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cetaceans-pls · 6 months

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Not sure if this is an idea (or if it’s too late to submit ideas) but your Cool Bruce flirting with and flustering Jason for once was pretty fun! We’ve seen Bruce in King Tide be rescued by his hell hound of a boyfriend, what if the tables were reversed? (in any case love how you write our favourite middle aged struggling bat and his interpersonal relationships! Also adore how you write him and Damian together!)

never too late to ride the Cool Boy Bruce Wayne train!! this one's going to be a sequel to ram ventilation bc truly TRULY i'm so unwell over alpha!jason/beta!bruce :')

Jason remembers back in The Old Days, when life stretched long and sweet ahead of him and nights were filled with magic and butter yellow capes flapping by his knees in the wind, one singularly miserable experience of getting kidnapped by some shitheads who'd seen a kid wandering around a bookstore in too-nice shoes and gone a-ha!

Alfred couldn't have been much further than the other side of the store making polite conversation with the cashier, but he'd been picked up and spirited out back to an alley quicker than he could scream. He'd gone soft by that point, gotten used to living in the lap of luxury, and the instinct to bite and fight and spit and scream had come in too late, had kicked in when he'd been stuffed into the boot of a nondescript sedan.

He'd thrown up, he's pretty sure, weeping with a terror that he hadn't felt in a lifetime (about 8 months), sure that he was going to be killed and he was going to be missed and that's so so so much worse (who's going to take care of Alfred? And Bruce?) than when it was just him and it was just dying.

Afterwards, he'll find out that between abduction and recovery he was maybe missing for 25 minutes, though it had felt like a lifetime in that dark quiet little box (must've been an omen). Between the little tracker Jason has in all his shoes and half his socks and Bruce who'd been driving down to come meet them for lunch, the solution had come with the car screeching to a screaming halt, horns blasting and a lot of yelling. Jason couldn't tell what was going on, could just hear glass breaking and a fever pitch of screaming and his nose started running (even harder) because everyone's letting out every scent under the sun during whatever scuffle was going on in the front of the car.

He'd maybe thrown up a little more at that point, before the car boot had been wrenched open and there was Bruce, roiling in anger you usually couldn't scent on him even in the middle of a horrific fight, blood and glass embedded in his fist, shirt still foppishly unbuttoned that little bit too low down his chest.

"Hi Jason," he'd said, voice hoarse like he'd forgotten how talk for just a little bit, had forgotten how to be a human when he'd gone Crazy Mode, pulling out in front of the abductors' car before breaking the driver side window with keys clenched tight between fingers, foregoing any flashy moves to set his teeth on the man's throat and bite him unconscious.

Jason'll find all that out afterwards. In that moment, despite Bruce and his bloodied face and his bloodied hands and his bloody scent, Jason had wept then leapt into Bruce's arms, had felt so burnt up that someone had come that he'd forgotten to be a human too, crying and crying and pressing his face hard as he could against where Bruce's scent is rapidly going from hot bleached anger to barely-there warmth, the memory of warm bread you'd enjoyed just an hour before with a love of your life.

That's probably when he'd fallen, even if he hadn't known. Get you a man that'll punch a window out for you, that'll attempt to rip someone's throat out for you, that'll pick you up in amongst blood and wreckage and love you and love you and love you.

Here's hoping for a repeat performance, Jason thinks, shifting a little bit to try and get comfortable. It is, luckily, much less scary, because he's died before and everyone survived that incident, including himself.

By this point, the kidnappers could taunt him with a gun to his head and go boyo there're fates worse than death and all Jason would say is brother I'll give you a literal million dollars if you can name a single thing worse that I haven't already experienced.

So, no, the emotional stakes aren't as high today as they were way back then. It's just been a good long while since he was last properly abducted; he's just feeling nostalgic.

Besides, it's good for, like, enrichment purposes. Jason got picked up as easy prey because he's the no-name Alpha that netted the hottest commodity in the entirety of the Eastern seaboard, so the ties around his wrist aren't terribly professional both the kidnappers have already accidentally had their real names said out loud while manhandling him into the back of an SUV (though in all fairness the world is pretty full of Jeremies and Matthews). He could get up and go, but while nowadays he's opposed to trackers in his shoes he's still got them in half his socks, and today was a tracker-sock kind of day (they're the wooliest ones to hide the bug and it's been chilly, hey). He knows that once the time's come and the time's gone for his little plov dinner date with Bruce at the Turkmenistani restaurant over by 12th and Circuit, the hunting party's gonna come.

Bat's been getting some type of vicious again lately, after the situation with them little kiddies getting maimed working graveyard shifts with heavy machinery, and to be fair so had Jason, but the Red Hood's precision-designed to enact violence on evil-doers while Bruce... well. He built himself up for violence, sure, can mete it out really well when push comes to shove, but Bruce isn't made from violence, doesn't have that streak to him that, hysterically, most of his kids really really do. So Jason's taken it upon himself to act as a distraction for when B's gotten wound up too tight, and excuse to play-act violence so he can go back to what he's meant to be (some guy dressed as a tiny fuzzy mammal running around in the dark trying desperately to make sure kids and former-kids are okay).

Resting on this gentle thought, Jason briefly worms his way out of his ties to tug a sock that's running too low, before rebinding himself. He'd fuck around on his phone, but he's pretty sure a bright screen would be a giveaway even for abductors this low-level, so he unfocuses a little and instead delves into a oft-visited fantasy (him and Bruce cosplaying as average men in an average relationship warmly arguing over the cost of a bottle of good olive oil before going home to get nasty-disgusting on a 2nd-hand full-size mattress that has seen plenty of nasty-disgusting action).

He gets to a hot point where the olive oil's being used for undue purposes, scent starting to bloom a little, fresh cedar log on a smouldering fire, when the van he's in screeches to a halt and there is So Much Screaming.

Jason didn't really have time to brace for impact and will likely come out of it with a pretty bruised shoulder. Yeowch, he goes on the inside of his head, before once again slipping out of his restraints to take a look at what the hell's going on, how they could've gotten into a traffic accident going at a crawl in Gotham's snarling after-work congestion.

He sits up and leans forward just in time to see a bloody fist smash through the window while Jeremy screams at a pitch that's been unfamiliar since puberty hit. The glass doesn't shatter, but that makes it a little worse when the fist withdraws and most of a sheet of cracked window goes with it, violence ringed in glittering glass.

Matty the driver is also screaming like a choir boy, shrieks like a warbler on steroids when Jeremy gets hauled out of his seat and out through the window like he's been sucked into a Black Hole, spaghettified, when it's just Bruce in a downright demure turtleneck with most of a plate of glass hanging 'round by his elbow. Bruce isn't growling, doesn't have the throat for it, isn't raising his hackles, doesn't have the neck for it, doesn't even seem to be feeling very much at all while Jerry-boy screams and weeps and screams and weeps.

Bruce seems almost delicately unbothered as he picks Jeremy up like a ragdoll and bites down on his throat with teeth that should be too blunt for this, holding down just long enough for the man to pass out and go limp in his arms. Bruce spits out a mouth full of blood before setting the man down gently in the scattering of glass on the ground. Jason looks on and he knows he reeks at this point, knows he's salivating and he's growling and his hackles are up because he's built for it and he's hot for it, and takes a short moment to think that maybe he's underestimated, a little bit, Bruce's instinctive capacity for violence.

Bruce doesn't pay him any mind, because there's still a Threat here, still Matty in the driver's side, but this is in fact a non-issue because when Bruce starts reaching for Matthew, doesn't even bother to pull the door open because he doesn't need more than the space of a car window to deal a reckoning, well. Matty yells like his blood's curdling in his veins, and then he passes out, a complete cessation of terrified Alpha scent.

Then and only then does Bruce turn to look to the back, face looking almost serene but for another man's blood limning his mouth. "Hi, Jason," he says a little hoarsely, like he'd forgotten how to be a regular person for a little bit there. "I found you," he says a little messily, like he's re-finding what it means to be a lot human and his heart's crawling out his throat. "Are you hurt?"

Quite despite himself, Jason finds himself with tears burning his eyes out. "I'm good," he says, voice like sandpaper-on-sandpaper violence. "Thanks for coming to get me."

"Always," Bruce says with the hot-hearted grim confidence of a man who has bare-knuckle punched his way through car windows repeatedly to get to Jason and will keep on doing so for the rest of his natural life.

Jason can barely stifle a shudder. "Sorry I missed our date."

Bruce shrugs. "I got takeout in the car," he says mildly, tugging the backdoor open to help Jason out. The 'car' in question is one of Bruce's jaguars, an expensive black, with the bonnet crumpled wildly on account of having smashed into the front right side of the kidnapper's SUV. He sees Jason looking at the destruction, and just smiles like a madman. "Don't worry, I put it in the backseat."

"Baby," Jason says, shudders racing after each other up-down his back as he thinks distantly of defiled second-hand mattresses, "I think we got better plans for the backseat than that.

#whale writing #brujay #can u believe it #writing cool!bruce is actually a thing i can actually do and actually enjoy #writing these fuckin losers is a great act of self-care if i really think about it #whale replies #hope u enjoy this anon!

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misscorn · 1 year

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Day 2 - Traffic/Late

It’s midnight where I am so TECHNICALLY it’s day 2 of @sihjrweek lol please enjoy a little bit of what I suppose is post-confession bickering

Takano Masamune groaned in irritation as the cars in front of him came to another complete standstill. They couldn’t have moved more than five inches before Takano had to press on the brakes. Again.

“I told you we should’ve just taken the train to work.”

That very helpful and not at all annoying comment came from his passenger, Onodera Ritsu, who was currently slouched in his seat with his arms crossed.

“And now we’re going to show up late together, which is no doubt going to look weird.” Ritsu continued, a pout starting to form on his face. Ritsu was sure that their coworkers were already starting to suspect things and it didn’t help that Masamune practically encouraged it.

“It’ll look less weird if you give me a couple hickies right now.”

Case and point.

“How would that make it look less weird?!”

“Less room for speculation, then they’ll know for sure why we’re late.”

“THAT’S NOT EVEN WHY WE’RE LATE!”

“So loud…” Masamune complained.

Ritsu decided to ignore this comment, “You’re late because your lazy ass didn’t want to walk to the train station and I’m late because you dragged me into your car with you.”

“Well, at least I can kiss you while we’re stopped like this.” Masamune said.

Ritsu’s hands immediately went up, as if ready to fight him off. “Absolutely not.”

“What? Why? It’s just us.”

“People can still see into the car!”

“Well, if they don’t like what they see then they should have minded their own business in the first place.” Masamune reasoned. “Besides, we might as well do something fun instead of just sitting here and suffering.”

Ritsu narrowed his eyes as he very, very briefly considered the option before shaking his head. “No, I’m not rewarding you for this stupid decision. Then you’ll start insisting on taking the car all the time.”

Masamune sighed and parked the car, shutting his eyes. “Fine, then wake me up when we start moving again.”

“No! You don’t get a couple extra minutes of sleep, it’s your fault we’re in traffic in the first place, if anyone should get to nap it’s me.” Ritsu reached over to immediately start poking and pinching Masamune’s arm, simultaneously keeping him awake and getting revenge for all the times Masamune had prodded him.

Masamune half-heartedly tried to swat his hand away, not opening his eyes yet. “You’re too high strung to nap. You’d never be able to fall asleep, all worried about being late.”

“Don’t say that like it’s unreasonable for me to be worried about being late.” Ritsu huffed.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to fire you over it.”

“You’re not the only person with the power to fire me.”

“I’ll just hold Emerald hostage and threaten to quit.” Masamune said. “If you’re not there then I’m not there. And we all know that place would fall apart without me.”

Ritsu rolled his eyes, he’s such a dramatic and cocky bastard. I can’t believe I willingly spend any time with him. I can’t believe I willingly date him.

“Well, you still can’t go to sleep, because then I’m here suffering from traffic alone.” Ritsu said.

Masamune sighed, but opened his eyes. “I guess it can’t be helped then. I’ll give you all of my attention to make up for putting you through traffic. Will you forgive me?” He asked, trying not to smirk.

“Shut up.” Ritsu said. “That isn’t what I meant at all. What I meant was that you have to suffer too, so it’s fair.”

“Whatever you say, darling.”

Ritsu gave him such a nasty side eye that Masamune wouldn’t be surprised if Ritsu was trying to telepathically kill him.

“So, that’s still a no on terms of endearment?” Masamune had tried ‘sweetheart’, ‘dear’, ‘baby’, ‘babe’, and now ‘darling’. The reactions so far were mixed.

“I don’t like dear. It’s what my parents call each other, so it makes me feel old. And I…don’t like it when you use them sarcastically.” Ritsu mumbled that last part, attempting to sink further into his seat, wanting to hide.

“Ah, I see.” Masamune said, reaching over and managing to coax Ritsu out of crossing his arms so that they could hold hands. “I promise I will only say them sincerely from here on out.”

Ritsu turned red and avoided meeting his eyes, opting to stare out the passenger side window, but he did give Masamune’s hand a squeeze. “And don’t use them at work. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Masamune echoed, trying not to smile at Ritsu’s little attitude.

“And nothing weird!” Ritsu added with urgency, sitting up straighter. “No weird terms of endearment.”

“Like what?” Masamune asked.

“I am not giving you ideas.” Ritsu frowned.

“Damn, I really thought you would fall for that.” Masamune chuckled. “Well, you can call me whatever you want, wherever you want, whenever you want.”

“I-Is…Is there one you p-prefer?” Ritsu asked.

Masamune shrugged. “I don’t think so. I guess you’ll just have to try them all and then I’ll decide.” He said.

“I-I can’t do that!” Ritsu instinctively argued. The thought of calling Masamune one term was enough to make Ritsu want to exit the car - moving or unmoving - but he was willing to work through that feeling of embarrassment in order to make Masamune happy. But calling Masamune a plethora of terms of endearment so that he could pick his favorite?! Ritsu wasn’t sure if he would survive through the process.

“Why not?” Masamune asked.

“I-It’s just too much!” Ritsu said, once again considering getting out of the car. They were still stopped, so now was a good time, right?

“It’s not that big of a deal, just give it a try.” Masamune said.

“I don’t even know what to say!”

“You can say anything, you just have to tack a term of endearment on at the beginning or end.”

“That doesn’t help me at all.” Ritsu lamented. ‘Anything’ was too many choices.

“Ask me what I’m thinking for dinner tonight.” Masamune suggested.

“W-What are you thinking for dinner tonight…h-honey?”

“...pft.”

“STOP LAUGHING AT ME!” Ritsu wretched his hand away to hit Masamune on the arm instead.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, you’re just so shy and nervous about the cutest things, it’s adorable, honestly.” Masamune said, grinning from ear to ear. “But I like honey, honey is good.”

“No, I’m never calling you anything but your name ever again.” Ritsu said, crossing his arms again

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that.” Masamune said, putting a hand on Ritsu’s knee.

Ritsu just silently scowled, refusing to meet Masamune’s eye.

“Honey is nice, I promise. But you could try another one if you want.” Masamune said. “And I won’t laugh again.” He added.

“But it’s so embarrassing.” Ritsu moaned miserably.

“It’ll get less embarrassing the more you get used to it. Should I start calling you cute names more often to get you used to them?”

“God, please don’t.”

“How are you gonna stop me, sweetheart?” Masamune asked and gave Ritsu’s knee a gentle squeeze, purposefully using the name that had made Ritsu turn the brightest pink so far.

Ritsu’s shoulders tensed before he quickly covered his blushing face with his hands. “Please don’t.” he repeated, though this time it came out more as a quick and desperate squeak.

“But I like calling you terms of endearment, baby.”

“I’m begging you.”

“I’ll stop if you call me another pet name, angel.”

“Angel?” Ritsu echoed, his hands lowering just so he could give Masamune an incredulous look.

Masamune laughed a bit. “Don’t like that one?”

Ritsu couldn’t help but to laugh a little too. “No, not at all.”

“Noted,” Masamune said, “but it’s still your turn, sunshine.”

“Fine, fine, if it’ll make you stop, then I guess I can keep trying…babe.”

Masamune’s wide grin returned.

“You’re laughing again.” Ritsu said the moment he caught sight of it, getting defensive.

“I’m not laughing, I’m smiling. It makes me happy to hear you say things like that.” Masamune corrected.

The cars in front of them started to move again and Masamune put the car back in drive.

“Thank God. Traffic better keep moving, I need to get out of this car.” Ritsu said.

Masamune snorted. “As if that’ll be enough to get away from me.”

“It’ll at least be enough to get away from this conversation. We won’t have to talk about terms of endearment at work anymore.” Ritsu said, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

Of course, once they arrived at work Masamune just had to ask Ritsu for his advice on his author’s choice of terms of endearment between characters.

#misscorn #sekaiichi hatsukoi #takano masamune #onodera ritsu #writing #nostalgia #day 2 2022 #sihjrweek #my writing #hehehe #they're BOYFRIENDS #can u believe it

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