An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
shameless self-promo but please do check out the best fic I’ve ever written
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
shameless self-promo but please do check out the best fic I’ve ever written
Slow
Everything seems to be moving slowly with my school projects, and I’m frustrated as hell with my group.
Prompt: Damian wants time to slow down, because his school project partner can have his whole life.
Most of the time, Damian abhorred school projects. They were annoying, slow, and he had no choice but to depend on the useless peons for a grade. It was ridiculous how nothing he did could get his teammates to be as invested as he was in the work.
He wanted to crawl into a bloody hole and die when projects were being handed out.
But this... this may not be as bad as he’d thought.
His new partner was beautiful, in an odd manner.
His name is Jonathan Kent, but was more comfortable with the nickname “Jon”. There were freckles across the bridge of his nose, apparently from too much sun exposure, which could only be seen if one paid close attention to him. Jonathan talked with a slight tick, whereas most students would talk with a flat accent, he had a slight Kansas accent, curling his “r”s and running through his “ch”s. It was slightly endearing. He’d laugh loudly, as opposed to the soft giggles and amused smiles of everyone else, making it known how happy he was.
Damian may have been paying too much attention to Jonathan Kent.
‘Damian, are you done with your parts yet?’ Jonathan wore a slight frown on his face, brows furrowed. The deadline for their project was in a few days, and they were nowhere near halfway done with their draft.
Fumbling slightly, Damian apologises, saying that he needed another hour or so to perfect his parts. Jonathan sighs, face softening into a bright smile -- truly, beautiful.
In truth, Damian had far more than his own parts, covering several paragraphs of research Jonathan had trouble with. However, he was reluctant to place everything in the shared document. It meant that they would have to cut their meeting short, and reduce the number of times they needed to meet to discuss the project.
He spent the next hour admiring Jonathan, slowly transferring paragraph after paragraph to the document, watching Jonathan’s face light up with amazement at the contents.
How he wished his art supplies were next to him right now!
(How he wished time would slow down, so that he could admire Jonathan more.)
Their meeting came to an end when they were both satisfied with their draft.
Disappointed, Damian packed up his belongings, fingers itching for a pen and paper. ‘I will see you in class tomorrow, Jonathan,’ he says his farewell, wondering if he’d done it as Grayson had taught, giving an awkward little wave (which Drake had mentioned made one friendlier) before turning to walk out the library.
‘W-wait, Damian!’ A desperate shout echoes in the silence, startling him. Jonathan grabs his wrist, tugging him with enough force to turn him around.
Panting lightly, Jonathan takes a huge breath. Damian noticed how there were flecks of violet in sky blue eyes. Damian also noticed how close they were.
‘U-uhm,’ Jonathan stutters, averting his gaze, stumbling back. ‘I was wondering... if we could hang out tomorrow, after class?’
Dumbfounded, Damian nods. ‘Are we not done with our project?’
Jonathan’s cheeks turn pink, confusing him even more.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
thanks @fuckyeahfoodfantasy for helping me study last night hjgibrngrjg
Trapped Under Rubble
So @desolationofzara and I were talking about something, which led to us discussing Damian's kinks — and we both decided that our boy has a strength kink. Particularly, when Jon uses his strength unknowingly. Their age isn't stated in this, but they're definitely legal!!
----
A distant wailing of sirens from approximately twenty-five meters away. Damian wriggles his fingers, trying desperately to get them to react properly. His eyesight is clearing up, and all of his previously optimistic hopes had been crushed.
He was trapped in a pile of debris. Splinters of sunlight filtered in from the cracks, and Damian used it to try and get his body out from under the pile of rubble. His thigh had been punctured by a steel pole, and was bleeding out profusely. He was sure he was suffering a minor concussion. Four out of ten fingers were bent crooked. His right arm was twisted at a weird angle.
Father would be disappointed if he saw the state that Damian was in now.
Collecting what was left of his strength, he drags his legs close to his body. The pain is immediate, a million pulsing shocks wracking his spine and setting his body aflame, his eyes prick with tears. He breathes harshly and heavily. Damian refuses to make a pained sound. Several minutes pass before his legs are tucked up against his chest. His left hand inspects the small hole in his thigh, as well as check for other minor injuries, and he sighs in relief when he finds that the pole had made a clean wound. Patching it up would be slightly easier.
The moment he tried to extract his injured arm, though, a wave of unexplicable pain crashes into him. The nausea he feels disorients him, and he whimpers helplessly, body crouched over his right arm.
'Damian!' A familiar voice shouts. Superboy — Jonathan. Relief courses through him instantly. Jonathan would get him out of here. And since when, a small part of his brain questions, did you start relying on Jonathan?
Damian has no time to reflect on it as the rubble is lifted, and sunlight pours down on him — effectively blinding him. Jonathan, whose face is too dark to get a look at, stands tall above him, a large piece of what appeared to be a wall in his hands above his head.
His breath is caught in his throat. Jonathan had never looked.... better.
'Damian! Oh my God! I thought you died! I couldn't find your heartbeat anywhere?!' Jonathan babbles, voice breaking, snapping Damian out of his trance. 'Help,' he croaks weakly, prodding his trapped arm. Jonathan clears the debris easily enough, albeit face wet from tears and an angry look in his eyes. Damian wheezes, lying lifelessly on the floor.
'Stupid Damian,' Jonathan mumbles worriedly, hovering over him like a buzzing bee. After several more seconds, and what Damian assumes is Jonathan using his X-Ray vision to see if there were any more broken bones, Jonathan lifts his battered body in a bridal carry — similar to how Superman would carry Batman.
'Stupid Damian,' Jonathan huffs once more. Damian chuckles dryly, 'I'm sorry. I'll be more careful, next time.'
'There won't be a next time!' Damian ignores Jonathan's angry shout, instead curling into Jonathan's chest; his eyes are heavy. The image of Jonathan lifting the broken wall with ease comes back to him, and Damian spends the whole trip back to Gotham fantasizing about Jonathan's strength.
A Meddler
so i thought this was supposed to be a joke account but here i am. posting. actual content.
Pokemon AU; but everything still applies~
for more pokemon au!
a love letter, from barris
'there's something beautiful about the way the light spills from the window, splintering into thin weaves of an ethereal dress, spun of silvery gold and seven hundred smiles. and then there's you, who bathes in this presence, blond hair lit up into a shimmering white as you turn your head, sky blue eyes shining in amazement and curiosity as you take all the knowledge that you can, an endless sea of books sprawled around you.
nimble fingers trace ancient words, ink smudging onto fair skin. however, your attention never sways, not even for a fraction of this endless time. there's something about the way you smile, soft and serene, as if you've finally found the ultimate reason for existence, when you turn yellowing pages of a leather-bound book.
"these are hard to come by," you whisper to yourself, feeling the coarseness of wearing cattle pelt, marvelling at the binding, face smoothing out into enlightenment as you palm the spine, wrinkles lining the length of the forgotten text.
and it's in this scene, this poem, that i realise why you're always the best version of yourself surrounded in a whirlwind of words.'
Barris Sakan’s No Good, Rather Terrible Day
Don’t ask me how this all started -- I don’t want to explain:”) There are slight mentions and descriptions of blood, so please avoid this if you’re not comfortable with them!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Jonathan wasn't one for sports, he'll be quick to admit. But that doesn't explain why he's in the basketball club.”
it’s been a while since i wrote these two!!! i’m testing out a new writing style, and also some basketball au;)