#i really just want to write alfred saying “right what's all this then mate?” and the consequential chaos in the batfam | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oumaheroes · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 100+ followers, you deserve it! I love your blog and writing! For the writing-promp, how about some outsider pov fruk?

Reflections

Word Count: 1690

Characters: England, France - FrUK, America, Canada

----

‘It’ll be fun!’

‘No, it won’t.’

‘Yes it will,’ America insists, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen. England’s face through the webcam is decidedly unimpressed.

‘I don’t like house parties,’ he says, but America can hear slight resignation already there in his voice and so pushes again to seal the deal.

‘Please? Come on man, it’ll be great. Right after the G20 meeting in Texas too so there’s no work to worry about; just stay one more day for it. And hey, if you don’t like it you can leave.’

England raises an eyebrow, ‘You invited me to stay withyou.’

America shrugs, unbothered, ‘Then don’t! Or, do- whatever. It’s up to you.’

England sighs and looks conflicted. America seizes the opportunity and goes in for the kill, ‘Everyone else will be there too; you don’t wanna get FOMO.’

‘I don’t get FOMO,’ England snaps, looking affronted, and America instantly knows he’s won, ‘But fine, if it means that much to you, I’ll come.’

America tries to school his face into something that doesn’t look too triumphant, ‘Awesome! Kay, so it’ll be casual, no need to dress up or be all fancy or anything.’

‘Yes yes,’ England waves a hand dismissively and shifts in his chair, ‘I know how a house party works. I do go to some, you know.’

‘Cool cool cool, just making sure.’ America can’t really picture England at the sort of house party he is thinking of, people lounging about on furniture and playing silly drinking games. But it must happen, he supposes- he’s seen England drunk in pubs before and he’s boisterous so it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine him in an even more casual setting.

Suddenly, America notes the darkness of England’s surroundings and checks the clock in the bottom corner of his screen, ‘Hey, it’s getting pretty late for you over there, isn’t it? I should let you go.’

England glances at his wrist, entirely ignoring the PC he’s using, ‘Yes, I suppose so. Okay, likely I’ll see you next month then.’

‘No backsies, you said yes,’ America reminds him.

England rolls his eyes, ‘I meant that I won’t see you until then, I already said I was coming; I’ll come.’

‘Good!’ America moves his mouse to end the call, ‘See you there, old man. Try to be fun.’

‘What is that supposed to-‘

‘Bye!’

----

Canada glances about the room and nods, ‘It’s not bad.’

America reels back, ‘Not bad? Dude-‘ he gestures to the living room they’re in the doorway of and then to the pool outside, both places spilling over with nations chatting and enjoying themselves under the beat of the music, ‘-it’s more than not bad!’

It really was, in his humble opinion, probably one of his best in recent years. Nearly everyone had turned up who said they were going to and there had been a steady flow of conversation and dancing all night. America had scoped the place out every now and again, making rounds through the house to make sure there were no stragglers sitting somewhere on their own but there wasn’t a need for it- things had run smoothly without him needing to intervene and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. This is why he liked house parties, more than any other type of ‘function’. House parties had a more relaxed vibe, where no one felt the need to impress or do themselves up too much (unless you were one of the older ones, that is; it seemed that no matter what you told them they’d still arrive a bit more formally dressed than everyone else, as if they had some sort of inbuilt compulsion).

Things going so well was probably helped, too, by the fact that America had only invited friends and family. One, because inviting the entire world and putting them in one place anywhere would always result in some form of argument, but also because this was his house and he didn’t want it to get trashed, (regardless of what England had groused when he first arrived and had seen the condition of the place).

Canada shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, ‘I’ve been to better.’

America frowns, disappointed, before jostling his arm playfully when he notices the small, guilty shift of Canada’s eye, ‘Stop messing with me.’

Canada grins behind his cup and nudges him back, ‘Well, no one’s dead yet. That’s always good.’

‘Amen to that,’ America raises his glass in a toast which Canada meets and downs the rest of his drink, ‘Want a refill?’

‘Sure.’

‘Come on then, I ain’t your servant.’

Canada gives him a flat look but wordlessly follows America out of the living room and through to the kitchen. Australia’s there with Mexico, digging about in the lower cupboards for something and Denmark is showing Japan a video on his phone that’s making Japan’s eyes go almost unnaturally wide.

‘Alfred mate, what happened to those Tim Tams you promised me?’ Australia stands up from his crouch on the floor and looks at America reproachfully, ‘I feel swindled.’

America opens his mouth to speak but Canada cuts in first, ‘I hid them.’

America turns to him in confusion, ‘Why?’

‘Zea asked me to, seeing as they couldn’t come. Something about what you did to them at Christmas?’

Australia throws up his hands and scoffs, ‘Jesus fuck, when will they get over that. Where are did you put them? Come on, don’t be a dick, I promised Mexico some.’

Mexico shrugs delicately, ‘I don’t really care, to be honest. I just heard they were bad and wanted to see how bad.’

Australia looks down at her scandalised, ‘Who told you that?!’

She readjusts to sit properly on the floor, ‘People.’

‘Yeah, sorry, I’ll get them.’ Canada’s job has been carried out to the minimum requirement and America knows that he’s happy that he can now take himself out of the silly argument New Zealand and Australia have slyly pulled him into. He goes out of the kitchen, leaving his empty cup behind, and America follows him curiously through the hallway in the direction of the study.

‘What did Australia do to Zea at Christmas?’ America has missed out on England’s most recent yearly family function; he’d wanted to go surfing with Hawaii instead.

‘Don’t ask,’ Canada says tiredly, the air of an older sibling who had seen far too much. America is offended Canada hasn’t told him already. He opens his mouth to say as much when Canada goes to open the slightly ajar study door before stopping abruptly in the doorway, causing America to almost crash into him.

‘Hey, what-‘ Canada hurriedly squeezes America’s arm and tugs him sharply away in a warning for quiet, catching his eye before glancing into the room meaningfully. America peers around him into the study, wondering what he’s seen.

At first, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be looking at; it looks empty. The main study light is off, leaving the room lit only by one table lamp by the sofa that casts a warm, buttery glow about the place, softening the corners with shadows. He looks to Canada for help and Canada tilts his head in the direction of the French doors, eyebrows raised.

America follows his gaze and understands. The darkness outside has turned the glass to mirrors, reflecting the front of the old sofa that America could previously only see the back of. On it are England and France, curled up together with France’s head on England’s chest and England propped against the armrest, one knee brought up high for him to rest an elbow on. He has his other hand in France’s hair and is gently running his fingers through it, long languid strokes that feel entirely too intimate for America to process.

It’s a strange thing for him to see. He has accidentally caught England and France doing other things throughout his life but intimacy isn’t really something they display. They argue. They bicker. They fight and scream and laugh, sometimes, but they do not do this in front of other people, this gentleness. Neither of the two are what anyone could ever consider gentle, even France, for all his intentional touches and flirtations -the soft ghost of his hand on a shoulder or resting warm around a waist- are not this, not personal. France is very free with his physical affections but they are shallow things, meaningless and ordinary. There is something removed and detached about how he moves amongst crowds, gathering himself close about someone to brush against them as he stands that speaks of friendliness yes, but not closeness. Nothing special to note.

But here, curled on a sofa and unaware they are being watched, there are no guards up or cold pretences between them, just a natural, domestic openness that America finds oddly normal, for how little he has seen glimpses of it. England and France together are many things, have experienced every extreme and mundane state possible for two people to experience, and this side of them is just another shade, as hard as it is to find.

France tips his head back more and opens his eyes, crinkling their corners as he murmurs something low under the muted music that causes England’s lips to twitch into a rare, open smile. They could be anyone then, just two people on a sofa, young and mellow, and for a split-second America can’t see them as anything else. The warm mood hides their identity and blurs their age- familiar strangers tucked away on their own.

America jumps, startled, when Canada nudges him, an elbow into his side and he turns to find his brother gesturing with his head back into the hallway.

He agrees. America knows both England and France would be mortified to be caught like this, boneless and out of character around the person they often so openly despise, so it’s best to leave them as they are undisturbed.

Australia can wait, America will squeeze the truth out of Canada about Christmas and maybe take Zea’s side just for fun.

----

AN:

Sorry for the wait anon, but I hope you see this and I hope that you like! Thanks for the ask and for your kind words, this was a lovely prompt and I really liked thinking about how I could do this justice ;u;

#fruk #aph england #aph france #aph america #aph canada #hws england #hws france #hws america #hws canada #aph #hws #heroes answers #my writing #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction

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modernday-jay · 3 years

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i love your office au, do you have anything you wanna share?

i've been avoiding talking about this because i wanted to draw it all out and have it be revealed in parts but i think i'm a bit too lazy for that

BUT, i have always thought about the timeline for it like... if this was a show, this would happen here. like "this season would be abt that, oh the finale would be this, etc etc" y'know? so here's the vague outline i had (and yeah, it's VERY fruk-centric)

season 1

romerica/geritapan

it would start out with the beginning of alfred's time as a manager, he's just trying to figure out how to run the business and how to get everyone on board with his ideas.

lovino's current struggle is that he's got a huge crush on alfred but y'know, now that alfred's his boss it's just a weird power dynamic that he doesn't like so he's TRYING to get over it. it doesn't help that feliciano is constantly trying to talk to him about his love life and his complicated feelings over ludwig/kiku

fruk

fruk are just mean desk mates that usually bully each other OR team up to bully alfred, who used to sit with them and yao when he was just a normal salesman.

slowly it'd reveal that arthur writes smut on his computer, and that francis reads it. and the season finale would be the part where they stay back overtime and ALMOST sleep together, which i get into more detail in this post

season 2

romerica

alfred’s really upset that his coworkers (who used to like him!) refuse to listen to him, so he tries really hard to boost office morale with a raffle. unfortunately, no one puts their name into it :( that day, when everyones leaving the office, lovino notices alfred near the box being all sad and even though he’s been trying to make some distance between them, he can’t help but ask what’s wrong. alfred says smth sad like “gee maybe i’m not good enough to be a manager, huh?” and leaves, so lovino’s left staring at the box.

the next day the raffle box is FULL of names by lunch, and alfred’s like MAD excited about this. he takes a paper out and calls out “arthur? arthur you won the raffle buddy!” and arthur’s just like ??? i didn’t put my name in ??? and he’s right, he didn’t. but lovino spent his whole night writing down everyones names a couple of times and put them all in when alfred left for lunch. alfred doesn’t know this, and lovino obviously never gets credit where it’s due, but it’s worth it to see alfred at least a little more confident again.

fruk

fruk shenanigans where they're sneaking around and sorta half dating?? but they're both stubborn and don't want to admit to each other that they actually want to pursue a weird relationship. explained more in this post!

everyone kinda knows what's going on because they're really obvious, except for alfred. but alfred notices that SOMETHING'S weird because the sales from both francis and arthur have been going down lately (because they're too busy hooking up around the office, but alfred thinks it's because they must miss him, so he tries to hold an intervention for them where he tries to tell them to stop missing him so much!) + yao actually catches them in the act which makes both arthur and francis panic

season finale would be arthur going down for a smoke break with joao, but then gilbert and antonio are making fun of arthur because of the smut (as they should), arthur gets embarrassed and confronts francis about it which leads to them having a big fight. and arthur would get a chance to say the stuff in this post

season 3

fruk

this one opens with arthur at a new branch and he’s just like “i had to move for... reasons” (reasons being the fact that he can’t deal with his feelings for francis anymore so he just runs away from it)

obviously francis is pretty crushed about this but he won’t admit it. arthur probably comes back halfway through the season and they finally talk about their relationship properly, because the time away from each other made them realise how much they needed each other and all that sappy stuff

season 4

romerica

alfred needs to go to a conference and brings lovino along with him for a quirky little roadtrip. we also meet ivan here! by this time, lovino thinks he’s gotten over his feelings for alfred completely but the roadtrip reminds him of the good times they had when alfred was just a salesman. they end up kissing but alfred pulls back, obviously a little heartbroken and says “hey, we can’t... i’m your boss... but you’re still my bestfriend so can we just stay friends?” and lovino just stares at him for a sec before nodding. it’s a little awkward for them the rest of the way home.

when they’re back at the office, alfred ends up absorbing himself into his work since ivan sparked that rivalry in him and lovino’s stopped talking to him aside from normal work talk.

fruk

things are finally going good for them, they’re dating and finally have a steady relationship. their numbers are finally up because now they’re hooking up AFTER work hours, and they finally tell the entire office. alfred is the only one surprised.

season 5

romerica

so throughout all the seasons, lovino would show a big interest in art and it turns out that he’s pretty great at painting. he’d love to pursue art school or something like that, but until now he’s been too scared to try it out. his relationship with alfred is weird and he thinks that NOW is finally the time to try and do something new. working for alfred’s proving to be too hard. he doesn’t tell anyone, but he finally applies for art school and he gets in! he still works at the office though while he’s studying because y’know, he still needs the money

fruk

after a good long while of dating, one of them proposes. alfred comes in late the day they’re announcing it, so arthur has to repeat it and alfred TACKLES him in excitement because he’s THAT happy for them - like this scene

the season would end with their wedding. alfred cries when arthur doesn’t ask him to be his best man lmao

season 6

canukr

ANOTHER wedding, it’s not a season finale type deal since katya and matthew are just side characters but it’s a fun opportunity for hijinks between alfred and ivan. plus, alfred finally gets to be a best man!

fruk

just them navigating marriage. they’re scared they’re becoming boring so they try to spice things up every once in a while and their hijinks become increasingly more stupid throughout the season.

romerica

nothing much really happens between them, but they are starting to be friends again but there’s still that tension. lovino likes alfred and alfred likes lovino, but alfred also likes his job.

season 7

fruk

they eventually calm down and finally start talking about making their family bigger. they choose to adopt two baby girls at the end of the season

romerica

lovino’s finished art school and by the end of the season, he finds a new job as an art teacher. he’s reluctant to leave this job because he was afraid to mess up something he ACTUALLY enjoys, but alfred encourages him to go ahead with it because even though he’d miss seeing him everyday, this is lovino’s dream!

it’s really sad and dramatic UNTIL they both realise... alfred’s not his boss anymore, they can finally try out a relationship. the final episode ends with alfred coming to this realisation, running out to the parking lot before lovino can leave the office for the last time to kiss him!

#whoopsie #this went on longer than i expected #I JUST GOT EXCITED OKAY #sorry i've only really focused on romerica and fruk so far but yeah #have this <3 #office au!#long post #hws america #hws france #hws england #hws south italy #i'll only tag them because everyone else comes up as a passing thought lmao #fruk #romerica

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hopelessly-hailey · 3 years

Text

Destiny

Alfred didn’t really believe in destiny he was a little too American to believe he didn’t make his own fate but here he sat in this fortune tellers tent the day before classes started for his college watching while she looks into a crystal ball and tells him what she sees for him.

“I see big things in your future.” She says and Alfred smiles he knows he will do big things that is why he is back here after all to work on the book he is writing about the impact of literature on history specifically American but hearing someone else say it makes it better maybe that is the point of this to make yourself feel better.

“But I also see pain and heartache even if it will all work in your favor in the end.” She goes one and Alfred thinks that this is all so vague how could anyone believe this is just for them.

“I can’t tell you much but I can tell you that I can see green and I can smell tea in your future and there is someone you have spent your lives running from but they will always be there so you have to stop running from them. Learn from your past lives and embrace your destiny with them.” She says before she looks up at him indicating that the reading is over. Alfred nods to her and thanks her like the polite man he is before walking out and rolling his eyes thinking that was a waste of 5 bucks. Alfred turns to go to the food stands really wanting a burger after that so he goes to wait and when he finally has it he turns to go find a place to sit and hit in the chest with something cold and soon the faint smell of green apple slushie and hears cursing in a accent that he didn’t know or expect at a fair like this one. Alfred looks to the man and he can’t see much of his face in the flashing lights of the rides and games around them but he can make out handsome features. Alfred is frozen and not just from the ice that is running down his stomach.

“Are you alright mate?” The voice asks him pulling him from his thoughts with hands full of napkins.

“Huh? Oh yea I’m fine just sticky now” Alfred says with a chuckle and rubs the back of his head with the hand not holding the burger. Alfred goes to open his mouth again but is told to get out of the way as they are still standing close to the burger stand. The man takes Alfred’s arm and takes him away from the line as he starts to blot at the sticky mess that he caused on the front of him.

“It might not have been a good drink but I didn’t mean for it to end up on the front of someone.” They voice mutters and Alfred has decided that it is British as he chuckles.

“It’s no big deal” Alfred reassures the man with a stomach flutter. He doesn’t even know what the man looks like but he feels that he must be handsome with a voice like that.

“Maybe not to you.” The man jokes as he is pressing the napkins to the almost dry spot on Alfred’s stomach “But I was looking forward to a sugar rush from that drink that is now all over you” The voice is a little snarky something that Alfred likes.

“Well maybe you tell me your name and I will get you another one~” Alfred flirts not sure why as men aren’t normally his type but this one is different almost familiar to him. Alfred hears a chuckle that goes right to his heart.

“My name is Arthur.” Alfred smiles at him and chuckles a little/

“Nice to meet you Arthur. I’m Alfred. Now lets go get that drink for you.” Alfred takes Arthur’s hand leading him to one of the stands to get another drink. Both men were glad for the flashing lights now as it didn’t give away the blush they both had on their cheeks as they ordered drinks. Alfred orders on as well and they go to sit and talk as Alfred eats his now cold burger something Arthur makes a face at him doing but Alfred doesn’t mind as a burger is a burger to him. Soon they are both done but neither want to leave the other yet so they walk around together and play games. Alfred wins a pair of charms for them, a little alien for Arthur that Alfred names Tony and a flying green bunny for himself that Arthur names Minty as he insists the bunny is mint not green. Alfred can’t tell the difference really but believes him. Soon the fair is closing and the two men have to part not that they really want to but they do after Alfred hugs him. When he gets back to his apartment it hits him that maybe he should have asked for his number but it is too late now so he just has to sleep and wonder if he will ever see Arthur again maybe his destiny will bring him back to him.

Alfred wakes up early the next day so he goes for a run before showering and getting to his first day as the teachers aid in a literature class. He is glad that they are letting him work here so he can have access to the literature professor and the library. Alfred makes his way into the class and smells Earl gray tea in the air and looks to see not the old professor he expected but a man with eyes as green as the grass outside a handsome face and a grey alien charm on his phone...maybe destiny was right after all...

For the @usukweek I hope you liked this I know it is a little different but it just popped into my head and I had to write it. If anyone wants more of this just let me know. Thanks for reading.

#usuk #hetalia #libertea #hetalia usuk #ukus

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birdy-bat-writes · 4 years

Text

Final Conclusions

A/N: So Fish and I came up with this Dad!Constantine concept while talking about this one OC I created and a few OC’s she created. The one I created is named Maya. The premise of her story is that she’s a love interest for Damian and she treats John like a mentor/father figure since he’s teaching her to control her magic. This plot is basically what has sprouted any of the Dad/Uncle/Mentor Constantine content I’ve created. Fish has contributed a lot and I love her so much. The basis for this interaction is that John finds a lot of amusement in the fact that Damian likes Maya and he just hates John so much. Even though it’s based on an OC, I’m going to write it x reader style with the reader having the same powers as my OC. So now that there’s context let’s begin!

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

It’s the opening night of the Gotham Academy’s festival of the arts. The night where young artists and musicians show off their talent in the galleries and performances, and two people who never show up to these things- like ever- both happened to be here at the same time for the same reason. You. And it irked them to no end.

Both John and Damian arrived at 6:30 pm on the dot. Damian looked so irritated to see John there. Why is he even there? He doesn’t even like going to these things. But then again, neither did Damian. He decided to put his irritation aside and began to walk into the building with John. He had to admit, John stepped up for the occasion.

John cleaned up, did his hair, shaved and actually wore a jacket that was not his usual beige trench coat, all to attend some crummy high school art show. But he did it anyway because it was your work that was being displayed. The disdain he felt towards these events was replaced with a sense of pride he had in you. He sported a grey blazer and black shirt with matching slacks, that contrasted Damian’s black suit.

“Nice to see you here, Damian.”

“Likewise.” The conversation stayed stagnant for a while as they looked around at the different works displayed. Neither of them walked around much. The silence was broken when you walked up to them, looking elegant as ever in your green dress.

“Hey, guys! I’m so happy you both could come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Damian said sweetly. And that was a rare sight for John to see. Damian being sweet?!

“Do you want to see my display?” They both excitedly nodded “yes” and followed you to a wall at the end of the hall. You cautiously cut through the crowd and pointed. “Tada!”

“That looks amazing, Y/N. You’re more talented than you know.”

“Not bad, kiddo. It’s the best thing I’ve seen from you since that chicken you managed to turn green.”, John said ruffling your hair. Thank goodness you left it down. If it was done up, it would have taken ages to fix, but since you knew john was coming, you took the precaution. He had a habit of doing that when he was proud of you, and it made your day every time.

“Thank you. I’m just going to check out the ceramic displays, you guys want to come?”

“No thanks, dear.”

“I’ll just wait here.”

“Okay, see you in a bit. I’m so happy you both are here.” You chimed. You had that little gleam in your eye that you always did when you were happy, and Damian didn’t fail to notice. He lingered on it. Just as he did with your smile, and the soft glow on your cheeks. He was regrettably brought out of his love-trance by the sound of John’s voice.

“Does that look like ketchup on paper to you too? Or is it just me?” Damian wanted to roll his eyes and say something snarky, but instead, looked up at the painting john was talking about. It really did just look like a glob of red paint.

“I can’t even tell what that’s supposed to be. If it’s abstract, they did a good job.”

“To be honest, I don’t really get this ‘art’ thing. Half of these canvases look like something a two-year-old could muster.” John said, and Damian sighed in return.

“You have to look beyond the surface. Art is about the emotion behind the paint and pencil.”

“Alright, Picasso, what’s that one about then?” Damian stayed silent. “I thought you were an artist; you don’t get art?”

“I sketch sometimes but that doesn’t make me an artist.”

“Ah, damaged closet-artist.” Damian groaned lowly.

“There isn’t anything in that piece to understand. It’s just paint splatters. Half of these can only be admired for their technical skill; there’s no emotion behind them. If there is one, it’s not one that I understand.

“Whose work do you like then?” Damian gave that one some thought,

“I like the classics, I suppose. The only current artist whose work I’ve liked is Y/N.”

“Interesting, so, what emotion do you get from her work?” John had his trademark devilish grin plastered upon his face. He knew Damian was head over heels for you, and it sure was fun to get a rise out of him with that. Damian was trying not to let his mind wander off to the charcoal sketches he has framed in his room. You drew them for him and left them in his room one day. They were all sketches of Titus, Batcow, Alfred the cat and his personal favorite, a charcoal rendition of a polaroid you took. It was the two of you at the beach with the family, and Damian was smiling. It was rare and reserved just for you, so he couldn’t help but think the emotion he got from it was love. That photo stayed between the two of you, and the drawing wasn’t shown to anyone but him. John doesn’t get the luxury of knowing that. Why did he even ask? Why is he even here?

“Why did you come here?” Damian asked.

“Y/N invited me.”

“You don’t like going to these events. Why’d you say yes?”

“Same reason as you mate, I care about her more than I hate the rest of society.”

Damian gave a light nod that anyone would have missed if they weren’t’ looking for it. “What about you? It’s not like you enjoy school activities and such.” Damian looked a little flustered.

“I wanted to support my friend and classmate. It’s important to her.”

“Right, you wanted to support your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Aye, but you want her to be.” John said with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t give me that. Its plain as day that you like her.” Damian scoffed and looked down for a while.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” He tried to play it off like sarcasm, but that didn’t really go as planned.

“You hate people and yet you love being around her. You’re an artist and can’t understand anyone’s art but hers. You want to protect her from anyone who you think isn’t good enough for her, myself included. The signs are pretty obvious.” Damian looked a little flushed but remained speechless. “And besides, she’s pretty easy to fall in love with, I hear. My home phone gets calls from boys on the daily.”

“What?! From who?!?”

“Hehe, and that’s how I came to that conclusion.”

“Constan-!”

“There you guys are! I’ve been looking for you. Art awards are going to be announced soon. Want to go find a seat?” You had just found the boys and were ready to take them into the auditorium for the Art Awards.

“Sure thing.”, John said cheerily.

John smiled and Damian just returned a cold glare.

***

They were seated next to each other and chose not to complain about it. Instead, opting to tense over the fact that they were nearing the end of the awards ceremony and your name hadn’t yet been called. This meant one of two things: Either you were about to win one of the top cash prizes or you weren’t going to win anything. And the thought of the latter had both John and Damian gripping the arm rests of their seats tight enough to dent them. The anticipation was building in all of you, but it flooded away from you when you turned and looked at the boys. They looked more stressed than you did, and it made you want to laugh. Of course, you stifled it. This is what you liked to call “Chaotic caring energy”. And truth be told, these two were awfully similar for a pair of people who can’t stand each other.

It was down to second place. You had lost hope and accepted you wouldn’t win anything. The boys hadn’t, though. They were literally at the edge of their seats, and you swear you saw Damian grab John’s shoulder at one point. Just then, you heard your name called. First place, Y/N L/N, 8th grade.

“Yes! I’m so proud of you!”

“Well done, N/N! I knew you’d be up there!” They could be heard over the Loud cheering from the rest of the audience. You walked up and received your award and you waved at them from the stage. John looked at you with a genuine smile and adoration in his eyes. He knew you were talented, and he was so proud of you for working so hard for this. You had finally gotten the recognition you deserved and the look in his eyes reflected how happy he was about it. Damian noticed too. John really cared about you. Damian saw it now. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad mentor for you after all.

While leaving the hall, the three of you saw Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim and Alfred waiting by the doors. They congratulated you and showered you with hugs. They had seen the ceremony as well, but they watched it from the auditorium balcony. While you were off showing your plaque to everyone, Damian took an opportunity to say something he felt he needed to say.

“Hey, John?”

“Hm?’

“When you said I want to protect Y/N from people who aren’t good enough… I don’t consider you to be someone I should protect her from. You’re a good mentor.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” They shared a look of agreement. Perhaps they had finally settled a truce. “And of course, I’m a good mentor for her. I’m the master of my craft.” John added smugly.

“I saw you light your tie on fire once.”

“Who said that was an accident?” They shared a chuckle. Meanwhile, Bruce and Alfred were making celebratory dinner plans, and you were standing flabbergasted with the boys because Damian and John were smiling at each other??? They walked up to you and overhearing Bruce’s discussion about dinner, Damian took the liberty of inviting John to join you.

You choked on your saliva, Tim looked beyond concerned and when John said he’d be delighted, everyone freaked. Bruce looked terrified, Dick squinted, and Jason was about to take a picture while Alfred just stared.

“Are they smiling at each other?”

“No, that’s not possible.”

“Um, they’re walking side by side and talking without grimacing.”

Y/N looks like she’s about to pass out. Someone catch her.”

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spooky-z · 4 years

Text

The Soulmate AU

Maribat by @ozmav

Part 2

In this au, soulmates are common knowledge, but not ordinary.

The link between the two people is literally soul sharing, which makes the couple feel, think, be like the other person at the end of the link.

There are "levels" of depth between two soulmates that get hit as the pair grows.

Not everyone has a soulmate. It is more normal not to have one than to have one.

Having a soulmate means (at least that's what the myth said) that you have been touched and blessed by the gods. A descendant of them.

Here Marinette and Damian share the same soul; just like Adrien and Jonathan.

The signs of having a soulmate or not were obvious. The first and the best known: the color of the eyes.

As Marinette and Adrien first opened their eyes at birth, their parents noticed the different colors of each eye.

Marinette's right eye was a brilliant jade while the left was a charming blueberry shade.

Adrien had the left a vivid emerald and the right a radioactive baby blue. An interesting tone, Gabriel said. Emilie responds by saying that this meant his soulmate was even more special.

As time went on, the two growing well and healthy, the characteristics of their soul mates became more evident.

At 5, Marinette was able to speak French, English, Chinese, Russian and Urdu fluently; Apart from French, Adrien spoke English and another language that no one could figure out what it was because no one knew the dialect.

Adrien showed no other characteristics about his soulmate, at least none as obvious as Marinette's.

She, despite her age, was aware of such things as hand-to-hand combat (martial arts), how to handle weapons (bow, swords). She was frankly annoyed by the action movies she watched because she said it was all wrong.

Sabine and Tom were really worried, not only for their daughter, but for her soulmate. A child of that age should not know of such things.

At the age of 7, the first "Swap" happens.

Marinette was in the classroom. The teacher had given everyone free time and she was having to deal with Chloe's nonsense; Adrien was in a photo shoot accompanied by Gabriel and Emilie.

It had been the most fascinating and frightening experience Adrien's parents and Mari's class had ever witnessed.

The changes were obvious, especially in Adrien, who had half (from root to tip) of blond hair, stained midnight black and the green of his right eye warmed to a cyan. The bubbly personality didn't change much.

Marinette's hair just changed from a bluish black to a glossy black and her left eye a glowing cyan. The shocking difference had been in behavior and posture from Persephone directly to Hades.

Chloe had fled school after that, on the excuse of being sick.

Let's go to the dynamics and explain a bit about this au.

When I had this idea, I was sleep deprived and bored. I scribbled some things on paper until I found myself thinking about our beloved soulmate cliché.

I wanted to write something with the theme, but I didn't want to write something that had already been written millions of times. I thought about the types of soul mates and how they were usually written, and that idea came to mind.

What I think now was not that original and just my subconscious merging things.

Eye color + skills + thought sharing + magic + and the Sense8 cluster concept. I put it all together and it came out.

So, this au is supposed to be something like: two bodies, one soul divided for each one.

The "Swap", for example, is not exactly a swap. It's more like (I'm going to put Jon in Adrien's body as an example) Jonathan taking the wheel and Adrien sitting in the passenger seat, enjoying the ride. Fully aware, being able to take over his body at any time if he wanted to.

You ask: “but what about ladybug? And chat noir?”

I answer: "magic."

Transformation protects their identity. Marinette's eyes turn gray (like Sabine's) and Adrien's eyes look like canon's, so neither they (nor Paris) know their secret identities. What we can't say the same about the soulmates.

Just as Damian and Jon know about Chat Noir and Ladybug, Marinette and Adrien know about Superboy and Robin. You cannot hide something from a person who lives in you and with you.

You ask: "But if they share the soul, does that means Adrien has Jonathan’s powers and Marinette died with Damian?"

I answer: "yes and no."

Adrien (untransformed) has greater stamina than a normal human, just as strength and kryptonite are bad for him, not as a Kryptonian, but still make him sick.

About Damian's death: Marinette was in a coma for two months until he was resurrected. She watched, felt and suffered his death before the pain was too much for her to endure and faint.

(What Damian learned the hard way after Aspik failed to save Ladybug against Desperada and lived in the loop for three months straight. Bruce and Alfred had to leave Damian sedated and intubated after he passed out for the sixth time.)

You ask: "What changes in their personality in this au?"

I answer: "As they are one soul, yet divided into two bodies, the personalities are balanced."

It's like the yin & yang theory of chat with ladybug. The personality of one mirrors the other.

Marinette: She can be confident, cold and downright scary if the situation calls for it.

Damian: Doesn't show much emotion around people (before the League, now Batfam), but if he's on a mission that requires him to be sunshine and rainbows... Well, Bruce is positively surprised. Damian smiled as if it was something he did every day, without pain and without killing anyone.

Jonathan: Playful, puns beyond count and impulsive. He tries not to be, but his soulmate is strong.

Adrien: With one goal in mind, he goes, no matter who is in the way. Demanding and serious, he has no time for silly nonsense. (You know what I'm talking about)

I will expand this universe further. I have some things already written and I will post soon!

[tag list]

@sassydepression @emjrabbitwolf

#soulmate au #maribat #jondrien #damian x marinette #damian #daminette #adrien agreste #jonathan #ml salt #miraculous ladybug

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clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Let’s stay home|Quarantine AU”

Here it is guys! I know it’s a little later than usual but I’m actually happy with the outcome, I only hope you do too! i decided to take @ashesbelle suggestion and do a game night chapter. I knew it had a lot of potential and I did my best to make it fun. Feel free to always leave suggestions and ideas about this story! Anyway, next chapter it’s going to be Bane! ugh, can’t wait!

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye, @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby, @br0ck-eddie, @of-love-and-of-the-sea, @sopxhiea, @fandom--0verdose, @shadow-of-wonder, @innerpaperexpertcloud (let me know if you wanna be added!)

If you lost a chapter: Masterpost

Chapter 3 - “Game night”

Adjusting to their new daily life hadn’t been so difficult as Emma would have thought. To be honest, the idea of living with three men had terrorized her a little, not because she was afraid or something, she knew she was safe with them, but because of what it implied. Emma had never been the perfect housewife kind of girl. She learned how to take care of herself and her house but that was that. Primal survival skills. Now she was stuck at home with three grown-up men and she suddenly wondered how it was going to go when it came to chores. She really hoped that they didn’t believe she was going to do all the work because if they did, well they better think twice. After the guys had settled in and rested after the long journey, well only Tommy actually since Eddie already lived in the city, Emma gathered them all in the kitchen.

“Since no one has left, I presume that you’ve all decided to spend this upcoming quarantine here,” she broke the ice, “although, you can still change your mind and catch a plane or a train before it’s too late.” she continued looking at each of them.

“Why does this feel like a kind of initiation?” Eddie mused suspiciously making Emma throw an ugly look at him.

“It’s not but I hope you understand that every one of you is involved and so has to lend a hand,” she continued. However, she could see that they weren’t really following her so she decided to be more direct. “I’m talking about house chores guys.”

Emma watched as realization washed over their faces and to her surprise, there was no trace of reluctance.

“Of course pet, don’t even have to say it,” Alfie mumbled crossing his arms on his chest making Emma send a sweet smile his way. She had always known that when it came to lending a hand Alfie had never refused nor complained.

“Whatever you want my lady.” Eddie, of course, complied sarcastically while Tommy only nodded. Emma knew that he had been taking care of himself for a while now, her heart would always clench in apprehension for him at the fact and this current situation was no different. She was happy that he was here though, she would make sure that he was doing okay.

“Wonderful. Now, let’s get to business, what do we want to eat tonight?”

***

After everyone agreed that it was definitely the right night to order some pizza, Emma had called her trusted pizza place down the road. They were still enjoying the food when Alfie came up with a tremendous idea: playing board games.

“Absolutely not.” Emma posed her veto already imagining hundreds of ways in which it could be wrong.

“Why, are you afraid of losing?” Alfie, never the missing the chance to take the piss on her, mocked her.

“Board games are the recipe for the perfect disaster. You all transform into children when you play. And maybe you have forgotten Alfred but we’re going to live together for a while.” She glared at him, explaining her point of view as a matter of factly.

“She just knows that she’s going to lose.” Again, Alfie taunted her looking at Tommy for his support but he didn’t go along with him. Emma did her best to fought the sudden voice in her head that pushed her to prove him wrong. However, she knew that she needed to be the one to keep the balance and if she played, there was a slight chance that she’d got carried away and then she wasn’t sure what could happen. Alfie loved provoking her and putting her on edge, and she was competitive and prone to angry outbursts when she played. That wasn’t a good match. Knowing this, she took a deep breath forcing herself to calm down and ignored him.

“You can play if you want, I think there’s Risiko and a few other board games in my room. I think I’ll pass.” She informed them, looking at Tommy while she spoke.

She left the kitchen with their dirty plates while the guys discussed to choose which game they were going to play. While she threw away the remnants of food, she heard Eddie explain that he couldn’t play because he had a deadline to meet. So Tommy and Alfie were left to pick up a game and they settled for Risiko. Emma smirked at their choice knowing it was Alfie’s way of winning easy.

They went looking for the game and then started arranging the board and their armies on it. A while into the game though, Alfie was rather disappointed to realize that he was in fact losing. Every time they would come to battle, Tommy would manage to get bigger numbers than him. A little suspicious, if you asked him. But decided to stay quiet for the time being and study his opponent instead.

Meanwhile, Emma had settled on the couch beside the table they were playing on so that she could keep an eye on them and get a little work done at the same time. She wasn’t really paying them attention but every once in a while she would glance at the board and notice in amusement how Alfie was definitely losing. An angry puff would leave his lips from time to time whenever Tommy would beat him but he hadn’t said anything yet. She wondered how long was he going to last. She knew Tommy was pretty stoic but Alfie definitely wasn’t. It was only a matter of time before he would snap. She could almost see him filling up and ready to spill.

“Oi mate, that’s enough cheatin’ from ya.” And as Emma predicted, here it was. He didn’t last long after all. Alfie bellowed outraged, his cockney accent thick, and Tommy was getting really fed up with him. Even if he was a master of keeping his cool, Emma could see by the way he was nervously drumming his fingers on the table.

“Listen, pal, I’m not cheating. If you don’t know how to lose then you shouldn’t play.”

Between Tommy’s stone-cold stare and Alfie’s temper, it was a really good match, one Emma was amused to witness but wary at the same time. Watching them cat fighting over their lost army, she decided to leave to it a little longer before intervening. And when Alfie threatened that maybe it was better to show who was stronger outside, she finally spoke up.

“Okay guys, that’s enough.” Putting her laptop away from her lap, she lifted to sit on the couch rather than laying down.

“Yes Thomas, that’s fucking enough. Start playin fair, will ya?” Alfie complained totally misreading Emma’s words and was starting to go on a rant regarding how it was always the Thomas that would start trouble and fucking cheating. However, Emma had already heard this speech one time too much and stopped him.

“Alfie,” trying to keep a smile away from her face she made him look at her, “Risiko is a game of luck. Everything is decided with a roll of the dice, Tommy’s not cheating,” she explained calmly not wanting him to feel like he was being scolded.

“The fuck it is, it’s a game of tactic and plannin. It’s fucking war, innit?” Alfie stood his ground, getting only worked up since he felt that Emma was taking Tommy’s side. The latter though, jumped at the occasion to get away from him as soon as Emma spoke up. Tommy didn’t do arguments nor drama. That was one of the reasons him and Emma got along so well.

“Do you decide how many of your tanks go down in a fight with dice too in war?” Getting the tutting tone out of her voice was getting harder and harder for Emma. She knew Alfie though, and she was very aware of his stubbornness. However, Emma couldn’t help but consider him adorable in that moment. With his face scrunched up for the building anger, and the scowl on his lips because he wasn’t getting his way, he much resembled a child. A petulant one but an adorable one nonetheless.

“Fucking hell,” were the only words that Emma could hear given that the others mashed up in one incomprehensible mumble.

“C’mon Alfie, stop trying to prove that your gun is bigger than Tommy’s,” Emma dismissed him getting back to the article she needed to write while Tommy, who had sat on the love seat next to the couch she was on, tried to cover his snort with a cough. However, without wanting to, Emma had only managed to anger him more.

“Why would I pet, right, fucking wast me time in proving something you already know?” He hissed this time, anger filling every fibre of his body. Arching one of eyebrows, Tommy mocked him without actually speaking up but Alfie paid him no mind. His eyes were fixed on Emma.

Letting out a sigh, Emma moved her laptop on her side, again. She knew that she had been dragged in now and that Alfie wouldn’t let her be before settling this.

“I already know, you say.” She just pointed out. She didn’t want to argue but couldn’t walk away either.

“You ‘aven’t seen his, right? So you can’t really fucking say can ya? You know my gun’s big tho’.”

“And how do you know I haven’t?” She taunted and this time Alfie froze, taking in her implication, his eyes moving from her to Tommy multiple times as if he was deciding if she was serious or not.

“Yer fucking takin the piss now.” He decided that there couldn’t have been something of that nature between them.

“She ain’t. We’re lovers fo’ a while.” Tommy jumped in and confirmed Emma’s words. Neither of them spoke for a while and Emma thought that the conversation had been ended that way. However, she was surprised to find out that they’re both looking expectantly at her.

“Forget it. I’m not going this.” God, what did she put herself into…

“You fucking are,” Alfie stated, “C’mon Em. He’s a big lad, he can take it.” Oh Alfie, ever so cocky. Emma looked at Tommy for support but was had had enough. This man was way too cocky for his liking. It was time to put him in his place.

“C’mon Emma, tell us.” To her amazement, Tommy actually agreed with Alfie. If the situation wasn’t so bloody embarrassing, she would have been proud of them for cooperating.

“Okay then, pull your pants down.” She said hoping to deter them in this way.

“Fucking what?” Alfie protested while Tommy just stared at her. She was basing her tactic to the innate discomfort that all straight men seemed to have in being naked around another naked guy. She hoped it would work and in the meantime, she would enjoy the unease on their face. That’ll teach them to put her in this position.

“C’mon big guy, are you bucking down?” Surprising them both, Tommy taunted Alfie turning to him. It seemed he had taken it personal.

“Are you homo or somefing mate? Don’t want ya staring at me.”

“She’s the only one who has to look, man. I’m not interested. At all.” Tommy pointed out with a roll of his eyes and turned back to face Emma that watched their exchange in fascination. But it was getting late and she was getting tired of all of this.

“You know what?” coming up with a way to put an end to this, she got up from the couch and approached them. Without missing a beat, her hands gripped both of their packs making them gasp in surprise. “See? Everything is where it’s supposed to be and I reckon you both know how to use it. That’s all that matters right?” She patronizingly tutted at them, finishing all by patting gently their face.

Emma then turned to gather her stuff and left the room like nothing happened, leaving behind her two very stunned and slightly aroused men. This had only been the first night of living together and it already had proven interesting. Seems like they were in for a wild ride.

#let's stay home #quarantine AU #alfie solomons #eddie brock #tommy conlon #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fanfic #eddie brock fanfiction #tommy conlon fanfiction #alfie solomons x oc #eddie brock x oc #tommy conlon x oc #game night #risiko

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redjaybathood · 4 years

Text

you know what’s even more wild; i’m going over my drafts in evernote, and turns out my battle for the cowl au is not actually the first ABO, omega!Jason AU I attempted to write. fucking how did I not remember it. And it even fits, kinda? I think so, at least.

It's not like some switch has been hit, some tumbler turned, and Jason realized he was an omega. For some people it was like that, he supposed, during puberty, or even later in life. He, though, he knew since birth.

Sometimes he hated it, for, you know, usual reasons. But he was never ashamed. If someone should be ashamed it's alphas. Not because they were mindless beasts who could not control themselves in a rut or otherwise. They could, they just did not care to. And those who did, assumed everyone did, and so omegas were lying or overacting. Hashtag Not All Alphas, right?

But, okay, things were different with Bruce.

Bruce never touched him like that. Jason never felt unsafe, like that, with him.

He never had a heat before though.

And - Bruce has never before stayed at home instead of going on patrol because Jason was sick.

Has never before sat him down on the couch in the living room, throwing a quilt over Jason's lap. Never brought him cocoa - never contradicted Alfred that food, drinks or snacks are allowed only in the appropriate rooms, like kitchen or dining room. Never put an arm over Jason's shoulder, bringing them closer, rumbling "How about we watch a movie together?"

Jason was (he was a man enough to admit it at thirteen) freaking out.

Was everything just a play, lulling him into the sense of false security? Duh, Jason, you did steal his car tires, and he did respond to it with a kidnapping. You fucking idiot.

The hot cocoa - Jason only pretended to drink it. He was ready to throw it in Bruce's face if that hand crept lower.

It stayed.

Halfway through the movie, Jason even leaned back into Bruce's embrace. To test the waters, not because the touch was nice. He wasn't a hugger by any means, he would be ready to throw down if someone ever touched him unexpectedly or without his permission or at all. Only people did not want to touch him at all, these days. The most human-on-human contact he got was when he was punching or being punched.

But no, he did not allow his opponents to land a hit or two just to feel that.

He did not goad Nightwing into a fight last time he was there for the same reason.

And he snuggled closer to Bruce to gauge his reaction.

There wasn't any, really, except for a moment where Bruce's hold on him tightened and relaxed. It didn’t feel like he wanted to start anything. More like a reminder - I’m here. I see you. It didn’t make Jason want to run away or punch something.

Which was good, because his cocoa cup was cold and half-empty already.

Jason fell asleep well before the titles.

***

His first heat after death was way after the Pit. He thinks.

And it was worse than both of these events.

He almost killed an alpha girl he was training with - she kept taunting him about his smell. You're pathetic, she would say, reeking all over the place. You think your pheromones will make people want you? Even your parents didn't want you around, and they are high-wired by biology to recognize you by scent, their instincts making them care about you. But there's something wrong with you. Something wrong with you. No matter how you try, your attempts to attract a mate? Will fail, because no one would ever want you, would never feel anything for you except pity, maybe.

He was on a hair-trigger already. He didn't care about this girl, or what she thought about him, or what anyone thought about him. But he was in pain, and not only because of the cramps, his head ached too. He only wanted some peace and quiet, a fight to work his anxiety with.

So he smashed her head on the stone floor. And again. And ag...

Talia's hand caught his.

"You won't permanently injure one of my most promising pupils," she told him as though he was her lapdog. As though him telling her to fuck off was something unimaginable.

So he said, "Fuck off." Bared his teeth.

She struck him on the cheek, took him by the chin.

It was more humiliating than painful.

"Yeah?" he said, letting go of Cheshire and turning to Talia with his whole body.

He leaned into the touch. "Or what? You're going to permanently injure me? How are you planning to fuck with Batman's mind then, huh?"

"I would just throw you back into the Pit," Talia dismissed. She did not press herself closer. "But be sure you would feel every. Second. Of it."

"Why would you care if I injured your precious protege?" Jason spat out.

To his dismay, that was literal spit.

Talia was unfazed. She took him by the back of his head and burrowed her hand into his hair.

"My dear child," she said. "The Pit is not for everyone. How our people would appreciate life if they knew it won't end?"

Jason growled. She didn't even call Damian her dear child.

#a/b/o #battle for the cowl au #robin!jason #lost days!jason #omega!Jason Todd #bruce wayne #Talia al Ghul #my fics #ABO Battle for the Cowl AU

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goldandbluesmiles · 4 years

Text

Hope for The Best

Summary: Harvey and Bruce. First Time.

Note: The sex is part i glossed over in four lines. I don’t really write sex scenes.Harvey looked up as Bruce came into his room.

Ao3

XXX

The Alpha was wearing a tight black shirt that clung to his body and jeans that cupped every curve. His hair was almost long enough to be in his eyes, there was slight make-up on his face, making his eyes pop and his angles seem sharper.

Harvey could not look away.

"Something wrong Dent?" asked Bruce, noticing his stare

"Oh, what?" said Harvey, "Nothing. Just lost in thought. How did you get here?"

He had become very good at feigning disinterest where Bruce was concerned. Very good.

"Your mom let me in," said Bruce, coming to sit on Harvey's desk chair, "Are you coming to Bella's party tonight?"

"I don't know, Bruce," said Harvey, "You know the rich kids don't really like me,"

Bruce shook his head, "It's just a few of us. Promise. Selina's going to be there too,"

Huh. The party must not be too elite if he had convinced Selina to come. The only time Selina mingled with high society was when she wanted to rob them.

"Okay, fine," said Harvey, "I'll come,"

"Great!" said Bruce, "Now about that Chemistry test...

Harvey only half-listened as Bruce talked already knowing what he would say. He'd been ranting about the test for days now. Harvey's time was much better spent appreciating the beauty that was Bruce Wayne.

Selina had told him to just tell Bruce how he felt but Harvey was scared. Even if Bruce as into males, what chances he was attracted to Harvey, a beta? The majority of Alpha males went for omegas and sometimes female betas if their scents were sweet enough. Harvey knew Bruce had been with both Beta and Omega females, but he had never said anything of males of any designation. And even if he was inclined that way, he might not like Harvey that way.

He just didn't want to risk it. They had a great friendship, It just didn't seem worth it.

"So I'll pick you up at 7:00?" said Bruce

"Yeah," said Harvey, "7:00,"

xxx

The party had turned out pretty good. Though 'party' was probably an understatement. It had been a small gathering consisting of them, Selina, Tommy and a few other of their close friends.

They had both decided to stay sober. Harvey because he had a test and Bruce because he was already in hot water with Alfred.

"Wanna come over to mine tonight?" asked Bruce

"Sure," said Harvey, "Why not? As long as you drive me early to get my uniform,"

"Deal,"

The manor was quiet at this time, Alfred probably not wanting to crowd his teenage ward.

"Wanna take leftover cake upstairs," asked Bruce rummaging through the fridge

"Sure," said Harvey

They took the container upstairs with some forks and sat down on the bed to eat.

"Hey, you got something here," said Bruce gesturing to his lip

"Here?" asked Harvey, swiping with his thumb

"No- here let me-," said Bruce, leaning in and gently swiping at the corner of his mouth, "There you go,"

Then as if he had just noticed how close they were, he smiled and looked straight into Harvey's eyes.

And how was Harvey supposed to resist that? Before he knew it, he was leaning in, melding his lips against Bruce's. Bruce made a soft startled sound but made no indication of moving away. Instead, he cupped the back of Harvey's neck and pulled him closer by the waist.

"Good?" asked Bruce when they pulled away

Harvey nodded before leaning again. This time he ended up laying on the bed with Bruce on top of him. In the next minute, they were shirtless, in another, they had lost their pants too hands all over each other.

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" asked Bruce

Harvey shook his head, hoping against hope that it wouldn't make Bruce stop.

"Do you want to stop?" asked Bruce

"Don't you dare," he muttered

Bruce smiled and connected their lips again, his touch sending sparks all over Harvey.

He had dreamed of this many many times. But nothing had ever come close to this reality. It was awkward sure, especially at the start, but once they got into the rhythm, Harvey couldn't help the way he lost all control under Bruce's touch.

And boy did Bruce touch him.

His nails scraping through his scalp and trailing his sides made him shudder in pleasure. The bites left at his collarbones and his thighs ached in the best ways and made his glands pulse with want. Bruce's soft kisses made him whine in a way that would be embarrassing if he could bring himself to care.

And the way Bruce was moving against him, every angle hard and fast against him, making heat pool in his belly and making him beg for more.

When Bruce finally connected their bodies Harvey felt a sob rip out of him from just how overwhelming it was, to be this close, this cared for by someone he had been wanting for a long time.

"Shh," said Bruce, "I got you, Harvey. Just let go,"

He did. And it was glorious.

xxx

Once they were done, Bruce kissed him before climbing out of bed.

"I'll be right back," he said against Harvey's lips

Harvey was still catching his breath when Bruce came back holding a washcloth and made quick work of cleaning them both up.

It was only when Bruce was back in bed, holding Harvey from behind that he started to feel a little apprehensive.

Bruce must haven noticed because he quietly rumbled from behind, "What's wrong?"

Harvey took a deep breath, "What was this?"

"Pretty sure it's called sex," Said Bruce, sounding amused

Harvey turned so he was lying on his back, head turned just a bit to look at the Alpha.

"That not what I meant,"

Slowly, Bruce propped himself on his elbow so he could look at Harvey in the eye.

"You really think I would risk our friendship on a one-night stand," said Bruce, carding his hand through Harvey's hair.

"You mean...?"

"Yeah," said Bruce, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on his lips, "Wanna be mine, Harvey?"

Harvey laughed, "Only if you're mine too,"

"Deal," grinned Bruce, giving him another kiss.

"I dreamed of this," said Harvey, once they broke apart

"Oh?" asked Bruce

"Yeah," said Harvey, "this kinda feels like a dream too,"

Bruce smiled and moved his mouth close to Harvey's mating glands. When Harvey didn't stop him, he gently closed his lips over the glands making Harvey sigh in pleasure.

"Still feel like a dream?" said Bruce, gently rubbing his bare chest.

Harvey brought his hand up and covered Bruce's with his own, "Don't know. I might need some more convincing,"

Bruce chuckled and moved until he was on top of Harvey, his weight bearing down on him. Bruce brought his face close to Harvey's neck, his scent surrounding him and making him feel soft and safe.

"Good?" asked Bruce

"Yeah," said Harvey and then, "This isn't going to be easy. A relationship like ours isn't exactly legal,"

"Not illegal either," said Bruce, gently biting his neck

Harvey huffed, "I know- and I don't want to sound like I don't want this but-"

"It's more of a problem for you than it is for me,"

"Yeah," said Harvey

"Well, we can keep it a secret until you've become a lawyer as you've always wanted,"

"That could be a long time away," said Harvey

"I don't mind," said Bruce, rubbing their noses together "Unless you think we won't last?"

"You're assuming I am going to let you go,"

Bruce chuckled, "It's decided then. We're doing this,"

"Hmm,"

"And what do you know? Things might change-legally,"

"Hope for the best right?" said Harvey

Bruce smiled and cupped his cheek, "Hope for the best,"

#batfamilyaobweek #bruce wayne #harvey dent #bruce wayne x harvey dent

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permanently-exhausted-bitch · 4 years

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Witchers Bare More Than Teeth

Ch1 Ch2

CHAPTER 2

A Couple months go by and Geralt returns to his normal weight and strength. Baby fat was worked off in high intensity spars with Eskel and Vesemir. Eric grew too quickly in Jaskier's opinion but Vesemir assured the bard that it was normal. Witchers were not humans and took less time to mature.

"Witcher pups take around 10 years to fully mature into full grown Witchers." He had said. With this news in mind, Jaskier made it his mission to make the most of Eric's childhood.

That included taking him to Lettenhove to meet his grandparents.

It was mid afternoon and Jaskier was searching for his mate and son around the keep. When he entered the library, Jaskier could barely contain his coo when he saw the adorable picture in front of him. Inside the library, laying on a plush sofa was Geralt and Eric. Geralt was shirtless and asleep with Eric napping on his chest. Jaskier walks over and gently brushes Geralt's hair out of his eyes and whispers softly.

"Geralt, darling. Wake up. We need to talk about something."

Geralt hummed softly and looks up at him with hooded eyes.

"Hey. What's up." Geralt rumbles tiredly, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"I wanted to talk to you about going to Lettenhove. Vesemir's making lunch so I thought we could talk before going down." Jaskier says with a smile. Geralt gives a soft purr at the scent of happy and love surrounding Jaskier and nods.

"You want your parents to meet him?"

"Yes. He is after all my only heir. I am a Viscount remember." Jaskier says earning a chuckle and a hum.

"Can you take him? I want to show you something." Geralt asks curiously, nodding down at Eric. Jaskier nods and gently picks Eric up and cradles the sleeping child in his arms while Geralt sits up and stretches.

"Come on." Geralt says qs he stands up and leads them to their room. He grabs a shirt, puts on his armor, his swords, and grabs his potion bag, Jaskier's lute and travel bag and a go bag he had made for Eric before motioning Jaskier down to the kitchen.

Inside Geralt goes over and whispers so ething in Vesemir's ear who nods softly and presses a kiss to Geralt's temple.

"So. There's something that I need to show you all." Geralt says.

"What is it Wolf?" Eskel asks softly.

"So you all remember Yennefer? Well, I didn't want to tell anyone until I knew for sure but everytime she came here or she and I went off somewhere. We weren't fucking. We didn't a romantic or sexual relationship of any kind." Geralt says.

"Then what did you spend all that time doing?" Jaskier asks.

"She was teaching me how to use my connection to choas. Papa knows because I had to find out a little about my sire to understand what was happening." Geralt said before taking a deep breath and focusing on a mug that was on the table in front of him. The mug suddenly disappears only to suddenly reappear in Geralt's hand.

"Woah!!" Lambert gasps before tossing a knife at Geralt's shoulder. Geralt just threw his hands up and the knife stopped and floated in mid air. Then with a flick of his hand, it became a crow. The crow flew over to sit on Geralt's outstretched arm.

"Jaskier, write a message to your parents. Tell them we'll stop by either today or tomorrow." Geralt said, before taking Eric who had started whimpering.

"You want to go meet Grandpa and Grandma, Pup?" Geralt asks curiously before blowing a razzbarry into Eric's stomach, making Eric laugh brightly.

"Mamamama!" Eric babbles and pats Geralt's face with a laugh. Geralt tears up and smiles widely.

"Yeah baby. I'm Mama." Geralt says softly before pulling Eric to him to kiss his forehead.

"Good job Pup!" Eskel cheers and plucks Eric from his arms and spins in a circle. Eric laughs and claps happily.

Just then Jaskier came running back in with a note that he tied to the crows leg.

"Go to Lettenhove noble manor." Geralt says and presses a finger to the grow's head. The crow's eyes glowed and it flew out the window.

"Now, Jaskier, Eric and I are gonna go portal to Cintra, pick up our child surprise and head to Lettenhove. I felt a ripple from the bond. Something is wrong with the princess. We'll portal back here in a few days." Geralt said, taking Eric and sitting him on his hip.

He mutters a small spell and a portal opens infront of them. Jaskier grabs his hand and they step through together and see that they're inside the catacombs underneath the castle. the Geralt fishes a crystal pendant out of pocket and holds it out to Jaskier.

"If something goes wrong. Take Eric and go get a inn room at the inn we stayed at before. If I don't return in 2 days, smash this. It'll take you and anything or anyone you're touching straight back to Kaer Morhen." Geralt says and Jaskier takes it and puts it in his pocket before reaching up to kiss Geralt.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Geralt hands Eric to Jaskier and they silently creep down the hallway when suddenly Geralt freezes and draws his sword. He swings around a corner but stops dead when the sword almost hits Mousesack's throat.

"Mousesack. Fuck. You know you can't sneak up on me like that." Geralt breathes before handing his sword to Jaskier and looking at Eric and frowning slightly. Mousesack watches as Geralt licks his thumb and wipe a smudge of dirt off the white haired child's cheek then plucks the child from Jaskier's arms.

"Mama?" Eric whimpers and Geralt presses a kiss to the curly white hair making Mousesack gasp.

"I thought witchers were sterile."

"We are. To human women. Human men can sire in us though. Witchers are different anatomically. We can all bare children and we can sire children in other witchers." Geralt said with a soft smile at Jaskier.

"Mousesack, meet Jaskier and I's son, Eric. He's 3 months old." Geralt says and nuzzles Eric's neck making him giggle.

However, before Mousesack could answer. Sounds of football steps reached Geralt's ears. Geralt's head snapped up and his eyes widened slightly see in the dark. Mousesack watches as Geralt's lips curled up to expose fangs and growled lowly and pushed a dagger to Mousesack's neck.

"YOU WERE FOLLOWED!" Geralt roared before handing Eric to Jaskier and grabbing his sword. Jaskier gave his own growl and shifted so Eric was between he and Geralt.

The assassins all stride towards Geralt but stop in their track, unsure of what to do when they see the seething witcher covering a small whimpering white haired child.

"It's okay, baby. It's gonna be okay." They hear the witcher mumbles and reach behind him and stroke the child's hair.

Using the distraction, Mousesack portals them all away. They end up in a dimly lit hallway and Geralt immediately picks Eric up into his hands and holds him tightly. Mousesack watches as Geralt shakily runs his hands through Eric's hair and down his back and pulls frantic lungfuls of Eric's scent while Eric cries into his shoulder.

"Shhh. It's okay, baby. It's okay. I won't let anything happen to you." Geralt mutters, as he tries to comfort not only Eric but also himself. Geralt make a soft whimper sound and presses his lips to Eric's head for a long moment. Jaskier presses to Geralt's side and nuzzles against the side of Geralt's head.

"Calm down, love. No one's gonna hurt him." Jaskier whispers.

"Come, Queen Calanthe is talking with Cirilla right now. We must go now." Mousesack says before teleporting them all into the room where Calanthe Eist and Cirilla where.

"Butcher! Leave! You were forbidden from returning." Calanthe yells and pulls Cirilla behind her.

"I here to claim my child surprise, your Highness. Do not make me use force because I am permitted by law to use force if you deny me. And even a queen is not allowed to break the law." Geralt says tonelessly.

"Why do you need Cirilla?! You have another stolen child right there!" Calanthe yells.

"Eric is not stolen. He is my son by blood. Last we saw each other you said you would rather die than bow to a law made by men. Men, who haven't born a child. Well, news flash Calanthe. Witchers aren't humans. We all have a womb. We all have a prick. Witchers can sire amongst witchers but human men can sire in us as well. Jaskier is Eric's father, I'm his mother. I carried him from the 6 month generation period that all witchers have. I birthed him and fed him. And yes, if I had to let Eric go with someone I knew could protect him, it would break my heart but I'd let him go. Nilfgaard is in your land with siege weapons. Do not give your a war on two fronts." Geralt says firmly.

At this time, Cirilla steps out from behind Calanthe and cocks her in curiosity.

"You. You're him, my destiny. I dream about you all the time. I felt your pain. During his birth, and the happiest afterwards." Cirilla says quietly before running into his arms.

Calanthe and eist watch as Geralt gives a happy purr and presses his nose and mouth to her hair as he wraps his free arm around her shoulders.

"Hello Pup. I'm Geralt of Rivia or as your new brother calls me, Mama." Geralt mutters against her hair.

"Hi Mama. I'm Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, But I prefer Ciri." Ciri says with a smile qs she nuzzles his chest.

"And I'm Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove AKA Jaskier, You're new papa if you'd like." Jaskier says as he hugs Ciri to him.

Ciri relishes in the loving hold and feels tears sting her eyes.

"I had forgotten what a Father's hug felt like." Ciri croaks against him and pushes clothes.

"Oh darling." Jaskier coos and presses a kiss to her hair.

"Cub?"

Cirilla looks over to see Eist stepping forward, holding out his hand. Geralt growled lowly and bared his teeth and pulled Ciri behind him.

"My. Pup." He seethed but Cirilla takes his hand pulls him forward towards Eist. She lets go of his hand to hug Eist and Calanthe tightly.

"If war really is coming, let mama take me with him. He'll keep me safe. I'll visit when the war is over. I love you guys." Ciri says before turning and running into Geralt's arms.

Then in a burst of light, they all teleported away.

#the witcher #the witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #fanfic #witcher cirilla #the witcher ciri #witcher eskel #the witcher lambert #lambert

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awhitehead17 · 5 years

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Just My Luck It’s You

TimKon, Soulmates AU, Fluff, Bit of Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Oblivious Kon, Injured Tim.

Summary: One night as Kon was dosing off to sleep it suddenly feels like he's been suckered punch and left breathless. As he gasps for air he knows something big has just happened to Tim, his very human soulmate, and knows he needs to go and find him no matter what.

Enjoy! :D

Kon scowls at his wrist as he walks into the kitchen of the Tower. Cassie was already in there sat at the island reading a book. Kon goes over there and slumps down in the empty seat next to her while saying, “Whoever my soulmate is, I hate them.”

He glares at his aching wrist in annoyance. It had been hurting since last night. He had been writing his essay for his science class when a sudden sharp pain erupted in his wrist. He held it tightly to his chest and breathed through the pain, he knew instantly that something had happened to his soul mate because writing an essay couldn’t cause that much pain. From then it had been throbbing all night and now all morning, it’s like his soulmate had just broken their wrist or something.

His soulmate, whomever that may be, was either accident prone or just very, very unlucky because it’s like every week Kon is feeling some sort of bruise or even a broken bone. It’s annoying! He’s supposed to be invulnerable, barely able to be injured or hurt and here he was every week in pain because of his (assumingly) very human soulmate.

“What’s wrong now?” Cassie asks turning a page of her book. She sounded exasperated and Kon has the feeling that she only asked the question just to humour him.

Ignoring that feeling he rubs his wrist to try and ease the pain in it. “I think they broke their wrist last night. My right one is really causing me some grief.”

Next to him Cassie freezes. He gives her a quizzical look. “What?”

She says nothing as she places her bookmark inside of the book before turning to him with a calculating look. “You still don’t know who they are yet, do you?”

“Uh, no, why?” He raises his eyebrow at her.

She doesn’t answer him, instead she digs through her pocket and brings out her phone. She goes on it, jabs at the screen a few times and places it down in the space between them.

“Uh Cass what are you-”

“Shush,” she holds up a finger at him, “I have a theory and I want to see if I’m right.”

Kon goes to ask her what she’s on about when Tim’s voice is suddenly coming from the phone in front of them.

“Cassie? What’s wrong? We only spoke a couple hours ago, what’s happened?”

Cassie pointedly ignores the look Kon shoots her. “Everything’s fine Tim, stop your worrying. I’m here with Kon now actually, tell him what happened to you last night.”

There’s a pause between them for a moment until Tim responds sounding just as confused as Kon was feeling. “Uh okay, but why?”

“Just do it.” She snaps at him.

“Uh hey Kon.”

“Hey man.” Kon replies, he shoots Cassie a strange look for her behaviour before focusing on the phone again, “What’s up? What happened last night?”

“Look I don’t know why Cassie seems to be making a big deal of it, but I broke my right wrist last night. I landed badly from a jump, it was a stupid amateur mistake that’s all. I’m fine, just give me a few weeks and I’ll be back to normal.”

“Just take it easy then dude, take the chance to do some R and R.”

Tim snorts, “I’m sorry but don’t you know who I am? Of course I’m not going to take it easy.”

Kon could easily hear the smile in his voice and is unable to stop himself from cracking a grin himself. “Yeah I know. At least I tried.”

“Yeah sure, anyway I gotta go, Alfred’s calling for dinner. I’ll see you the weekend!”

“See you later man.”

The phone switches off and Kon turns back to Cassie. “Okay, so the point in that was… why are you looking at me like that?”

Cassie was glaring at him with narrowed and lips pressed into a firm line. It made Kon want to recoil, it’s almost like he’s about to be told off for something.

She throws out her hands in disbelief, “Are you being serious!”

Kon shrugs helplessly, having no clue to what she was on about. Cassie let’s out a hard sigh and rubs her hand over her forehead in frustration. “I can’t believe – right. Your wrist, your right wrist, is hurting correct?” At his nod she continues. “Okay so what Tim just tell us about his wrist?”

“That he broke it.” He replies slowly still not getting it.

She makes another frustrated noise and on the table her hands clench tightly, like she’s physically restraining herself from strangling Kon.

“Tim hurts his wrist last night. Coincidentally the same night yours starts hurting. What do you think that means?”

It takes a few moment but it finally clicks inside of his head at what she was hinting at. His eyes immediately widen in shock and surprise at the thought.

“Oh no! No, no, no, no!” He’s shaking both his head and his hands in refusal. “Tim is not my soulmate. That’s not – that’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it?” She challenges. “I had a feeling that you two were soulmates, this kinda confirms it.”

Kon shakes his head again. “No it’s not. It’s not Tim. It can’t be.”

Cassie gives him a look that says he’s being stupid. “Just think about it alright Kon.”

Having had enough of the conversation he gets up off his chair and starts making his way out of the room. As he does so he shouts over his shoulder, “It’s not him!”

“Just think about it!”

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Tim could be his soulmate. It was plaguing his mind for hours, even days, after Cassie pointed it out to him. He’s been constantly rethinking and replaying the last couple of years, all of the bumps, bruises and broken bones he’s felt over time and how Tim always seemed to be hurt in the same places at the same time.

How had he not realised it before? Soulmates feel one another’s pain, (physical pain, not emotional) it sucks as much as it is awesome. If you know your soulmate then you know when they’re hurt and you know to go and help them. On the other hand if you don’t know them then being in pain and knowing they’re hurting somehow is awful because you can’t help them because you don’t know who they are.

After Cass had pointed it out to him Kon couldn’t unsee it. Any time Tim flinched in pain, got a bruise or a cut Conner could feel it, much more than before. That’s probably because he’s now aware of it.

Kon tries to bring it up to Tim multiple of times but he always ends up backing out at the last second. He doesn’t know why he does but he does. He just can’t bring himself to say anything to the other teen about it.

Thankfully after the wrist incident, nothing happens for a while. Just a few bumps and bruises but nothing major which Kon is thankful for, both for Tim’s sake and his own.

It’s two months after Kon realised that Tim was in fact his soulmate when that something major happens. Kon was in his room at the Tower simply dosing on his bed, happily edging towards sleep when he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. It’s like he had been abruptly sucker punched in the gut and got winded from it. He pushes himself upright into a sitting position and clenches his stomach as pain flares up inside of him. He couldn’t breathe. The pain was almost unbearable, he couldn’t say that he’s ever experienced something like it before. It’s probably worse than being exposed to kryptonite.

Still struggling to get air into his body he fumbles for his communicator. Finding it he presses the emergency button and waits. It feels like it takes forever for the others to get to his room, when they eventually do they burst in and give him a funny look when they don’t immediately find the crisis. Somehow he manages to gasp out that he couldn’t breathe and suddenly they’re moving again.

They help him to sit upright even more and get him calmed down enough to get his breathing under control. Once it feels like he has full function of his lungs once again he thanks them for their help. His stomach was still sore but at least he could breathe now.

After a moment Cassie asks, “Kon, what’s wrong? What was that all about?”

“It’s Tim.” He says almost breathlessly. “Tim’s hurt, really, really, bad.”

Bart looks confused for a moment before he’s quickly brightening up at the realisation. “Oh! You guys are soulmates! That’s so awesome!”

Both Kon and Cassie shoot him a look and he shrinks back in on himself. “Sorry, sorry! But if Tim’s in trouble we need to go and get him.”

Cassie looks between them, “Any ideas where he is?”

Taking a deep breath Kon shakes his head, he winces as his stomach twinges in pain again. “Last I knew he was in Gotham, but that hardly means anything nowadays.”

She nods, like knew that already. She’s then looking at Kon, eyeing him up and down worriedly. “Can you fly?”

Kon takes a moment to assess himself before answering. His stomach still felt like it was on fire, most of it seemed to be near the centre of his stomach and everything around his middle seemed to feel really tender.

“I’m fine.” He answers eventually. He can power through this. Whatever had happened to Tim, he needs to go and find his best friend, beat up the bad guys who had hurt him and then beat some sense or something into Tim for getting badly hurt.

Cassie glares at him as if she doesn’t believe him. Thankfully she lets it go with an eyeroll and says, “Right, let’s go to Gotham and find him.”

Bart and Cassie leave his room and Kon takes a moment to follow. It takes a few seconds for him to be able to stand up, ignore the pain and follow his friends from where they had left. Cassie takes Bart in her arms and together they fly off to Gotham in search for their best friend.

Kon nearly dropped out of the sky a good three times before reaching the dark city. The sudden flare of pain that erupted in his stomach at random times was what made him almost fall, the pain had made him lose concentration because of how much it had hurt.

Once they got to the city Kon automatically hones his super hearing onto Tim’s heartbeat. He guides the others to the west side of the city and down into some dingy, skanky alleyway between a couple of apartment blocks. They touch down just inside of the entrance and Kon gestures them to follow him.

They walk no more than 5 feet before they find a body on the floor behind a dumpster. They all rush forward before abruptly stopping in shock. Tim lies on the floor with one hand clasped tightly over his stomach and his over was weakly grasping at his utility belt across his waist. There was blood all over him and a puddle that’s slowly growing in size just underneath him. His breathing was ragged and the part of his face that wasn’t covered in his masked was contorted in visible pain.

“Tim!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay, what happened, who hurt you…”

The three of them rush to their fallen friend and fall onto the floor next to him. Cassie and Bart were on one side and Kon was on the other. Kon reaches out and grabs the hand that was weakly grasping at Tim’s belt and holds it in his own, this gets Tim’s attention and the vigilante looks up at him and frowns.

“Kon?” His voice was quiet, weak and raspy. It made Kon’s heart break at hearing it.

He leans forward, “It’s me buddy, I’m right here.”

Tim carries on frowning, as if not believing it was him. “Conner?”

Before Kon could even try and stop him, Tim was trying to sit up. It causes them both to simultaneously hiss in pain at his movement.

Cassie pushes Tim back down. “Don’t move you idiot, we need to get you help. Now what happened?”

There’s a pause between them and for a terrifying moment Kon thought that Tim had passed out but then his friend was making a sound before saying, “I got stabbed.”

His response would be funny if he wasn’t on the verge of dying right now. Cassie obviously doesn’t see the amusing side of it because she rolls her eyes at him, “Really dumb nuts? I hadn’t noticed.” She glances at both Kon and Bart before looking at Tim. “Where do you want us to take you?”

Tim opens his mouth to answer but no noise comes out. That’s when Bart presses forward, his hands covering Tim’s profusely bleeding wound. Tim’s blood was covering Bart’s hand and the sight of it made Kon want to vomit.

“Just take him to the cave,” Bart suggests, “His family can handle it from there.”

Kon shakily nods. That’s a good idea, a sensible idea. When had Bart become the sensible one? He sucks in a sharp breath when Bart presses harder on Tim’s wound, feeling all the pain from it in his own stomach. They really needed to get him help and get it fast.

Kon lets go of Tim’s hand and starts sliding his arms underneath him. Tim makes a sound at the movement and Kon gently shushes him. He looks at the others as he lifts Tim up off the ground. “Come on, we need to get him help.”

Once again Cassie takes Bart in her arms and altogether they head off towards the Batcave.

-----

Several days later Kon finds himself in Wayne Manor in Tim’s room. His best friend was sat on his bed, his back against the headboard, his torso was wrapped in layers of bandages and he was pouting.

Kon smirks at him in disbelief. “Dude I’m not getting you coffee or your laptop. Alfred’s given you strict bedrest instructions. Working away on your computer defeats the object of that and no way in hell am I going against Alfred, not even for you pal.”

Tim carries on pouting at him, he even crosses his arms over his chest as he does so. The action makes him look like a child and Kon couldn’t help but laugh at him.

After a moment Tim drops the act and shifts on the bed to get comfortable again, however the movement causes his stomach to twinge painfully which causes him to hiss. At the same time Kon feels the pain run through his own body and simultaneously as Tim does, he hisses at the suddenness and sharpness of it.

Kon’s hiss doesn’t go unnoticed by Tim because he catches the funny look his friend sends him. Thankfully Tim doesn’t comment on it as he settles down once again so Kon lets it go. Kon considers him for a moment before asking, “You okay dude?”

Tim swallows before nodding, “Okay as I can be I guess. It’s not my first stab wound, I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Yeah I guess.” Kon nods again, because he knows Tim and knows what he’s like. He won’t stop until he’s back to his usual level of fitness.

They fall into easy silence after that. After years of knowing one another and being friends awkward silences have long since passed. However the silence doesn’t last long because Tim cocks his head to the side and stares at him with a look Kon knows all too well. It’s his analytical look, like he’s got a mystery and is trying to solve it kind of look.

Kon raises an eyebrow at him, “What? Why are you looking at me like that.”

The look stays on Tim’s face as he asks, “How did you know that I was hurt? I hadn’t called you or the Titans at the time, yet you got to me first.” He seems to realise what he had said and back tracks on himself, “Don’t get me it’s greatly appreciated and I’m happy that you came, but I’m just wondering how you knew.”

Kon’s not offended by his words, he’s actually amused more than anything because it’s not often that Tim rambles when speaking. It’s a welcomed sight so Kon finds it hard to not be offended by his best friend.

In response he shrugs, “Well, I guess I just heard your heartbeat spike, went to the other and together we investigated. You know how I’m trained onto your heartbeat dude.” He’s trying to play it cool and be nonchalant about the whole thing because he really doesn’t want to step into that territory just yet. He still doesn’t think he’s ready for that.

Unfortunately Tim decides to live up to his ‘detective’ nickname because he carries on looking at Kon like he’s a puzzle to be solved and doesn’t let the matter go. “I feel like it’s more than that Kon. You and I both know that it goes deeper than you just listening to my heartbeat.”

Kon looks away from him, now feeling unsure. Of course he knows that Tim is right. They both know he’s right, that’s the annoying thing about it. He opens his mouth to speak up but nothing comes out, he tries a second time and gets the same results. In the end he shakes his head in defeat and remains silent.

That’s when Tim speaks up, his voice is quiet and understanding. “Conner… I think we’ve both known this for a while and whatever the reason neither of us have bothered to comment on it, but I think we need to address it now. The reason you knew I was hurt is because we’re soulmates.”

Kon turns his head and looks at Tim. His best friend was no longer wearing his analytical look but now was wearing one of understanding, one that read, ‘I'm here, you can talk to me’.

“You knew I was hurt because you felt it too. And when you felt it you came running.”

Kon swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat. “Of course I did, why wouldn’t I?” He lets out a disbelieving laugh, “Jesus man, I didn’t know how to bring it up to you. I’ve been trying to for ages but I just couldn’t bring myself to say anything.”

The edges of Tim’s lips quirk up in a small smile, “That’s okay. I felt the same too. Though it’s probably worse on your end, sorry.”

Kon snorts, “Yeah it’s just my luck that it’s you who’s my soulmate, the very human Robin.”

Tim fakes a scowl, “As if that’s my fault. I didn’t choose to be this way. On the other hand I’m happy that you’re mine, means I have to only deal with my pain and hardly any of yours.”

“I feel like this is very one sided right now.”

“That’s because it is.”

They fall silent before both of them are bursting out laughing. Kon feels the weight he’s been carrying over the last few come off his shoulder’s. Tim’s his soulmate and he’s Tim’s and he’s completely fine with that.

#timkon #TimKon Week 2019 #Tim Drake #Kon-El #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #soulmate au #fluff #bit angsty #hurt and comfort #oblivious Kon #injured Tim #fanfiction

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oumaheroes · 3 years

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Earthbound 2/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Part 1

Part 3

AO3

……………………………………………………………………

Chapter 2: Journey to Neverland

Morning comes, and Alfred finds himself huddled on the floor of a toilet stall. He was fine up till very recently, having spent the previous night occupied with travelling to where his ship was docked via his dome's rather old shuttle bus. The covers of the seat of the bus had been cracked with age and Alfred had absent mindedly picked at the stuffing whilst he watched his childhood home zip by in a blur of dusty yellow before slipping away into the distance. The Earth-bound ship, his new home for now, was very different in comparison to anything he'd ever seen on the planet before, all bold, sleek lines of monochrome with bright lights and shiny windows that hadn't yet been smeared opaque by the atmosphere. It was exciting, it was different; it was like a dream coming true because there in front of him had been something which represented a future, a very large representation of the possibilities he could find.

He queued up to board and was assigned his room all within the space of a hour and Alfred had quickly unpacked with a frenzy of excitement in his small room. His room mate, a small, quiet man called Kiku, had watched the sudden chaos with an unreadable expression from the bunk he'd retreated to with a book after he had introduced himself. For Alfred, that was all easy. That was all doing something, there was a plan and it needed action and Alfred lost himself in the motions.

But then he'd run out of things to do. Kiku had watched him from the corner of his eye as Alfred grew progressively more anxious, rearranging his things, standing up to stare out of the window, sitting down to his laptop, getting up again, all whilst the feeling of panic took root and bloomed in his chest. It was now, with an empty task list and hours to wait before take off, that Alfred suddenly understood what exactly it was he had just done and was in the process of doing.

He had excused himself for a walk but hadn't got far before all of his anxiety came to a head and he needed to get away from all of the people, away from the windows where he could see the landscape he'd soon be leaving behind without knowing if he'd ever see it again and away from the exits and doors, most of all, because he was half scared that he'd just walk out of one.

He chose the first bathroom he came to and squashed himself on the floors in a stall, pillowing his head in his arms as he squeezed, and still squeezes, his knees in a desperate attempt to calm down and rationalise.

Breathe.

He extracts an arm from where it is hooked under his knee and glances at his watch. It is 10.38am. By now, he should be at work. By now, his parents would be up and assume he is where he is supposed to be, at work now themselves. It took him five hours to get to the ship, so he has until 12pm to board a bus back and get home before them, to pretend that nothing had happened. He has until 12pm before whatever choice he makes becomes the only one he has left. If his parents were to find out, if they were to know where he plans on going or if his job were to get wind of what he is doing then he doesn't think there will be any chance of fixing it completely. His boss and colleagues would consider him a flight risk and which would ruin his chances at moving up the career ladder, his parents would be broken hearted that he had thought about leaving in the first place, not even adding on the hurt that he didn't plan on saying goodbye, and he knows that if he goes home to talk about it with them he'd be talked out of it instantly. He doesn't even think that he'd put up much of a fight.

Alfred buries his face back into his knees and bites on his cheeks, not hard enough to draw blood or cause any real pain but enough for him to focus on. What was he doing? Was he really going to throw his whole life away, all of what he'd built and all of what he could have, just like this? On a whim? Because that's what this is, a whim, and he knows it. What if there is nothing waiting for him on earth, what if there isn't anyone who wants him to work in history, what if he can't settle in or make friends or get enough money together to try again; is it worth the risk?

He hears the door to the bathroom open and he stills, breathing slowly through his mouth before carefully going to uncurl himself and move to the toilet where his feet won't be seen.

He's too late. The footsteps of the other person stop on front of the mirrors over the sinks but they quickly start moving again, towards where he's hiding. The footsteps slow down before coming to a stop in front of his door and Alfred watches as the person shifts their weight from one foot to the other, as if they're deciding what to do.

'Hello?' They say in a soft, tentative voice. Alfred knows it's stupid, because the other person, a young man by the sounds of it, obviously knows that he's here, but for a second he thinks that maybe if he doesn't say anything they won't notice him.

'Um, are you okay?' Still Alfred doesn't answer and watches as the person outside his door shifts to the other foot.

'Do you need me to get anyone, or anything?'

'No,' he surprises himself by answering and without his self-control his voice catches before he's able to stop it. He forces himself to speak again, more normally, 'I'll be alright, but thanks! Just ah... just needed to get away for a bit.'

'Cool uh, okay. Me too, you know? It's a lot to think about.'

It's hard to keep up a conversation when one of the participants in locked in a toilet but the other man has that small wobble in his voice that Alfred is trying to cover up in his own and he realises that this guy isn't going to go away any time soon. So, legs beginning to cramp anyway, he shakily gets to his feet and unlocks the door.

The other man is his height and seems to be his age, with shoulder length, wavy blond hair and large round glasses perched on his nose. They're slipping, and he pushes them up as Alfred emerges.

He gives a small smile. 'Hey, glad you're alright. I didn't know whether to disturb you or not, if I'm honest.'

Alfred shakes his and sticks out his hand for the other to take. 'Nah, I'm glad that you did. I was talking myself round in circles in there.'

The man takes it and gives it a quick shake. 'I know the feeling, bit crazy this, eh? I'm Matthew.'

'Alfred.'

Matthew nods at him. 'Nice to meet you. You here with anyone?'

He obviously doesn't mean the bathroom and Alfred swallows the hot flash of loneliness and regret that makes itself known in his throat. 'Nope, all alone! You?'

Matthew ducks his head and shifts his feet again. 'Same.'

'Do you...' Alfred pauses, uncertain if he wants to hear the answer, but he heard the wobble in Matthew's voice and he must be Alfred's age; he must be worried about similar things to what Alfred is so he presses on, 'Can I ask you something kinda personal? Do you think we're doing the right thing, leaving here? I mean it's a long way away and everything and it's not like there's an easy way back.'

Matthew blinks at him and takes a long breath in before answering with a voice filled with unexpected finality. 'Yeah. I mean, I don't know what your reasons are, of course, or what you're giving up, but-' He stares at the spot between Alfred's eyes and continues, 'but we're going to Earth, even if it goes horribly wrong or we don't get what we're going there for, it's Earth, isn't it? It's worth a try.'

It's what Alfred wanted to hear, it's the validation of his selfishness that he needed but it doesn't quite soothe his concerns as much as he had hoped.

Matthew must have noticed, because he tries again, sounding slightly panicked, 'I'm sure you'll be fine though, whatever happens! I mean, I'm going there because I'm hoping to work with all of the animals they've got; my parents warned me that they won't care about that and will probably put me to work on a farm or something but as long as you're fit to work they're not gonna turn us away, right?'

Alfred fights down the euphoric glee trying to become a grin on his face and instead says, 'Yeah, but farms have animals too, right?'

Matthew laughs. 'I bet I'll get trodden to death by a cow.'

Alfred claps him on the back. 'Hey, that sounds like a great way to go! Don't worry, man, I'll write home for you and say it was a elephant, or something. You know, keep your street cred up.'

Matthew rolls his eyes and grins at him. As he jabbers about the elephants that used to live on Earth before the Fall, later on in one of the canteens on their deck where they go for lunch, Alfred notices the clock hit 12 and feels nothing but excitement.

He'll be fine.

……………………………………………………………………

Peter is twelve, and the trip is finally coming to an end. It's been so many years, here on the ship, that if not for the books and videos he sees in school he would have forgotten how the domes and living stations from his home planet looked, now far far away. He thought that he was prepared for the sight of Earth, their species' old home world, he's seen so many photos of it that all he needs to do is hear the name to have it brought up in his mind, as detailed and as clear as anything he's seen with his own eyes. But, nothing could have prepared him for the real thing.

He is sitting in the corridor outside his living quarters. Mum and Dad are arguing, again, and he doesn't really want to be in there right now because he knows that as soon as they see him they'll pretend that nothing's the matter and he thinks that that's probably worse. With a sigh, he gets up, floor too hard to actually sit on for long periods, and goes for a wander around his 'neighbourhood'. As he passes doors of the others living here he wonders what kind of families live inside them: a mum and her kids, an elderly couple, someone young looking for something new, or maybe they're just like him, dragged here because their planet couldn't support them and they took a chance at building something better. A split family with barely anything to their name hurtling towards an unknown utopia.

It's been hard to get news of Earth and of the colony they'll be joining, when their ship stops only to refuel itself, but apparently it's going well. This is a comfort, at least, because not much else is these days. Some people live on space stations or spaceships and nothing else and although Peter finds an odd sort of comfort being surrounded by metal his parents, and many others, do not. Fights and spats amongst the passengers and crew have been increasing in the last few months, especially once everyone knew that they were getting close to the end of the flight. The ship they're on isn't even that small, so maybe it's not cabin fever after all and more impatience that drives the tempers high and tolerance down.

As he gets to a plaza of sorts, (the town square, as it is affectionately known,) he notices a huddle of people clambering over each other to reach and get a look out of the large, expansive windows there. Deciding against trying to force his way through the excited mass he goes forward and off to the side of the huddle to a smaller porthole and gazes out curiously.

What he sees is spellbinding, unlike anything he has ever seen before. It is not difficult to understand what is so interesting. Amongst the glittering, never-ending stars lies the Earth, shining bright and blue and all of a sudden Peter forgets how to breathe. It's blue, more blue than it ever was in the photos from his school books, there are swirls and blurs of greens and browns and whites mixed in all together but there is blue blue blue. In no picture did it ever look like this, earth was brown and dead and dry, this wasn't Earth. This wasn't the home humans had ruined, this wasn't what they had left behind. This, this couldn't be Earth, couldn't be his new home because there was so much water and-

Peter is jostled, another boy has pushed him away from the window where he had pressed his face close to the glass to see -his breath still mists the glass- but now he can only see the inky blackness of space from behind the boy's head and so he ducks away from the crowd of bodies and goes off in search of his parents, heart pounding furiously in his ears.

……………………………………………………………………

Francis, and the people he is with, are the first who will arrive on Earth. Their ship will get there the fastest and thus all aboard will be trained in a skill necessary to facilitate the setting up and maintenance of the first colony, distinct from the research bases already dotted about there. His mother must have known, because every adult he encounters are all young and healthy with intelligence and passion. There seems to be a entry requirement, because there are people from other planets besides his own that share the same qualities and all see to be formally trained, in one way or another. For the first time, he is grateful for his drafting.

Francis is happy to learn that he can pick what he wants to learn, out of the options that are available to him, and he chooses geology. The study of the soil and its chemistry isn't what he ever foresaw himself doing, but it seems to fit, somehow. As he learns about the tectonic movements of the earth, how the structure of the planet operates and how this in turn can affect and be affected by the weather, he feels like he's becoming a part of something once more. There is a goal at last, a purpose, and though he still feels as though there's something missing from his life the feeling is lessened by simply working past it; there is something to focus on.

It is lessened more so, maybe, by Arthur. Arthur is the unfortunate man assigned to share Francis' room, sleeping in the bunk above his, and specialising in agriculture. He wants to see the sea, has always wanted to see the sea, and when he talks about the oceans and cliffs and the rocking of far away waves Francis feels a part of himself become alive and real. Despite the nonchalance he coats it in, there is passion in Arthur's voice, there is a drive and a yearning which Francis recognises as one he used to share and to see it reflecting from Arthur's eyes makes his own burn with a longing he can't understand or explain. There is a tugging deep in his stomach and he starts to gaze out of the windows in anticipation, Arthur's voice drifting around his head to settle between his ears.

When Francis is twenty six, they finally get there. The stations below are set up on a nice bit of land close to the sea but also to a freshwater river too; there's fertile fields and dense forests with lots of wild-life and wild fruits and vegetables. He knows all of this before they're allowed down because that's all part of the training and survival lessons they're given. Each member must be capable of pulling their weight in areas other than their specialisation and Francis is now well versed on which plants he can eat and which he can't, how to make simple animal traps and how to catch a fish.

He feels ready to go and is excited to finally get to work and see these fields, seas and forests for himself, excited to see so much that he's only heard about and seen in pictures. And though he says otherwise, Arthur is just as excited, Francis knows, because anytime anything to do with Earth is mentioned he sits a little straighter, comes a little closer, and opens himself up a little bit more to get as much information as he can.

'Do you ever think,' Francis asks him one night, 'about where we're landing?'

Arthur turns over in the bunk above him and the metal creaks under his weight. 'What on earth are you talking about.'

'We're landing on what was once a country,' Francis explains, 'it once had people who had a language and a culture and a history. It's not just land, it was once a place that humans long ago spoke about.'

Arthur offers no further input, so Francis continues. 'It could have been someone's favourite place to go on holiday, or it could have been a small village where children grew up and played, or it could have been the site of a terrible battle from long long ago.'

'It probably was the site of a battle, at least once.' Arthur mutters from his bed.

Francis ignores him. 'It seems like a shame. Whatever is there will be built on by us; it's almost as if we're destroying its history.'

'We're not destroying it,' Arthur's voice is quiet but speaks volumes; he's thought about this before, 'we're adding to it. We're just another story for it to keep.'

Francis laughs and calls him sentimental but regrets it when Arthur throws a well aimed pillow at him.

'Shut it! Now, give that back.'

'No.'

'Francis! Give. it. back.'

'Why? You threw it at me, I did not take it from you.'

'For fuck sake, you utter waste of a human.' He's clambering down and once Francis sees his toes on the rungs of the ladder he rolls onto his belly, trapping the pillow beneath him. Arthur tugs on his shoulder and succeeds in rolling Francis back over but before he can do much else Francis grabs him and pulls him down to the bed. Arthur gives an undignified squawk, his head hits one of the metal frames and he tumbles gracelessly onto Francis' lap.

Francis can't help but laugh. 'Oh Arthur I'm sorry, are you-' but he's stopped by Arthur punching him in the eye, hard, and then there's one of their neighbours hammering on the wall next to Francis' ear, bellowing for them to shut the fuck up already because it's 1 am and some people plan on trying to sleep tonight.

They are taken down in the shuttle the next day in the afternoon. They're not allowed outside yet, they need to adjust to the planet's gravity and get used to the micro bacteria in the air, so they are housed in the Arrivals' building and assigned a room to sleep in for the time being. Francis has a black eye and Arthur has an egg-sized lump on his forehead but they're both too busy staring out of the window at the dazzling sunshine to complain that they've been put together, again.

……………………………………………………………………

Ludwig disappeared with Gilbert two days after his attack. Thanks to his illness though, they both easily convinced their parents that they'd rather stay home than making the trip to their grandparents' house and so they saw them off with ease, Gilbert trying not to grin and Ludwig trying not to give them away with how much he was sweating. As soon as they were alone he and his brother went to their rooms and packed a bag, Ludwig agonising over the situation with himself the whole time. When the day came a still wobbly Ludwig was bundled in his brother's transport pod and they both travelled to their boarding dock. It was so easy to leave.

Maybe that's what Ludwig is hurt most about. Neither parent seemed to care that he couldn't make it to his grandparents', neither parents called to check in one them whilst they were away. They probably wouldn't know anything was wrong until they returned, a few days too late to stop them.

Despite the ease of everything else, the trip itself is horrible. Ludwig's body, having only barely adjusted to his own ship's gravity systems, now finds itself thrust upon a different one and is rebelling angrily against him. The attacks are more frequent now than ever, leaving him unable to work at anything for long before another one knocks him back to bed. Today is one such day, he curls up in his bunk and tries not to complain or let his brother know how bad he feels; Gilbert does enough for him already.

He must have fallen into a daze, because he wakes up in a panic to the sounds of Gilbert kicking the door open and flinging his work bag against the wall with a thud. He tries to sit up but the world pitches alarmingly, so for the good of both of them and the state of their floor he lays back down gingerly. 'Bad day?'

Gilbert snorts and flops down on the floor to tug off his boots. 'I'll fucking say, there was massive electrical surge in one of the computers and it fucked up at least a third of people's personal systems on the ship.'

Ludwig clucks his tongue in sympathy and looks his brother over with concern. Despite looking harried he doesn't seem too worse for wear, but he works far too much in order to support them both and it's tiring him out. However, someone needs to pay for their keep and it sure as hell can't be Ludwig at the moment.

Gilbert catches him staring and glares at him, knowing what he's thinking about. They've been down that particular road before and despite how guilty Ludwig feels he can't get further than simply mentioning the topic before Gilbert either walks away or throws something at him to get him to shut up. The guilt sits on Ludwig like a stone, pushing down on his chest. His brother had a life, had a future, and he gave it all way to become this, an engineer's whipping boy for a brother who can't even sit up most of the time let alone pull his own weight. Useless.

Gilbert throws a boot at his head and Ludwig yelps. 'Get rid of that look from your face, I'm doing this because I want to, ya hear?'

Ludwig nods, because that's what his brother wants him to do.

'Good. Besides, it wouldn't have been half as bad if the head engineer wasn't such a dick. Rumour is that there's a boy genius on board we picked up at the last stop but when ol' Stevie went to get him to help the boy turned him down.' Gilbert gives a scoff. 'He's got balls, whoever he is. Either that or he's an idiot. Besides, if they'd let me have a look at it I could've probably done it.'

Ludwig rolls his eyes but refrains from saying anything further. He leaves Gilbert to undress and unwind in silence, only speaking to him again once he's sure his brother has relaxed enough.

'What if nothing changes, when we get to Earth.'

Gilbert, from where he's sprawled himself in their chair, visibly stiffens. He's obviously considered this too, then. Maybe the possibility has been on his mind just as much as it's been praying on Ludwig's. How could it not? 'It will.'

'But-'

'It will!' Gilbert has clenched his e-tab tighter, Ludwig can see the whites of his knuckles from here. 'It will, so there's no point worrying about it.'

Ludwig breathes deeply. 'It's something we've got to think about.' He says gently. If not for him, for what Gilbert will do next.

Gilbert curls his lip and refuses to look up. He prods his tab awake with more force than is needed. 'No, it's not. If it don't work, if you still can't do anything more than roll about, then at least you'll be better off than home.'

'I might be, but what about you?'

'What about me?' Finally, Gilbert looks up and he's furious. Gilbert is very free with his emotions, but never has anything negative been directed towards Ludwig before and it startles him. 'You think I was happy back there? Just because I was strong enough for them? Well you're just as fucking stupid as they were if that's so.' He stands up, crosses the room and starts to pull on his boots again.

'Gilbert-'

'You were wasting away there.' Gilbert's voice cuts though Ludwig like a knife because it's the truth, no matter how much he tries to deny it. 'They were happy to let you die if that's what it came to and I somehow was supposed to not care about that. It was fine, right? As long as they had one of us. But that meant I had to be everything, Lud. I had to be both of us and both of us had to be fucking perfect.'

Gilbert looks at him, curled up pathetically in bed and shakes his head at him, face unreadable. 'What kind of life is that?'

Boots on he wrenches open the door and walks out with a bang, leaving Ludwig mortified. How selfish of him.

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edyacouky · 4 years

Text

Stressful week (3/?)

Hi, the tags change with his chapter because of smut (sort of? First time I write some I hope you will like it) between Jason and Roy ;)

Hope you will like it.

Have a nice day !

Can be read on AO3

Can be read on Tumblr Prev - Next

~*~

Jason is fourteen years old again. He lays down on his bed, hidden by his sheet with his head underneath his pillow. He remembers clearly this day.

He was in rut at his school. Despite not having friend there, he was happy to be there. He was exchanging his history books for his math’s, when suddenly white powder explode on his face.

“Hey Toad! Matthew, an alpha jock older than Jason that hate him since he refuses doing his homework. Always knew you were a junkie like your slutty mom.”

He laughs at his stupid joke supporting by his stupid friends.

It wasn’t the first time they make joke about Jason or his mother, it wouldn’t be the last time.

Every time Jason keep his mouth shut up. He said nothing when they burst the tires of his bike, when they stole his clothes after PE, when they push him or insult him. He always stay calm because he didn’t want give to Bruce any reason to regret bring him to his life.

But this day, he give in. He looks daggers at Matthew.

“What? Matthew exclaims underestimated him because of Jason’s height. Are you going to cry?”

He pushes Jason against a wall and Jason snap.

He still didn’t remember much after that.

That’s Bruce who tell him once Jason was lucid and calm enough to listen to him.

Using what he learned as Robin and in the street, to massacre Matthew and his littles friends. Of course the principal called Bruce, he wanted to expel definitively Jason. He never appreciate Bruce’s habit to force his school to accept people from low birth. Fortunately, one of teachers of Jason proved that Jason was stretched for years now by Matthew.

Bruce menace to take away all his donation if nothing was done against Jason’s bullies. Finally, Jason wasn’t even expel for a week despite Matthew’s parents reclamations.

But Jason was feeling miserable neither less.

When they were come back home, he went hide in his bed without even thinking. It was nice when Bruce authorized him eat in bed in front of a movie after they had a very long conversation.

Jason had promised to himself not again.

But here he is again at nineteen, hiding in his bed. That’s pathetic.

“Jaylad, can you give me back the key?” Bruce asks gently

Jason groans and refuses to move.

“If I found them, will you challenge me?”

What an awful though! Jason immediately lay on his back even if he stay underneath the sheet.

“Ok. I pick them up then we will talk, ok?”

After hearing Jason’s pitiful moan, Bruce open one drawer of the desk and put his arms beyond it to catch a little box Jason used to hide here.

Something never changes.

Once he checks that the keys are inside, he gives it to Dick that waiting outside the room.

“Should I stay? He asks when he hears Jason’s cries

-No. It would be alright and you have to leave.”

Dick bites his lips unsure now that he have to, despite all the obligation he has.

“I love you Littlewing, see you soon.” He finally says knowing that Jason will have all help he needs

Bruce comes sit down next to Jason, putting gently away the sheet.

“I … I’m sorry …

-We understand, Jay. That’s ok.

-Why?

-The drug will have less effect with the days …”

Jason shakes his head.

“Why are you nice?”

Bruce wants to be upset but the batarang’s scar that he left on Jason’s neck, shut him up. Gently he caresses it with bile on his throat.

Knowing that Universe gifted Bruce by giving his son back and what he did to this gift …

“Because you’re my son. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you’re my son and I love you so much.

-I always love you. I lied when I said I hated you. Jason confess between his sobs

-You shouldn’t. Bruce murmurs because he knows that he didn’t want to Jason when he came back

-What?

-Roy should arrives today. Bruce says changing the subject. You can’t leave the Manor as long as the drug is in your blood. But he asks for my permission to stay here.

-He’s in heat. Jason admits blushing furiously

-Yeah, he tell me. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

After a long silence where Jason calm down a little, Bruce says:

“Roy seems care about you a lot. I’m glad you have him as a friend.”

Jason looks at Bruce unsure. Is that possible that Bruce really don’t know about Roy and Jason’s relationship or does he refuses to say anything about it until Jason does?

“Me too.

-I’m letting you rest. You need it.”

Even if Jason doesn’t want to sleep, too afraid of what could happen, he is too tired to fight it longer.

~*~

Hours later, Jason is wake up by someone entering in his room. Jumping out of his bed, he forgets for a moment where he is and he panics to have none of his weapon near him.

“Sorry Jaybird, didn’t mean to frighten you.

-Roy? He asks like he doesn’t believe his eyes

-I even bring food. Roy says showing the lunch tray. Alfred cooks so you risk nothing.”

His relief seeing Roy safe and sound express with an almost hysterical laugh. He jumps on Roy’s arms so suddenly that he barely hasn’t time to put down the lunch tray.

“I’m glad to see you too.”

They inhale each other scent deeply. Jason still stink despite the relief of being with his mate. Roy plans to propose him to eat then to shower when a deep purring stop him.

“You smell so good, Roy.”

Damn! Roy’s blood starts abandon his brain. He have to calm down now and not like a “stupid bitch in heat” like a bad porno. He is better than that. He comes here not to take Jason’s knot but to take care of him.

Without know the conflict inside Roy’s mind, Jason begins to suck Roy’s scent gland, groping his butt and making him go sit on the desk.

Roy is so wet with so little, he have to stop that now before he doesn’t want to.

“I heard you said that you were thinking of me. What were you thinking?”

Ok that’s it. End of the game.

Just thinking of what he did this morning make him hard.

He pushes a little Jason so his scent doesn’t confuse him as much, but when he sees Jason’s expression he can’t stop them.

Yes, Jason is pretty horny right now, but there is insecurity too. Like he could be possible that Roy doesn’t think of Jason in good term.

He lost the battle.

“I was thinking of you. Roy finally said. There was some Jane Austen adaptation on TV and it made me think of you. I imagine you next to me on the couch.”

While Jason untie Roy’s belt, the redhead completely forget where he is and why. Roy can just help him lower his pant and boxer and keep talking.

“At first, I …Ah …”

How Roy survive without Jason’s smart fingers? He doesn’t know.

“I just … Fuck … imagine what you could say about … about the adaptation … Fuck! Slow down … just a little … Just …. Fuck … But then I started to … started to …

-Started to what?”

Roy almost insult Jason for not putting his damn finger inside him already. He takes a deep breathe, that make him remember that Jason is still on the edge, then answer:

“I started to languish of you.”

Roy can’t keep his moan down when Jason penetrates him with his finger. Regardless of what Roy may think, Jason doesn’t teasing him. He’s really anxious that Roy could say to stop at any moment and orders him to back off.

He was sure that Roy was started to realize he was better without Jason.

“I started to touch myself. You have no idea how much I wanted to call you, heard your voice but … Fuck! One more, please! But I … knew that you were with your pack and … that would have be awkward.

-I’m sorry I wasn’t with you.

-Don’t be I found a good alternative.”

Like he’s under a cold shower, Jason is calm down immediately and take a step away from Roy who yelps to the sudden loss of touch.

“What?

-What?

-With who?”

They hadn’t anymore an open relationship. How could Roy think it would be ok to sleep with anyone else and tell him like that?

Roy’s face turn white by Jason’s distress before turning red when he understand what’s going on.

“No one. I swear Jaybird. I didn’t mean that like that.

-What’s it then the alternative?

-Oh please, don’t make me tell you. Roy begs embarrassed

-Who it was?

-No one. It was … Fuck! Do … Do you remember that dare with Kory?

-Which one? Jason asks trying to remember all the dares they did involving other people

-The dildo one, Jay.” Roy answers a little exasperated

Jason frown then he opens his eyes wide.

One time, before Roy and Jason were lover, Kory, who must have known before them their feeling, dared a little too drunk Jason to gift Roy with a dildo shaped like his dick. And he did.

“I lie when I say that I never used it, ok? Roy admits his cheeks as red as his hairs. I used it a lot since you gave it to me. I used it yesterday because … Because I needed you, your cock, your fucking knot. Fuck I need it now.”

Jason doesn’t need much more to drop down his pant and penetrate Roy.

“I’m sorry I believed … Jason start to say

-Keep fucking me and we’re good.”

And Jason does just that like it may decide of the future of their relationship. Roy forgets everything that isn’t the two of them. They don’t even realize how loud is the sound of the desk beating the wall as the same rhythm as Jason’s thrust.

Would Jason aged of fifteen be proud to discover that one day he will bring the most gorgeous omega he met in his room or would he be outraged seeing his books and pencil fall loudly on the ground?

Who knows?

Only when Jason’s knot finally calm down, that Roy remembers why he was in Jason’s room.

“Fuck, I was supposed make you eat and take a shower. Roy groans

-Well, I won’t say no to neither of that, so mission successful.

-Yeah, my plans are always perfect.” Roy jokes before they kiss

If Roy succeed make Jason eat and take showers, on the other hand, they don’t leave the room all the evening. Fortunately, all the kids are at school, and Bruce leave for Wayne Enterprise soon after Roy’s arrive. Alfred is smart enough to avoid this part of the Manor.

~*~

“Damian could you please tell Jason and Roy that’s dinner is ready, please. Bruce asks when he realizes their absence

-Out of question. It reek sex twenty foot around his room. Damian refuses disgusted

-What do you mean?” Bruce demands perplexed

All his children and Alfred look at him with wide eyes unable to believe Bruce.

“Wait you mean you don’t know?

-I don’t know what?

-Roy and Jason are a couple. I thought everyone knew.

-I thought they are just friend.

-Well is it not like an omega and an alpha can be only friend. Tim says amused by the fact Bruce didn’t know about Roy and Jason’s relationship

-What you said it so absurd I don’t know where to start.” Duke says

Tim tries to defend himself, to qualify his words, but Bruce interrupts him with a hiding smile:

“Does that mean Clark and I should make sure Conner and you have always a chaperone?

-It’s not the same. The younger alpha furiously blushes

-How so?

-Well, Conner is half krypton so he is not really an omega.

-Don’t think everyone will agree with you.”

True is Lex Luthor wouldn’t be. After all, he didn’t make sure that Conner will be an omega so the next Super would be easier to make, only to have his kind of son being treat like he is not a perfect omega.

“Sorry. We’re here.” Jason says entering in the dining room without stop blushing Roy just behind him

If Bruce doesn’t know before, now he is sure about what kind of relation Jason and Roy have. Even with their best effort, they didn’t success hide their bite marks.

Jason is uncomfortable when Bruce keeps looking at him. He knew that he should have prepare the lunch and the diner and serve his pack.

“Relax, Duke says, Bruce didn’t know that Roy is your mate that all.”

A cocky smile appears on Jason’s face even if he is anxious about what Bruce will say about it.

“You really didn’t know?

-Does that mean I have to leave?

-Not at all. Bruce reassures them. Obviously, you keep Jason calming in a way we can’t.

-Oh my … Please tell me you didn’t that like that.”

Bruce ignore the blushing and outraged children during all the diner. If they could make fun of him, he can make fun of them. That’s the law.

~*~

This night too, Jason insist for everyone to sleep on the living room again.

Damian installs himself when Jason takes him in his arms to smell him.

“Unhand me right now, Todd! Jeez, I prefer when I was an only child.” Damian groans

After another breath, Jason let him go to say:

“You will present soon. Tomorrow you stay here.”

#dc comics #aboverse #alpha!jason #omega!roy #jayroy

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tommyhardyx · 5 years

Text

Caught

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Summary: You’re a Shelby sibling who has been dating Alfie for almost a year, successfully keeping your brothers in the dark about your relationship. They just found out. Warnings: swearing A/N: This was a struggle to write, but I think I’m finally happy with it. Enjoy!

Perched upon Alfie’s desk, shoes abandoned by his chair you rest your feet on his lap as his calloused hand moves up your smooth skin, disappearing under the cover of your dress fingers biting into the skin of your thigh hard enough to feel it but not quite hard enough to hurt.

“Shouldn’t you be working, Mr Solomons?” you tease, foot moving up his thigh to gently press into his crotch, feeling how he’s already started getting hard.

“And I’d be able to if you weren’t such a fucking distraction,” he says.

Alfie’s grin is wide and easy as he watches you, glad that his distraction from work is something as incredible as you and not a cause for worry. he enjoys the feeling of your legs beneath his hands

You’d been forced back to Birmingham for the past two weeks for a family meeting Tommy had called, then got stuck catching up with your family until finally, you could come back to London. While it had been nice to see them, and you’re glad to know you’re still included in family meetings despite not being a partner in the company or even having a job through them, you had missed Alfie while you were gone wishing you could just tell someone about the man you had waiting for you to get back to London.

But of course, there’s no way you can tell them, with the way Alfie has a habit of going back on his word to your brother you can easily guess how Tommy would react to the news that his youngest sister has been dating Alfie Solomons behind his back.

“I was thinking, I could maybe…” he trails off, his eyes drifting past you and through the open door, the smile on his face drying up.

You turn in place, glancing over your shoulder and watching, your heart dropping into your stomach, as all three of your older brothers walk straight towards you. The anger on Arthur’s face is like nothing you’ve seen on him before, face red as his glare bores into you. John’s face is hard, but you know him well enough to know its just a show knowing what his real anger looks like. Tommy is Tommy, his face impossibly blank as the three of them make their way into the room, impossible to read what he’s feeling from his expression.

“Oh fuck.”

Alfie tries to move his hand from your thigh, but you pull your legs together trapping it there as you match your brothers’ glares, eye’s fixing in on Tommy’s.

“Thomas,” Alfie says in greeting, breaking the tense silence that has filled the office.

“y/n, move away from him,” Arthur demands, hands curled into fists at his sides.

You scoff, gaze sliding from Tommy to Arthur as you move your hand pointedly to rest on top of where Alfie’s sits on your thigh.

“And why would I do that?” you ask.

“He’s a bad man y/n, we’ve just got your best interests in mind,” he explains.

“And what are you three, fucking choir boys? No Arthur, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to make me move his hand away from my cunt.”

Your word choice deliberate, the mere idea of Alfie’s hand being close to such an intimate part of you, there right before his eyes, enough to cause your oldest brother to wince. Out of the corner of your eye, the snicker from John doesn’t go unnoticed.

Alfie sits back in his chair, a small smile pushing its way to his lips as he watches the way you fight back against your brothers refusing to let them take something you care about so deeply away from you. It’s part of the reason he fell for you in the first place, your fiery nature gaining his interest quickly.

“So what are you going to do Tommy? Alfie’s not exactly someone you can bully until you get what you want, so what’s the point of this?” your gaze turns back to Tommy.

“Did you know, when you met her, that she was my sister?” Tommy asks, his gaze movie to meet Alfie’s.

“I had no fucking clue mate. Look, this girl moves in nearby so I keep me eye on her make sure nothing happens to her since she’s living alone far as I can tell. We talked a little here and there until she invites me for dinner, it’s been a few weeks and she seems a nice girl so I say yes. Then I find out she’s your fucking sister, mate I thought you’d fucking sent her here to get information from me but she swore she’d never even heard my name. I liked her enough to keep seeing her, and here we are,” Alfie explains, his eyes on Tommy.

“You believed her, just like that?” Arthur asks.

“She ain’t a very good liar mate.”

“Thank you for that Alfred,” you mutter, foot digging in slightly where it still sits on his crotch.

You grin at the way Alfie holds in a groan, the way Arthur's face curls up as he realises what you’re doing.

“If Alfie had mistreated me or done anything to break my trust in him, I would have come to you immediately Tommy, but he’s good to me and I care about him a lot.”

You watch Tommy’s face carefully though you know it won’t betray his thoughts, it so rarely ever does. He holds Alfie’s gaze for what seems like minutes, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife. Finally, Tommy speaks.

“If I hear one word about you hurting her, or using her to get to me, I won’t hesitate to kill you, Alfie,” Tommy says, the warning clear in his voice. “One word.”

Alfie nods, his hand retracting from where it sits under your dress as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Seems fair to me mate.”

Tommy seems satisfied with his answer, the slight relaxing of his jaw enough to settle some of the tension in the room though Arthur still has murder written on his face. With Tommy seemingly happy to let this go on, Arthur shakes his head and storms out of the room Tommy rolling his eyes before following behind him.

John is the only one to hesitate, shuffling from foot to foot for a moment before crossing the room to you where you’re perched on the desk and kisses your cheek.

“I’m happy for you y/n,” he says softly, your favourite big brother giving you a small smile.

“Thank you, John,” you tell him, hand squeezing his before he pulls away from you.

His eyes catch on Alfie but he knows there’s nothing left to say so he turns away following Tommy and Arthur out. Your body slumps, a long breath leaving you as you turn back to face Alfie.

“That went well I think,” Alfie says, looking up at you with a grin.

“Oh yeah, really well,” you mumble. “I suppose I won’t have to go back home anytime soon since I’ll more than likely be excluded from family meetings now.”

“He didn’t pull you out of here kicking and screaming, and didn’t shoot me so I’d call it a success,” he says, an attempt at getting you to smile that doesn’t work. Sighing, he takes hold of your hands, guiding you onto his lap. “You’re still their sister, they won’t be mad at you forever.”

You sigh, settling in against his broad chest his arms encircling your body as he holds you close chin resting against the top of your head.

“And if we were to get married, I wouldn’t be Shelby anymore they’d have no reason to involve me in any family decisions then,” you mutter, every bad thought that first filled your mind when you started seeing Alfie coming back to you now. “I’d be nothing to them.”

“Then fuck ‘em, if they don’t wanna know you because of me, fuck ‘em,” he says, lips brushing your forehead.

“I don’t want to lose my family, but I don’t want to lose you either,” you tell him, lacing your fingers through his.

Alfie sighs, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand as he brings it to his lips beard brushing against your hand.

“We’ll figure it out love, we’ll figure it out.”

#peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Describing Stuff

I’ve had this rattling around in my brain for a while, and I’ve got the day off and I’m trying to get used to this ergonomic keyboard I bought, so I figure I’ll write about this for a while.

Recently, I’ve been seeing more examples of really terrible writing where a male author describes a female character, and they seem to go out of their way to make it awkward and creepy and weird. I don’t really feel like quoting any excerpts here, but you can find all sorts of examples on Twitter @men_write_women .

I feel like the common thread with all the ones I’ve seen is this compulsion to describe a woman in exhausting detail. It always seems to boil down to how sexy the woman is, and why exactly she’s sexy, or what flaws she has that disqualify her from being sexy. It’s sexist, because the emphasis is on the character as a sex fantasy for the author, and presumably the reader. If the character has any other purpose in the story, it’s going to be undermined by a 500-word treatise on what her boobs look like. It also insults and dismisses a sizable portion of the audience that, you know, may not be that into boobs.

Writing is about setting priorities. People talk about unlimited creative freedom and building entire universes at the point of their humble quills, and that’s horseshit. Writing is all about deciding which parts of your daydream to keep and which to leave out. You can’t capture every tiny detail of a character, or and object, or a scene. Even if you could, it would take too long to document it all, and the reality is that the reader’s not going to parse that much information anyway. So you have to decide which parts are important and which ones aren’t. And if you blow 1,000 words trying to explain why breasts are cool, you’re sending a message to the reader about what your priorities are. The message is: “I’m horny right now, and my libido is more important to me than this character or your enjoyment of the story.” I don’t think that’s the message authors want to send.

There’s also probably some ego bound up in this. Every excerpt I see on @men_write_women seems to be completely unaware of any of the others. It’s like each writer has deluded himself into thinking he’s the first person to try to describe sexy ladies in print. That, or they think it’s been done before, but never quite right. I sense such an enthusiasm whenever I read these things, like the author is going to pull out all the stops and come up with this literary salute to badonkadonk. And it always ends up looking absurd, because they overthink it. How can they not overthink it? They're trying to come up with an extra-special description of something people see all the time. I’m pretty sure that’s how the word “badonkadonk” was invented, because no existing words were sufficient.

I’m going to talk about professional wrestling here in a minute, but first, let’s class the joint up by looking at the poem “Trees” by Alfred Joyce Kilmer.

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.

It’s that last line that made me think of the poem just now, because Kilmer recognized that he could never hope to recreate the beauty of a tree in mere words. At best, he could only string together a few lines to remind people of how nice trees look, which is an achievement in itself, but it’s never going to be as good as the real thing. If poems about trees can be beautiful, then how much more beautiful a poem is the tree itself?

But look at all the stuff he leaves out. He doesn’t mention the trunk at all, or the rough texture of the bark, or the way the leaves turn color in the fall. That’s because Kilmer wasn’t writing a monograph about the appearance of a tree for space aliens who’ve never seen one. He was making the assumption that his readers were already familiar with trees and referencing imagery they might have seen before.

I think the same trick can be applied to women (or any humans for that matter), since readers can be trusted to know what they look like. I also think it’s safe to assume that the inherent beauty of humans is comparable to that of trees, so a quick, simple description can be plenty.

That’s kind of my approach to this sort of thing. I’ve always struggled with describing things in stories, mainly because I would see these lengthy, detailed descriptions in books, and I thought I was supposed to imitate that and couldn’t really pull it off. But eventually I realized that I didn’t need to, and maybe I’m better off if I don’t even try. One of the stories that clinched this for me was “Gold” by Isaac Asimov. The main character is contracted to make a movie adaptation out of a book, which happens to resemble another Asimov story, The Gods Themselves. The problem is that the aliens in the book are sparingly described, so the guy has no idea where to begin. Through the author character, Asimov defends his own writing style, opting to keep things fairly abstract, and relying on the reader to fill in the gaps.

I could relate to this, because when I read Les Miserables in high school, I couldn’t get past Jean Valjean’s name, because it reminded me of Jean Paul-Valley, the DC Comics character who filled in as Batman while Bruce Wayne was injured in 1993-1994. Try as I might, I could not shake the image of Valjean trudging through the novel in an armored Batman costume. So eventually I stopped trying, and ran with it. I have no idea what Valjean was supposed to have looked like. Victor Hugo might have described him, but I only ever imagined a young man with long blond hair and glasses. Wearing an armored Batman costume.

I’m not sure exactly when I put it all together, but eventually I realized that it’s all theater of the mind, and ultimately the reader is going to imagine whatever the reader wants, regardless of what you put on the page. If you say this guy wore blue and the reader likes red better, they’ll just start imagining it’s red. They may know factually that it’s blue, but you can’t stop them from making that switch. Now, knowing that, doesn’t it seem a bit futile to describe exactly what shade of blue it is? You can pontificate about the profundity of the color blue, and how the guy’s shirt was the color of the ocean on a blustery afternoon off the shore of Maine, but your reader is like “Nah, mate, I like red better”, then you’re probably wasting words.

I’m not saying it’s pointless to specify details. If a reader was completely unwilling to cooperate with your story, then they’re probably not reading it in the first place. But I think writers need to make peace with the fact that readers are looking for cues and stage directions for their imaginations, not immutable details. That’s why it’s so important to prioritize. Take the most important details and get them out there up front, when the reader is most receptive to them. Boob size is not important. If boob size is one of the top three details for your character, then you either haven’t finished creating the character, or you probably don’t actually have any use for the character.

Just to demonstrate what I mean, I’m going to try to write a description of AEW referee Aubrey Edwards, as if she were a fictional character in a story. I wasn’t sure what to use for an example, but I watched All Out Saturday and she officiated the main event, so I decided to go with her. That’s her on the left, but I probably didn’t need to tell you that, since I think we all know how to spot a referee.

Now, first and foremost, if I were writing a story about a wrestling match, I probably wouldn’t bother mentioning the referee much at all. Their whole role in these events is to be as inconspicuous as possible. They just enforce the rules; it’s the wrestlers who are supposed to be the main attraction. I’d probably just keep it simple.

“The referee was a woman, but Dirk Hardcastle paid little mind to her. His main concern lay in the competitors, and which of them, if either was his archnemesis, Tad Plowshare, in disguise.”

Or I might not even go that far, and just use “she/her” pronouns whenever the referee is mentioned. I want the reader to think about where Tad Plowshare is, not the referee.

Of course, if the big twist is that the ref is important, then I have to go into a little more detail, because now she’s in the spotlight.

“It couldn’t be. Dirk knew it had to be true from the way she looked directly at him and smiled deviously. He would recognize that sinister grin on a thousand different faces. But he had already ruled out the officials and production staff as suspects. He had been so certain of this that he had ignored the referee completely, but she was definitely the one. And now that it was too late, Tad Plowshare dropped the act entirely. She pulled off the tie that held her brunette ponytail in place, and removed the black nitrile gloves from her hands. Only moments ago, her expressions and movements had been those of a consummate professional, focused entirely upon adjudicating the match. Her bright red lipstick had been the only sign that she had any sort of personal life outside of her work. Now, as she laughed in triumph, the red on her lips only reminded Hardcastle of the blood of thousands of innocents, which would soon be spilled as a consequence of his failure.”

Maybe I’m laying this on too thick, but the core things I’m trying to convey about Edwards are her no-nonsense attitude, the way she wears her hair in a ponytail, and the red lipstick she wears, which seems to contradict her serious demeanor. I wouldn’t even bother describing her referee uniform, because everyone has a general idea of what those look like. The other night, I found it kind of odd how the stripes on AEW’s refs look wider than what I’m used to seeing, but a lot of wrestling refs don’t even wear stripes at all, so it really doesn’t matter a lot. I’d probably only bring it up if there was a need to mention variations in uniform. Like if she was officiating water polo instead.

What I don’t need to spend a lot of time on is her figure. I don’t see much point in talking about how fat or thin she is unless I plan to have her crawl through a ventilation shaft, and then I could just confine it to “She fit”. And that doesn’t tell you anything because you don’t know how big the ductwork is.

Physical attractiveness is something I try to shy away from, because I figure that’s a subjective thing, and I don’t see much point in trying to cram my own standards down anyone’s throat. I don’t think it does much good to just declare that such-and-such character is attractive; it’s better to have another character do it instead, and that way it says something about both characters. This one finds the other one to be hot. If I want examples of what they find so hot in the other character, I’ll try to keep it vague. “Well, Dirk Hardcastle has a cute chin. What’s cute about it? Who knows? Who cares? The character who’s admiring his chin, that’s who. But why should it need to be explained in greater depth than that.

The handy thing about this approach is that it leaves large swaths of Dirk’s body open to interpretation. He could look like a troll doll and still have a “cute chin”. He could have chest hair or not, be chubby or skinny, and so forth. So if you want to join in the notion that he’s attractive, you can rule in your own type, whatever that is.

I don’t know if that’s making any sense, but that’s how I try to approach it. When I read these long things about knife-like boobs or gentle slopes of buttcracks or whatever, it annoys me because it feels like whoever wrote that was losing a game they never should have bothered trying to play. All they needed to do was have the character who’s looking at this woman be like “Wow, this is the hottest lady I’ve ever seen” or something like that, describe whatever sexy dress she’s got on (briefly), and you’re done. And only do that when you need to. Dirk Hardcastle doesn’t have time to size up all the ladies, not while that bastard Tad Plowshare’s running loose.

#/#//#///#////#/////#writing

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