face as he stumbled into the shrieking shack. He only made it halfway up the stairs to the second floor before his shoulders thrusted forward. He had to grab the edge of a step to keep himself from planting his face on it. He tried to straighten, but with every next step his body hulked forward again and he had to force his back into a straight position.

Halfway up the stairs he collapsed entirely. He grit his teeth and grunted through them twice. By the time of the third grunt, he couldn't keep the beast back any longer. His conscience slipped away. Him and his body became unacquainted with one another. His claws dug into the planks, but the stairs no longer supported the shape of him. He slid down and onto the floor.

When he rose he saw, right in front of him, something he didn't immediately recognise. A dark hairy thing. He looked into its eyes and growled. He was just about to attack when recollection kicked in. He knew those eyes. The growl began fading, and he felt himself coming back.

#werewolf #Remus Lupin #fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #lily evans #romance #fluff #angst #marauders #marauders era #animagus #oc #remusxoc #original character #willowelijah #harry potter #headdesking #friendship

0 notes

nicholastours · 2 years

Text

Travel West: August 12, 2021

Day 44. We had a rainy start to the day. As such we simply chilled out in our room and caught up on the news…

It’s depressing to hear how foolish people are in this country to fight wearing masks and resist getting a vaccination. The fast-moving “Delta“ variant has elevated the spread to concerning levels. Florida is especially hard hit.

Also, I’ve heard enough about Governor Cuomo resigning office for inappropriate sexual behavior.

Now it’s too wet on our deck to enjoy it, so we headed out for breakfast to a place called “The Original Pancake House”. Holy cow, or better yet, holy Toledo! I had my first ever German pancake. It was eggy, buttery, a golden masterpiece, adorned with powdered sugar and fresh lemons.

Tommy opted for the pot roast stuffed omelette which was covered in cheese and served with a gravy and three buttermilk pancakes. So much food. Deliciousness!

But alas I have to say uncle. Whew I’m so full. The rain finally stopped. It’s gonna be a steamy hot one today. Thus it’s a good day to visit the Toledo glass pavilion and the Toledo art museum.

My head is swimming. We’ve seen so much… A real nice diversion from corn on the cob fields. The vast representation of glass from all over the world from before Christ times to Modern. There is also a glass studio with a tremendously hot oven where you can see glass artisans holding their craft.

The Toledo Art Museum also has quite an array of art, lots of abstracts, modern, and Egyptian artifacts. What an interesting find.

A warm muggy day continued on our drive to Emlenton Pennsylvania. This ride will be shorter, about 3 1/2 hours.

A few of the tractor trailer trucks are more aggressive weaving in and out and cutting off other drivers. Tommy thought to spar with one, beeping his horn at him annoyed at his behaviors. The truck driver, however, wasn’t having it and proceeded to cut us off and slam on his brakes and then pull over.

Tommy‘s response was to call 911 and report his ass. Within a few minutes a state trooper was driving along the side as if to warn him about his behavior. The best part was while Tommy was speaking to dispatch from the hands-free speaker the Dispatcher could hear the truck driver honking his horn at us while he was threatening to drive us off the road.

My take on this? Don’t engage with assholes, especially if they are bigger than yours. Kathy our Innkeeper is great. She gave us a tour and history of the home and the town. Apparently Emlenton Pennsylvania is the town where natural gas was discovered. Many millionaires in the business lived here until things got so polluted. The Bernard House overlooks the Allegheny River. It’s cozy and welcoming and colorful antiques, flowers abound.

There were American flags flying everywhere… But they were littered with “Trump support“. Fortunately the place we stayed had a sign that says “hate has no home here“ and welcome signs.

Fresh flowers and macaroons are waiting to greet us in our room clear. Dinner is at the Allegheny Grill overlooking the river. A thunderstorm has come in for our entertainment value while we eat with occasional flickers of the lights in power shortages.

I’ve opted for a Greek pasta dish with chicken. Tommy‘s choice is a piled high meatloaf special. His was the winner for this evening. Tonight‘s share dessert is vanilla ice cream topped with pecans, warm caramel sauce, and fresh whip cream.

Back at the inn with PJs on we’re chilling on the front porch reflecting on the day listening to the birds and crickets while the sun breaks through the clouds for a moment and beautiful golds are cast on the landscape.

Light is now glistening on the river. Darkness will settle in soon and while it does, fire flies can be seen flitting about.

A nice soak in the hot tub in the backyard was fun tonight. It could’ve been warmer, but it was still relaxing. Looking at the crescent moon and a few stars in between we started to feel a few soft raindrops.

There’s a quaint Courtyard lit Up by garden lights giving a soft illumination to the bistro tables and chairs. A shower to rinse off chlorine and sparkle and retire to our air conditioned room.

0 notes

thelibraryiscool · 4 years

Text

Temauke 6: Food

Jeg vet ikke hvis jeg kan snakke om min kjærlighet til brød i norsk, men jeg vil prøve. Jeg har elket brød hele mitt liv, og alle bakverk også: smørbrøder, paier, wienerbrød, suppe i brødboller; surdeig, rug, hvete brød. Men det var bare to eller tre år siden at jeg begynte å bake, takk til Stor Britisk Bake-Off. Den første brødet som jeg lagde var “Krus Brødet” av James Morton (det heter dette fordi du trenger ikke en målekopp, bare en krus og en bolle). Det var en veldig lett brød, laget av fire ingredienser: vann, mel, salt og gjær. Stekeovnen vår hjemme har en personlighet komplisert, så du må være alltid forsiktig. Nå kan jeg lager flere brød: brød med rosmarin og andre urter og krydder, søte brød med kanel, muskat og ingefær, festlig brød med rosiner og kandisert appelsinskall. Jeg elsker å elte deigen, elsker lukten av fersk brød. Jeg tror at alle kunne finne ro i denne prosessen.

In this one I thought I’d write down all the food vocab I used. Some of it I knew, a bunch I had to look up:

brød, n. - bread bakverk, n. - baked goods smørbrød, n. - sandwich pai, m. - pie wienerbrød, n. - danish pastry suppe, m./f. - soup surdeig, m. - sourdough rug, m. - rye hvete, m. - wheat krus, m. - mug målekopp, m. - measuring cup bolle, m. - bowl ingrediens, m. - ingredient vann, n. - water mel, n. - flour salt, n. - salt gjær, m. - yeast stekeovn, m. - oven rosmarin, m. - rosemary urt, m./f. - herb krydder, n. - spices søte - sweet kanel, m. - cinnamon muskat, m./f. - nutmeg ingefær, m. - ginger rosiner, m./f. pl - raisin kandisert - candied appelsinskall, n. - orange peel å elte - to knead deig, m. - dough lukt, m./f. - smell fersk - fresh

#it's so much shorter than the lit one and yet it uses so many more words #wild #temauke #langblrweeklytheme #hjertespraak #fluencylevelfrench #norsk

29 notes · View notes

psychovigilantewrites · 3 years

Text

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt.

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

352 notes · View notes