#*cough Red Hood and the Outlaws cough*

[2698rr]

Strawberry delight

1.5K words | smut | female reader| ao3; 2698rr

!wrote this in like 30 mins. it’s unedited and just a drabble!

pt.2 here

The dripping of gotham’s downpour reverberates around your apartment, your fingers dragging idly against your phone screen.

the clunking footsteps of his boots is what causes your head to lift, eyes trailing over to him. your roommate—jason.

he was an interesting person, always so quiet. withdrawn into his own character. nevertheless the apartment doesn’t become overthrown with his belongings, he’s never too loud and the bathroom remains relatively clean.

he stalks through, giving a brief grunt of acknowledgment before focusing on the pastries left out on the counter, taking one and sliding it into his mouth.

your eyes dart away, instead moving to once again focus on the dull blue light that gave enough occupation inside your mind.

a silence sits, as it often does.

you could hear the ‘thunks’ hitting the hardwood floor as he drops his boots off, the crackles of his leather jacket being taken off and the clinks of his guns.

because he was an ‘outlaw’ as he liked to call it, the first time you heard the term you gave a swift laugh only to be met with a pointed look from him.

since moving in, becoming roommates and somewhat learning about him you had begun to search up on ‘red hood’.

it was an interesting side to see of the man you lived with, how the same person who gave loud coughs in the darkest hour also managed to tremble fear into the crime of gotham.

“you going to bed soon?” he mumbled out and your gaze once again lifted to the man, his hair was ragged, his pallid skin sporting some more bruises here and there.

You didn’t answer for a moment, genuinely thinking. you should—you know you should, however your day had been so busy that you’d decided this was the first time you’d frequent some personal moment.

“maybe.. soon?” you hummed, eyes darting over the fresh bruises, the purple fading into the ones he held under his eyes. he often came home like that, with blood dripping or new cuts and scrapes littered.

jason focused on you, holding his tongue against his cheek as he gave a nod before slithering off to the bathroom, yanking one of his towels as he did.

his roommate, the same one who often worked at that restaurant on forty-eighth street, the same one who took it upon themselves to help with his washing if found, the same one jason longed for.

he felt so..childish. yearning for a woman who possibly only saw him as the other half of the rent. however he couldn’t help it—heaven knows he’s tried to quell it.

he’s tried to keep his distance, do what he’s done since he’s moved in. and a part of him can’t properly figure out why he’s so captivated with a person he only half knows.

Jason wasn’t often one for intimacy, he turned away from it—revolted at the thought of anyone’s eyes seeing the scars that littered his skin and soul, but you, ohh you.

maybe it was the fact he had seen you in the latest hour, curled up and reading a book he knows every word to. maybe it was the fact you always managed to help him out when you knew he needed it.

or maybe it was the fact you didn’t coddle him, you didn’t force a friendship or a connection, you had this understanding—knowing, that he didn’t want that. and jason loved it.

he loved the fact he didn’t have to try to remain pleasant, or the fact he didn’t need to swerve from some soul opening questions, no. because all you would do is see a new wound and let him know where you’d last placed the bandages.

or, you’d notice his toothbrush was looking a little worn in and you’d get a new one, or you noticed his dirty clothes had piled up and washed it, or—there were a lot of reasons.

and jason loved it, the unsaid words, the comfortability with somebody who doesn’t expect something, he can deal with that, he wants that!

and okay—maybe! just sometimes when he’s finally in bed for the night and not prowling the rooftops, and maybe when he hears a certain vibration does his ears perk up, maybe he still’s his breathing and maybe his sweatpants go a little lower than his crotch.

maybe his hand wraps around himself as he matches the moans you make, maybe he thinks of all the ways he can have you arch yourself into him and—

he wanted you, deeply. and not just sexually. (although he does want that) he wants to sit and talk about books, he wants to learn why you always manage to sneak strawberry into any dessert you make, he wants to taste cherry every time he kisses you.

but, jason died when he was 16.

so he wasn’t exactly good with women, he can be friends. obviously he’s not a weirdo, however the moment a woman shows any interest or he himself is attracted, he scatters away like a wounded dog.

he’s afraid, he’s 23 and the most action he’s had was with his own fist, and your so gorgeous—to him, especially to him. he reasons with himself, on the nights when the wind picks up and the rain casts sideways.

he reasons that, you wouldn’t want him. he’s a traumatised man who’s spent more time on his strength then he has on his personal growth.

so, he instead focuses on the moments when your shirt rides up when reaching for a cup, when you get stuck in thought and your lip slightly juts out or when your moans and whimpers paint the cracking wallpaper.

a part of him is scared to ruin that silent agreement, to remain as friendly roommates who never pry, who always help but never with words.

once he’s moved from out of the shower he can already feel himself half-hard and a ugly feeling settling in his gut, the two contradict each other and yet it stings.

“i’m gonna kill you if you used all the hot water!” you shout out, an empty threat and more of a joke than anything and despite that ugly mess sitting in his gut, his lips crinkle up.

however he offers a mumble apology and moves to his room.

he hadn’t realised until he heard the soft ‘click’ of your bedroom door shutting that he’d ended up staring at a wall again, deep in thought.

he gives a sigh, deciding that he should go to bed. his bones hurt, his head hurts and he has many cuts and bruises he’s refused to heal, and just as he bundles up in his sheets, ready to rest his head from all that plagues him.

he hears that sound, the one that haunts him when his cock gets too heavy. he bites down on his lip—and as most times, he feels guilty. he always feels guilty.

but when you let a particular sinful whimper out he gives a groan, his head slumping against his pillow as his fishes his hand into the boxers he has on.

he gives a few soft strokes, the crevices of himself felt by his hand, and as he often does he ceases as many sounds as he can just so he can hear your voice.

he listens, and he imagines. imagines all the way he can have you, have those cherry glossed lips wrapped around him, have his hands on the soft planes of your skin as you direct yourself on him.

he imagines having your voice not be restricted, having you moan so loud the apartment a street over yells at him. he wants it all, so selfishly does he.

he can imagine himself curling into you, or you curling into him once all is done. he’d slither his hands up and down your spine and relish in the way you’d let a giggle out or maybe shiver.

he’d whisper all the ways you light up, the ways you make him feel floating. he’d smell the strawberry on you and he’d hope you taste as good as the fruits.

he begs—pleads! to have his hands wrapped around your thighs as you threaten yet fail to clamp them shut as his tongue works you to heavens you’d never known of, he’d have you all pitchy, all whines and whimpers.

he’d be dirty, but only if you like it. he’d spit all over your glistening cunt and rub it into your folds, tease your begging hole and whisper sins into your ear.

or, he’d map out every perfection on the god-like body you donned, making sure you know how gorgeous you are every time his hips met your ass. he’d hold tightly, afraid it was all a dream.

and the closer he got he’d heard you beg for him, beg to have him, that you need it. you need his cock, you need him. and he’d cum, anywhere you wanted—he’d do anything for you.

it’s only when he hears you shuffle and get comfortable in bed, and when his cum gets cold on his chest that he remembers he doesn’t have that, no matter how much he hopes.

[demonic0angel]

Thoughts while Reading Red Hood Comics (click for clarity)

To be frank, I only read all issues of Red Hood: the Lost Days, issues 1-12 of the first volume of Red Hood and the Outlaws, and then 1-26 of the second volume of RHATO. So here is what I’ve been thinking and drawing as I read them.

*SPOILERS*

1) I made Artemis a suit that could be used of she was working with Jazz and Jason as Wolf and Red Hood in their gang, with a helmet that covered her identity. However, I might remake it bc I’m not happy with it.

2) I was inspired to draw an outfit with a blend of fashion styles while reading RHATO 2nd vol., issues 7-11. I, of course, drew Jazz as the subject.

3) Chibi Starfire and Wraith for no particular reason.

4) Why did I read all of this? So I could figure out Jason’s timeline during the period of time where he was resurrected so I could use it for Pokémon AU. You may judge me, but be glad I’m doing research!!

5) I remember drawing Kori in her imagined full suit and I was worried that it was too revealing. After reading RHATO, my version of her looks like she's doing to church 💀 I did, however, loved the scenes where she got wet/injured bc it was cool asf to see her fire hair being weakened like that.

6) I kept wondering how I was gonna fit Jazz into all of the timeline with this new knowledge, but I think she’d come a little bit after RHATO and the contents of Jason’s journey would probably shift a lot in order to accommodate a DP crossover. However, I wanted to create a space suit for Jazz anyways, as inspired by RHATO issue 12 from the first volume.

7) Legit gagged and wanted to kms when I saw Talia kiss Jason in the comics (ladies, please!!! Bat Dick cannot be this good!!!) but I loved the scenes where she's absolutely terrified of Jason. I thought it was so interesting how everyone feared him, even if it's honestly a load of glazing nonsense.

8) I hated how RHATO characterized Kori, but I kept wondering what would happen if a better version of her (not the RHATO version) and Dan met. I think in a weird way, they'd be really good friends for various reasons. To Dan, Kori reminds him of Jazz and to Kori, she can tell that he is a hurting soul that needs a friend. I also imagine that with Tamaranean customs and ghost culture (the phanon hc that fighting/touch being a big deal in the ghost zone), I think they'd be super fun together. Also, hot and cold?? Orange and green?? Hero and villain?? Like hello?? Is no one seeing the yin and yang going on???

9) I really, really, really wanted to draw a Red Hood plush that is inspired by the Enderman from the Minecraft Cuutopia plushy series. He is squishy and marketable.

10) Isabel is super cute but holy shit, girl, STAND UP!! The way she's written is also ridiculous bc of the amount of plot holes and characterization? To be frank, it's extremely strange that she remembers the 15 year old boy on ONE airplane ride several years ago (especially when she was probably 19+ years old!!), that she would flirt with another passenger (and Jason specifically, like the writers tried to glaze him so much that it was just 😟), and that she'd STILL flirt with him when he tells her that he's going to a funeral. Girl. You're too cute for this. Please raise your standards!!

Conclusion, RHATO the 2nd volume was pretty enjoyable and RH: Lost Days is interesting. RHATO the first volume was hot garbage, but what kept me going for a little while was this one line from a review about RHATO #8: " It makes me wonder if her bed is the final sight on the tour, wink wink cough puke." which made me CACKLE LIKE OMG 💀💀

[malfiora]

Jaydick and Pragmatic Love

For some reason (*cough* neurodivergence *cough*) I like to get introspective about why I like the things I like. My love for jaydick came kinda naturally – a red/blue aesthetic between 2 dorks with canonically strong and complex feelings towards each other? Been there, done that, sign me up. But, like...why? Why was I obsessed with this ship? Why is the pairing itself so compelling, whether you ship them or not? I thought: "I don't know, it's the way they're coded as opposites but aren't really, and the way Jason admires Dick but also resents him a little, and the way that Dick's entire identity shifts when Jason comes along, I guess."

And digging a little deeper, I could finally put it into words: it's because Jason was made for Dick. In much the same way that Dick (and consequently Robin) was made to be Bruce's ward / Batman's partner, Jason was created to be someone Dick could conceivably pass his mantle to, someone he could see something of himself in and trust to take on the responsibility he'd been safeguarding for years so that he could finally go do something else (i.e. become Nightwing). Metatextually (i.e. between text and audience), this makes sense, especially given the logic that Jason needed to be similar enough to Dick for audiences to like him while being his own person so he wasn't just a shameless ripoff. (This logic evolved over time, hence retcons, but still.) But contextually (within a text, between characters), what must that look like?

If I had to put it in a single word, it seems like both fans and writers have settled on pragma. (EDIT: I like the Wikipedia article better.) According to Greek philosophy-based types of love, pragma is the type of love based on personal qualities, a sense of duty/obligation, and long term commitment. There is compromise and mutual understanding here. It's the type of love most associated with married couples who have been together for a while.

What's awesome about this is it can coexist alongside other types of love, like philia (platonic), eros (lust-driven), or ludos (flirtatious). These secondary types are where I see the disconnect between shippers and antis, but pragma is still the foundation, not necessarily in a romantic way, but certainly in the commitment.

A few examples under the cut.

Nightwing (1996) #119-122. I wrote about this enough, and so has frog. Commitment, sense of duty/obligation

Nightwing (2016) #15. Jason and Dick being bros, and Jason being self aware and commenting on their coping mechanisms (i.e. violence). Long-term mutual understanding.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) Annual #1. stealing this from @the-mocking-robin to make a point. Admiration of personal qualities.

Grayson (vol. 3). This one's just fun. Jason feels betrayed that Dick faked his death.

Nightwing (2021) Annual #1. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Nightwing (1996) Year One #5. Commitment, sense of duty almost immediately.

[batdoe297]

🦇 I decided to write an extension to the scene in Red Hood and the Outlaws #3 (2012), where Jason gets sick and Batman takes the night off from vigilante work to spend time with him.

Lmk what you think!

——

Bruce sat at the edge of Jason’s bed, his usual rigid posture softened by the weight of the night. The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows over the room, stretching over the discarded tissues littering the floor, the half-drunk cup of water on the nightstand, the damp washcloth he had folded with precision but now lay in a crumpled heap. Jason’s breathing was uneven, his body caught between restless fever-dreams and the kind of deep exhaustion that pinned him to the mattress.

Bruce had taken the night off. No patrol, no rooftops, no silent crusade through Gotham’s underbelly. Tonight, Gotham would have to fend for itself. Jason needed him more.

A soft cough rattled from the boy’s chest, and Bruce instinctively reached for him, pressing a broad hand lightly against his back. He was burning up. His fever had been relentless, despite everything—despite the cold compresses, the carefully measured doses of medicine, the sips of water Bruce had coaxed him into drinking. Jason stirred, grumbling something incoherent, his voice rough from the irritation in his throat.

“You’re fine,” Bruce murmured, low and steady. Not a promise, not a lie. Just something to anchor Jason in the fever’s haze.

Jason cracked his eyes open, barely a sliver of tired blue. “You’re still here?” His voice was hoarse, but there was something fragile in it, something too young for a boy who had seen too much.

Bruce’s fingers curled against the sheets. “Of course, I’m still here.”

Jason made a noise, something close to a scoff, but it lacked the bite he usually had. “Thought you’d get bored.” His words were lazy, sluggish, like he was slipping away again.

Bruce exhaled through his nose, a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Go back to sleep, Jason.”

Jason blinked up at him, the kind of heavy, deliberate blink of someone struggling against exhaustion. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” Bruce interrupted, tone firm but quiet. “Sleep.”

For a moment, Jason hesitated, like there was more he wanted to say—more he wanted to fight—but the fever weighed him down, pressing him deeper into the pillows. His eyes fluttered shut again, and this time, he didn’t fight it.

Bruce stayed where he was, listening to the slow rhythm of Jason’s breathing, counting the seconds between each rise and fall of his chest. The city could wait. The criminals could wait.

Jason was more important.

——

This issue follows Jason, Starfire, and Arsenal as they continue their adventures, but in the middle of all the action, we get a surprising and sweet flashback:

Jason, as a kid, is bedridden with the flu, feeling absolutely miserable. He expects Bruce to be out on patrol, doing his usual Batman thing, but instead—Bruce stays home. Not just stays home, but actively takes care of Jason, making sure he’s comfortable, bringing him soup, and even reading to him. It’s a rare, quiet moment of fatherly care from Bruce, evidence that he obviously cares about Jason.

Of course, Jason—being Jason—acts a little tough about it, but deep down, it’s clear he appreciates it. The memory sticks with him.

Back in the present, Jason doesn’t dwell on it too long, but the fact that this moment is still buried in his mind says a lot. Even after everything—his death, resurrection, and the very complicated feelings toward Bruce—Jason remembers that night. And maybe, just maybe, it still means something to him.

[redbird-tf]

Sick day redemption 

Jason todd x (platonic) younger reader

Summary: jason finds you sick at home after missing patrol, and has the chance to relive his favorite memory.

Word count: 519

Notes: based on comic in red hood and the outlaws new52

Warning: none

Jason grew worried as he looked back down at his watch, it's been 30 minutes since you said you would meet him at the usual rooftop for patrol. You had told him you’d be running a few minutes late, but this is more than a few minutes. Jason looked around one last time before letting out a frustrated and anxious huff, leaving the rooftop.

“Y/n?” He called out quietly entering his apartment through the window. The breeze made the room cold, and the room pitch black. He heard a sneeze and quickly flicked on a light, it was dim but bright enough for him to see your outline on the couch. You sniffled again and your body shivered from the cold. Jason closed the window cutting off the breeze, but then froze.

He remembered a time like this. When he was still Robin, he had gotten sick on his way to patrol with Batman. Alfred refused to let him leave the manor, even if he was already in suit, and called Bruce to let him know. Jason thought Bruce was going to be disappointed in him when he got back, but to his surprise, the Batman came home early. When Bruce stepped into the living room Jason had begun to apologize. Bruce stayed quiet for a second before asking Alfred for some popcorn, somehow this made Jason more anxious and confused on top of that. “Taking the night off once in a while isn't a crime Jason” Bruce stated taking a set next to him. “Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said taking the bowl of popcorn “So what do we got on,” he asked turning on the TV. Jason smiled as he sniffled, he leaned against Bruce as he began to relax. Jason had never felt so safe.

Jason smiled before returning to the present. He walked down the hall to grab a blanket. he stood behind the couch as he laid it over you. “Mm, Jason?” You grumbled as your eyes peeked open. “What-what time is it,” you asked frantically sitting up “12:30 am,” he said calmly “Oh no, I'm sorry i was getting ready, but then i felt sick so i sat down for a second and-“ he cut off your frantic explanation “y/n, it's ok, it's not a crime to take the night off,” he said placing his hand on your shoulder, “i think this calls for a movie night” he smiled walking into the kitchen. “Popcorn for me, and tissues for you” he joked sitting next to you.

You laughed before letting out a cough, “So you're not upset?” You asked turning towards him. “No” he replied softly “which movie should we watch?” He questioned starting to list off movie names. He flinched slightly feeling you unexpectedly lean against him. It took a few seconds for his shoulders to relax again as he stared down at you.

your body completely relaxed against his, he watched as your chest moved up and down as you softly snored. His expression changed from shock to a calm smile, wishing he could stay in this moment forever.

[dailycass-cain]

Birds of Prey #4 gave us big meaty women slappin' meat. It also since #1 had a LOT of Cass. So let's dive into my thoughts on the issue.

So #4 continues RIGHT off where #3 left us with the Birds kind of getting THE Amazon upset. This issue we get the consequences of it all with a MASSIVE fight.

Cass's portion takes place after "round 2" ends between Barda and Diana. I wouldn't call it a true fight. We know from the onset of Cass's appearance this issue, she watched rounds 1 and 2. In that way it reveals Barda was buying time for Dinah, Harley, Sin, and Future Maps.

I think the moment Barda went down Cass was like, "Okay time for me to be the distraction." And Diana knows this the moment after ordering the Amazons away. She's like, "Aw crap I got ANOTHER fight I gotta end QUICK."

Note that the attacks Cass does here are very unlike her. She rarely uses gadgets save for the grapple gun or batarang. Here she uses SIX gadgets on Diana.

In honesty, I'm amazed at Cass's reserve here.

Because this fight is the mirror opposite of her one with Artemis back in Red Hood & the Outlaws #15. She tried to match the physicality of an Amazon.

Though we never saw the full fight, the end result we did: Cass got smoked. But then the nature of the two fights is quite different. Cass in RH&O was VERY cocky in the issue, and Artemis "schooled" her (I'm still not fond of this issue mind you).

While, in this under a MUCH better writer who understands both characters. The nature of the fight is Cass isn't fighting to beat Diana physically. She's fighting Diana for time.

Sadly for Cass, the strategy can only prolong what Diana is waiting for. Just one opening and that's all she needs to end this.

Because Diana knows by the attacks Cass isn't playing for keeps. She's playing for the time.

Sadly for Cass, it catches up to her.

Though she didn't "win" the fight to distract Diana, she did win in buying time for Barda to have a round 3, and escaping the Amazons as she was the only Bird not caught by them.

Regardless, this was a phenomenal fight showcasing Cass being an expert fighter. Compared to her prior tussle with Artemis, this fight shows layers of maturity for Cass.

Unlike say OTHER fights that occurred two months ago that are more laughable now at how bad they were *cough* Batman #138 *cough*.

Writer Kelly Thompson built the hype up on Cass with #1 for new readers to show WHY she's deadly. Against both the League ninjas and the vampires. That she's crafty AND can take a hit (aka when Barda smacks her early on in the later fight).

I really REALLY adore the small moments Kelly has given Cass and again with this issue giving us a little more Barda/Cass moments.

As you KNOW Barda's respect for Cass is even bigger after this issue. Taking on Diana alone, buying her time to recoup, and escaping the Amazons.

Almost makes me wish Cass could introduce Barda to Steph who'd be all, "MOMMY." With Barda just overshadowing Steph.

Besides the characterization, the true real highlight is artist Leonardo Romero. Just the FIGHT he brought to this issue. This is a fight that's gonna be talked about amongst fans given how lit Romero made it.

Likewise the colors by Jordie Bellaire. For me, a standout moment was the highlights she gave Diana's lasso when it gives off this glow or the colors when Diana smacks Barda HARD.

Everyone is cooking HARD in this book and it shows.

I just have to wonder what the endgame is for Megaera? Other than being another unique visual threat for Cass to fight.

Kind of astonishing really how many astonishing encounters Cass had this year.

As a Cass fan and a fan of amazing fights. This issue delivered for me. It keeps giving me things I never thought I'd ever get to see for the character.

I'm almost curious to see what Thompson has in store next for Cass and the Birds.

[wynterstars]

ok so I sometimes (cough almost always) have my issues with Red Hood: Outlaws' choices but sometimes it makes up for it

i would watch thirty seasons and every spinoff.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Pretty When You Cry

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/sHyj83l by Thatonefangirlwithtoomuchgoingon Jason coughed, his throat burning as he did. He looked around, staring at the familiar technology scattered around the cave along with training equipment. His table was placed in a medical corner of the underground lair. It looked the same compared to the last time he saw it, only minor differences such as new items that appeared during his absence. “Roy? What’s going on? What are we doing here?” Questions flew out of Jason's mouth as he continued to struggle in the binds. “Hey, hey! It’s okay, Jaybird, you’re okay,” Roy walked to Jason’s side and began to stroke his cheek with his thumb. “Roy, I need answers, now,” “Let’s call it a check-up, okay? You’re here for a quick doctors visit,” --- That awkward moment you break up with your boyfriend and he brings you back to your childhood home for "Healing" Words: 2354, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Green Arrow (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Multi Characters: Roy Harper, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Relationships: Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Angst, Romance, Earth-3, Fluff, Alternate Universe, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Hurt Roy Harper read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/sHyj83l

[ladykarmastrikeblog]

Oooo~ Want to bet Bruce goes super detective on these flowers? But finds NOTHING on them? Cue Bruce losing his mind with worry while the rest of the fam is trying to convince Jason to talk to whoever he has feeling for like now please (Because in this house we use Hanahaki like it was meant to be, pressure to not keep the beautiful feelings you have down and not the whole you must get the other person to reciprocate)

Jason would like to! But he can't find the guy! He knows his alias as Phantom (did they meet at the Watchtower? Did Jason meet him during a mission with the Outlaws that had some ghosts around? Did Jason or Danny get a bit of wanderlust/runaway and just meet up while on the road for like 50 miles of good vibes??? Who knows? Not me) but other then that nothing! Besides his description (ITS NOT HYPERBOLE DICK HIS FRECKLES REALLY GLOWED) that apparently is worthless he has nothing.

Cue Jason trying to continue being Hood, hood having an episode while dealing with POISON IVY! Ivy loses her mind over the fact that Red Hood just brought up extinct flowers and goes and kidnaps him so she can get more to study and bring it back!

She succeeds

The Blood Blossoms take well to being in Gotham. TOO WELL. They grow like weeds, pictures get out of the new flower in Gotham. It's noticed by the government. The GIW SWARM IN TO TAKE THE FLOWERS and maybe Jason?

Jason isn't doing too hot right now. He's in so much pain but it's only getting a little harder to breathe so he not in the danger zone yet. He can still talk to Phantom, still tell him how he feels....

What if Danny was also had Hanahaki too? What if it made him feel weak enough to get caught? And the GIW sees him as a source of the blood Blossoms so they don't torture him? Outside making him cough up flowers. Maybe they don't know he's Phantom? They think he's just Danny Fenton and he just super contaminated? So they put Jason and him in the same cell.

Cue the Confession. Then to breaking out dragging each other out hand in hand~

Short DPXDC Prompts #748

Hanahaki AU, Jason’s flowers are Blood Blossoms. No one knows why his affliction hurts him more than the average diseased person.

[you-dont-want-to-be-alone]

“Jason Todd wouldn’t listen to Taylor swift”

Ma’am we are talking about the most dramatic MF in the history of the batfam

[galkyrie]

i wish you would write a fic that’s just jason simping for tim, except tim can actually hear it

Oh man poor Jason, let's do this lmao

“Ever since you lost the cowl I’m half convinced I gotta follow you ‘round on patrol to keep you outta trouble.” Hood jokes as he lands on the roof beside Red Robin, easing into his usual spot beside the vigilante. It’d become a routine he enjoyed- them meeting up when their patrols intersected once a week, sharing a few minutes of bullshit or a snack or just the quiet reassurance of the presence of an ally among a city of threats. It was a routine he’d missed while on his last trip with the Outlaws. Judging by the way Tim lights up when he turns to look at him- he’s not the only one.

“I don’t look that young.” Tim answers with a snort before taking a gulp from his water.

“It ain’t about lookin’ young. You’re the kind of pretty no fuckin’ domino can hide, Babybird. Makes a guy worry about your well-being and wanna stare at you all night in the moonlight.” Jason says before he can stop himself, eyes going wide as soon as his brain catches up with his mouth. Tim chokes on his drink, sputtering. He’s still coughing when Jason starts fucking talking again, words falling unbidden from his lips.

“What the fuck. I didn’t mean to say that. I definitely thought it; not like any of that’s exactly new, but-” Tim’s staring at him. Fuck. He wishes he could see the blue of his eyes instead of the white lenses. They’re so pretty at night- turning Gotham’s light pollution into something beautiful reflected back. What he can see of Tim’s face goes pink when he sincerely informs him as much.

“Hood- have you encountered anything strange lately? Maybe on your last mission?” The serious set to his mouth is comforting- at least the man isn’t laughing at him over this. He does his best to try and trace back the last dumb bullshit he encountered was- and let out a horrendous stream of curses as he realizes he’d walked right into this.

Jason hadn’t killed anyone in a long while- well, he hasn’t actively sought out making someone specific dead in a while- but the asshole magic user he and Roy had stopped from draining the life force of an entire town might be the first in a while. “Fuckin’ warlock worshiping Eris, I shit you not.” 

“Wow, I definitely want that story once we figure this out, but- we should- let’s get you to the ‘Cave.” Tim sounds strained. “Maybe we can find a way to reverse this-” 

“Good thinking. You’re so smart, Red. It’s another thing that makes me crazy about you-” A gauntleted hand claps over his mouth before he can volunteer more shit straight from the part of his brain carefully reserved for ‘thoughts on Tim Drake.’ It was supposed to be a vault where he shoved these thoughts as soon as they came and then promptly resealed- but someone had blown the fuckin’ door wide open. That someone was gonna pay. 

“Okay! Right- so this seems like a pretty strong compulsion. So. I can just-” Tim kept his hand over his mouth, looking down and grabbing the hood from his grasp. “-have you made a stealth setting?” Jason nodded against the hand pressing to his lips, not even able to pretend he wasn’t enjoying even this amount of contact. The wizard was going to die for revealing to Tim just how pathetic he was.

“Okay, cool.” Tim nods, apparently pleased with his plan. Jason scrambles to pull on the helmet before he can say anything else, cutting off an invitation for Tim to keep his hands on him halfway through. It muffles the confessions of his affections, allowing him to go on about the many and varied ways he admires Tim in relative privacy. 

He’s not sure it’s better, considering it’s leaving Tim to assume. He should know exactly how he feels in his words- not whatever self-deprecating escape hatch the man in front of him is trying to find in the one-sided silence.

This is humiliating. But try as he might, he can’t bring himself to leave Tim’s side- spare them both the embarrassment of him running his mouth. Seems the compulsion also extended to how badly he wanted to stay close to Tim. Hopefully the physical part of this compulsion didn’t escalate to any other desires. He thought of how he’d gotten back from the mission with almost a single-minded focus on getting to their usual rendezvous point. It was embarrassing to realize he was so used to wanting to be around him that he hadn’t even found skipping dinner in favor of seeking him out to be odd. 

“I’ve got Redbird en route. I don’t want you driving in this state- just ride with me.” Jason nodded, already relieved he didn’t have to focus on the road in his state. He’d much rather watch Tim in action. He’s good at driving- he’s good at everything. He wants- needs to tell him. The hood starts to itch like crazy, a maddening obstacle in his path. 

He manages to grit through the itching for half the drive. “Fuck, that hurts-” are thankfully the first words out of his mouth, though Tim’s looking his way in blatant concern. 

“-You okay?” Tim responding to him immediately eases the ache. 

“-Now that you’re listening, yeah.” He wiped a hand over his face, checking for hives. 

“Oh.” Tim chews on the implications of his words for a moment, before setting his jaw and looking resolutely out the front window. “Then, I’ll keep listening.” It’s all it takes for the floodgates to open. 

“Every day I get to see you is better for it, no matter what shit goes down. You give me one’a your rare little smiles or laugh at something I say and I-.” Tim makes a soft noise, quiet enough that the engine nearly drowns it out, eyes staying on the road. “-I think about it all the time. Making you laugh or smile. Think about what it’d be like to get to take care of you. You don’t take the best care of yourself- like you’re an afterthought and I- you’re not. Not to me.” Oh god, he’s pretty sure he’d prefer the burning to the pained expression that flits across Tim’s pretty features at that- “I’m sorry, Tim-” He scrambles to make that expression go away, anything is better than seeing the man hurting. 

“-I’m sorry.” Tim cuts him off, voice thick as he weaves through traffic with effortless ease. Getting to the ‘Cave and getting him fixed seems to have kicked up to an actual emergency judging by the way he’s driving. The rejection stings. Even if it’s not surprising, that knowing it was the only possible outcome was the reason he’d held it back for as long as he had, it still- hurts. “-you shouldn’t be forced to tell me any of this.” Tim continues, not risking a glance in his direction. Jason’s almost grateful to not have to see the pity undoubtedly in his gaze. 

“I never wanted to put you in this position, Prettybird.” He admits. “I know I’ve got no right to want anything from you-”

“-You haven’t done anything wrong.” Tim grits out, “some asshole magic user forcing this out of you as retribution- I’m so sorry, Jay.” 

Jason’s pretty sure the speed at which they make it to the ‘Cave is a record, tires squealing to a stop once they’re safely inside. Bruce and Alfred are already there, both rushing over. Tim meets them as Jason takes his time getting out of the passenger seat. Tim wasn’t interested- was gently and carefully avoiding even saying as much in a way that made his chest ache in affection and sorrow- and was filling them in on the details. He just- he needed the moment Tim was giving him to get himself together. 

“Jason.” Bruce is heading over once he does get himself under enough control to know he’s not going to start crying in front of the three men. “Can you lie to me?” He does, easily. He lies to Alfred with the same level of difficulty as normal- more than Bruce, but not impossible. 

Turns out he can lie to them about anything but Tim, something he’s sure all three of them regret once he starts answering their questions about the man down to the smallest detail. Bruce and Alfred both have vaguely pained expressions on their faces as he waxes poetic about Tim’s fucking bone structure as he watches the little bird get onto the network and start contacting people who can fix this. 

“Zat’s coming.” Tim interrupts the train of thought he was voicing about how hot it was that Tim was scarily efficient before it can gather too much steam, shooting Jason an apologetic grimace. “Sorry to subject you to Zach but he’s the one that owes me-” 

“Zatanna was not available?” Bruce butts in, shooting Tim a look. 

“No, sorry. Look- I’m not exactly thrilled to call him in either-” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs. It's adorable. Jason’s pretty sure he coos, judging by the pink crawling up Tim’s neck. “He’s gonna give me so much shit for this.” And that wasn’t good- Jason didn’t want to mess anything up for Tim, not with his allies. 

“Prettybird-” He starts, ignoring the way Bruce and Alfred’s eyebrows raise at the endearment, “you don’t gotta waste a favor on me-” 

“-You deserve to keep your feelings to yourself,” and Tim deserves not to have to hear them, “and Zat’s not that bad.” He assures with a wave of his hand and a small smile. 

Jason can’t help but disagree once he meets the guy. For one, he spends a solid five minutes laughing after Tim explains the situation. He’s not much better about it once he’s actually performing the ritual to tease out the details of his specific curse. “Sorry,” Zat says with a smirk sent Tim’s way that makes Jason kinda want to smack him. “I’ve got an antidote- but you’re not gonna like it.” 

“I’ll do whatever-” 

“Unfortunately, you can’t fix it. Eris is the goddess of chaos, and apparently the most chaotic way to mess with you is to make you honest with Red about something I’m assuming you were never gonna get the nerve to say.” Zach doesn’t wait for him to respond, gesturing to Tim. “The only way to break the curse is to get this boy to be honest back. Couldn’t have been crafted more expertly if they’d known who the object of your heart’s desire was. Sorry, man.” 

Tim blanched, eyes widening behind the domino in a brief flash of panic before smoothing out into a forced calm. Oh. Jason’s heart clenches at the thought, of having to hear the rejection Tim had been delicately skating around since this started. It was inevitable, had been since the moment he’d started feeling this way, but- fuck, this wasn’t fair. 

“Okay, then. Thanks Zat. I’ll um- do that.” Zach snorts, somewhat disbelieving, but does take his leave. Tim fidgets once the man is gone, peeling off his domino and eyeing Bruce and Alfred. “Can you guys, uh. Give us a minute?” Tim was so sweet, letting him down easy in private. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d be cured and able to slink away to lick his wounds without having to see the other two men until he was well and truly over it.

“Tim, you don’t gotta be so worried about how I’m gonna take it, I already know-” He rushes to assure him once the two men made their way up to the manor. His heart had been broken the moment he realized this conversation was inevitable- 

“-I’m sorry,” Tim looks up at him, blue eyes wide, “I know you didn’t want me to know and it’s not fair that this is how I found out-” he lets out a harsh sigh, visibly gathering his courage before continuing, “I-” Tim cuts himself off, making a frustrated noise and shaking his head.

He apparently decides using words for honesty is too hard, because he stalks into Jason’s space and yanks him down into a kiss by the collar of his jacket. Jason’s arms reflexively circle his waist, pulling him in close before he realizes what’s happening. He’s dazed, staring down at him in disbelief when Tim breaks the kiss. “I’m bad with this stuff. You’re- even like this-” 

“You like me?” Jason’s grinning, giddy disbelief lacing his voice. 

“Obviously-” 

“Why didn’t you just say that?” 

“You’re magically cursed! I don’t wanna- I can’t take advantage of that-” Jason pulls him into the kiss this time, humming as Tim slides up against him and wraps his arms around his shoulders to deepen the embrace. 

“I suddenly don’t feel like killing that asshole warlock anymore.” Jason quips, beaming a grin down at a pretty dazed looking Tim. “Maybe I’ll send him a fruit basket.”

“Oh, fuck that. We’re still ruining his day- this should’ve been on our terms and he’s gonna learn why.” This time, when Jason bends down to whisper just how hot he finds that mean streak of his and watches in delight as Tim turns another shade of pink, it’s completely under his own power.

[ectonurites]

I’m pretty sure that it’s canon that Tim doesn’t like alcohol, Dick’s a lightweight, and Jason can hold his liquor well enough to keep up with Russians, though that last one may or may not be me misremembering something

Yeah I mean Tim has only tried it a few times I'm aware of and typically spits it out in disgust, as I showed earlier. To be fair he is like, a kid, so it's not necessarily something he'd hate forever but he's not super in favor of using mind-altering substances in general (cough cough weed assembly).

Dick I honestly don't recall off the top of my head, I would need someone else to verify.

The Jason thing though is a little inconsistent- pre-reboot he was shown drinking with Russians which is prob what you're referencing:

(Red Hood: Lost Days #4)

but then in Rebirth Artemis calls him a lightweight

(Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #19)

My general way of interpreting this is 'he can hold his liquor very well compared to humans but next to Amazons that's nothing'

[jostenneil]

Look, dgmw, I 100% understand the appeal of Red Hood conceptually, especially as a revenge fantasy- I do! The idea of Jason filling a narrative role of representing the anger of trauma victims or those the system fucks over (which I bring up bc it’s a lot of the “keep killing” camp tend to see him this way in my experience) can be very interesting to see explored or think about, especially when taking into account the societal power structures at play in Jason’s life & in Gotham, more specifically Crime Alley. HOWEVER there are many many reasons that it just… is not a good position to keep Jason in. Like, first of all, DC has been shown to write Jason’s ideology incredibly inconsistently (*coughs* in part due to the classism that led to his post-dying character assassination *cough*) & has it’s been shown that, generally, they are not able to examine it enough to execute it well. Or, more likely, they’ve never even really cared to beyond maybe UTRH & LDs. Secondly, even Jason’s most lauded post-resurrection writer (Winnick) has an incredibly reductive view of the character & his reasons for violence. He views Jason as a “complete psychopath” who slept with Talia out of an Oedipal desire to get back at Bruce &, if given the chance, would have likely used to play into the deranged bisexual trope (do I want Jason to be bi? Yes, but keep Winnick away from it). DC’s intention has very never been to actually explore Jason as a sympathetic anti-villain/anti-hero who’s representative of trauma victims (I’ve not read Outlaws yet but from what I’ve heard it does not count). They probably didn’t even think about it beyond whatever hamfisted way they could shove it in to make a quick buck off fanon. There is no reason to think this will change. Thirdly, there are other characters who will this niche better & more consistently, namely Bertinelli. Fourthly, I’d argue that you cannot fully separate Jason’s anger from the classism that led to it’s modern portrayal. For all people like to complain about it I’m honestly shocked that more people don’t take into account that Jason was nearly completely re-characterized after his murder, leading to a lot of his character development-regardless of whether it’s positive or negative- utterly illogical. Like Jason has been shown to be on some level aware of the cycle of crime since his first post-crisis appearance & I would not be at all surprised if a majority of people who’ve written for him post-resurrection were unaware of it. That is a problem. Lastly, destructive anger like this is not something that was thematically super present for Jason prior to his death- indignation at injustice sure, but not that level of rage- where as compassion was. Anger is also not sustainable to base one’s entire life & belief system around, compassion is. Not only is there more reason to explore Jason from that lens based on logical development, but I’d argue it’s more interesting. Tldr: Jason’s name literally means “to heal”, where the fuck is his trauma recovery regaining compassion arc???? Where?? Have 90% of his backing cast be civilian women w varying views on red hood’s methods & maybe I’ll pay you real money DC.

Sorry this is so long. Jason is just my blorbo sckrinly & therefore I’m very passionate about this. Thank you for being intelligent, I hope you have a nice night/day/whatever time it is for you☺️.

no like i don’t even have anything to add to this this literally says it all

[sarriathmg]

🐙Omega Jason Todd Week 🐙 Day 1: Elaborate Courting Rituals

Explicit

Archive Warnings

No Archive Warnings Apply

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)

Relationship:

Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Characters:

Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Additional Tags:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, merfolks, Octopus Dick Grayson, merman jason todd, Courting Rituals, Animal Traits, Alpha Dick Grayson, Omega Jason Todd, tentadick, Tentacle Dick Grayson, Fanart, NSFW Art, Slow Dancing, Moonlight, Oviposition, Mpreg,, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Tentacles, Tentacle Sex

Language:English

click read more or go to AO3 LINK

Dick took him toward the surface, close enough that the moonlight illuminated the water, tinting it into a rich shade of azure.

Jason had never been courted by an octomer.

He’d never been courted by a regular mer, either, but he’d seen them do it. He’d seen his parents before Willis was caught in a web and Catherine died from the grief. He knew how it was done.

But this, this was uncharted territory.

Jason looked at Dick. The moonlight shone on his face, lighting it. His skin was a golden copper, his hair jet black. His eyes the most gorgeous shade of sapphire Jason had seen.

Dick’s body beneath the neck was pitch black, aside from a v-shaped blue stripe on his chest that extended all the way to his middle and ring fingers on each of his human arms. Jason could feel the bulge of Dick’s muscles when he ran his hand over them, and sense the long, changing, unseen tendrils spreading like a web in the vast abyss of the sea from the current of the water.

Dick smiled. As he pulled Jason close, the skin around his eyes began to change. Rings of black and blue expanded like magic, taking over his eyelids and cheekbones until it looked like he was wearing a mask that magically shifted from blue to black and back again. Like sprinkles of lapis embedded in a layer of obsidian, or drops of obsidian lost in a sea of lapis lazuli.

Dick held Jason close as he performed the alpha courting dance of his subspecies, entangling their bodies as they twirled under the surface. Circling water currents caressed Jason’s face.

Jason couldn’t help but cough out a laugh when one of Dick’s tentacles braced him from behind. Then another. They were slippery and cool; the underside made of blue suction cups that hung to Jason’s body. One wrapped itself around Jason’s red-scaled tail, one spiralling onto his arm. Another gently climbed up and touched Jason’s cheek, the feeling not unlike a lover’s caress and very much was.

It was strange, this feeling. This sensation of being touched and loved by boneless tendrils that knew better than any mer on how to treat a mate. Jason found himself falling into the dance, his eyes heavy lidded and his lips parted, the translucent fins of his tail relaxing into the current and this journey that Dick took him on.

“Jason, open your eyes.”

Jason hadn’t realized he’d closed them before Dick said this. He did as he was told, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dick’s eyes shone in the dark, his mask now a beautiful shade of cerulean blue. And the color of his tendrils was changing as well. The same blue rings popped up here and there, lighting up in the dark and catching the moonlight in the most intoxicating way, expanding, contracting, like a mating dance in and of itself. 

“Jason, I want to be your mate. Will you let me?”

All eight of Dick’s tendrils were now wrapped around him. It felt safe, safe, like he’d never felt since he’d lost his old pack.

Jason threw his head back and sighed in delight and relaxation, grumpily mumbling a “yes” before he allowed himself to sink deeper into that embrace.

The dance continued. The luminescence of the blue rings on Dick’s mask and tendrils danced rigorously to his excitement from the approval. They twirled beneath the surface in the moon-illuminated sea. Like a blue-colored lantern, lighting up the darkness of the ocean.

[tahitianmangoes]

Snow Falls

Pairing: Charles x Arthur Summary:  After Charles had found Arthur unconscious on that mountain and he vowed that he'd never leave him again. Now he’d broken that vow. Words:3018 Chapter 1/1

Not cannon compliant | NSF W

And the snow falls, the wind calls The year turns round again 'Til then put your trust in tomorrow my friend For yesterday's over and done

****

The cabin was the best way up a mountain, far from prying eyes. They were safe here. Arthur could rest here. Charles could almost rest too but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t spend the moments that he wasn’t caring for Arthur looking over his shoulder for bounty hunters, Pinkertons or worse, Dutch and Micah.

Arthur was awake before Charles, he had gotten out of bed and was stoking the fire. “I can do that,” Charles said huskily, still half asleep and half dressed, getting out of bed and going over to Arthur.

Arthur's frame was slimmer than it had been a few months ago, a few months ago when Arthur had been well enough to eat. At that time, Charles had been able to see Arthur's spine through his paper white skin when the older outlaw let Charles bathe him. No matter how hard Charles tried to get Arthur to eat more, he didn't. He couldn't. Some days, he had no appetite. Some days, it was all he could do to get out of bed and sit by the cabin window. His brilliant blue eyes were less blood shot now though, perhaps because the stillness of the mountains allowed him to sleep compared to their tiny but noisy room in Saint Denis. The colour had returned to his sallow cheeks and he was beginning to grow stronger day by day.

But Charles could still hear Arthur's breaths sometimes, laboured and shaky. He tried to hide how breathless he became doing simple things like even brushing the horses, tried to stifle his coughs from Charles perhaps because he was embarrassed but of course, nothing escaped Charles.

“I know,” Arthur replied, “but I want to. Maybe you can let me chop the firewood from now on - you always do it.” “Oh Arthur…” Charles started. “Don’t oh Arthur me, “ Arthur said quickly. “Charles, I know you’re just trying to help but… I’m bored! I’m so damned bored, stuck in a little cabin in the middle of nowhere like… Like Little Red Riding Hood!” Charles chuckled at this. “It ain’t funny, Charles.” Arthur said huffily, continuing to stoke the fire doggedly. “You said we’d be across the border soon and I’m... I'm feeling better. We could go soon.”

Charles sighed, he reached for Arthur’s face. Arthur let Charles stroke the soft downy hair out of his eyes and caress his cheek tenderly. “I just want to take care of you, my love. You’re… well, you’re still healing.” “I’m fine…” Arthur started but Charles brushed his thumb over Arthur’s lips in a bid to silence him. They held each other’s gaze, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Charles thart Arthur's shimmering blue eyes were more tired these days. But he was still the man Charles had fallen in love with, loved like no other. “We're lucky we've made it this far. I don't want to push the limits. We’ll go as soon as you’re ready, I promise.” Charles said gently, moving his head closer to Arthur's, “you know what the doctor said, you must rest.” “Charles-” “Arthur…”

They didn’t say it often. Arthur would flush and look away and Charles found himself getting tongue tied. So he kissed Arthur and Arthur kissed back. Arthur was always so strong but at the feel of Charles's lips to his own, he softened. He sighed into Charles’s mouth.

“You've spent your whole life taking care of other people,” Charles said to him in earnest, “let me take care of you. Just this one time.” Arthur was powerless to argue.

****

Charles chopped firewood in the morning, made sure Arthur took the medicine the doctor had prescribed for him for his pneumonia with his breakfast of eggs and potatoes. After that, Charles cleaned his guns, crafted some arrows and mended some of his clothes that seemed to miraculously sprout holes faster than he could stitch them. Arthur dozed, the medicine made him drowsy and the warmth from the fireplace only exacerbated things. Charles was glad to see Arthur resting, though. Once he was better, they would head further north into Canada and start a new life. Get some land. Maybe some animals, too. Maybe change their names. Spend every day together. Grow old together. Forget what happened out east. Love each other until they stopped drawing breath… But Arthur wasn’t well enough yet. Charles had waited this long, he could wait a while longer.

Charles’s cough started that evening after dinner. Arthur’s eyes widened, “d-did I..?” Charles shook his head and laughed softly, “it’s not contagious. I must have caught the cold, that’s all.” By the next morning, the cough had worsened and Charles's chest hurt; it felt like he was tearing through him with each swing of his axe while he chopped the firewood as usual. He fixed breakfast while Arthur slept in - he hadn’t slept well during the night, he'd woken wheezing a few times and sweating. Charles had feared it was a fever but he seemed better by the time he awoke the next day.

Charles didn’t tell Arthur that it hurt when he moved, that his head felt stuffy and the blood pounded like he’d been running. But he didn’t need to. Arthur noticed that Charles seemed groggy and tired. “It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.” Charles said dismissively.

But Arthur saw how he shivered as he tried to stitch the clothes he hadn’t managed to finish yesterday.

“Come to bed.” “Arthur, I’m hardly in the mood-” Charles was cut off by Arthur’s rasping laugh. “I ain’t propositioning you, Mr Smith.” Charles looked over at Arthur who was still lying down and felt his cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. “It’s warm here. We can keep each other warm, pair o’ invalids together.” Arthur said, patting the bed beside him. Charles smirked. “How can I resist?”

So the pair of them spent the rest of the day in bed together, huddling under the blankets, Charles's head aching and his chest tight, dozing in each other's arms in a contended way that they’d never really been able to when they had been living a life on the run.

They spent the next few days like that until the worst of Charles's cold passed. Arthur seemed to enjoy this role reversal of taking care of Charles. He made him hot herbal tea that he said Hosea had taught him to brew. Better than that stuff you buy in the store. Whether the tea really helped or not, Charles was able to get up and back to his usual self (or near enough,) after a couple of days. But by this time, there was almost no food left in the cabin. “I’m going hunting,” Charles told Arthur that morning. “Charles… you’re not well.” Arthur said sleepily, holding his hand as he went to leave the bed to get dressed. Charles tugged away reluctantly, fingers slipping through Arthur's like water. “I’m well enough. Besides, we’ll both starve if I don’t go. I’ll be back before nightfall, I promise you.”

But he wasn’t.

The snow came down heavy and thick. Charles cursed himself for being so careless, so stupid. He’d been tracking a mountain ram, perhaps a little too far. He should have known when to give up and turn back, maybe ride into town the next day and get supplies from the general store but as much as Charles would never admit it, it was his pride that kept him out longer than he should have been. He didn’t want to return to Arthur empty handed, though he knew Arthur wouldn’t be disappointed. It was stupid, male pride. It was that pride that found him unable to get back across the mountain to the cabin, to Arthur. Taima had always been a strong horse but this had proven to be her limit. The snowstorm rolled across the hills and Charles was lucky in that he found a cave that looked like it had once been home to animals of some sort - wolves he suspected - but now seemed empty. He did his best to light a fire for them both but the wood he managed to gather in the boisterous wind was too wet and the embers soon died out.

The storm swirled and the wind howled. He was reminded of the time after the Blackwater fiasco, when the gang had been stuck in a storm at Colter. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. He had shared his first kiss with Arthur not long after that, just before the gang had moved from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point. He remembered that night, when they’d camped under the stars in Big Valley, how Charles had felt so comfortable with Arthur in a way he’d never felt with anyone else. He’d never foreseen this future for himself, falling for a man, a white man, a murderer and outlaw… but Charles knew he couldn't question the way the world turns. All he knew was that he cared for Arthur in a way that set his heart on ablaze like nothing before.

Rains Fall had looked him deeply in the eyes that night when Arthur returned to Beaver Hollow and said, “go to him.” Charles had opened his mouth to protest but Rains Fall shook his head steadfastly, He had wore a sorrowful smile but the look in his eyes was as resolute as ever. “I have lost too many people I love, Mr Smith. You have too.” He lay his hand gently on Charles’s shoulder. “Mr Morgan can be saved. He needs you more than we do, now go.”

So Charles had rode into the night, the sky had gone from deepest navy to a blanket of obsidian above him. No stars shone. Charles rode desperately to Arthur, each beat of his heart was Arthur’s name as he flattened his body to Taima’s and urged her faster and faster, please, girl. Please just this once, please.

He had found Arthur unconscious on that mountain and he vowed that he'd never leave him again. Now he’d broken that vow.

As the snow came down harder and faster than ever, Charles paced the cave, flooded with images of Arthur alone in the cabin and endless “what ifs?” Eventually the night rolled in, the moon reflecting off of the snow as if it were the ocean and Charles knew he he could do nothing but wait.

Two days passed. Charles managed to start a fire and kept himself and Taima warm. It was a comfort to have her there, she'd been through a lot with him and turned out to be the most loyal of everyone in the end. On the third morning, the snow had all but stopped and it was so serene on the mountain now, as if the storm had never happened. Charles mounted up and urged Taima back to the cabin, fearing the worst with every beat of his heart.

****

It was dark by the time Charles burst through the door of the cabin, Arthur was already on his feet. Neither said anything as they embraced, Charles holding Arthur so tight to his chest, tighter than he should be he didn’t care. Needed to feel the warmth of the other man, to feel his breath on his neck as they stood like that while time seemed to stand still and all that could be heard was the crackling from the fire. He wouldn’t let Arthur go ever again.

And then they were kissing. Kissing without care nor hesitation nor complexity. Just two people so fiercely in love.

“I’ve missed you,” Charles breathed, kissing Arthur so hard it almost knocked the air from his lungs. “I love you,” came Arthur’s reply, his lips soft and warm against Charles’s cold ones.

He’d missed Arthur desperately, that feeling that he might not see him again, just like the night he went to the mountain had flooded him Every doubt he’d ever had, every time he had wondered if he had made the right decision was erased.

He kissed Arthur hard, bruisingly so. Arthur sighed into the kiss, lacing his arms around Charles’s neck and pressing their bodies together.

Charles had never loved anyone like this, never felt the branches grow, felt it take root in him until it was at his very centre. All consuming. The reason he woke up in the morning and the reason he didn't just give up when things looked bleak. The reason the sunsets looked beautiful and the reason why food tasted good.

Charles didn't know which one of them had started to the bed or maybe it was both but suddenly, he was lying Arthur down and Arthur was kissing his neck and unbuttoning his shirt.

Charles hesitated, “Arthur… Are you sure?” He asked gently.

They’d only done this a handful of times, Arthur inexperienced and shy about his body, Charles not wanting to press the issue because of Arthur’s inexperience but also because Arthur was still frail. But he’d make love to Arthur every day if he could just to see the way the older man’s eyes seemed to shine when he lay beneath Charles and how his face lost all tension when it was enraptured by bliss.

Since Arthur got sick, they hadn’t been able to be intimate. Arthur’s health was more important. And then they were moving from place to place, Charles paranoid that someone had recognised them from their bounty posters even though he would slip out at night sometimes while Arthur slept and tear them down, burning them in the fire.

This was the first time in months that they were truly alone. Arthur leaned up to kiss Charles’s lips, before pulling away, their eyes meeting in a rich gaze, “it’s ok… I want to do this.” he told him

Charles brushed Arthur’s hair from his face, the love he felt overpowering him, hands working away at Arthur’s shirt and union suit until he was bare. Charles kissed his lover’s pale, flushed skin, ran his lips tenderly over the gunshot wound at his shoulder, let his tongue flick teasingly around Arthur's nipples and softly nibble at his stomach, delighting in how Arthur quaked beneath him and gasped.

Arthur’s hands reached for Charles, too, slipping his shirt off of him, fingers working at buttons and fastenings until Charles was freed of his clothes. Arthur continued, caressing the wide expanse of Charles’s back, down his flank and kneading his ass. Charles chuckled softly. “I want you,” Arthur whispered. “You’re sure?” “Y-yeah.”

Charles rolled them both over so that Arthur was now astride him. His feet remained planted on the floor, his hips supported by the bed, Arthur straddled him. Both were panting and flushed, both achingly hard.

Arthur looked away hesitantly, arms moving up instinctively to cover himself but Charles held his wrists gently, “I want to see you, all of you.” Still not meeting Charles’s gaze, Arthur positioned himself over Charles’s length and, not able to wait any longer, after quickly slicking it with hair pomade (that tore a shiver down Charles’s spine but he managed to stop himself from bucking up into Arthur), he sunk down, swallowing Charles inch by inch.

Both of them gasped and moaned softly. Arthur’s dazzling eyes closed now as he adjusted to the length buried deep inside him to the hilt..

Arthur moved, he groaned as he did so. Charles filled him, felt so big inside. He reached down, steading himself by placing his palms on Charles's broad chest and then began to find a pace that he could enjoy. Charles watched with adoration as Arthur rode him, slow and sensual at first. He saw the flush deepening, saw his brow furrow as he found a rhythm, Charles placed his hands on Arthur’s hips to steady him Charles reached up to caress Arthur torso, his hips, the swell of his ass. The older outlaw’s weight bared down on him, engulfing him. Everything from the past few days, the past awful months felt like white noise. All Charles could focus on was his hard cock inside Arthur, his breathing, Arthur’s moans, their bodies rubbing against each other's, the feel of Arthur’s erection on his stomach as he slid in and out out of him, him becoming part of Arthur and Arthur becoming part of him.

It didn’t take long for Arthur's moans to grow louder and for him to bring himself down harder, passage squeezing Charles, making Charles growl in response. Arthur’s eyes rolled back and his body stiffened, he juddered almost collapsing if Charles hadn’t been holding him. He came without touching himself the first time. Charles saw the ecstasy clouding Arthur’s vision and as he barely came down from his first orgasm, he began to chase a second, raising his hips, grinding down on Charles with a force that Charles hadn't been certain Arthur wasn't capable of. Arthur huffed and cursed, he chanted Charles's name between low, careless moans. Charles groaned, doing his best not to spill himself in Arthur just yet and fill him up as much as would love to, Arthur’s heat was hypnotising but so was the way he moved, so was the way he looked above him, fawn coloured hair framing his handsome face, biting down on his lip, unable to hide how good this made him feel, how much he loved this,

Charles’s cock wrung orgasm after orgasm out of Arthur until he was left breathless and exhausted and finally collapsed into Charles’s arms. Charles thrust up into Arthur now, shivering and chest rumbling as he came, foreheads pressed together, breath hot on his face, Arthur’s lips trailing lazy kisses over his skin until they both stilled and lay in each others arms.

They lay like that until it began to grow light again outside and Charles could hear birdsong. "I love you," Charles murmured. Arthur slipped his hand in Charles's and whispered it back before he began to snore softly.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Tamara Fox, Some OC for cuteness Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Sickfic, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Tim Drake is Not Red Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Crying, so much crying, Love Confessions, Cheesy, God it's so cheesy, Cringe, So sweet so cheesy so angsty that you'll cringe, Tim Drake-centric, some Jason POV tho, A wild X-men appereance, I know they're not the same universe but I'm running out of character and running out of creativity, So yeah X-men characters and vaugly their mansion/orphanage too, Bruce Wayne Bashing, Some things that I don't put down bcs it'll be a spoiler, Smoking, Implied/Referenced Sex, POV from a cat????, The Clichést Cliché that ever Cliché, Cliche Summary:

They meet again on a rooftop after ten years. They're different now, and things are not the same. It's all too late. Chapter 1 sneakpeek

“Don’t jump.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Tim puts down his cigarette-clutching fingers and drags his eyes to the source of the voice. His gelled-back hair loses its hold and a strand of ear-length bangs falls to his vision.

Sadly, without seeing him and just from the voice, Tim knows exactly who this person is. One of the Bat franchise, and it just had to be the Red Hood variation, fucking great. Out of all time, it has to be tonight. The world is playing a joke on him.

Tim is sitting hunched on the rooftop’s edge, wishing he’d have some peace and quiet for once, and of course one of these pestering bats just has to bug him at the worst time. Yet, it’s actually pretty rare for Red Hood to patrol Gotham lately, and Tim curses up a storm in his mind. Out of all the days, it just has to be fucking tonight.

No, Tim is not having it.

“This man has too much to do tomorrow to jump.” Tim looks away, getting a light from his suit.

One hand lighting another one of his death stick, and the other unbuttoning his suit and loosens his tie. After a puff and two, Tim drags in and keeps the smoke in, letting his nerves uncoil. Seems like it doesn’t work that well when the big bad shadow of a vigilante doesn’t move from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not jumping, go away, I can’t deal with you tonight,” Tim says as he sighs the smoke away to the red polluted sky, thinking the man must be deaf or just not convinced. Maybe the latter, the bats are famous for their tact after all. People say they’re purely human. Seeing Red hood’s physique, maybe this one becomes meta-human at some point.

Tim looks the other way so the vigilante is completely out of his vision, to make a point that he’s not having this conversation. He looks to the city, engulfed by the red sky. It’s bright since this building is at the heart of the city, where the higher caste of Gothamites live and prosper. You can see the border around the bright side of the city where the lights stop dead and darkness begins. The poor side of the city. The gap is ghastly, it’s what makes Gotham what it is.

Tim is not surprised but highly disappointed when he hears shuffling instead, and when he looks at where the tall brick wall of a man, he already sits down next to him. Red Hood keeps a respectable distance though, at least he has that much of a tact.

Red Hood hooks his fingers inside his helmet, does some finger shimmy, and the red shiny mask helmet is off. His face is still covered by a domino mask, his hair looks damp, and his gloved hands rake his jet black hair back. Curls bounce to his forehead, sighing a fog, the only indication that the weather is reaching the end of the year. In turn, Tim felt his cleanly shaved nape chilled.

From inside the leather jacket, the vigilante digs to look for something, and that’s when Tim realized he’s been looking at the cuts on Red Hood’s exposed forearms from the folded sleeves. Very thick and muscled forearms. This guy either lifts all day or a meta-human, not that Tim cares anymore.

“Got a light?” Red says, plush lips smirking.

Tim sighs, guess he has company today. He digs into his suit and throws him his lighter. The masked man inspects it and Tim rolls his eyes. The lighter is a metal one that you flip, and on it engraved ‘From my heart with love, that this one lasts longer, Tam.’

“A sweetheart of yours?” Says the man, the second sentence he speaks, and Tim doesn’t recognize the voice. Deep, gravely, the typical voice of someone that smokes.

Red Hood extends his hand to give back the lighter to Tim instead of throwing it, must’ve thought it’s special.

“Kind of,” Tim says, receiving the lighter.

Red Hood drags in, keeps the smoke in, “Why kind of?” and sighs.

“Never established the relationship.”

“Commitment issues?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow at the man, sitting just as hunched as him. There’s a pillar beside Tim, and he lays his back there, thinking whether or not he should engage in this conversation. Eh, why not right? It’s not like it’s confidential information, and Tim is just so tired of caring about social politics.

“I was too late,” Tim says. It’s not as painful to say now, but lately, Tim has been numb. He’s been numb for years. Tim’s gay, or so he thought. When he began to really love her, she’s gone from him.

“Girl got another guy?” Red Hood teases.

“Girl got dead,” Tim deadpans. The smile dropped from the vigilante’s mouth, and if only he can see his eyes, panic would look funny on the all-powerful Bat. But, no, Tim can see his tell by the tapping hands.

“Ah fuck, sorry.”

Tim chuckles at the spectacle of an awkward vigilante. Maybe this night won’t be so bad after all.

“Relax, I’m not too sad about it now, it was years ago.”

It’s hard to predict Red’s expression with that domino mask that takes his cheekbones and half his forehead, but Tim’s pretty sure the twist on that mouth means his opinion of Tim isn’t good. Well, not that Tim cares.

“How did she die?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Tim put the filter on his lips and drags in as deep as he can. Too deep, and Tim coughs hard, once and twice that his vision blurs. Her face comes to vision, the morbidity of her expression tips Tim’s nerves off balance. Tim quickly takes another deep drag, “She was in the Joker’s way.”

At the name, Red Hood snaps his face at Tim. Slowly, languidly, Tim looks back. The vigilante clenched jaw and balled fists look like he’s about to kill somebody. Tim knows that a few years ago Red Hood kidnapped Joker, didn’t kill him, and just vanished before popping up again to have a vendetta against Batman. What a load of drama those bunch.

This also means that Tim knows exactly who this person is. Suddenly the voice registers, the familiar jaw, the soft fucking tone.

He blames it on the nicotine that his heart is calmer than he’d like, his mind still not on overdrive, still plagued with Tam’s face as she died in front of him. He’d breathe smoke instead of oxygen if he could. God he wished he’d breathe smoke from now on. Why does it have to be today? One grace from the universe is that Tim -for some reason- feels amused instead of dread.

“You look like you’re about to kill somebody, Red,” Tim says, can’t help the ease and sass in his voice. Tim lays back hunched, crosses his legs. “I thought you let go of your vendetta against the Joker.”

“Where do you hear that bullshit?” Redhood snaps and Tim can’t help but let go another chuckle.

“People talk, words get around,” Tim says.

“Then they’re far off the truth,” Red hisses before dragging in his cig.

“Yet the Joker still roams.”

“Ain’t my call.”

“Is it the big bat daddy calls?”

Red Hood splutters at the name and Tim smirks evilly at the reaction. “Ew, don’t call him that!”

“I can call that higher-than-thou furry hero wannabe anything I want,” Tim spits bitterly, looking out to the city. Sometimes when he’s really lucky, he’ll catch one of the bats twirling in the sky, and now one of ‘em is sitting beside him, but sadly it’s not the most shocking knowledge he has today. “One of these days it’s going to be my turn.”

“What?”

“Dying in the collision of mad men’s evil master plan you refuse to get rid of.”

“Ck, I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“Sorry then, I don’t mean to insinuate anything. This is me telling you loud and clear that you’re all cowards for not killing these maniacs that kill us like ants when you have the power to stop them.” Tim’s voice is even and chill, it did not raise a tone, but it reduces the bulk of a man beside him to still. “Some of us rooted for you when you caught the Joker, and your reputation gives us high hopes that it’ll be the last of him. Then he showed up again.” Tim feels the lighter in his pocket burn, “Then Tam died.”

Tim pumps his lung full of smokes, keeping it in there so that the clawing gloom will die before it takes roots.

“I almost did kill him, Batman stopped me,” the gravel voice says lowly.

Tim feels himself stiffens, now that’s something he doesn’t know. His eyes scan the hunched vigilante, trying to find any sign of a lie, there’s none.

“Shit,” Tim curses, sighing up smoke and quickly takes a deep drag in. “Fuck Batman.”

For the first time, Tim hears Red chuckle, “Yeah, fuck him.”

“Still your family though, right?” Tim says, earning what he thinks is a glare, who would fucking know with that mask. “Why else would you stay in his line?”

Red Hood looks away, not answering.

“Guess I understand. Proving something to someone.”

Red scoffs, “Would you?”

“You know who I am.”

“Yeah, not your story.”

Tim scoffs at the obvious lie, “Look it up. I have better things to do than telling you my backstory that’s a google search away.”

Tim Drake. Son of the CEOs of Drake Industries. Running smoothly since ever he becomes the COO. Yada yada, young and successful, yada yada, has the reputation to chew out the reporters and a resting bitch face, all that shit. Tim doesn’t have the best bedside manners, but when it comes to business, Tim gets things done, and his business partners know to swallow their pride for a potential too stupid to missed just because Tim has fangs.

“I dunno, you’re pretty mysterious in the eye of the media,” Red says.

“Because they’re nosy pricks and not worth my time when they’re asking me about rumors of my flings.”

“They’re not true?”

“What the fuck are you? Does TMZ sent you?”

“Good point, never mind.”

They let the quiet settle in, and Tim isn’t too bothered by the company so much. The red amber eats to his filter. Tim puts out the light and puts the bud back inside the pack while he gets another one. He looks down at his light, which reminded him of Tam. Damn, she was such a good assistant, she’s also his best friend but a damn better assistant. Tim doesn’t let himself think about it.

He lights another, and puffs.

“Shouldn’t you be patroling?” Tim says before he can stop himself.

“Nah, not here to patrol, just some errands.”

“Don’t mind me. I’m not jumping.”

“No, I know that,” Red says, tone softer that Tim narrows his eyes at him.

“Lonely?” Tim teases, putting the filter in his lips while locking eyes to the pair of white lenses.

Red shrugs, “Just wanna kill time with someone that doesn’t wear one of these,” he says, tapping to his domino mask.

Tim hums imagining himself with his family, “Yeah, me too, I’d take a vigilante franchise over family dinner anytime.”

“Aww,” Red surprisingly coos, making Tim flustered.

“Don’t get it twisted, my family sets a pretty low bar for good company.”

“I can say the same, Timmy.”

Tim flinches, “I didn’t say you can call me Timmy.”

“What about friends then?” Red follows up, ignoring him.

“Joker killed my only best friend. Oh god, stop making that face, everyone I know got someone they know killed by the Joker, or Bane, or.... shit just those freaks.”

“Doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I don’t care what you feel.”

“I’m wounded,” Red says in that joking ‘boo-hoo’ voice but it was the last thing to snap Tim’s patience completely. He hates this casual conversation as if nothing happened.

“I’m not jumping, and I know you’re not here just to talk to some random civilian. You know who I am, so say what you wanna say and go,” Tim inhales deeply after the low-toned rant, only to be met with another silence.

They stay quiet for a few whiles again. Smoking the tension away. After Tim’s cig burns halfway, his nerves calmed down. Then he realizes that Red is looking at him. Staring.

“What?” Tim says, sighing smoke.

“Would you kill Joker if you could?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Killing someone isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially if you did it before.”

“You underestimate my anger then.”

Red Hood goes still for what Tim is insinuating. His phone vibrates in his pocket. Tim gets it and his new assistant reminds him of a flight in an hour and he needs to be ready in half. Tim puts out his cig and pockets it.

As he stands up, he looks down at Red Hood, really looks at him. It reminded Tim of the time has passed. It’s been so long.

“Nothing to say?” Tim asks, he has an underlying tone of ‘last chance.’

“Thanks for the light.”

Tim clenches his jaw and breaths slowly. What did he expect? “You caught me at a bad time but it’s good to meet you again, Jason.”

When Tim walks away, his elbow is grabbed and he’s spun to face Jason in all his bulk. Looming over him with his height.

“You know who I am?” Red says with a threat in his voice that makes Tim wants to laugh.

“Are you really that surprised? Or did you forget me when you fucking died?” Tim smiles bitterly.

Moments passed, eyes on each other, chest to chest. The last time he sees Jason, Tim was staring at these white lenses too, and Jason was still as tall as him. At this close, Tim sees tiny tears that heal pale than the rest of his tan skin, bulked up body looming over him that used to be similar to his. For anyone, Tim had two best friends, Robin and Jason Wayne-Todd, he had known the two are the same. Seems like Jason doesn’t.

Doesn’t matter now. Everything said and done. Too late.

“Say your goodbyes now,” Tim says, because why else would his childhood friend pops back again after a decade of not saying anything after he returned to life. Tim doesn’t realize it’ll hurt this bad though. Missing Tam doesn’t hurt this bad.

Perhaps it was because the scar never healed right, but he still thinks of Jason like a big chunk of him that’s been torn away forcefully, even now.

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally says, low and guilty, as he should be, but it irks Tim to no end.

“I lost you, and when you’re back you didn’t tell me,” Tim says, his voice cracks and he curses it to hell. Red Hood’s been around for years, and Jason never came to Tim to say he’s alive.  “If you have nothing else to say, let go of me.”

“I didn’t know that you knew.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you know I was Robin... Did you know... everyone?”

Tim rolls his eyes, “Yes.” Gloved hands still on his elbow, and white lenses not letting him go. The non-challant face he wears slips off as if oil just slicked between the mask and his skin. His heart picks up a beat. There are layers between their skin, Jason’s thick gloves and Tim’s three-piece suit, but it feels warmer. Burning.

“Damn,” Jason curses under his breath.

It’s just a little thing, but Jason’s silence following that is a nother prick to Tim’s skin.

“Is that all?” Tim dismissed, pulling his arm away, but Jason only holds tighter.

“I didn’t know, okay?” Jason pushes, “And you’re a civilian, you’re not supposed to know Jason Todd is back to the land of the living.”

“A civilian,” Tim mutters under his breath. That’s all he is to Jason? All this time. His chest hurts, Tim knows this is because of Jason’s words instead of anything else. “Get away from me.”

“I’ll see you again,” Jason says before letting go.

Before Tim can say don’t bother, the man puts on his red helmet and grapples away. For a moment Tim can see the shadow of red yellow green flying away.