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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Jumping

Tim drake x reader

This is during the time that Dick has to fake his own death. I’m also ignoring most of canon tbh. Mentions suicide ideals.

You worried about Tim. I mean, you always had since you met him in a coffee shop and they gave him your order instead of his and all he did was ask for a shot of espresso to go with it. But tonight you were terribly concerned because Tim was so sad that he was dull. His shiny black hair hang limp and his bright blue eyes looked dull and blood shot.

You couldn’t exactly blame him. It was only 2 week before that his brother Dick had died. He hadn’t touched his computer all day but instead sat staring at various places around his apartment. You forced him to eat a very late meal and he took all of 3 bite from his food.

You washed up and went back in the living room for him to be gone.

“Tim? Tim?” You asked. You noticed the window to the fire escape was open. You walked over and shivered at the cold breeze.

He was standing on the edge of the roof and you froze. Your first thought was ‘is he going to jump?’ Your heart pounded as you gently called him and it scared you even more when he didn’t respond.

“Tim? Timothy? Tim, what are you doing?” You said with fear creeping in your voice. There was no way that you could climb the stairs up a level to stop him if he jumped right now. He looked down at you disoriented.

“What?”

“Please step back. You’re- you’re scaring me. Tim, please,” you said and he took a step back but looked bewildered. You quickly climbed the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a daze. You pulled him into a hug and farther from the edge. Your body was shaking and he confusingly pat your back reassuringly.

“Don’t scare me like that,” you chided him before mentally kicking yourself. If he was that bad, he needed support not anger. He really didn’t seem to get it.

“What are you talking about? What’s got you so scared?” He finally said clearly.

“I thought- I thought you were going to jump,” you said burying your head in crook of his neck. Your fingers gripped the back of his shirt tightly and you listened to his heartbeat. You might never let go of him.

“Oh shit. I wasn’t- no. I just needed to think,” he said rubbing your hair gently. “Sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay. I’m just worried. It’s a lot to lose your brother. Maybe you should talk to someone,” you said gently. He looked at you guiltily.

“I’ve been a little too lost in it, hu? Sorry. It’s just that.... I never expected this to happen. He always seemed invincible. He’d jump off the roof with no hooks or nets and swing on light poles before landing on the ground and wouldn’t hurt a thing. He’d take on metas and come out unscathed. That was just Dick, you know?” Tim said after a minute. “Nobody knew how he did it.”

Tim pulled you both to sit on a lawn chair on the roof. Your fingers played with the back of his hair and you couldn’t stop looking at him because you had never been so worried to lose Tim before. He flinched at the sight of how you looked at him. You were genuinely terrified earlier.

“I wouldn’t jump. I wouldn’t do that. Especially not to you,” Tim said and it scared you that you weren’t sure if he meant that he’d never do it or not where you’d possibly see. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

You let yourself believe that and you leaned into him, pressing your ear against his chest. His heartbeat calmed you and you listened to it as he rubbed your back. He stared out at the sky and Tim didn’t know how long you were both out there before he noticed that you had fallen asleep. He smiled a little.

Then his next thought was the logistics of getting you down to your bed without waking you. The fire escape wasn’t exactly built for carrying people through. Soft goosebumps were on your arms in the cold and Tim carefully picked you up and miraculously made it back into your apartment. After a few hair raising seconds where he almost smacked your head and feet on a door frame, he managed to get you in bed.

You hands had a death grip on his shirt and Tim was pulled into bed. It wasn’t the worst idea to get some sleep. And he certainly felt that he owed you some peace of mind after he scared you so bad. When was the last time he fell asleep? He laid back and you clung to him tightly.

The next morning you woke up warm. Far too warm. And arm was thrown over your face that you wiggled out from under and another held your back. You stretched your fingers that felt like they had been gripping something all night. The sun was out and Tim was still in bed. You put the pieces from the night before together and looked up at his face.

There was no scowl or wrinkle in his brow. He looked peaceful. His lips had a slight pout in sleep. His face had a light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks and his hair had fallen over his eyes. You gently brushed it back to get a better look at his beautiful face. You held the back of his head as light as you could while staring at him. You almost never got this view and you just watched him sleep for a few minutes.

“Isn’t it rude to stare,” he said after a while. You jumped a little and laughed.

“Did I wake you?” You asked.

“No. I think I actually got a full night sleep,” Tim said and he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Yeah, we should probably get breakfast,” you said moving to get up. Tim wrapped his arms around you tighter and squished you to his chest. You squeaked.

“Not yet. A few more minutes,” he mumbled almost back asleep. You chuckled and booped his nose. Tim’s eyes flew open. “What was that?”

“Waking you up,” you said and he gave you a fake glare before his arms slowly moved. Then Tim attacked your sides with a tickle. You shrieked and jumped back before he stopped. He smiled at you almost ruefully before gently kissing you chastely. His smile fell when he pulled back.

“I’ve got to go to Bludhaven today. Take care of some of his stuff that he’d want to keep,” Tim said and you frowned.

“Do you need me to go?” You were still worried about him.

“No, Jason is going. Don’t worry about me, okay,” Tim said seriously. “I need to get up because he’ll be here in 30 minutes? Maybe?”

The knock on the door said that his timing was a little off. Tim got up to go answer it. Jason stood there and he frowned as he looked Tim over.

“That’s your clothes from yesterday.”

“I’ve got to change,” Tim said, letting him in. You came out of the room with a sweater over your clothes and smiled at Jason who nodded his head at you. Tim went in the bedroom to change.

“Hey,” you whispered, barely audible. Jason looked at you confused. You hadn’t really interacted much before. “Watch out for him. He’s not okay. Alright?”

Jadon just nodded. “Anything I should know?”

“No. Not really. He scared me last night,” you admitted as you put on a pot of coffee. Jason gave you a look that clearly read ‘do I need to kick his ass?’

“What did he do?”

“He just stood on the roof edge. I thought- I thought he was going to jump,” you whispered and Jason’s face dropped. Tim hadn’t exactly had the most self preservation in his history.

“Shit, seriously?” He said with a sigh. You nodded.

“But he just seemed confused when I found him. I’m worried. Just watch out for him, okay?” You said.

“What are you two talking about?” Tim said walking in the room, throwing on a tie.

“Really? A full suit?” Jason said rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, one of us needs to look like a functional adult in case someone stops by. I can’t exactly wear sweats everywhere as WE’s CEO,” Tim said. You straightened the tie and collar.

“... and then there is you,” Tim said looking at Jason after you were done. “You look like you tattoo out of the back parking lot of a Denny’s.”

“Maybe I do,” he said dryly with a little curl to his lip. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Tim nodded and gave you a kiss and Jason groaned by the door. He gave the ‘come on’ hand gesture. Tim rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know when I’m going to be back. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Half ways down the highway, with Tim as a captive audience, Jason starts to talk.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Cut the shit. For real,” Jason said, violently passing a slow car on the highway in his truck. Tim grips the dash and is sure he’s going to die.

“I’m fine. Why do you think I’m lying?” Tim said through gritted teeth. Jason keeps driving roughly.

“Well, your girlfriend thought you were going to kill yourself last night and that isn’t exactly the first thought I’d have if I saw you on the roof. So either she’s being dramatic or you’re acting really off. Which is it, Timbo?” Jason said. Tim never missed Dick more. Jason had the subtly of a butter knife to the gut.

“I might be a little sadder, sure. I mean, my brother died,” Tim said. “Can you drive without trying to kill us?”

“I’m driving fine. Go on,” Jason said, crossing 3 lanes. The squeals of car horns behind them tell Tim he isn’t the only one that doesn’t like his driving.

“I’m gonna die in this car,” Tim muttered. Jason glared at him. “Watch the road! Okay. Fine. I feel numb. Okay? Like I don’t feel happy or sad about anything. And I’m fucking guilty because I should be over the moon because I just moved in with my girlfriend and then...”

“Then your brother died. It’s normal to feel like shit Tim. But to be numb.... you ever think you’re depressed?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know. I have anxiety,” Tim answered.

“You can have both. Is it this exit or the next?” Jason asked two second before the ramp comes up.

“This!” Tim yelped and Jason turned them off to a side road going at least 70 mph. Tim held the dash and considered praying despite being an atheist. Jason finally slowed down enough to not look like he’s driving a getaway car.

“I think you should see a therapist. I can give you mine’s number,” Jason said and Tim quickly turned to look at him.

“I didn’t know you went to therapy.”

“I was tortured, beat to death, and had to dig myself out of my own coffin. Does that seem mentally okay in anyway?”

“I mean, no. But I don’t know,” Tim said with a shrug. He just hadn’t thought about it.

“Anyways that’s not the point. The point is that she’s used to Gotham’s brand of bullshit and will help you. Okay?” Jason said driving into a parking lot and skidding into a space. “If you scare your girl like that again, I’ll knock you out.”

“Yeah. I won’t scare her again. It was an accident. And I’ll talk to your therapist,” Tim agreed. Jason nodded.

“Let’s go do something I’ve been dreading all week. Clean out golden boy’s apartment,” he said with a grimace. And they did. Anything of value was personally taken by the pair. Anything of Nightwing or Robin. Any Flying Grayson stuff. Anything that his brothers had gotten him. A moving service was moving the rest to a storage unit later that day.

Jason sat on the concrete steps outside the apartment and tossed Tim a beer. Tim barely caught it before sitting down himself. Jason pulled out his own.

“Jason, I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to not drink that before we leave. Can we have this moment at the manor after we survive the drive home?” Tim asked and Jason sighed.

“Sure kid. Dickhead wouldn’t have liked me getting you drunk anyways. Let’s get this stuff back,” Jason said and they both went to the truck.

After dropping off the stuff and talking to Alfred, Tim and Jason were back in the truck. The beers were mercifully forgotten. Jason passed him a paper with a name and number.

“My therapist. You better call them. If not for you, for your girlfriend. You can just talk and shit,” he said not looking off the road. Jason knew better than to think that this kind of thing could be done for someone else. But he also knew it probably only took a tiny push for Tim to get help.

“Yeah, thanks.”

A few hours later Tim sat on his bed with his phone in hand. Yeah, he needed to call them.

#tim drake angst #tim drake x reader #Red Robin x reader #Jason todd is a good brother #dick is dead #batboy x reader

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sweetsubharry · 3 years

Note

Can you rec some omega harry fics pls?

Yes I can!! ^-^ So because this is a particular favourite of mine I counted 68 fics in this list so as a warning it’s a long list!!

In case no one makes it to the bottom I’ll say it here too! Please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕

'Cause Your Embrace Keeps Me Warmer by scribblewrite

Mates and soulmates are two completely different things. Mates are two people, an alpha and omega, who bond together while knotted together when the alpha bites a bond point on the omega’s body. It ties the two of them together forever or until one of them breaks the bond. It's normally the step after marriage. One could only hope to meet their soulmate.

You Could Be My Ever After by scribblewrite

His heat was gone, finally gone, and he'd been able to sleep for longer than thirty minute intervals. Not only that, but he was in his alpha's arms. He felt warm, and safe, and protected, and he honest to god didn't want to move. Harry and Louis spend the next couple days together after they've bonded with Louis taking care of Harry and the two of them getting to know each other better. Louis and Harry meet for the first time and, being soulmates, Louis's rut and Harry's heat are triggered.

Fill My Heart With Sweetness by loopdelouis

Harry's a late bloomer, but since his luck is shit, it's no surprise that he'd be the last to get a heat, but the first to get pregnant. In high school.

Let's Embrace The Point Of No Return by sweaterpawstyles

Louis was a whole new scale of beautiful, he was richer than Harry could've ever imagined, and he was the most powerful, dominant alpha that Harry had ever come in contact with. The only problem now is that Louis is also Harry's boss.

Louis believed Harry was an alpha, and had no idea about how he had lied about his status just to get an interview with Louis. He was in too deep now and he couldn't look back.

Harry is an omega intern at an all alpha company. Louis is his boss. There's some complications.

Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite

Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.

When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.

turn the sky black into a sky blue by orphan_account

Harry forgets that noses exist. Louis is a badass motherfucker. They bang.

“I’ve been in love with you since I dropped my books in the hallway and you made fun of me when you picked up my John Green novel off the ground.”

Our Lips Are Made Of Candy by Waking_dreams

“Your knot, please, Louis,” he managed to whine. He needed it, that extra stretch and burn that made him Louis’.

“Fuck,” Louis moaned, and his thrusts became unsteady. “Can’t do it here, baby, Hazza, can’t—“

Or, Harry accidentally missed a few doses of his medicine that controls his heat and starts his heat in the middle of Biology. Oops

I Can't Hear You by kikikryslee

"I’m not supposed to be built this way!" Harry said. "I’m supposed to be shorter than you, and you’re supposed to be stronger than me and-“ “Harry!” Louis tried to interrupt. “And what if I’m not supposed to be an omega? What if my body screwed up somewhere or something? What if I’m not supposed to be your omega?” --- Or, the one where Harry is self-conscious about his body because it's not the 'typical omega body' and Louis shows him why he loves that.

You Know I'll Be by JustAnotherShadow503

Louis Tomlinson, 27, is the personal photographer for well-known model Harry Styles, 21. Louis, an Alpha, has been in love with Harry for years, though the younger man has seemingly not presented yet.

Or, the one where Louis is in love with Harry, tries to be a martyr at his own expense, and is a hopeless romantic.

Or, the one where the author is shit at coming up with summaries and hopes you'll read the story anyways.

I'd Go Out of My Way To Make Sure That You're Okay by littlepinkbow

This was for this prompt: "Harry's embarrassed about going into heat, but Louis decides it's up to him to teach Harry to be more open about what he wants."

As Small As Possible by Mickey_D

Harry is a rather shy omega who's quite convinced everyone (except his best friends) laughs at him behind his back and sometimes to his face.

Louis is a confident alpha who is taken with his best artist's friend.

Zero Means Nothing When I'm With You by StripedAndBowtied

Louis doesn't know what he's looking for until he finds it.

Harry just knows he may defy his gender norms, with his height and clumsiness, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want litters of pups running around while he does domestic things all day long.

In other words, boy meets boy and no one can stop pining.

Boys Fall Like Dominoes by orphan_account

Harry slips into an early heat while riding the tube. Naturally, that's when he meets Louis.

Looking In The Dark by orphan_account

Another self-indulgent a/b/o fic. This carries on from the same verse of Boys Fall Like Dominoes. As per always, you can find me on tumblr : domestic-harry

Enjoy! -Lis xx

Too Hot (Hot Damn) by louissass

“I’m what?”

“You’re in heat, baby,” He repeats, frowning when he catches the look on Harry’s face. “I thought you realised?”

Or, the one where Harry goes into heat in the middle of a concert but doesn't realise because of the heatwave.

i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby

Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.

Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless.

The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality. And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.

(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)

Drape Me In Your Warmth by fookinglousers

TMH era fic where Harry is an omega whose heat comes a little earlier than expected and really, who is Louis to deny him his knot?

pick my petals off (make my heart explode) by orphan_account

It’s when he’s frantically looking into the medicine cabinet for something to take that it hits him. He stares at the bottles of pills in horror, realizing what’s going on with him.

He’s completely forgotten about his suppressants. And he’s been spending so much time with Louis, too—of course the alpha’s constant proximity is going to trigger it.

He breaks into a sweat, now recognizing the hot feeling twisting inside him.

He’s going into heat.

(harry unexpectedly goes into heat in the middle of finals, and louis, being the good boyfriend that he is, helps harry through it.)

harry, you little shit by juliusschmidt

Harry’s an omega and he’s learning to like it. A lot.

All These Lights by MediaWhore

“People vote for alphas because they’re strong and they’re not only beautiful but also mesmerizing. They make you want to give them all of your attention, make you want to beg for some of theirs back. They’re shiny, oozing sex appeal and a commanding presence, and people always want more and more. Omegas are enticing too for sure, but it’s not the same. It makes people uncomfortable. It doesn’t make them want to root for you.”

the canon fic where Harry is an omega and dreams come with a price.

Pretend It's Okay by TheIfInLife

Harry and Louis are busy with life. Busy watching Zayn and Niall's twin boys, busy hanging out with friends, busy with life. And they forget Harry's suppressants.

taste on my tongue (just can't get enough of you) by messyjessy08

“Babe?” Louis asks, running a hand through Harry’s hair, soothingly. “What is it?”

Harry shakes his head, teeth digging into his bottom lip, sharply. “My—it’s—”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What, Harry?”

He pulls a hand up to his chest, pressing hard against one of his pecs, “My fucking—her crying’s making them—Lou.”

Louis gasps, understanding. He reaches a hand up, pushing Harry’s aside, and thumbs gently across Harry’s nipple, somehow already dark and swollen, without having touched them once. “Harry,” He says in a low voice, chest rumbling at the sharp gasp Harry makes.

“Lou, they’re fucking—’m leaking.”

(Harry and Louis just had a baby and it's been a while since they've had sex.)

you took your toll on me (you got a hold on me) by messyjessy08

“Well give us a twirl. Let’s look at you from every angle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, gaze heavy. “Alright.” Pulling back the tail of his shirt, he spins slowly, pausing when his back’s facing Louis.

“Harry.” Louis attempts to gather his wits, speechless. “Baby.”

“Thought you might like that part as well,” Harry says, a smirk in his voice.

Thick strips of lace drape delicately over his skin, just under the bottom of his spine, connecting with thin elastic straps that move across his arse, leaving little sections of bare skin showing. The straps connect to form a diamond pattern, creating an opening right over where his hole would be. The skin surrounding it is already shiny with slick. Louis’ breath gets trapped in his lungs.

(Harry and Louis have the weekend to themselves, they make the most of it.)

This Thing Upon Me (howls like a beast) by SadaVeniren

Harry and Louis weren’t meant to be together. They’d met when they were put together through their university’s AO MatchUp, a program that set up alphas and omegas based on the schedules of their ruts and heats so they had someone to help them through it. It was pure luck that they were put together.

Lunch Break by purpleeyestelllies

Harry decides to bring his alpha lunch at work and surprise him with a visit from him and their baby daughter. Louis gets more than one surprise.

drunk on rose water by brainwaves

It’s the first time in a few years that Harry has a strong desire to risk everything for something he loves.

The last time, it was being a fashion model. This time, it’s Louis.

with his educated eyes (and his head between my thighs) by orphan_account

"We're...we're not the same," Harry says softly, looking at his hands. "I don't care," Louis replies back, fire and fury in his eyes.

or where Harry is just a little boy in a world full of arseholes, Louis is in way over his head, and destiny is a bunch of shit.

Everything I Do (I Do It For You) by LSFOREVER

"It's gonna be perfect," Harry whispers, taking Louis' face in both of his hands, nosing close but not yet kissing him. "Always is. You always make everything perfect."

"Good. Whenever your heat finally kicks in, I'll make sure to treat you perfectly too... I'm gonna bond you so hard."

or, Harry's heat is coming up and they've planned to finally bond, so Louis decides to plan a very eventful and loving week leading to said bonding.

resolutions and lovers in the kitchen by orphan_account

Their dinner’s probably going cold, but this feels monumental. So instead of sitting them down on the table and talking about it face to face over chicken and pasta, Harry just puts his hands over Louis’ where they’re settled on his lower stomach, not letting the moment slip past them. He takes a deep breath, carefully arranging his thoughts. “She looks really lovely, Louis. Positively glowing. Her bump’s so big, and…” he trails off, breath hitching slightly when Louis lifts his hand higher, settling it right over Harry’s stomach, and that’s—

“And what, baby?” Louis asks, voice now dropped to a whisper, and Harry has to take a moment to collect his thoughts.

“She, um. She knows about you, of course, and she asked me when we’re—when we’re having a baby of our own.”

(harry teaches little kids and louis writes sports articles. they're trying for a baby.)

Make It Work by fanshae

Prompt: Arranged marriage AU. Harry is an omega who has reached the age where he must be married due to his family's income status. Only the aristocratic omegas are exempt. His parents try to hide him but eventually the government gets word and in punishment, gives the omega to a spoiled aristocrat son of a lord, Louis. Louis is more than thrilled to have his own omega and once Harry goes into heat, he explores the boy with fascination and unintentionally impregnates him. This leads to a boy used to living carefree and drinking the day away with other nobles to having to face fatherhood.

This is only vaguely similar to the prompt so I'm sorry to OP in advance v.v

Stars Will Align For Us by 2tiedships2

"The serial monogamist is single," Niall said by way of introduction when he sat down across from Harry in the canteen.

Harry sipped his chocolate milk. "What are you going on about?"

"Your alpha dream boat," Niall said. "That tiny little footie player? I heard from Hannah that he's broken it off with his boyfriend so he’s single and ready to flamingle. Now's the time to make your move."

Harry sipped his chocolate milk harder to keep himself from replying.

Or the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis...especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

Watch the Sun Coming Up by SadaVeniren

As Louis approaches his thirtieth birthday his pack is desperate for him to find a mate.

Harry has always expected one day he may settle down with a nice alpha and they would continue to live in his small hometown.

Together they somehow will make this work.

Dancing Shadows by SadaVeniren

The house was quiet by the time Louis walked up to it. He’d been away for a week and while it wasn’t the longest he’d ever been away from the pack, it was the longest he’d been away from Harry and the kids.

i'll be hurt from the heat (running from the heat) by itiswhatitisbutterfly

It's engrained into him, nothing else matters, protecting Harry at all costs is what pumps his heart and floods his veins. It’s just, he didn't count on the one thing Harry would need protecting from would be himself.

(Harry and Louis are in love, and they are probably soul mates. They just can’t be bond mates because despite the undeniable pull, it's them against the world.)

A Howl in the Night by emeraldharry

They've been trained to become Alpha protectors of their city, tasked to battle gruesome beasts and put their lives at risk on a daily basis.

Louis is a skilled warrior and dedicates his life for the protection of others, along with his four adopted brothers and comrades; Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Harry.

Troubles emerge when Harry proves to be a little less like the older Alphas, finding it hard to become who he's supposed to be and failing to reach other people's expectations towards him as a soldier.

Somewhere along the way, Louis and Harry realize that there's more than brotherly love between them, and that the world they live in requires a whole lot of suffering and sacrifices.

The biggest challenge yet arrives when the choice finally comes down between two things: their love for each other, or their responsibilities to the world.

[alpha/beta/omega dynamics with a twist]

Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by angelichl

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

Peppermint and Lavender (and Coffee) by 2tiedships2

“He was there again,” Louis announced by way of greeting. “Lottie was right and she can never know.”

"What the fuck are you talking about?” Niall asked as he snapped his laptop closed.

“The omega, Niall. He was there today. Just sitting in the corner looking pretty. Or at least his back is. He hasn’t turned around when I’m available to see. I know he’s beautiful though.”

"Okay?” Niall questioned. “What does that have to do with Lottie?”

Louis let out a huff. "She told me I shouldn’t work at a coffee shop. She was right.”

Or the one where Louis might have met the love of his life in a coffee shop. But that’s not how it’s supposed to happen.

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) by hlftanna

“Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much.

“Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased. Harry giggled again.

“You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all.

Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

Home (It's You) by sunniskies

When Louis left his high-powered life in the city to settle down in the suburbs, he had hoped to one day fall in love and start a family. He certainly didn’t expect to meet the omega of his dreams within five minutes of moving in.

He also didn’t expect the love of his life to hate him so much.

Or, Louis and Harry are neighbors who can't seem to get along...until they fall in love.

sometimes green and sometimes blue by itsmiz

Harry's an omega, and Louis is an Alpha. They're best friends growing up together on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., but they've always been a bit more than friends.

little bitty rattle (and all our dreams are comin' true) by itsmiz

Louis and Harry are young mates in love. This is the story of them expanding their family, and all the love, hormones, and events that come with that.

cradles and crayons by itsmiz

Harry and Louis continue to expand their family.

Just Jump by jaerie

Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

Want It Flowing Through My Streams by screwstyles

Wimbledon ABO AU: Harry has just qualified for his first Grand Slam, and he’s prepared to make the most of it – that is, until his heat unexpectedly hits him only a few days before his first match. And it’s just his luck that Louis Tomlinson, the resident bad boy of British tennis, is the only person around to help him.

hard to confess by hereforlou

One, they only did it without a condom once (and a half) and not during his heat. Never during his heat. Two, he never once forgot to take his birth control (he’s almost sure). Three, his plan is to be married for a year before he even starts trying for a baby, and not only is he very, very single, him and Louis aren’t even sleeping together anymore. Which brings him to reason number four why this can’t be happening: Louis. Louis doesn’t want a baby with Harry.

(Or, the one where Harry knows he messed up and Louis knows nothing.)

Just a touch of your love by thegirlontheblackhoodie

“What if something happened to you? What would I say to Niall?”

“Nothing, he would have to wait to see my corpse on the news like everyone else.” Deadpanned Harry. Louis’ gasp was all the answer he got. Ok, so that might have been a bit too much. With a calmer voice, he said, “It’s really fine. I’ve walked to the tube countless times, I can handle myself. Just go home and tell Niall to stop mothering me.”

Louis was finally walking by his side and gave him a sideways glance before talking. “He doesn’t know, does he? Of your, uh, condition.” Harry tensed and his breath became erratic, but he didn’t say a word. Louis continued. “His nose probably hasn’t picked it up, and you’re lucky Liam’s also a beta, but it took me a minute to confirm it. Your scent is gettin’ so…” He seemed to struggle to find a word. He didn’t finish the sentence, but the emotion in his voice made Harry’s tummy churn.

Or, Harry is a touch starved omega trying to get through it on his own. Louis happens to be the only alpha around to realize it and offers to help.

Face Your Fears by SadaVeniren

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

I Just Want You to Stay by SadaVeniren

“Remember the vet job up in Edinburgh I interviewed for right before your rut?” Louis nodded. “She just called me back. I got the job. I start next year.” Harry let out a shriek as he said the word year and he clapped his hands in delight. “Isn’t that great! Full time vet job! New animals to meet! A new environment!” He settled his eyes back on Louis, who was still standing there in front of him with wide eyes. “Isn’t it great, Lou?”

That seemed to jolt Louis out of his thoughts and he nodded immediately, opening his arms up for Harry to dive into. “Holy shit, yes. Congratulations. Come here,” he wrapped his arms around Harry and cuddled him close, pressing his nose into Harry’s neck. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

aka Louis and Harry have been roommates for four years, comfortable in their routine and their relationship. But all of that is about to change.

kiss with a fist (is better than none) by orphan_account

Harry and Louis don't get on at all.

BUT they do, in fact, do an awful lot of getting off~

Harry startled visibly, shaking off his deer in the headlights look and huffing quietly. Louis took a final, lingering glance along his scant frame, except the puppy chub at his hips, and then kept washing his hands with a faint sneer. He expected words, biting and sarcastic, as usual. Instead, he was met with silence. Confused, Louis turned back to him as he dried his hands, ready with a scathing remark. It died on his tongue. Harry's eyes were locked, very deliberately, on his crotch. His crotch, which was still unzipped, and therefore dick on display. Oh fuck.

“My eyes are up here, Styles,” Louis growled, cheeks flushing despite himself as he reached to do up his fly.

“Leave it.” It rasped from Harry's throat, thick and shaky. Louis froze, fingers cupping himself.

“Excuse me?”

Sigh Softly by aalexandravictoriaa

It was an unconventional nest, to say the least. Quite inconvenient too, not that Louis would ever dare admit that. The fact that his omega was nesting could only mean that he was pregnant and Louis’ chest rumbled at the mere thought. Harry stirred from his perch, blinking his eyes open at the sound of his growling alpha. Louis shushed him immediately and tucked him back into the safety of his nest. Louis just so happened to make up the majority of said nest.

Do Not Falter (There's a Star Ahead) by LadyLondonderry

It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday?

The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.

a body wishes to be held & held by turnyourankle

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.”

the beast you made of me by orphan_account

The bell tinkled, and Harry froze as an overpowering scent, musky and thick, crisp and slightly sweet, yet utterly masculine, delightfully tickled his senses. Harry's eyes slowly slid up to see the source of this wonderful scent, and his breath was taken away at the sex god before him, all muscled and compact and utterly screaming of Alpha. Icy blue eyes stared him down, set off by sharp cheekbones, a stubbled jaw that looked yummy enough to nibble on, and caramel hair, which was lazily gelled, a few pieces falling over his forehead. His skin was tan, his hands strong and steady, his biceps still clearly visible even through his jacket. Every fiber of Harry's being stood at full alert.

The one where Harry's a vanilla-sweet Omega and Louis walks into his bakery one day.

How Much My Heart Depends by lululawrence

Louis is an alpha working as a fraud analyst who keeps having Bad Days. Harry is an omega working in Quality Support who shares a cubicle wall with Louis and only wants to help. Maybe this is the perfect chance for them to finally meet face to face.

A Tentative Peace by colourexplosion

“I dunno.” Harry’s not whining, he’s not. He pulls himself free, finally, turns away and busies himself again with the dishes. “I didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Louis says, appearing in Harry’s periphery when he leans against the sink. “Biology, innit? You know I’m always here for you.”

It stings. Louis won’t sit and have a conversation with Harry, but sure, he’ll fuck him through a heat like it’s nothing. “It’s a little more than biology,” he mumbles, but Louis either doesn’t hear him (not likely) or flat out ignores him (very likely).

(Or, A/B/O featuring omega!harry and alpha!louis.)

Seeing Blind by zedi

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

wanna taste your heart, don't interfere by orphan_account

Harry still remembers how unsure he felt when he first told Louis, how self-conscious he was. Louis had been nothing but understanding and kind, though, reassuring him that nothing’s going to change between them, that they’re still best friends regardless of sex. Harry had been mostly relieved at that, because he really doesn’t want to lose Louis as a friend over this, but another part of him had been a bit sad because… well, because nothing changed between them. Or rather, there is change, but it’s completely one-sided as far as Harry can tell.

This change being him not getting enough of the way Louis smells. He just can’t help it, is the thing, unable to stop himself from trying to subtly press his nose against the fabric of Louis’ shirt by his shoulders. He still smells like faint cologne and sweat, which is enough to make Harry start feeling slightly dizzy.

(harry presents as an omega, louis is his alpha best friend, and there are hidden feelings that just get harder to control.)

A Distant Hazy Light by green_feelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

London Calls Me a Stranger by Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry

"Hello, my beautiful, conceited coquette."

"Hi, daddy."

Or the one where Harry is a tease, and Louis is his new neighbour.

Between the Shadow and the Soul by orphan_account

“It’s just easier to stay in Donny and train, Haz,” Louis says quietly. “Two transatlantic flights in less than a week right before a big match is a terrible idea. We should have known that before, but...”

Harry nods. It’s reasonable. It’s totally, completely reasonable and Harry can support that. Another five or six days of not being able to hold Louis’ hand and kiss him sweetly is killing Harry, but he can handle it. “Okay, so that’s, what, the 20th that you’ll be coming over here?”

Louis hesitates, and Harry has to bite back a frustrated growl. “I’ve got writing sessions and time in the studio scheduled as of yesterday, plus I’m supposed to get papped clubbing in London again and just… it’s shit but there’s no time to make the trip until early May, at the least.”

Or, Harry and Louis spend a month apart.

Wonderland by jacaranda_bloom

Louis has always loved lazy mornings in bed with his mate, but now that his Omega is carrying their pup, they’ve reached a whole new level of wonderment.

OR the one where Louis loves to worship his Omega’s body and Harry loves to let him.

All I Needed by FallingLikeThis

Harry is the omega captain of the Slytherin quidditch team with a team that won't listen to him. Louis is the alpha captain of the Gryffindor team who doesn't know how to offer help without seeming like a knothead, pushing his opinions on Harry. When he comes up with a rather questionable plan to try and get Harry to ask him for help, they may just both get what they need.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

Put It Into Words by orphan_account

“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”

“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.”

Or, Harry and Louis go on a babymoon.

No Love Like Your Love by Rearviewdreamer

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.

We Are Inevitable by mmargarita

“What’s the second flaw?”

“The second inevitable flaw in your plan is:” Louis stood straight and walked towards Harry, grabbing his chin. Harry’s breath hitched. “Us.” Louis smiled. “We’re inevitable, baby. We’re soulmates, and we both know it. You just need to come back to me.” . . . 30/07/2020: This work has been edited and corrected, and now has 7k words more.

Take Me As I Am by lovelarry10

“Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.”

“You’re right, they don’t.”

****

Secrets. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Self-discovery.

Alpha. Omega. How far will they go to hide the truth?

to wrap me in paper by juliusschmidt

Louis hasn't been keeping track of his ruts, but, it turns out, Harry has.

If you’ve made it to the end then congrats! and please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

Text

Slipping Through My Fingers

Read here on AO3!

When it comes to his children, Bruce has very few regrets. He loves them completely, scars and all. He wouldn’t want to change a single part of them.

But he can’t lie and say that he doesn’t regret the timing with which each of these beautiful souls entered his life. Bruce has six children, but he’s never had a baby, and isn’t that wrong? Isn’t that a pity? He missed so much of their lives—so many milestones that every parent wants to remember forever but that he’s not even had glimpses of. He wasn’t there for the first steps or the lost teeth or learning how to ride a bike. He missed all of his children learning to talk, missed watching Sesame Street with them in the morning and making soapy mohawks in the bathtub. Bruce missed everything. He missed moments that he can’t get back, no matter how hard he yearns for a rewind. Take him back. Return to him the moments he lost without even knowing it until they’d already slipped through his fingers. Bruce has a few mementos to get him by, but they only grant him glimpses of the years he missed. Dick has a bin of old tapes from the Flying Graysons’ best performances that he likes to watch on bad days. Occasionally he’ll let Bruce watch with him. There’s something magical about watching the young boy in the tapes swing on the trapeze and pull gravity-defying moves, all the while knowing what a strong man that boy will one day become. Jason came to the manor with very little, having to travel light while on the streets. There’s a shoebox under the bed in his old room salvaged from his mother’s things, containing a handful of photos from Jason’s toddler years, a stuffed animal or two, some loose possessions. Bruce used to go through them after Jason’s death, just to give himself something to hold on to. Tim had more than Dick and Jason combined: plenty of photos, report cards, baby teeth, and coloring books all saved in storage. But as much as there was, Bruce still only had glimpses of the real Tim. Every family photo was stiff, like an assortment of plastic dolls. The papers and drawings that have been collected are too crisp, like they were shoved into a childhood folder and forgotten about without a second glance, not even making it to the refrigerator. All Bruce has of Cass’ childhood are videotapes of training sessions. He refuses to watch them, for both her sake and his own. Duke has a photo album he keeps in his bedroom, compiling plenty of baby pictures and family vacations. He’s only shown it to Bruce once. Otherwise, he keeps it in his bookshelf, untouched but for the handful of times he’s visited his parents, showing them old memories in case it will miraculously jog something and put the shards of them back together. The longer it doesn’t work, the less he’s willing to tell. The League of Assassins has an entire storage room of files on Damian’s development. Bruce has seen it. It’s like every move the boy made was monitored and catalogued, detailed without so much as a lick of emotion to remind anyone that this was a child being discussed. There were no shiny milestones to celebrate, only completed stages. No one commemorated his first word or first time seeing a butterfly, but his first time using a wakizashi sword earned five entire pages. If Bruce could go back in time, he would snatch up every one of his children and give them the lives they deserve, right from the start. No pain. No dead parents. No neglect, no heartache, no scavenging on the streets just to survive the night. He would wipe their slates clean if it meant he could stave off their suffering, just for a little while longer. He would do anything to go back.

Back when Bruce was a child and tragedy hadn’t yet torn his family to bloody shreds, there was one Fourth of July on which his parents took him to the circus. Alfred had an open invitation to accompany them, but, being a Brit, he politely declined from the day’s festivities. “I’ll have you know, young sir, that I served as a spy for the British forces and mentored Alexander Hamilton during his teenage years.” Bruce was ninety-nine percent sure that Alfred wasn’t alive during the American Revolution. That day was the first time Bruce had been to the circus. It was a local one, small with very few extravagant spectacles, but his father bought him peanuts and afterward the three of them watched the fireworks in Gotham Park. It was a day that imprinted itself on Bruce’s memory, sticking with him long after they were gone. So when he sees a flyer announcing that Haly’s International Traveling Circus is visiting Metropolis on the same day Bruce has an interview with Lois Lane for some column on America’s wealthiest men, how can he turn the opportunity down? The air is warmed by summer rays, the entire field radiating Metropolis’ natural brightness. The scent of peanuts and popcorn wafts from all sides and the classic tinkling circus music fills his ears. The show doesn’t start for another half hour, so Bruce settles on walking around, unsure of what to do with himself. He should get some photos to bring home for Alfred. He’s always had a fascination with jugglers. After some perusing, Bruce pulls up under a tree, shaded against the thick trunk. He’s just pressed send on the pictures to Alfred when he hears a voice from above. “Hey, mister.” Bruce looks up to discover a boy perched on a tree branch two feet above his head. The kid looks around six years old with black hair that curls around his ears. He’s wearing a bright red and green costume—obviously one of the performers. How a child his age came to be part of the circus, Bruce can’t begin to guess. He’s missing his front teeth and his skin, tan with a honey glow, makes his nationality hard to place. Bruce blinks up at the boy. “Hello.” The kid drops down and catches on the branch with his hands, dangling with his bare feet kicking in the air. “Whatcha doing here?” Now that he’s paying attention, Bruce can detect the slightest accent. Romani, perhaps? “Why does anyone come to the circus?” The boy laughs. “You don’t look like the kind of person who goes to the circus.” “Then what kind of person do I look like?” The boy thinks, swinging back and forth like a cartoon monkey. How his hands aren’t scraped raw from gripping the rough bark, Bruce doesn’t know. “A lawyer, maybe. Or a president.” The corner of Bruce’s mouth lifts. “I’m neither of those things, unfortunately.” “Well, I’m an acrobat.” “I can see that.” “But I do other stuff too,” the kid tells him, “like I know how to juggle and how to walk on stilts and how to throw knives at targets. I’m getting real good at that.” “Are you sure a kid your age should be playing with knives?” The boy laughs. “You think knives are scary? You should see it when they let me play with the tigers.” Bruce arches an eyebrow. “You play with tigers?” That can’t be safe. Maybe he should have a talk with the ringmaster and make sure someone is ensuring that no little boy heads are getting bitten off by mighty jaws. “Oh yeah, the tigers are the best.” The kid swings his body upward, letting go of the branch and pulling a heart-stopping somersault midair as he falls. He lands on his feet without a wobble. “I know all of their names and they’re huge, like they’re this big”—he stretches out his arms as far as they will go, which makes the tigers a whopping two and a half feet tall—”and sometimes I’m even allowed to ride them!” Bruce leans back against the tree trunk, crossing his arms with a smile. “Is that right?” “Yeah!” The kid then launches into a string of chatter, so fast that it takes all of Bruce’s focus to keep up. He tells Bruce all about the circus’ tigers: what breed they are, how many they have, what they eat, what their names are (their actual names and the names the kid gave them; Marshmallow is his favorite), and how his dad once gave him permission to hold a hoop while a tiger leapt through it. The entire time, Bruce can’t help but wonder, is this what childhood is supposed to be like? Swinging on tree branches and giving oral reports about your favorite animals to complete strangers? Is this what growing up is like for normal children? Bruce doesn’t know whether to be envious of this little boy or concerned. He’s so innocent; it bleeds from every grin. There’s nothing weighing this kid down—literally and figuratively—and Bruce finds himself silently praying to a being he doesn’t believe in that it never changes. Let this kid stay pure, untouched by the evils of the world. Let him go his whole life swinging on branches and talking about tigers without a single setback. After a good ten minutes when the boy’s tumbled into a handstand and has moved on to tell Bruce about his favorite elephant Zitka, a feminine voice rings, “There you are, Dick. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” A beautiful woman approaches the pair, wearing an identical red and green leotard. She’s got matching black hair and blue eyes—too spitting of an image to be anyone but his mother. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re supposed to be backstage.” “Sorry, Mom,” Dick says, turning right-side up, but he hasn’t lost his grin. Now that he thinks of it, Bruce doesn’t recall it waning once in the entire time they’ve been talking. She takes in Bruce, suit and all, and plasters on a stage smile, sticking out her hand. “Mary Grayson. You’ll have to forgive my son, he gets excited easily. He’ll talk your ear off for hours if you let him.” But the glimmer in her eye gives Bruce an inclination that she has no problem being an audience for her son’s happy rants. Bruce shakes her hand. “Bruce. I take it you’re the Flying Graysons I’ve been hearing so much about?” “The very same. I hope you’ll be seeing our show tonight.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He winks at the littlest Grayson, who beams. Mary ruffles Dick’s hair. “Well, this little robin and I should be getting ready now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Bruce.” “Likewise.” He leans down and shakes Dick’s small hand. “And if you ever come to Gotham, maybe you can tell me more about those tigers, eh?” Dick looks like he contains the sun itself. He’s sunshine incarnate. “Definitely!” He drags his feet when his mom starts leading him away, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Bye, Mr. Bruce!” He waves his hand like a windmill of its hinges, and Bruce can’t help but return it. Bruce hasn’t felt this content in a long time to the point where he has to stop in wonderment of it. It’s unlikely that Haly’s will end up coming to a place like Gotham anytime soon, but Bruce hopes for it anyway. After all, Gotham could use some sunshine.

Here’s the rest of it on AO3 because I don’t feel like formatting all 7,000 words on here lmao.

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chartedrights · 4 years

Note

black friday,,,,, gold rush au,,,,,,,,,,

Oh my god okay first of all? Your mind

Second of all- worth mentioning on this post-independence day that the California Gold Rush was in fact the impetus for the California Genocide and the displacement of the indigenous Californian population. They didn’t teach us that in fourth grade, but I figured I’d tell you. California has a long and terrible history regarding its treatment of the indigenous people who lived here before us, and I’d recommend googling California Genocide or the Spanish Mission System if you want some increased awareness there.

Frank Pricely stole so much fucking land. He probably started out owning about half of the area and has slowly been selling off plots to people looking for gold. He knows it’s a lost cause looking for gold himself, but who is he to deny people their wishes? He gets their money either way. Doesn’t matter what happens to them afterwards. He scams so many people out of their money by telling them that their patch of land is the best, the finest, the one with the most gold.

Lex and Hannah and Ethan came out from Hatchetfield, running away from home in hopes of striking it rich in the gold fields. The story begins with them making it to California, after a long journey from the other side of the country

Think Trail to Oregon but much less fun

They truly are CaliforMIA this time

Lex has been scoping out Frank’s land for a few days now, secretly, playing the system by checking until she finds a particular patch of land with gold in the water… and buys it from Frank immediately, doing her best not to give away why she wants it.

Linda came out from New York with her husband and her four beautiful blonde boys several years ago, back when it wasn’t even US territory, because Gerald’s debts were hounding them. Linda runs a boarding house for those looking for gold while Gerald searches, fruitlessly, for gold himself. Though their debtors lost track of them somewhere around the Sierras, he’s still afraid. Linda’s just glad he’s not near her all the time.

And then Frank Pricely strikes gold under his own house, on the one plot of land he won’t sell, and everyone starts to wonder. He won’t tell, but people whisper that a man in denim left his house the night before, walked out into the dark and disappeared.

Every man in denim is hounded, begged, for their luck, for their blessing, please sir, please, I have a family, I have debts, I have a girl back home-

But it was no ordinary man Frank made a deal with.

Wiley is a thing that looks like a man until the lantern light hits him just right and his eyes shine like a deer’s, until the moonlight hits his profile just right and his face looks *too* perfect to be human, until he smiles and his teeth are just a little too sharp and a little too shiny. But he’ll grant your wish, alright. He’ll make your dreams come true. You’ll have years aplenty to enjoy your good fortune, your riches and your health and your family. But he’ll be back, when your time is up, and he’ll be smiling then, too, with sharp and shining teeth.

Wiley comes to people and whispers secrets in their ears, invites them to makes deals with him, meets people lingering at the crossroads and leads them down a dark and winding path. He is not a man, and he is not a spirit, and he is not kind.

Linda makes a deal with him, and in return he organizes circumstances so that the 49ers begin to worship her- everyone who does right by her has better luck, does better at cards, eats better, sleeps better, has better luck with the ladies- people notice. It’s a joke, just casually at first, cracks about her being their patron saint, about her being unrealistically beautiful, about how god blessed Miss Linda Monroe (and it’s always Miss, never Misses), and then more and more and more until the whole town seems to be in her grip.

Tom came out to California a year ago, just after Jane died. Tim is back in Hatchetfield with Emma, (who is doing her best to keep him alive as the Apotheosis occurs), and Tom has been looking for gold and catharsis out in the hills. He hasn’t found much, but maybe one day, he tells himself. Maybe one day. Soon. And then Tim can come out to be with him.

Becky has just come West, hoping to help keep the diseases in miners’ camps and towns like these to a minimum, helping anyone she can. Anyone who’ll let her, which sadly isn’t very many people. She’s running, from her husband or his ghost, who can say, but she is most certainly running.

Becky is the first person in three years to challenge Linda’s cult-like rule, and it stirs tensions. Eventually everything comes to a head, and riots begin to break out- some people blame Frank for their misfortune and the lack of gold on their land. He flees the town, leaving Linda the sole “authority” figure.

John makes his way into town like any other ‘49er, and the only reason he and Lex even meet is because she’s come to get her first gold harvest authenticated in town. He admits that he’s come out looking for the man who killed his mentor, that he knows he’s out in the hills somewhere.

Lex wishes him luck, and he hands her a scrap of paper with his name and PEIP’s address. She doesn’t think much of it.

The gold is real, of course, and word soon spreads that somebody is getting all the good luck, that somebody is cheating everyone else of the gold, that somebody is stealing it-

That night, at something which resembles a cult meeting but which is billed as a “party”, Linda points out Lex and Ethan specifically as the people in possession of the lucky land, and later that same night Ethan is murdered by some cultists in pursuit of the deed- for themselves, for Linda, as if the distinction matters.

Hannah has it, though, not Ethan, and she runs deep into the sparse woods, hoping to find Lex.

Tom and Becky take shelter in a half-finished theater, long-deserted. They watch the stars and listen to the screams, the breaking glass, the destruction raging outside. They find solace in each other, something they’d thought they would never have again.

Becky resolves to go out and take care of the wounded, and Tom agrees to help her.

Wilbur finds John first, though. John is notably shaken by the revelation that Wiley didn’t just take Wilbur’s soul, he didn’t just take his life- he stole his face as well. “A handsome face, isn’t it?” Wiley says, admiring it in the reflection off John’s revolver. “Immensely pleasing to the eye.” He catches John’s gaze, and it becomes clear that whatever John was, whoever he is, Wiley is stronger.

John dies. It is horrible. It is loud. Hannah hears it from miles away.

Lex is found by Sherman, who overpowers her. He forces her to call for Hannah, to help him look for her on the plot of land belonging to her and Ethan, but Lex tries to break free.

Wiley is the first person Tom and Becky find, and when they roll his (apparently) broken body onto its back, he grins up at Tom, who freezes. He simply stops, and even as Becky is knocked out and dragged away, Tom is mesmerized. He can’t look away. He can’t even think.

Caught by a few cultists who hadn’t attended the meeting, Hannah is walked into town, deed in hand, and brought to Linda.

There is another struggle, on the banks of the only river where gold has been found. Sherman holds Lex’s head underwater. Her eyes are so wide, open in the stream, and she’s screaming and screaming under the water but nobody hears and she can taste the gold, the dirt, the blood-

And then she can see John, just standing there looking up at her, as if the river was so much deeper, offering his revolver to her. She reaches and reaches and her bloody fingers just brush against it and it’s dry in her hand when she pulls it from the water and levels it at Sherman. She breathes cold air and pulls the trigger.

Tom is about to make a deal with Wiley when she finds him, arm outstretched to shake on it. She begs him not to, tells him that Wiley can’t be trusted, that he’s evil- but Tom just looks at her with glazed-over eyes and says “He can give me my Jane back.”

“She wouldn’t be your Jane,” Lex says, pleading, as Wiley just grins and grins and grins. “She’d be his Jane, and he could take her away again. She’s dead, Mr. Houston. Your wife is dead, and I’m sorry, but this isn’t the way to fix that. You have a son,” she begs. “Please- please, don’t abandon him.”

And Tom looks at the outstretched hand, offering gold and ghosts, and he turns away.

Tom picks up a rifle from one of the fallen cultists and Lex tucks away her revolver, and they fight their way to the Monroe hostel, where Linda is holding court with her cult. Becky is still unconscious, Hannah is in near-hysterics at the loss of the thing her sister and Ethan entrusted her with.

Lex steals back the deed to the land they bought from Frank, and holds it up, strikes a match off the railing and holds it up to the deed. “This is just a piece of fucking paper,” she yells. “It’s just fucking metal! It doesn’t matter!” Linda screams, making a mad rush for Lex just as the match touches the deed. She and Lex struggle for a moment, and the deed flutters, flaming, to the ground.

Awake now, Becky stumbles to her feet, watches people flee the building, sees the discarded rifle where it was knocked from Tom’s hands.

Becky takes the rifle, one shot loaded and no second chances, and she aims it with keen eyes at Linda, where Lex has her pinned to a stalemate. She thinks of the Hippocratic oath, thinks of the words “do no harm,” thinks of all the people who have died today. She shoots.

Linda falls, bleeding, from the balcony, and Wiley disappears into the wind as the camp burns, as the Monroe hostel burns, as the rivers shine with blood and golden fire.

The fire spreads. Lex and Hannah meet Tom and Becky downstairs, make their way outside. California weeps smoke, and the other campers refuse to leave their plots, die standing charred-black skeletons that grin out at the world from their useless, greedy posts.

Becky leans on Tom’s shoulder, his arm around her waist as they stumble home with the girls.

The rest of it can wait until the morning.

#long post #starkid #black friday #tgwdlm #hatchetfield #gold rush au #asks #replies #HEY SO I LOVE THIS A LOT #IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG #THE VISUALS ARE CHEF’S KISS

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badacts · 5 years

Note

Dick and Jason Dick and Jason Dick and Jason Dick and Jason Dick and Jason Dick and Ja

this is pretty ridiculous, but so are dick and jason, so

also the premise of this is admittedly a little grim, but also it’s the two-dudes-and-a-baby trope ft. dick grayson: no idea about babies

Shooter versus pre-Christmas shoppers in an East Side mall. Civilian only, no masks. It’s a bloodbath, and Dick’s only here in time for the cleanup.

“O,” he says on the way down to ground level, “Send whoever’s free and whatever supplies they’ve got. I’m going to start triaging.”

The part of being a bat that goes without saying is that they’re also, when required, first responders. It’s not the first time he’s ever worked alongside GCPD during a mass casualty, and it won’t be the last.

It’s also the part of the job that gets the closest to turning his stomach. The screaming and the crying and the systematic first identifications of who needs help and who they’re too late for - it’s awful.

He gets to work anyway.

The paramedics from the first ambulance on the scene take charge, arranging the transport of the worst-off victims and coordinating the further arrivals. Dick does as he’s ordered and works on stabilising some of the seriously wounded, working to keep them from going critical. He goes through his supply of wound dressings quick, nodding his thanks when an EMT shoves another pile onto him on her way past.

He’s not the only mask out: it’s a busy night in Gotham, but he catches sight of Batgirl across the roiling crowd as well as the shadow of Cass’s silhouette against the rolling blue-red-blue lights. The flash of a more vivid red in the corner of his eye makes him think, Red Robin, but it’s not the right colour, and definitely not the right shape for Tim. Jason, the sleeves of his jacket rolled up over his forearms and wearing latex gloves, is putting a pressure bandage on a teenager’s upper arm.

“Hi, Nightwing,” an unfamiliar voice says in a familiar I’m-here-to-take-over tone. “Hi ma’am. You’re up for a ride in the next taxi.”

His patient is most of the way unconscious, but she blinks at this in vague acknowledgment. She’s avoided a bullet, but broken her leg badly enough in the crush of the fleeing crowd to show bone.

“There’s the leg, and I suspect some kind of crush injury to the abdomen,” Dick supplies, moving to make room for the stretcher. “I think she got trampled. Not very responsive either.”

“Any drugs on board?” The EMT asks, hands moving deftly.

“I don’t carry any.” And if he did, he would have used it all up about five victims ago.

“That explains a lot about you,” the EMT says. "We’ve got another two buses here to take the last of the seriously injured over to General, and backup from the GCPD. If you want to move onto patching the walking wounded, go ahead. Anyone who’s good with some disinfectant and a bandaid can head over to talk with the cops.”

Dick nods and gives the woman a last squeeze to her forearm before he clears out of the way. The walking wounded are congregated on the other side of the street, but he doesn’t go in that direction - his priority is still helping, but it’s amazing how even injured people get curious when faced by a Gotham vigilante in the flesh. That’s really not the way he wants to have his identity outed.

Instead, he heads over to Jason’s side where he’s handing off his own patient for transport, their thigh strapped tight with pressure dressings. Jason, standing and snapping his gloves off, says, “Old man.”

“Hood,” Dick says, but he’s thinking Little Wing because he always is when it’s the two of them. They’re drawing looks now even in the dim streetlights - probably Jason, all six-two of him topped with that stupid shiny helmet. “You sticking around?”

“If I -” Jason says, and then breaks off. At the same time as Jason’s head tilts, Dick hears it: a quiet crying, just barely audible in the din.

Dick’s ears are good, but Jason has to have the advantage of auditory enhancement in his hood because he zones in on the noise like a hunting dog. “I think that’s-”

There’s an alley with an access door at the end of it illuminated with a shitty fluorescent branching off the street. It’s otherwise dark as any other Gotham alley, crowded with dumpsters. It takes Dick a moment to pick the odd thing out - a crumpled figure hidden amidst the trash cans.

He makes it to their side first, finding a glaze-eyed young woman clasping something to her chest. The cognitive dissonance of her silence and the now-louder crying catches him out, but Jason catches on quick.

“-a baby,” he finishes, taking a knee on the woman’s other side. He moves as though to slip the bundle from her arms, but her arms tighten even as she hisses in reaction.

“It’s okay,” Dick says to her, “We’re here to help you both. What’s your name?”

She seems to come around a little, eyes flicking between the two of them. She stays quiet for a long moment, and then rasps, “Uh, Mira. You’re Nightwing.”

“Hi, Mira,” Dick says. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh, uh, my shoulder,” she says, and then her eyelids flutter like she’s about to pass out. Dick takes her pulse from her throat and finds it comfortingly strong.

“And your baby?” Dick asks. The bundle certainly sounds lively enough at this distance, but that doesn’t mean they’re not hurt.

“She’s okay,” Mira says, like she’s reassuring herself. “She’s okay. Can you?”

Which is how Dick finds himself accepting an armful of bawling baby from a wincing, bleeding woman in an alley. “Oh. Okay. Sure.”

Meanwhile, Jason focusses on peeling Mira’s jacket away to reveal a nasty gunshot to the shoulder, high enough that it’s probably mostly missed her right lung but low enough to avoid rebounding off her scapula and bouncing around in her chest cavity. Non-vital, but bleeding badly.

Mira watches Jason take out a patch dressing and seal it over the wound. She puffs, “I thought…you were…a bad guy.”

“I’m flexible,” Jason replies distractedly, taking out a roll of gauze and wrapping it tight around the shoulder for good measure. “You’re lucky. Little surgery, little hospital stay, you’ll be right as rain.”

That’s no guarantee - she could have more serious injuries than it seems, could get a secondary infection, could drop dead of a thousand different complications or unfair turns of fate in the next hour. However, Dick knows Jason isn’t the type to lie to anyone for comfort. If he’s saying it, he believes it.

Mira’s eyes bulge. “I can’t go…to hospital!”

“Sugar, the one benefit of living in Gotham is the rich folks like to pay hospital bills to assuage their guilt or whatever. Take advantage of that,” Jason advises, and then says to Dick, “Move.”

Dick steps to the side automatically, still holding his squealing burden. “What?”

“No, move. Babies like to move.”

“Oh.” Stiff-armed and feeling like the clumsiest man on earth, Dick sort of…sways. “Like this?”

“Oh my days, Nightwing,” Jason says, in the precise tone he’d usually say ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Dick’. Apparently, he doesn’t deem that language appropriate for the baby. Or maybe Mira.

“I can’t,” Mira interrupts, “I can’t go. They - They’ll take her.”

Jason stiffens a touch in his crouch. Dick says, “Who?”

“The cops,” Mira gasps. “The - CPS. They’ll take her. I won’t get her back.” Her teeth are chattering - shock.

“You got hurt,” Dick says, attempting a bounce on his toes. He feels a bit like he’s holding a small angry tiger. “This is Gotham. That happens.”

“No, you,” she says, and then closes her eyes and shakes.

Jason reaches across her body and takes her arm. For a moment Dick is dumbstruck, thinking he’s about to watch his little brother comfort someone who isn’t under the age of 15 or his family, but Jason is just turning her arm over to the light. The crook of her elbow is scarred up with pink-white marks.

Mira opens her eyes and stares up at Jason. For a long moment they’re caught in a tableau, her dead-eyed and patient, him silent and judgmental as an old saint.

Voice low, Jason asks, “You using?”

She shakes her head slowly, not breaking her gaze. “Not - not since before her.”

Dick says, more to Jason than her, “That won’t matter. At worst, the baby will spend a few days in respite-”

“Shut up,” Jason replies, and then says to Mira, “If you don’t go to hospital, you’re going to lose her anyway. Except it’ll be because you’re dead.”

“You think I…don’t know that?” she hisses back. “I don’t got family. Her dad’s a deadbeat. It’s just me and her.” The phrase I can’t lose her hovers, unspoken but clear as day in the set of her jaw.

Jason stands. Dick isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not for Jay to walk to him and lift the baby out of his arms. He holds her the other way around from Dick, head to his shoulder and legs towards his belt, hand cupped careful over the back of her skull. He looks not only more capable than Dick with her, but more capable than anyone Dick knows.

“You got kids?” Mira rasps at him.

Jason laughs. “Christ no.” In his arms, the baby is quieting down, snuffling instead of screaming. She’s a red-faced scrap of humanity, no more than a few months old as far as Dick can tell. Sweet, in any other circumstance.

“Are you nursing or bottle-feeding?” Jason asks without looking up from her.

Dick makes a noise like a squeaky toy that’s been stepped. Thankfully neither of the others seem to notice. Mira says, “Bottle. I don’t - I don’t got the meat on my bones to feed her, I reckon.”

“I’ll do you a deal, then,” Jason says, and he reaches to the back of his neck and flicks the release on his helmet. It hisses slightly as he pops it off, leaving the domino on but exposing the clean human lines of his face. The move turns him from one of Crime Alley’s most fearsome denizens into a young man with truly terrible helmet hair. “You go to the hospital and let them fix you up. I’ve got a friend who fosters who’ll look after her until you get out, no questions asked.”

Mira stares at him for a long moment, and then carefully - and inadvisably - levers herself off of the asphalt to her feet. Then she says, “You do it.”

Jason’s face creases. “What? No. Definitely not.”

“You’re good with her,” Mira says.

“I ain’t a babysitter.” It’s only partly belied by the ease with which he’s handling the baby.

“I don’t know your friend. I know you.”

“No.” Red Hood is Gotham’s third most stubborn person, behind their younger brothers. That’s infused in the single syllable.

Mira sways, swallows. “Please.”

Jason looks at her for a long moment. Dick can’t really make out his expression under the domino, but doesn’t need to in order to know that it’s Jay’s particular brand of piercing consideration. Dick used to think he’d learned it from Bruce, but now that they’re both older he’s inclined to think it predates the Bat.

Then Jason sighs, and very obviously rolls his eyes. “Jesus, fine. On your freakin’ head be it, though.”

Mira’s eyes close as she lets out a relieved sigh. The swaying is more obvious now. Dick wraps an arm around her waist the split-second before her knees give out, swinging her up into his arms.

“I should give you my number,” Mira says into Dick’s collarbone.

“You think I can’t find you?” Jason replies, disparaging. “I’m the Red Hood.”

“Let’s get her a ride out of here,” Dick suggests, before it can devolve further. Mira’s outlook is getting bleaker by the minute - they don’t really have time for her to change her mind now, and he knows if she does Jason will happily continue talking in circles until she makes a decision.

The scene in the street is much the same, even though it feels like they’ve been in the alley for a thousand years. Dick takes her to one of the ambulances parked up on the corner, sending people scattering out of his way.

“Her name’s Rachel,” Mira says faintly. “You’ll help him, right?”

“Sure,” Dick replies, and then to the waiting EMT as he deposits Mira straight onto her gurney, “Got another one for you. Gunshot to the shoulder.”

“Got it,” comes the brisk reply. Dick hovers for a second when he should be getting out of here, caught in the grip of uncertainty.

The subject of that uncertainty is currently being zipped into the front of Jason’s body armour. “Good thing she’s so little. Toddler would be a tight fit.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Dick mutters, noting the careful arm Jason curls around his chest to keep her steady. He’s got his helmet back on, at least. “Go.”

“Going,” Jason says, and melts away into the crowd like a guy his size definitely should not be able to do.

“Did he have a baby?” The EMT asks tentatively.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dick replies.

Dick catches up with Jason a couple of rooflines over. He’s not exactly moving as fast as he usually does. “Where’s your helmet?”

“Stashed it,” Jason replies easily. “It’s like a target. That isn’t the look I’m going for right now.”

Huh. Dick says, “Let’s take her to GCPD.”

Jason looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “What?”

“Social workers? People who know about babies? This ringing any bells?”

“Dick, I just promised not to do that.”

Dick sputters. “I didn’t think you were serious!”

“As death,” Jason replies, and smirks when Dick frowns at him. “Besides, didn’t you used to be a cop? They didn’t teach you anything about little kids?”

“Cops don’t arrest babies.” He can sense Jason’s judgment. “I only dealt with the ones old enough to talk.”

“Right,” Jason snickers, as though Dick’s somehow the weird one here. “C’mon. I’ve got somewhere.”

“I’m not coming with you.” Dick has better things to do. Also, he doesn’t want to. Jason might make him hold the baby again.

“You promised to help.”

“I didn’t pinky swear,” Dick grumbles, but he follows along anyway. After a couple of minutes of quiet he adds, “The care workers - they’re good people.”

“Lots of ‘em, sure,” Jason agrees. “I’d still have slept on cardboard in a back alley ten times over if it meant keeping myself out of the system, though.”

Dick doesn’t have much to say to that. His unfortunate childhood aside, he had his parents, and then he had Bruce, and then he was a legal adult. He never faced the threat of state care, or homelessness.

They touch down on the fire escape of an apartment building that Dick recognises but hasn’t been into. Jason one-handedly disarms what looks like a taser trap and then lets them in through the window, folding himself gingerly to get inside without squashing his cargo.

She lets out a little cry as Jason sheds his jacket and takes her out, little fists bunched and pulled tight to her chest. Jason says, “She’s cold. Grab the blanket off my bed.”

“Do you speak baby?” Dick asks, perturbed by the thought.

Jason dumps off his domino, probably to give Dick the full force of his eyeroll. “Blanket, big bird.”

The blanket in question is a pretty quilt in shades of indigo, splayed across the unmade bed. Dick picks it up and brings it back out to the lounge, offering it to Jason.

“Good,” Jason says, wrapping her in it. “Sit down.”

“Huh?” Dick asks, though he does it anyway. The next thing he knows, the bundled grizzling baby is in his lap. “No!”

“Yes,” Jason growls, like he’ll pin Dick to the couch if necessary. “I need to make her some food. You just sit there and hold her up until I’m done.”

“Can’t she just lie on the couch?” Dick asks. She’s even smaller pillowed on his thighs, not much longer than a foot by the looks.

“No.” Jason’s already in the kitchen, his voice half lost over clattering.

“Fine,” Dick says, more to the baby - Rachel - than to Jason. “Do you really keep baby food around?”

“Just formula and bottles,” Jason replies. “And some diapers.”

“Just in case you find a lost baby?”

“No. Because sometimes people need that shit, and they’re more likely to take it from the back of my pantry than if I offer to buy it for them.” More rustling. “Also, my neighbour’s a single mom. Sometimes I watch her kids.”

“Who’s your friend? The one who fosters?”

“Mind your own business, Grayson. I’ve just got to sterilise this bottle.”

Dick has a sudden mental image of Jason firing up an autoclave in the kitchen. He looks down at Rachel, who’s looking back at him. She has her fingers in her mouth. “How long do you think Mira will be in hospital?”

“A few days, at least.”

“You’re going to look after this kid for days?”

Jason laughs. “Jesus, Dick, it’s not like it’s hard. She’s little. All they do is eat and sleep and make dirty diapers at this age.“

Now Dick’s imagining Red Hood patrolling with Rachel in one of those baby backpacks. Maybe one made of kevlar, though. “What about work?”

“A few days off never killed anyone,” Jason replies. “I’ll catch up on my shows.”

“His shows,” Dick mutters to Rachel. “Hey, you can’t eat yourself. Stop that.” He gently pulls her fingers away from her mouth, wincing a little at the slimy texture. Rachel, unperturbed, tries to put Dick’s finger in her mouth instead. Her eyes are huge and very blue, her hair fair and tufty where the blanket has ruffled it up.

“Here,” Jason says, waving a bottle in front of Dick’s nose. “She might want it warm, but try this first.”

“Oh, I can’t-” Dick manages to get out before Jason literally pushes the bottle into his baby-drool hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“She does, though,” Jason points out. “Relax, Dickie. Here.”

He twists Dick’s arm until the bottle is inverted and in the range of Rachel’s mouth. Dick notices that her concentration has shifted onto the bottle, her little mouth open like a baby bird. “Keep it tilted up so she doesn’t suck in too much air.”

She latches on and sucks. Dick, surprised, says, “Holy shit, look at that.”

Jason chuckles. “You got it. Now just let her do the work.”

Dick watches her guzzle the bottle. “She’s kinda cute. You know, when she’s not screaming.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re now enjoying one of the two tolerable parts of a baby at this age - eating and sleeping. The only times when they’re not crying.”

“You can’t find it that intolerable.” After all, no one’s making Jason babysit enough that he’s clearly more than just competent.

“I got depths,” Jason replies with a shrug, as though Dick didn’t realise that. “Bottle up, pal. Seriously, you haven’t heard screaming until your neighbour wakes you up at 3AM to take a turn with a colicky baby.”

“Remind me to never, ever have kids,” Dick mutters. In his lap, Rachel has already almost drained the bottle. She’s slowed right down, her eyes nearly rolling in her head as she struggles to keep them open. “I think she’s tired.”

“Good. Now, put her up on your shoulder and rub her back a little.”

“Really?” Dick asks, awkwardly maneuvering her up his chest. She stretches a little when he makes circles on her teeny back. “Wait, isn’t this the part when babies-”

Rachel hiccups a little, and Dick feels a trace of wetness along the seam of his uniform around his neck. He sighs.

“Well,” Jason says, biting back a laugh. “Here, let me.” He lifts her away, easy as pie. “I’ll deal with the diaper situation. You get a clean shirt.”

“You’re too kind,” Dick says, and actually means it, “But you should know that I’m going to get you for that later.”

#dc #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #nightwing #and a baby #my fic #prompts #batfam #batboys #Anonymous #i've been writing this for 8000 years #tumblr ate my read more hope i fixed it lmao

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

ask your destiny to dance [3] {Roger Taylor}

[masterpost]

“I think I’m going to start wearing sequins to work.” It’s an idle thought that Ash speaks into existence on Wednesday afternoon in the back of a lecture hall. Freddie’s slumped over his desk, barely paying attention to the professor at the front, and makes a noise of agreement.

“You should; more people should wear sequins to work.” Yawning loudly, he waves off the professor’s stare with a weak smile, before resting his head on his arms to look at Ash. “You’ve already got it ready, don’t you?” Half-smiling as she nods, grinning bashfully.

“Black sequinned, button up, sleeveless.” Whistling low through her teeth, Ash’s eyes glazed over at the mere thought of the shirt. “I’m gonna get so many tips.” After a beat, she flushed, turning her mischievous expression on Freddie. “And Smile’s playing, so Dave’ll be in the back room all night.” At his confused look, Ash leaned down to rest her own cheek against the desk, eye to eye with her friend. “Okay, so they’re the only uni band we hire, usually it’s just middle-aged dudes trying to be hip,” she rolls her eyes at that, and Freddie has to repress a smile of his own, “and good ol’ Uncle Dave takes one look at ‘em walking through the front door and he’ll grab a bottle o’ rum from the back shelf and wave me over to them,” her voice has dropped so that only Freddie could hear her, and he can see her barely contained laughter, “which, while hilarious, means I can wear basically anything I want.”

“Don’t you do that anyways?” Freddie’s grinning outright now, amused at Ash’s quiet passion, but she doesn’t seem offended by the question, just laughs.

“I mean, yeah, but Dave’s always there and I don’t want him seeing me with like, more than three buttons undone.” Sighing wistfully, Ash closes her eyes, lets herself relax against the desk. “But every time Smile plays, he fucks off, I can undo a few extra buttons- Fred, I made like fifty pounds in tips last time! Fifty! Ate like a king at McDonalds that night.” It took everything Freddie had in him not to burst out laughing at her content expression, but moments later when the class was dismissed, he couldn’t help himself.

“At least buy yourself some real food now that you’ve got a job.” He admonishes her, ignoring her groan of protest.

“But no shops are open at two in the morning, Freds,” she whined, dragging her feet as she trailed behind him, cutting through the swathe of other students as they headed to the exit, “at that point I’m just hungry, and hamburgers are easy to find and so good.”

“How you function in regular society continues to baffle me.” He said fondly as the two of them made their way to their favourite afternoon coffee spot, bickering back and forth as they were often want to do. The week passes relatively uneventfully, and by the time it’s Friday, and Dave has complimented her appropriately buttoned, sequinned shirt, - “It’s nice; it’ll go over well with the kids.” - he’s all but absconded into his office as the band walks through the door.

“Evenin’ boys!” Maureen greets them warmly from behind the bar, drying off cups and hanging them up. Ash is already making her way around to greet them, grinning brightly at the trio.

“Hey, how’s it going boys? Ready for a good show?” It’s the fifth time they’ve performed here in just over two months, and Ash feels like she’s really getting to know them. After their final set for the past three times she’s taken a smoke break, the first time she and Brian shared a cigarette, the two of them looking up at the stars as he tried to point out constellations around the light pollution.

“You really know a lot about this stuff, don’t you?” She smiles at him, fondly amused, and he smiles back, a toothy grin filled with pride.

“I’d hope so, uni’s too bloody expensive to have it wasted.” And that’s how she learns he’s studying astrophysics. He joins her again the next time, though she’s quiet, listening as he and Roger banter back and forth about the quality of their performances for the night. Her hatred of Roger had softened somewhat, though it’s probably because she refuses to speak more than three words to him outside of serving him at the bar, so she feels like she hasn’t had to really deal with him.

She’s seen him, of course, picking up pretty girls at Maureen’s end of the bar, the way they practically drape themselves over him at the sofa by the stage, has heard Brian complain more than once;

“At least go to her place, need I remind you how thin our walls are?” And maybe when she hears it for the first time she chokes on smoke in her lungs and Brian has to slap her on the back to try and help her through it. And maybe the second time her pencil presses down on the line of the dress she’s sketching a little too harshly, a little off from where she wanted, enough that she has to scrap the whole page, but that’s just what he’s like, she knew it from the moment she saw him, and part of her thinks she’s happy to be proven right.

The last time they’d played, Tim talked her ear off about his own performance while Roger and Brian loaded their stuff into the back of Roger’s van, and while Tim’s self-importance bored her almost to tears, she amused herself watching Roger become increasingly annoyed. Small victories.

“It’s going well, thanks Rocket, how about you?” Brian puts his guitar case down by the stage to walk forward and wrap Ash in a hug, which she returns.

“I’m good; always better with you guys around, I can pretend I’m in charge.” And she’s grinning brightly when she steps back. Brian’s always been the friendliest of the bunch, well, Roger may take the top spot for that in general, but not in the way that counts. Speaking of Roger, when she spots him, he’s actually giving her a smile, though his eyes are fixed more on her shirt.

“You’re very sparkly tonight, Ash.” Tim’s mild grin snaps her out of where she was forming a suspicious glare at the drummer, and she smoothed out her shirt, enjoying the sensation of the sequins passing beneath her fingers.

“It’s a good look on you.” Roger adds, gaze moving up to look at her face, and she gives him a proud little smirk in return.

“Made it myself.” And she lets herself bathe in the surprised compliments they offered, ignoring Maureen laughing over by the bar. The boys start setting up and Ash heads back to grab them each a drink before students start pouring in.

By the time the first set’s finished, she’s unbuttoned two more buttons on her blouse and had an old man who looked very out of place surrounded by students try and slip £10 directly into her cleavage. Taking the money from him and placing it there herself, she gives him his drink and her most winning smile before turning to the next customer.

“So that’s what it’s for, to distract hapless young men so you can take their cash?” Roger was grinning at her across the bar and Ash felt her whole body tense.

“What?” She snapped, not taking her eyes off of his as she tucked the note further out of sight, though his own eyes followed the movement.

“The shiny shirt.” He explained, finally pulling his gaze back up to meet hers. Gaze icy, she cocked her hip, crossing her arms beneath her chest. A single raised eyebrow was all the answer he received, though it seemed to be enough of a confirmation for him as his smile stretched into one of mischief, and he ordered another round of drinks for the band. She gives him her sharpest smile when she passes them over, but doesn’t say anything, and he leaves with a smirk and an eye roll.

“This whole passive-aggressive ‘hating-me’ thing is getting old, Pocket Rocket.” He’s the only one of the band members who uses the full nickname anymore, and she’s pretty sure he’s taking the piss every time he does. The other two band members are still inside when she goes on her break after they finish for the night. She hasn’t even pulled out her lighter when the back door comes crashing open and Roger walks through; he doesn’t even see her before he starts talking, just knows she’s there.

“Alright, I’ll drop the passive;” she said, focusing on the flick of her her lighter and taking the first puff of the cigarette before looking up at him, “fuck off.” The words were spoken around the cigarette, but even so, a phrase that universal was understandable no matter how it’s said.

“I’m just wondering what I did to warrant it.” Turning, he leaned against the closed doors of the van, crossing his arms as he looks back at her.

“I don’t like you, Roger,” Ash leaned back in kind, kicking her legs out in front of her, crossing her ankles as she relaxed against the brick wall, “because you’re the sort of boy who breaks pretty girls’ hearts.” As if to punctuate her statement, she takes another draft on her cigarette, and tries not to read into the way Roger’s regarding her curiously.

“Pretty girls like you?” It takes her a moment to recognise his tone, not that she hadn’t heard it before, not that hadn’t even used it herself before, but because he’d never been so brazen about it with her. He was flirting! The nerve!

“Oh, you wish.” Ashe couldn’t help but laugh at that, hating the blush that rose in her cheeks as she looked away, casting her gaze to the road at the edge of the car park. Roger watched for a long moment, enjoying the genuine, if amused, smile that lit up her face; he was so used to seeing the artificial mask she put up whenever she focused on him.

“You’re a hypocrite, love.” He calls, and the smile is gone in an instant, replaced with a frown that she levels directly at him. It doesn’t deter him, however, it was something he’d been wanting to bring up for the past two weeks, after he did a little digging about her, seeing if any of his friends from uni knew about her. “Yeah, I know about you and your first year, Ashley.” Her blood runs cold, expression was unreadable, which only served to make him more smug. “We do have a few friends in common, you know; pretty boys with broken hearts.” And finally he felt like he had clawed back to an inch of moral high ground.

For a long moment, she looks at him, expression fading to a thoughtful frown, cigarette sizzling away in her grip, though she did nothing about it. It’s still mostly intact, but she throws it on the ground, stamping the cigarette out with the heel of her boot against the gravel.

“‘s not the same.” Her voice is hollow, lips pursed, avoiding his gaze. Standing, she seems to hover for a moment, unsure of whether or not she was going to head back inside. “I’m a slut but I’m not a romantic about it, I’m not some wannabe rockstar reeling in boys with doe-eyed looks that promise the world, unlike some people.” Whole demeanour shifting, Roger’s surprised when she steps towards him, sneering.

“I never really went for boys.” Roger mused, deliberately missing the point of her words as he moved from the van, meeting her halfway.

“You know what I’m saying; I only ever promised one night, don’t flatter me by thinking that’s all it takes for me to break a heart.” Her voice was a dangerous purr, the two of them standing barely a foot apart.

“And you think one night with me- ?” He’s grinning at her, nothing but amused in the face of her anger.

“Don’t flatter yourself either, you prey upon girls who already think you hang stars in the sky, it’s not the night that breaks them, it’s the morning after.” Ash snarls, her rant having filled her with adrenaline, and she waits, buzzing with anticipating about how he’d respond.

“You willing to test that theory?” With a tilt of his head and a slight smile, he looks her up and down, quietly delighting in the way her expression shifts from thinly veiled rage to shock.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The words spill from her mouth, as if she’s barely aware of them, but Roger huffs out a laugh.

“I’m willing to try anything to get you to stop glaring at me when I come up for a beer.” He murmured with a cheeky grin, and there’s that rage again, clear as day in her eyes. “Love, you’re like me,” he says it like it’s a compliment, reaching his hand to hold her chin. Something in his heart grew warm watching the way the gentle touch changed her expression from furious to softly surprised, “so we can both know it’s just a bit of fun, nothing more.”

“So which girl do you have lined up for when I say no?” Her voice tone was quietly accusing, and Roger raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“None.” He admitted easily. “I’m only promising one night, and you get to test that broken heart theory of yours.”

“God, you’re so fucking arrogant,” she mumbled under her breath, squinting up at him; “one night,” she agrees, “and no I don’t think you hang stars in the sky, so there’s no chance of heartbreak.”

“But what if you’re the heart breaker?” Roger asks, mostly joking, though he’s already sliding his hand around her waist, pulling her close.

“Then you should have developed a harder heart before trying to sleep your way across the UK.” And she’s smiling in return, moving with him as he pulls her in for a kiss. He tastes like beer mostly, the scents of the pub sticking to him as she wraps her arms around him. Pulse racing, she’s the one who deepens the kiss, shifting to her tiptoes to get closer to him, but that only makes him laugh and pull away.

“This is the single worst pick up I’ve ever been on the receiving end of.” She purses her lips, breaking the embrace as she begins to step back to the bar.

“Does that include the middle-aged man slipped a tenner in between your boobs?” Roger calls after her, and to his surprise, Ash is smiling back at him when she looks over her shoulder, sunny and amused.

“Well yeah, I got a ten pounds out of it, didn’t I?” And he can’t really argue with her logic as he begins to follow her back inside to the rest of the band. “What do I get from you?” She smirks, and Roger lengthens his stride to join her as she walks through the door.

“I can’t tell you with company around.” His voice low as he murmured in her ear.grinning as she let out a quiet squeak of surprise. “But it’ll be worth it.”

the ususal suspects: @deakydickfanpage @hollyissuchahoe @laueecakee@smittyjaws @crystalshines2909 @i-am-sarah @legendsaresooftenwarnings@2ptonpt @benhardy24-7 @maiilovely @mickey-yr-a-goner @butter-times@heyyouitskay @tired-eyes-fairy-lights @yepimthatperson @missieluvsmurder @ironqueen98

[buy me a coffee?]

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x oc #freddie mercury #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #brian may #ask your destiny to dance fic #the angry lizard writes

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years

Text

Fed by Hand (1/1)

Summary: Gavin finds her by chance, this little ball of fur and claws and sharp little teeth.

Notes: For @miss-ingno who asked for "Quick catch that cat it stole my wallet!” from this prompt list with Gavin, Jeremy and either Dan or Michael? :DDDDDDDDDDDD

AO3

Gavin finds her by chance, this little ball of fur and claws and sharp little teeth.

He's climbing down from a potential spot to set up a sniping position for a job and hears it. This tiny little annoyed noise among the pile of garbage along one side of the alley. Some furious scrabbling noises that go on for a bit before that same tiny sound comes again, even more irritated this time.

And of course Gavin goes to investigate just like any good little idiot in a horror movie, because that's an interesting little sound, isn't it? Couldn't possibly ignore it and go on his way, meet Jeremy and Michael at the car and head back to the penthouse to let Geoff know things are running smoothly, goodness no.

He's quiet, years of practice that boils down to habit when he doesn't think about it. Avoids the crumpled cans and broken bottles, steps over random puddles of something that he hopes is water but knows aren't. (He then has to take a moment to gag because his brain is cheerfully offering up unhelpful suggests as to what they could be in a voice that sounds far too much like Michael's.)

The scrabbling noise stops abruptly, and Gavin winces. Waits a second, and then another. Gives it a few more before there's a faint rustling noise and then whatever has been poking about in the garbage pokes its head out.

Dirty fur and two bright little eyes surveying the alley warily and Gavin's heart melts because it's a kitten.

Tiny and adorable and oh, what a little darling she is.

He smiles when she spots him, crouched a few feet away and watching her with what is no doubt a silly look on his face. Bites his lip to keep from cooing when her ears go back and she hisses at him, darting back into the safety of the garbage pile.

Fierce little thing, making little growling noises from the security of her hiding spot as if to chase him away. Peeks out at him when he doesn't budge an inch, teeth bared and ready to defend herself if he gets too close or does something she doesn't like.

There's no possible way he could leave the kitten out here in the wilds of Los Santos all on her own. Not when there are other strays out here with mean temperaments and people with even meaner ones.

He knows if he moves any closer she'll bolt, and if he leaves to get food to tempt her out of hiding she'll be gone just as fast. Dart out of hiding and away from the alley as fast as her feet will take her.

In his pocket Gavin's phone buzzes, and his eyes light up.

“Michael,” he says, when he answers, “I need a favor.”

========

Michael is not happy.

Michael is not won over by the tiny growling kitten glaring at them for all she's worth from within the safety of her little fort.

Michael is -

“I fucking hate you guys,” Michael says, for what has to be the twentieth time at least since he called Gavin to ask where the fuck he was, Jesus Christ, Gavin.

Gavin ignores him with the ease of someone who's known him for years, great friends really, and tears off a bit off the hamburger patty he's been using to lure the kitten out of hiding with mixed results.

Jeremy's beside him speaking quietly as he works at coaxing her to come out of hiding. Michael's somewhere behind them acting at being grumpy and annoyed and irritated with both of them for being the kind of idiots who have spent almost an hour trying to convince a stray they're the trustworthy sort, given their line of work.

It's working though, in fits and starts. Skittish little thing that she is, shell venture out far enough to grab a bit of the hamburger Michael and Jeremy went to get and scurry back to her hiding spot. Watch them, hissing and growling and scared.

“Idiots,” Michael says again, variation on a theme, and settles more comfortably against the wall he's leaning against to better heckle them. “She's going to pee on everything you love and claw the fuck out of everything.”

Still, Michael doesn't demand they leave the alley and the tiny kitten with the wary eyes behind. Tells Geoff they'll be on their way back to the penthouse after they take care of something first when he calls to ask what's taking them so long. Complains up a storm about it, but goes to get more food to lure the kitten out when they run out, Gavin and Jeremy loathe to go themselves.

Stays there with them until they manage to coax the kitten out, allow them to touch. Allows Jeremy to pick her up, little body trembling slightly as she continues to growl at them.

Only complains the tiniest bit when the kitten takes a swipe at him in passing as Jeremy walks by him with her in his arms. Gives Gavin a look when he tries and fails not to laugh, because Michael's a soft touch when it comes to it, and hates to admit it.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

========

“Jeremy, we're not naming her after your ridiculous Rimmy Tim character!”

Jeremy's eyes go wide, hand over his heart like Gavin's mortally wounded him with his words.

“Gavin,” he says, small and shocked. “How could you?”

Gavin snorts, turning his attention to the fluffy ball of murder and rage glaring at them from her spot under the couch.

Newly bathed, fur puffed up everywhere and very displeased with current matters if the noises she's making are any indication.

Under the dirt and grime she's turned out to be a lovely little orange calico. Little patches of black on her face like a mask, and oh, that just perfect, isn't it?

Gavin glances at Jeremy, the look on his face that means trouble, a headache, because Jeremy is a damn menace. Smiling like a loon the moment he'd seen the kitten's coloring, making this high-pitched noise of utter delight.

And Gavin, he's well-versed in this particular series of terrible decisions on Jeremy's part. Sees it coming when he insists on burdening her with an absolutely awful name.

“No,” Gavin says, and flings the towel he used to dry the kitten off at Jeremy's face, already running when it hits and Jeremy lets out a yell of outrage.

Laughter his voice as he gives chase, Gavin squawking as he ducks past Ryan who's watching with an amused look in his eye.

========

Geoff claims he wants nothing to do with the kitten, but Gavin's seen him watching her thoughtfully when she ventures out from her favorite hiding spot. Skittish little thing who's slowly adjusting to her new home and the lunatics who inhabit it.

“The moment she claws the furniture she's gone,” he says, faint smile on his face as he throws out a little cat toy that the kitten attacks with a ferocious sounding cry.

“Of course,” Gavin agrees, filming the whole thing on his phone for posterity's sake. “Absolutely.”

========

Jack adores the kitten.

Careful around her the way everyone is, kind and gentle and a little furry shadow at his heels most days.

He spends some time doing a little bit of research, and builds and sets up platforms and walkways for her along the walls of the penthouse despite Geoff's bitching. Builds a cat tree for her out of the scraps, and tucks treats and cat toys around the place to encourage her to explore.

When she grows bolder, he decides she'd be the perfect accomplice when it comes to being an utter bastard.

“Oh, Jack,” Gavin says, watching with delight as Jack slips a little catnip sachet into the pocket to one of Geoff's jackets, “he's going to be so angry.”

Jack smiles, sweet as anything, and says, “I have no idea what you're talking about, Gavin.”

========

Michael's the one to settle the name debate once and for all.

Nixes all of Jeremy's entries because they're all terrible and a variation on a theme, all involving his alter ego, and Michael is a man with taste.

“Okay, but you saying that also means I have to say no to your suggestions, dumbass.”

Rude.

Michael snorts, watching the kitten as she stalks the feather toy Jeremy's sweeping along the floor in front of her.

She's smart and clever and a thief of all things left unattended for any amount of time. Seems to have a predilection for shiny things.

Just this morning Gavin had to go hunting for his sunglasses and discovered yet another stash she'd hidden away. Found things that had gone missing and a very put out cat eyeing him when she caught him sorting through it all.

Clever little thief with a sweet face who's so very good at stealing hearts, makes it look easy.

“Bandit,” Michael says, wry twist to his mouth as though he thinks it's a dumb idea, a dumb name, but -

“Oh, come on!” Jeremy says, laughing helplessly as the kitten, watching Bandit vanish under the couch with the feather cat toy as her prize.

Perfect.

========

Ryan, the brilliant bastard, has turned Bandit into quite the talented little thief, it seems.

Has been working behinds the scene almost from the start. Tempted her with shiny bits and bobs and rewarded her handsomely with her favorite treats. Used her obvious joy, interest, to go from there.

Has been training her up for weeks, months now. Working slowly and carefully and it's all paid off today, it seems.

“Quick, catch that cat it stole my wallet!” Geoff wails, running after a little flash of orange and black and white, exasperated and bewildered at having to utter those words. “Motherfucker, get back here!”

Ryan is laughing, loud and honest and helpless it as Bandit easily evades Geoff, wallet held tightly in her teeth.

The other are watching things play out in amusement, Jeremy breathless with laughter and Jack's trying hard to muffle his own. Michael is laughing that odd little laugh of his, quiet delight, and Gavin -

“Really?”

Ryan shrugs, soft little smile on his face, “Have to start somewhere.”

========

Gavin's got a bit of a problem sometimes, or so the others tell him.

Works too hard, as though there's such a thing.

Trades sleep and food and other supposedly important things when he's tackling a task for the crew, or his own purposes. Chasing after some tantalizing bit of information, some little piece of a greater puzzle.

The others have resigned themselves to this tendency of his. Take it in turns to make sure he eats something, stays hydrated. Gets sleep, the times they manage to remind him that's still a thing no matter how often he tells them it's not.

It works in the way Gavin's still alive in spite of himself, thanks to their efforts. An imperfect arrangement, to be sure.

Bandit doesn't seem to approve.

Makes her way into the room set aside for Gavin's computers, gear. Thee area where Ryan tinkers sometimes, gadgets and terrible little devices for work and just for fun. Make everyone's lives a little more difficult just because he can.

“And what do you want, I wonder?” Gavin asks, smiling at the way Bandit cocks her head at him

Splash of color at her throat, grudging concession to Jeremy and his obsession with his Rimmy Tim persona.

Bandit gives herself a little shake. Strolls over to curl up on his keyboard, looking him in the eye as if daring him to object. Calm and relaxed and so very different from the tiny, dirty kitten hissing and growling at them in an alley so many months ago.

Gavin watches her as she watches him and knows already he won't be winning this one. Has never been able to even when she was younger. Small and quiet and ready to bolt at the slightest thing, and astoundingly brave.

Coming up to him to drop one of Ryan's hairbands at his feet before moving just out of reach, just in case. Head tipped up to look at him as she let out one of her soft little meows, eager to play fetch the way Ryan had taught her. (First step into training her to be a bloody literal cat burglar in the making. A joke, certainly, just another devious plan to annoy the hell out of them.)

And now she does things like this, settling herseridiclf squarely in the way. Defiant look in her eyes and no fear to her at all. Going around as though she owns the place and views them as though they're incredibly dim and in need of extra care is they're to survive.

Bandit meows, inquisitive little noise, and Gavin sighs. Realizes there's no point in continuing to work when there's when there's a very stubborn obstacle in the way.

“You're just so proud of yourself for this, aren't you?”

Bandit closes her eyes and starts to purr, which is answer enough.

#miss-ingno #fahc #fahc fic #ridiculous sentence prompts #prompt fills #vagrant fic #kings of nowhere

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