#Fic: Their Little Red

[takaraphoenix]

fun

Thanks for playing, Cupcake! ^-^

From my upcoming Stydiackson fic Back Against the Wall:

“Jacks is gonna be so mad he missed this,” Stiles gasped, arching his back. “He loves watching you fuck me. Now I feel twice as bad, like early training with Derek isn’t bad enough-” Before Stiles could continue rambling did Lydia cut him off with another kiss, much more demanding and fierce than the last, leaving Stiles moaning and desperate beneath her. It was flattering, just how strongly he reacted to her. But then he had been in love with her for like a decade. That kind of devotion? It showed. Smiling, Lydia kissed down Stiles’ throat. “Don’t worry, Jackson will have his fun later,” Lydia whispered promising.

+

“Besides,” Jackson whispered. “Why do you think Lydia plugged you? So we could have some quick fun between classes, without having to waste time on thorough prep work.” Stiles made a small noise. That did make sense and also explained the evil in Lydia’s eyes. Alas, most days, Stiles had stopped questioning the wickedness in his girlfriend’s heart. Maybe it would be safer to go back to being concerned about it, at least some times. The breath got knocked out of him when Jackson grabbed him by the thighs, pinning him against the wall and essentially carrying his entire weight. Fucking werewolf strength, why was it that hot?

--

From my upcoming Stetalion fic Their Little Red:

“Couple months ago, my best friend got bitten by an Alpha,” Stiles offered, stirring his drink. “Kinda turned our lives upside down. I kinda fell down a research rabbit hole of figuring out everything I could about werewolves, you know, like, what the fuck was happening, how to make him stop flashing his eyes at every minor inconvenience, how to stop him from hurting anyone on the full moon, these kind of fun things. And yeah, kinda, came across the club during that.”

+

“He doesn’t have an Alpha,” Stiles offered a half-shrug, taking a deep gulp of his drink. “We were out camping in the woods when he got attacked by a rogue Alpha. The Alpha ran off afterward, never saw them again. Next morning, my friend woke up naked in the middle of the woods. It was a fun camping trip for everyone. But yeah, we were left figuring this shit out on our own.”

+

Cora looked at him for a long moment, calculating, before she nodded pleased, got up and walked away. Stiles’ eyes followed her as she went to a table where a guy their age with blonde curls sat together with a guy who was a couple years older than them, dark hair and stubble. Huh. Guess he passed that test, then. Erica grinned, slapping him on the shoulder before getting up. “Yeah, you’re fun. I hope you stick around,” Erica winked before walking away.

+

“You look lovely today, darling,” Peter's voice was a low purr. Stiles loved when his voice sounded like that. It made him feel so damn appreciated and desired. In a way he'd never felt before. He'd been seeing Peter and Deucalion for about a month and a half now but neither was anything serious and he hadn't really told either that he was also spending time with someone else, they had agreed to not be exclusive. He knew alphas could be territorial and while he was still getting the hang of things, he didn't see why he should ruin two good things. He was just having fun. He was twenty-one, he was allowed to have fun, right? Two handsome alphas spending time with him, buying him drinks and paying him compliments, listening to him willingly. Quite frankly, Stiles wouldn't know how to choose between the two. Deucalion was so sophisticated, they could talk about books for hours with time just flying by and he never seemed annoyed by Stiles' ramblings. There was also something so utterly charming about the British gentlealpha. Peter on the other hand was snarky and had a wicked sense of humor that made it so much fun to gripe with him about movies and other things. On occasion, they'd even talk about Peter's cases – no details about the clients, but Stiles had quickly figured out that Peter was very weak to Stiles' big, brown eyes so a hopeful look from him could get the man talking and it was so exciting to see this side of the law.

From chapter three of Sugar for the Secretary:

“Ah,” the woman nodded with a bright smile. “Your sons are moving out at home? It is so nice to see parents who take care of their children even after they move out!” She’d started walking and the four of them were following her, but at her words, Stiles nearly belched. Sons. She thought Stiles was their son? Sure, he was aware that from a mathematical angle, age-wise, that would check out, Allison was literally his age, but damn no. And the assumption also rubbed Stiles the wrong way. He hated when people assumed things they knew nothing about. Time to have some fun. Putting on a cheerful smile, he walked ahead so he came to walk in front of her and then turned around, walking backward so he could face her and the others. “Oh, they are not my fathers,” Stiles assured her. “They’re just my sugar daddies.”

SEND ME A WORD AND I’LL POST A SENTENCE FROM A WIP

[keferon]

Guess who spent two days trying to understand how to draw a kiss

Based on amazing incredible gut wrenching Mistakes on Mistakes until..

[seiwas]

you wear katsuki’s clothes to bed.

among all your cotton and silk pajamas, you prefer the thinning fabric of his faded tees. there are holes in some of them, just a few more seams away from their undoing as they fit far too large on you—but that’s why you love them.

they’re comfy and worn; lived in with love from the man that you love. when katsuki is gone for days or weeks at a time, you find his warmth intertwined within the threads of his t-shirts. when the fabric presses against your back, the bed doesn’t feel nearly as empty as it is.

(though it can never replace him. nothing can, you fear.)

“hoggin’ all my shirts,” he tuts, but you know it means nothing. the roll of white fabric is neatly folded unto itself, its crisp corners unfurling once handed over.

you giggle, shaking off its folds and fitting the hem right over your head. from the corner of your eye, you see katsuki’s gaze, watching you wrangle the fabric over you as the towel wrapped around your body slowly drops to the floor.

he turns away then, a little too quickly, a little too abruptly. if you look at him now, you’re sure you’ll find flushed cheeks and crimson eyes burning in shame for wanting you so inopportunely.

“guess you’ll just have to take me with it then.”

[strange-birb]

Cough*

Jason’s design……

Next time I’m going to go ham with platforms on him like 👀

Not really a design I app for him. I feel like he’s not gonna go all out he’s just vibing idk. He set the makeup being the most prominent thing. His theme is dead boi

He does actually have the scars but I figure paint them all glowey and no one questions it?

He has fun being the zombie on stage and watching his family squirm when they see him in all the makeup lol

Blue lips cold skin wrecked fingernails

Bruce would have an attack 🤣

I don’t really know what to do with Jason’s designs and I’m open to any ideas fr

Official secret band AU!!!

Steph is drummer. Tim singer. Jason guitarist

I’m debating adding another but it won’t be batfam 🤷‍♀️

Tim.

Steph

ROY

CASS

[pidgeeepombo]

I was thinking about if Jason and reader met before he died and they were best friends, but the reader never had very good mental health, then after he dies it gets even worse. but from the moment he comes back from the dead and manages to reestablish coexistence with the reader again, the reader would touch jason from time to time, (not in a strange way) but for example, he is just sitting reading a book So reader pushes Gently touch his arm with your finger, something to make sure he's really alive. that he is there. because after a long time of feeling bad we lose track of reality.

I also imagine that the two would be the dynamic duo of self-depressing jokes, like Jason: wow, I hated that coffee, I would super die again.

you: true, it's horrible, are we going to jump off the bridge?

Jason: let's go!

*and the next moment you're like, no, we're not doing it. I love you, okay? stay alive.*

JasonxGN! Reader

[superbat-lmao]

A “buddy” vigilante story where Jason and Tim go back in time during Dick’s time as Robin, when the Worlds Greatest Detective was still young.

Basically, they significantly change the past and in the most annoying way possible. Tim knows that no one will know it was them and has been pretty morally flexible about the whole thing. They go down the list of rogues, down the list of siblings, bickering about it the whole time.

Jason kills the Joker, Tim rescues Cass, and both of them try and get one over on the other about their past selves.

Because Tim tries to talk baby Jason into stealing the Bat’s tires early while Jason’s out murdering Zucco, and Jason’s out snatching Tiny Tim and his camera from rooftops trying to leave him gift wrapped in the batcave while Tim’s out stealing info from Luthor.

It’s one giant clusterfuck but they’re successful because Tim and Jason combined are absolutely lethal and no one ever saw them coming.

Meanwhile, they keep running into Robin and absolutely losing it over seeing their oldest brother so young and angry.

Dick tries to track them down after they killed Zucco, he wants to ask why. What the hell they could possibly be doing or why that would matter to them.

Tim pushes Jason off a roof.Jason lights Tim’s ancient computer on fire. Tim tears a book in half. Jason takes pictures of Tiny Tim and sets them as his wallpaper. It’s a comedy, your honor.

And probably the worst headache Batman will ever get.

[varpusvaras]

Jason always breathed better in the kitchen.

There had been a few rooms in the Manor that had been more or less his. His own room, the library, and the kitchen, at the top of the list. Everyone had quickly learned how much having his own room meant for him, and they had learned to knock and wait for his permission to come in, instead of just barging inside, with loud words and harsh hands. Even Dick respected the quietness of the library, and if Jason had been in there, reading, no one had dared to disturb him, at least most of the time.

Still, Jason's favorite place had been the kitchen.

Maybe because Bruce and Dick had been squarely banned from ever coming in, giving Jason a space to go to if he truly wanted to be left alone by them. Maybe because that was where Alfred was, and Alfred was always safe, with no reason or intention to lecture Jason or argue with him. Maybe because in the kitchen, with the cupboards and the fridge full, and a cup of tea always ready for him, no matter the time of day, Jason had felt like everything would be alright the most.

There was no Alfred in the Queen family kitchen, it was open for everyone in the house, and there was no tea.

Still, Jason felt a little better as he leaned against the counter and breathed.

He could still hear the others in the house, somewhere, and if Jason really concentrated, he could, for a moment, delude himself into thinking that if he just stayed in the kitchen, he would cease to exist for the rest of them for the time being.

Not that Jason...wanted them to forget him, but it was easier that way, just for a moment. In a moment, Jason would be able to come out of the kitchen, and the day would continue like normal, and Jason could again pretend that he belonged there.

Jason breathed in. Lian and Mia had baked snickerdoodles earlier, and the kitchen still smelled like warm sugar and cinnamon. Jason imagined that they would go great with tea. Everything went great with tea. There were teacups in a cabinet on one of the kitchen walls. They didn't have the same pattern as the ones Alfred always used. The ones in the Manor had a golden rim and a red ribbon around them, and Jason had always been terrified to touch them. The cups in the cabinet had teal flowers on them, and they looked like they hadn't been touched in a long time.

There wasn't an Alfred in this kitchen, after all.

God, Jason missed Alfred.

He missed the kitchen in the Manor, with Alfred in it, Alfred who would not lecture him or argue with him, Alfred who always had a cup of tea for him, no matter the time of the day.

If Jason could just magically appear in the kitchen and skip the rest of the Manor, he would go there in a blink of an eye.

But he could not.

So not kitchen with Alfred and tea in it for him.

Jason breathed. Warm sugar and cinnamon. Teacups with teal flowers. Voices somewhere in the house.

How much longer it would take, to him to not have this either?

They haven't kicked you out yet, a hopeful voice in his head told him. They haven't told Roy to not bring you with him, either. That has to mean something.

Bruce also offered Jason help, once, Jason reminded the voice. And that Jason had said no.

But you haven't said no yet, the voice pointed out. You haven't said no a single time Roy has asked you to come here with him.

No, Jason admitted. He hadn't.

But it didn't mean anything.

Sooner or later, they would realise that Jason was not one of them. That there was no place for him here.

Just like Jason had realised that he wasn't part of the family anymore.

They wouldn't, the hopeful voice said. Look, Roy is happy here, he can come here, despite-

No, Jason shut the voice down. Do not bring Roy into this. Roy was sick and hurting. Roy needed help. Nothing about it was Roy's fault. Don't you dare compare yourself to Roy ever again.

The voice understood what was good for it and stayed quiet.

Jason breathed. Warm sugard and cinnamon. Teacups with teal flowers. Voices somewhere in the house.

Jason, in the kitchen, desperate the follow the voices.

Jason breathed. Warm sugar and cinnamon. Teacups with teal flowers. Footsteps, coming towards the kitchen.

Jason snapped his head around, tearing his eyes of the cabinet with the teacups.

Oliver stepped into the kitchen.

"There you are", he said, like seeing Jason in the kitchen was something he had hoped for. "Dinah is taking pictures."

Jason could not decipher the way Oliver had said the latter words.

"Yeah?" He said. "Roy said so."

All the kids were in the house, and Dinah wanted to take pictures with them all in it, to update the photowall in the living room. Roy had jokingly complained about it when he had mentioned it to Jason earlier, in a way that made it clear that Roy didn't actually mind sitting down and posing for the camera with the others. That he actually liked it, having his picture taken with his family in said picture with him.

Roy had left to fetch Lian, in order to make sure that she would be presentable for said pictures, and that had been Jason's cue to leave. To find somewhere that would be just for him for the time being.

Of course, the kitchen here was not the same as the kitchen in the Manor. It was not a place just for Jason. Jason had known that.

Oliver raised his brow, and Jason felt, for a slip second, like he was fourteen again, standing in the Manor's kitchen instead of this one.

"Yeah?" Oliver said back to him. "Chop-chop, everybody's waiting. Lian wants to have more cookies, and Roy promised her those after dinner, and Dinah wants to take the pictures before that."

Jason blinked.

"Oh", he said, because his brain was suddenly empty, and he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Oliver looked at him for a few seconds longer. There was something softer in the way he looked at Jason, now, like Jason, standing in the kitchen by himself, was something to be given softness.

Then Oliver stepped closer, and threw an arm around Jason's shoulders, like it was the most normal thing of him to do, and he dragged Jason out of the kitchen.

Jason tried not to think too much about how good it felt.

Everybody was gathered in the music room, which Jason knew most of the pictures already on the wall were taken in. It wasn't used much for playing music anymore, and it had the best lighting during most of the day, as far as Jason had understood from the house tour he had gotten when he had visited the house for the first time. The couch, which usually sat against the wall nex to the window, had been dragged to the middle of the room.

Roy, Lian, Mia and Connor were already sitting down, with Dinah standing next to the camera, checking the settings on it. She paused when she heard Oliver and Jason coming in.

"And there's the rest of them", she said, giving Jason a quick smile. "Jason, sit next to Lian, so she's between you and Roy."

Lian grinned at that, and quickly scooted closer to Roy, and she patted the empty space next to her eagerly.

Jason nodded, a little numbly. Connor scooted closer to Mia as he made his way towards the couch, giving Jason more room to sit down, and he sat on the edge of the couch, resisting the urge to clench his fists.

Lian leaned lightly against him.

"Jayjay, come closer", she said, wrapping her hands around Jason's forearm and tugging. She had lately started calling him just Jay more often than Jayjay, like she had when she had been a bit younger, and Jason immediately relented. He shifted closer to her, situating himself a bit more properly onto the couch, instead of right on the edge of the seat.

There was weight again on his shoulders, where Oliver's arm had been the whole way from the kitchen to the music room. Roy had thrown his arm over Lian's head and onto Jason's shoulders, boxing him in with them.

It was grounding, the weight of Roy and Lian, both pressing against him, the presence of Connor and Mia just on the other side.

Jason breathed in.

He dared to look over at Dinah, who was still adjusting something on the camera.

"This would be much easier to do with a phone", Mia said.

"We can take more pictures with a phone later", Dinah said. "I want a good-quality one for the wall, especially since this is the first one with the whole family in it."

Jason blinked.

There was a lump of something, in his throat, and the breathed around it.

Roy tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and Jason turned to look at him.

Roy didn't say anything. He just looked at Jason, with a gentle smile on his face, the one he used every time he wanted to say that everything was alright without using any words.

Lian slid one of her hands into Jason's and wrapped her fingers around Jason's. She squeezed.

Jason squeezed back.

"Okay!" Dinah said. "Everybody look alive."

She and Oliver moved to the couch as well, with Dinah coming to stand next to Mia, while Oliver made his way behind the couch. Jason watched him pat Roy on the shoulder, and Roy hummed happily under his breath. It was a nice sound, and Jason savoured it.

Roy was looking at the camera, and Jason turned to look towards it as well. Roy squeezed his shoulders, and Jason felt him lean a little closer to him.

"Smile, Jaybird", Roy whispered, his own smile still evident in his voice.

Jason breathed. Roy's arm was a comfortable weight on his shoulders, Lian's hand the same in his hand, and in that moment, Jason could make himself truly believe that he belonged, right there.

Jason breathed, and smiled.

[magicpiano]

When Tim is 10 years old his parents force him to go to some boring party in Metropolis held by Lex Luther. This would have been relatively normal if he hadn't ended the night kidnapping rescuing a clone of superman he found when he was snooping in the basement.

The good news is Tim is literally the last person Lex would suspect of stealing his clone, so he doesn't come looking (at least for a while.) Also Tim's parents are barely home! So with Superboy's powers he can easily stay quiet and hide. The Drakes don't even notice someone else living in their home.

The bad news is Tim has no idea how to take care of a super powered clone with no life experience (or even a name) when he himself is still a child. But whatever, at ten he is old enough to raise himself, so surely he is old enough to raise his new friend too?

Something, something, hijinks ensue, Tim is adopted by the batfam early and Clark steps up to be a dad.

[canisalbus]

hello! i've written a short little machete fic, and i wanted to share it with you as thanks for all the incredible art and generous question-answering you've been doing these last few months. i hope that if you give it a look, you enjoy it. <3 keep up all your amazing work! archiveofourown [.] org / works / 50945128

✦ A Voi ✦

[indulgentdaydream]

Jason Todd x reader where reader and Jason just cuddle in bed and Jason traces her frekles

"So pretty," he mumbles.

You giggle tiredly, already halfway to sleep.

Jason Todd doesn't get to use his hands for gentle things very often in general. But he'd be damned if he wasn't gentle for every second he had with you.

"Makin' shapes?" You peeked one eye open, seeing the admiration in Jason's face as his pointer finger ghosted across your cheeks, moving from freckle to freckle to beauty mark to freckle.

Jason hummed an agreement in response. He trailed his finger over your lips briefly before moving it down to your chin, across your jaw, and down your neck, ending on your shoulder where he started to trace more.

"What kinda shapes?" You asked.

A smirk pulled at Jason's lips, "Sixth dimensional ones."

You faked a gasp, "Six dimensional ones?"

"Yeah."

"What talent you have," You smiled. "It's hot."

Jason snorted, "Why thank you."

[ebodebo]

Red Is Dead

previous

—you find a familiar friend in an alleyway

—red hood x f!reader

—2.4k

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !

The rain fell gently, a soft patter that barely disturbed the stillness of the evening. The smell of damp soil and blossoming flowers filled your nostrils as you made your way home. You felt a sense of calmness wash over your body as you walked. It was honestly pretty surprising that a city as crime-ridden and lively as Gotham could invoke any serenity.

You weren't even from the city, but people talked. They criticized the city for being perilous since it was full of criminals and villains alike reaping havoc on the city every night—well, except from the looks of it, tonight.

Maybe tonight was their night off, you thought, before following with a small laugh.

You glance at Tom, your newish bodyguard, steadily walking behind you—poised as always. Your father had insisted he hire one since Gotham was unsafe, and some people would love nothing more than to see your father hurt—even if it meant going through you to do it.

Your father had insisted, more like forced, that you take him with you on your little expedition. Truthfully, you had really no idea why you had decided to leave the apartment you stayed in when you were in town and walk down the strip.

It was most likely to try to get a certain blue-eyed boy out of your head. It was odd; you couldn't get that guy out of your head since Bruce's gala. You two had slept together—on a roof. It was a one-night stand, and you couldn't forget about it. What was wrong with you?

"It's quiet," you say, trying to hide your embarrassment from laughing at seemingly nothing.

"Quite," Tom agrees. You sigh as you drudge your legs, irritated by his lack of conversion.

"Did you have to take a communication class before you got this gig?" You offhandedly ask as you walk past an apparent new burger place with a flashy sign that reads 'Between The Buns.'

"I don't believe so," he hums, not sparing the tacky sign a singular glance. You glance back at him, humming a sound of acknowledgment.

"You didn't need to trouble yourself with walking me home, Tom," you assure, stopping in front of him to admire another storefront, this time of a flower shop named 'The Flower Pot,' which is oddly next to an alleyway.

"It's my job to protect you, Miss," he informs, voice steady.

"I know, but—" you begin, turning your head to look down the alleyway, noticing a figure hunched against the shop's bricked wall, softly cursing. Your eyes widen, taking note of the reflective shiny red of his helmet that you could see even in the shitty lighting.

"What's the matter?" Tom questions, wondering what you're looking at. You spare him a glance before sprinting over to the hunched-over figure. Tom yells your name, trailing behind you.

Once you reach the figure, chest heaving, you look over the side of his abdomen, seeing blood spatters seeping through what looks like a shirt. You breathe out, hand coming to cover your mouth.

"Oh my—oh, he's, he's dead! Oh my—Tom! Tom!" You squeal, pointing at the bloodied and beaten person in front of you—that looked a helluva lot like a certain vigilante you spotted in a tabloid. Tom stepped closer to the guy, carefully observing him to see if he was in fact dead.

As he tried to reach down and grab the guy's wrist, his hand came up to grasp Tom's.

"Not dead," the guy murmured, moving his hand to hold his abdomen. "Kinda wish I was, though." Your eyes widen again, eyes scanning his helmet and the guns strapped to his thighs, and ears taking notice of the modulation of his voice.

"Hey, wait. You're that Hood guy," you announce, pointing a finger at him.

"Maybe, maybe not," the guy shrugs, clutching his side tighter, clearly trying to suppress losing any more blood.

"No, you're totally him," you tilt your head, bringing your hands to rest on your hips. "I heard about you from the Gazelle—Red Hood, right?"

"Hey, hey. Keep your voice down," the guy urged, slightly sitting up, hissing at the action. He leaned back against the wall, throwing his head back as he did. He flicked his eyes back to yours, briefly taking note of your soured expression.

"Fine. You caught me," Hood groaned, raising his hand to observe it and cursing as he saw it caked in a mix of fresh and old blood. You look at Tom before bending down, putting your body weight on your toes.

"Fuck. You need to go to the hospital," you murmur, looking into his eyes.

"No hospital," Hood's gaze flicks to yours; his tone is unmistakably serious.

"You'll bleed out and die," you attest, eyes glaring at his.

"I'm not going to a hospital," he says, turning his head away from you.

"I can't—are you serious?" You dryly laugh.

"Dead," he insists.

"Well, I'm not leaving you to die," you cross your arms over your chest, clearly not budging.

"Why? Would it hurt your feeble conscience?" He gibed, hissing as he brought his hand to grip the gash.

"I—you can't just ask me to let you die, Red," you affirm, bringing your hands to put more pressure on where blood seeps out.

"I'm not," he hisses. "I just said no hospital."

"So, then, where do you suppose we take you? You hiss, agitated at his lack of cooperation and appreciation that you didn't just leave his ass to bleed out. "That fucking burger place across the street?"

"Wouldn't chance it," he begins, wheezing as Tom picks his shirt up a little to expose the bloody gash, carefully pressing his handkerchief that was tucked nicely in his coat pocket onto it to try and stop the bleeding. "They might put me in the burgers."

"Gross," you roll your eyes at Red before turning to Tom. "What the hell are we going to do with him?" Tom takes a breath before pulling his phone out to text someone.

"No, seriously, they would put me in that meat grinder," Red deadpans.

"Shut up," you grumbled, pressing his abdomen harder. "Let me think."

"And then feed me to everyone," his voice is indifferent before it turns curious. "Wonder if I'm tasty?"

"Oh my god, you're impossible," you deeply sigh.

"The limo is pulling up," Tom supplies, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket and glancing at Red and then at you. “I'm sure you don't want to hear this, but I work for your family, so it's your call. Where do you want to take him?" Tom says coolly.

You look back at an anguished Red, silently cursing from pain. Taking a deep breath, you look at Tom, nodding towards Red.

"I'll take him to my apartment," you declare. Red lets out a dry chuckle as Tom helps him up, bringing his arm to grip Red's lower back tightly, while Red's arms drape over his shoulders.

"Woah, woah. I'm not just some stray cat you can take in cus' I'm cute," Red groggily says.

"I don't think you're cute," you plainly say as you and Tom guide him into the back of the limo. The driver holds the door open, paying no heed to what is happening.

"I actually think you're a bit of a dick," you shrug, getting him situated in his seat as you sink into the seat next to him, gently placing your hand to put more pressure on his wound.

"Do those things have to be mutually exclusive?" Red quips, tilting his head back on the headrest.

"To me, yes," you simply say, hearing Tom mutter something to the driver. "To be considered cute, you can't be a dick, and if you're a dick, you aren't cute."

"Mhm. You're an odd one, alright," Red murmurs, putting pressure on the wound himself. Your eyes flick to his as you feel his hands lay on top of yours on his abdomen, surprised to find his eyes already dulling into yours.

"You—we probably, um, we probably only need one pair of hands for pressure," you feel your face heat as you pull your hands off of him, laying them on either side of your thighs instead.

"Okay. We'll be there in fifteen," Tom says, turning to look at you and Red. He raises a brow at how you sit straight up in the seat and your hands tightly tucked to your side. You are grateful when he doesn't question why. "Also, just for the record, I had no prior knowledge of this happening. Yes?" Tom asks, tilting his head towards you.

"Got it. You don't want to be my accomplice," you amend, tipping your head towards him.

Once you reach your apartment, Tom helps you bring Red inside to rest on the couch. You assure him you will be fine. He says he is only a call away if you need anything.

You were honestly surprised that Tom willingly left, but maybe he was finally starting to see you as an adult and not a child, or perhaps he didn't want Red's blood on his hands if he did die while under your roof. You hoped the former.

"So, uh, are you thirsty?" You yell from your place in the bathroom, opening the cupboard under your sink and fumbling with the cleaning supplies to try and grab your small first aid kit. "Hungry?"

"Not really," Red gravels, pressing a button on his shiny red mask to open it before ripping it off to reveal a simple black domino mask.

"You should probably have some water at least," you say, heading into the kitchen to fill a fresh glass with tap water from your sink. You walk into the living room, gently placing the water next to him on the side table while you sit on the coffee table, shuffling through the first aid kit.

"Thanks," he gruffed, reaching for the cup of water and chugging down almost the whole glass, wiping some of the water that dripped down his chin with the back of his gloved hand.

You looked up, a hint of humor in your eyes at his chugging before you saw it. His lips. You knew those lips. You were sure of it. You fiddled with a piece of gauze you dipped in saline in your hand as your eyes examined him further.

"What?" Red curiously says, taking notice of fervent staring. You dart your eyes back to his before moving back to the gauze.

"Sorry. You—you just look a little familiar," you admit, moving closer to him. He gently lifts his shirt just high enough so you can clean the wound.

"Ya," he winces as he feels the gauze gently pat around the gash. "Knew that wouldn't last long," he utters as he rips off his black domino mask, tossing it to his side.

You are slightly startled by his swift movement, pulling back. "Wha—Jason," you exclaim, shock and disbelief coating your face. "You—you're," you stutter, unsure of what to say.

"Ya," he awkwardly says, cringing from pain as he scratches the back of his neck. "Fuck."

"Shit. Okay, okay. We need to take care of this before we dive into—you use your hand to gesture towards him—that." He lightly nods as you delicately place the gauze onto the gash.

"Fuck—fuck!" He curses, throwing his head back, jaw clenching as he grinds his teeth.

"You okay?" You halt your actions, staring at him with more gauze in hand.

"Does it look like I'm okay?" He grits, tipping his head down to look at you. Your eyes are wide at his tone. He sighs. "M'sorry. Just—just keep going," he exasperates, laying his head back down, inhaling and exhaling slowly as you finish placing the gauze and taping it thoughtfully to ensure it was secure on his skin. He pulls his shirt down almost immediately after you finish.

"It should be okay tonight, Red. But you should really get it checked out tomorrow," you begin, closing up the kit. "You know, by a doctor."

"You can," he pauses momentarily. "Just call me Jason."

"Okay, Jason," you smile a little, "Please get it checked tomorrow." He nods as you get up to put the first aid kit back in your bathroom. You come back to see him staring up at the ceiling.

"I, uh, died," he mumbles as you take a seat on the couch cushion farthest from him. You let out a laugh, turning your head to look at him. His face is still looking at the ceiling, but it lacks humor.

"What do you mean?" You question.

"Just—I don't know," he raises his hand, trying to shoo away the question. "Forget it."

"Jason," you softly say, hand lingering closer to his own. "Tell me." You bring your hand to lay on top of his; he turns towards you swiftly at the contact. You lightly smile to let him know it's okay. He takes a deep breath before revealing more.

He doesn't go into detail about what occurred during his time in Arkham, but he did talk about his resurrection from Lazarus Pit; you didn't even know what the hell that was. He just said it can revive someone from the dead if they have just died.

"Then you became Red Hood?" You quietly asked, your hand gripping his tighter. You had not even realized it, but sometime during the conversation, you had scooted closer to him.

"Then I became Red Hood," he agrees, a light glint of humor dancing across his face. You hum a sound of acknowledgment, contemplating your following words.

"Does your dad know?" You ask, tilting your head a little. He raises a brow, clearly confused.

"Does my—" he begins to question before he lets out a slight huff, "Bruce?" You nod.

"He does," Jason affirms without the sarcastic commentary he would typically enforce since you just looked so sincere.

You both sat in silence for a bit, heads leaned back on the headrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling, fingers now interlaced. Oddly, it felt so casual—like you had just done this a million times before. You had only met him once before, but you felt like you could just trust him with your life—I mean, he had trusted you with his.

"You should sleep," you break the silence, slowly turning your head to face him, cheek smushed against the leather of the couch.

"Nah. Sleep is for the weak," he mumbles, turning his head to look at you. "Would you mind just, uh, staying here?" He awkwardly asks. "Please."

"No need to beg, Jason," you snicker. "I won't leave. I promise." He slightly flinches at your words. You don't question why; instead, you interlock your fingers tighter so he knows you aren't fibbing.

You get the feeling he's never really had anyone to take much care of him. So, you'll sit on the ugly brown leather couch you despise while the air conditioning turns on, sending shivers and goosebumps down your bare arm because everyone deserves to have somebody.

Even if that 'everyone' just so happens to be a stray vigilante with a massive ego.

a/n: posting this then running away (also still very new to dc so plz don’t be mean to me about the lore if it’s inaccurate)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[takaraphoenix]

Their Little Red… please share!! I’m so intrigued now!!

THANK YOU FOR ASKING <3<3<3

Okay so!!

It's going to be an AU, no Alpha Pack, no Stiles knowing either of them actually.

In this ABOverse world, Stiles is an omega who's lived on suppressants since he presented, because in human society, omegas are treated second class.

However, he recently learned that in werewolf society, omegas are veered as something precious to be cherished, someone every pack would be proud to include among them.

So, Stiles decides to go and see if maybe, just maybe, he could get lucky with a werewolf. He finds out about a club, called Little Red, that is specially for human/werewolf match ups to meet.

But when he first goes, he's still on suppressants, because as nice as it sounds in theory that werewolves would view omegas better, he 1.) doesn't 100% trust his sources and needs to see for himself, and also 2.) even if that is the case, he also doesn't want to be wanted just for being an omega.

His first night at the club, he meets Deucalion and hits it off with the werewolf. But since he forgets to ask for the man's number, he returns the next night, hoping to see him again.

Instead, he meets Peter, with whom he also hits it off right away.

Now, what Stiles doesn't realize is that they're both not just werewolves, they're also Alphas, as in not just alphas but capital A pack leader type of alphas. And a mated pair. And the owners of this very club that is quickly becoming his usual hang-out.

Deucalion and Peter had been discussing adding a third for a while when Stiles first catches Deucalion's interest and though due to their nature as a mated pair of alphas, they'd been talking about an omega, he finds the quick-witted beta enchanting and when Peter goes to meet Stiles the following night, his husband seems of the same mind.

Still, they wait and get to know Stiles separately first, knowing that chatting someone up for a potential hook-up is a different beast than a courting offer, especially from a mated pair, especially from two Alphas who came with an entire pack (a pack that grows more and more eager the more often Stiles comes to the club, because they all work there and thus get to know Stiles too).

(And yes. The fic's title has a double meaning, since it's the name of their club. But also Stiles looks enchanting in that infuriating red hoodie he wears the first weekend he goes to the club.)

[porcelian]

OFFERED TENDERNESS

Summary: In which you and Jason appreciate eachothers trust in different little ways.

Warnings: fluff, because of course its fluff, idiots in love, nothing worth mentioning as a real warning.

Notes: if you know where the songs are from i love you ^⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠^ i should watch bride and prejudice again lol. My favourite pride and prejudice movie (probably because i haven't watched the other ones yet.. :⁠,⁠-⁠))

Word count: 1k.

Masterlist. Navigation.

The soft rays of the sun felt light on his skin, waking Jason from his slumber. His eyes blearily opened and tried to adjust to the light streaming into the room from the parted curtains. He yawned before turning to your side of the bed.

You always took the side closer to the window, enjoying the view before drifting off to sleep. Jason, on the other hand, slept closer to the door. He insisted it was more practical in a dangerous situation. He also preferred fewer blankets, claiming it was easier to pull off of himself.

Jason expected this to be like any other lazy morning. He usually woke up earlier than you. He would turn to your side, wrap his arms around you, and pull you closer. You'd be cocooned in warm blankets, running hot.

Jason sought you out for warmth whenever he got cold. You’d open your arms, and both of you would curl up together. You’d spend a moment in each other’s embrace, talking, making lame jokes, and then start the day.

He thought this day would be the same, accustomed to the routine. So, when his arm reached over to your side and found it empty, he panicked. He shuffled out of bed, looking around the room. You weren’t in the bedroom. You weren’t in the bathroom, brushing your teeth (with kids’ toothpaste, as he noted you liked the watermelon-scented one).

It was when he entered the hallway outside of your shared bedroom that he heard you. It was like sweet music to his ears. You were singing along to some song (horribly, yes, but still).

He peeked his head in and saw you organizing groceries in the kitchen. Almost on instinct, he moved forward and wordlessly wrapped his arms around you.

“Where were you?” He tried to mask the concern lacing his words.

You didn’t lose a second before soothing him, “Oh, I’m so sorry, honeybee. We needed groceries, and I thought I would drop by the market quickly.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. It’s okay.” He reassured you. You were alright, and that’s all that mattered to him.

“Ya’ know, I’m pretty tired today. Wanna get take-out?” You turned to face him, running your hands through his hair, slowly caressing and massaging.

He didn’t answer your question. Instead, he nuzzled into the crook of your neck and mumbled, “You smell really good, baby.”

You started to laugh because it tickled. Jason didn’t relent, almost as if he was burning the sight of you into his mind. The smile in your eyes, the sound of your laughter.

If he could capture the sound of your laughs, the look you get when you're relaxed and comfortable, and keep it in a bottle forever, he would.

Jason couldn’t exactly do that, so he made do with his many attempts to make you smile.

“Answer my question, sunshine.”

He couldn’t help but smile at your nicknames. Never did he ever think he’d be called something sweet by someone. In your eyes, he’s sweet like honey and warm like sunshine.

Jason had never said it, but your affections made him feel like a boy again. He didn’t need to say it. You knew it, though. You cherished every moment you saw his eyes light up just a little bit when you did so.

You thanked him every time in your mind for trusting you with this piece of him.

*****

It was your and Jason’s weekly movie night, one of the rare nights you had him to yourself. Of course, you put all of your effort into making the experience comfortable and enjoyable for Jason.

The smell and sound of popcorn and soda bottles opening filled the kitchen and the living room. Hearing the opening intro of the movie, you yelled out for Jason.

“Wait! Pause it!” You sped through the apartment, almost running into the couch on which Jason was currently curled up. “Don’t start without me.” You gave him a fake pout.

He dramatically rolled his eyes. “I would never, baby.” He placed his hand on his heart, offended you would even suggest he would do this.

“Okay, okay. Start it.” You smiled. “Do not skip the songs! ‘No Life Without Wife’ and ‘Take Me To Love’ are masterpieces we cannot skip.” You emphasized the last few words.

Your dedication to the night made Jason feel something warm inside his heart, spreading through his entire body. He stared at you, taking in every detail. Not like he hadn’t already, but at this point, it had become something he did without even noticing.

You did notice, though. You could feel his blue-green eyes on you. The feeling made you feel fuzzy all over. You turned and stared back at him, the movie all but forgotten at the moment.

“Take a picture, Jay. It will last longer.” He chuckled at the smug grin on your face, finally looking back at the movie.

“We better start watching it, or we’ll end up like last time.”

“Uh-huh, I’m not falling asleep again! Don’t know about you, mister.”

“If anyone’s going to fall asleep, it’s you.”

Both of you continued this little game for a few moments before you moved closer to him.

“Is this okay?” You asked.

“Yes, it’s okay. Thank you.” He muttered the last words quietly.

You cuddled closer to him, slowly grabbing one of his arms and intertwining your fingers. It was a habit of yours, he thought. You always did it without fail. Jason was thankful for it. He thought it grounded him. A warm, peaceful feeling spread through his body as your hand touched his.

He thanked you every time in his mind for trusting him with this piece of you.

(Unfortunately, neither of you finished the movie that day. Both of you had fallen asleep. But in your mind, that wasn’t a loss at all. You were together, and that’s all that mattered to you.)

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[clarisse-doodles]

bat watching

[rebelsafoot]

this was the only way it was ever going to end.

art based loosely off of my fic in plain sight

[hai-nae]

meant to post these sketches a few days ago? a week? but, well, life.