Jayslade (my first and only, inspired by a discussion in a Sladejay server and a convo I had with @d-xs). It was supposed to be NC-21 but as often happens, I ran out of steam during the setup.

Anyway:

If you wanted Jason to describe to you just how did he end up here, falling out of the highest floor in Titans Tower, bleeding from a stomach wound, with Slade Wilson in his arms... He can tell you, but it's not like it's a rare thing nowadays.

Well. It was a hell out of the first kiss, he can tell you that.

Probably the only thing that is making this different. And only time will tell if the butterflies in his stomach is a "good different" or a "sword wound, but extreme amount of dopamine released in his bloodstream fucking up with his pain perception".

Of Monsters and Miracles by LaReineDuLune - Here is the link - I hope this is the fic @dn-ky meant, I really enjoyed this. It has all the immortal family feels and I loved it

Thank you @stark-park and @theoldguard-recs so much for your help! Yes!! This is the fic.

Work in Progress Wednesday

From my Legend retelling/Historical AU, which is the first omegaverse story I've ever tried to write. This time we're getting a bit of insight from Joey, although I'll most likely bump his perspective to the second chapter. As always, take a deep breath and prepare for overly florid language!

“Damn you Hero! I will get my revenge” those were the last words before your arch nemesis ran away, 5 years have passed and she still hasn’t returned, you retired, got married and now have a lovely wife and kids. But one day while checking the basement you find the costume of your arch nemesis

I really, really, really wanted to pretend that I hadn’t seen it, but the fact of the matter is that the costume had been ingrained in my memory for years. Haunting my nightmares and my dreams, and I could remember her voice ringing in my ears, the smell of the ruined lab around me, and every bruise she’d given me before I’d gotten the upper hand. She never did come back, and I waited for her. I really did wait, hoping that she might come back and seek her revenge, it was all part of our…all part of our dance. When I retired, having no choice when my villain had vanished. The higher-ups had prepped me for retirement, confiscated everything that might incriminate me as a former hero, and dumped me in a small midwestern city with a decent pension and a boatload rules. I did what they wanted me to, only after significant complaining, and married quicker than I should have. I knew this and I was pretty sure that my wife knew this too. Love and lust is one thing, but marriage takes work and I was beginning to understand why most heroes don’t actually stay married. 

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Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Beta Tim Drake, Omega Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Relationships, He Does Improve, Former Talon Dick Grayson, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, intersex omega, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Dick Grayson is Not Adopted Summary: Dick has never had an easy life. The scars on his body and the owls in his dreams see to that. Having Jason, his brother, around helps ease the pain. But the night Dick saves a young boy with relations to Gotham’s Dark Knight, a chain of events spring into action. One that will either free him or set all he loves ablaze.

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Well, that's happened.

Jason didn't clearly remember what, exactly, did happen. His memory had weird black spots where he seem to be ceasing to exist. Or was possessed by a ghost. Seeing how here he was dragging Bruce back upstairs, there he was falling onto the bed - colliding with the headboard, that he remembers, which maybe would have been more realistic explanation of losing his consciousness, if not for all the whiskey he and Bruce celebrated their little reunion with.

His hand, that was carefully exploring a bump on the back of his head, froze and then changed its position, desperately trying to stifle his groan and close his eyes in a childish "if I can't see the world, it doesn't exist" attempt. It failed, obviously, and Bruce, who was still sleeping just a minute ago, woke up immediately.

He was - hangover, obviously, but also old; obviously, he's freaking thirty five, and spends less time on sleep per day than other people on food, or sex, or normal social interaction. It's no wonder that Bruce had dark bags under eyes, and lines that never were on his face before just three years ago.

Bruce's gaze went from bleary to alert in seconds. He looked pissed and ready to punch someone for all about a moment it took him to get a clear look on Jason. Then, the horror. The disbelief. The hand that almost touched Jason's cheek - a hand attached to a naked arm attached to a naked torso attached to a naked everything else.

Yeah, Jason saw him taking it all in as if in a slow-mo. Disbelief exchanged with horror again, then denial, then disgust and horror and anger and. Here it is.

Jason had good reflexes, so he handed Bruce a waste basket just in time. Bruce took it with him when he locked himself in a bathroom.

Jason got out of the bed, ah, carefully, but not letting himself slow down. Both because he wanted to find his jeans and the mp3 player in it so he could block out the sound of retching, and because stopping meant acknowledging the pain where no red-blooded man coming from a proud line of Crime Alley white trash, still bearing cigarette burns on his arms up till his death and even after his resurrection, was willing to acknowledge.

That's disregarding the whole "waking up in the same bed as your former adoptive father, now enemy" thing.

Shit. That's the thing about pink elephants.

Finally, finally Jason grabbed his pants from the other side of the bed. Not only he put his headphones in, he also opened almost full pack of Marlboro and lit the second cigarette since long before he died.

The first one, he glanced at his disposable phone, was about thirteen hours ago. This must be the reason he wasn't allowed to join the drama club. Obviously, his elders (Alfred) had good judgement in some things and recognized that theatrics are his weakest point and didn't want to encourage it. Obviously, as one of the theatre kids himself - somewhere deep down in his soul; or how they call themselves, thespians. Obviously, he rebelled against authority and followed most flashiest, most dramatic way possible. Get accused of drop-kicking a scum off the roof? Keep silent, because he should have trusted you. See your sus bio mom getting involved in shady dealings with the Joker, ffs, reveal your secret identity and get double crossed by her, leading your both to die. Coming back to life? Why, of course he couldn't just put nine millimeter to Joker's temple and blow his brains out. You only come back to life to get your revenge once (so far), it's too prosaic to be deserving of the opportunity. So he let Joker go, and come back to Gotham, and figured out the whole perfect, total mindfuck of a plan. Which would have even worked! He was sure.

Only, before he started the whole thing, he went to the cemetery, to see his own grave, and he did what he saw other people were doing back in the day where he knew people. He lit a cigarette for the dead, and placed it right before the headstone, and touched the engraving on it, in awe of hypocrisy.

"Jason?" He heard Bruce, maybe two feet away from him. He didn't look back. Couldn't.

In the blink of an eye, Bruce was there, touching him on the shoulder, and calling him again, and instead of throwing his hand off, throwing Bruce over his body and onto the ground, where his body was supposed to rest but, hey, no rest for the wicked...

He turned back, and here Bruce was.

"What?" he said, irritably, taking one headphone out. Damnit, his favorite song was playing.

Bruce freshened up. Jason got a whiff of a menthol toothpaste and a different shower gel than he smelled last night. He looked clean-shaven too, probably still used a hypoallergenic aftershave with no odor. His hair was still wet but he wasn't wearing his pink robe Jason tried to make fun of him once for. Instead, there was a simple gray T-shirt that hugged his muscles nicely and comfy-looking sweatpants that still fit snuggly around his lower waist area. Was Jason pani... Reminiscing for too long? Well, it's not like he wasted the best time to get away. There was no best time for that, based on how Jason felt. Jason felt like throwing the quilt over his head and saying fuck it to the rest of the world until at least the next evening. No. It's not that Jason was too slow. If needed, Bruce could be scary time-efficient. Just look how fast he changed Robins. The longer he spent without one was half a year, the shortest - less than a day.

"Put the cigarette away."

Jason looked at him without blinking. Then looked at the cigarette in his hand - a second one, no, the third, based on the butts on the bedside table. Then back at him.

He put it off onto his own open hand. Bruce, to his credit, flinched.

"You're all done there?" The door to the bathroom was still open. "I need a shower."

He stood up and tried to go past Bruce. Bruce caught his hand, forced to open his palm. Jason pulled it out.

"Forget it, I'll just go to - hey, is my room still here? Or did you give it away to the new guy as well?"

"I didn't..."

"Give him anything, he took it, yeah, I heard you yesterday. That's what you are telling yourself? How about the dead kid? Well, the other one, that is. Did she wanted it too?"

Jason grimaced when he heard how unsteady his voice was. He didn't have to look at Bruce's face (it won't give anything away anyway) to know that he clocked it.

What should have been a deadly weapon in his hands became something his opponent could take over and use against him. That's a metaphoric lesson about why guns are bad if Jason heard one. But he knows guns. He refused to hand his weapon over.

"Did you fuck them too? Using shock, grief, guilt and shit-tone of alcohol as an excuse? Maybe Crane's gas making you see things? Maybe Poison Ivy's handiwork to blame?"

"Jason." Rough, strong hands hugged Jason's shoulders and let go immediately. It still made him clam up immediately. "I am sorry."

Jason looked at the door. It wouldn't become closer if he doesn't move. Shut up and move, Todd!

"I would ask for which part, Bruce. But I actually don't give a shit."

And he moved. And that's a door. And that's him banging it.

Perfect. Obviously a behavior of someone not giving a shit.

What was just a cherry on top, it's Alfred, bug-eyed, staring at still buck-naked Jason, covered in red spots, blue handprints and suspicious dried fluids.

"Hi, Alf," Jason waved, before going straight to the stairwell. "I got you a collected edition, it's not with me right now, but I will try to courier it to you as soon as I have time. How it's going? You're good? Heard you guys got a dog, nice. What did you name it?"

He ignored the sound of something breaking behind his back. Or what he was talking to air now.

The secret passage to the Cave was just there he remembered.

He took a 1-minute shower, put on some spare, not-branded gear Bruce used for sneaking around (it fit, for the most part, ha!). When he was on his way to the dock where a sleek red moto-cycle was parked, he caught a glimpse of himself in a glass case. Red-green-yellow, and his face above it, like in good old times. Only not. He had obviously grown up. There was stubble on his face now. And he didn't look hyped. He looked fucked out. He shuddered. And then, somehow, the glass was blowing inward, shattered, and he was unwrapping a belt from his fist. There was a mix of years old and fresh blood on the suit. He wanted to set it on fire, but the lighter stayed upstairs.

No, he wowed, he won't change, he will lean into his inner thespian. What other people see as his disadvantages - his flashiness, his drive, his down-to-earth origin (read: his attitude, his anger, his scum begets scum life story) - is his strength.

He just needed to work on his dramatic timing.

Hello! Making my first post a rare pairing I did. Hope you guys like it.  Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days, Castlevania (Cartoon) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dracula/Jason Todd Characters: Hector (Castlevania), Dracula Vlad Tepes | Mathias Cronqvist, Jason Todd Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, intersex omega, Porn With Plot, Rare Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Implied Mpreg, Not Beta Read, Fluff, Mystery, Established Relationship Summary: Jason finds a home in a monster’s castle.

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Good to See You Again, Roman!

Roman does not see stars. He wishes he did, but alas, he sees little asshole children dressed like traffic lights cartwheeling around his head.

“Didja see that, Batman?” He wants to murder this child. This is a first for him. Not that he has anything against murdering children, he’s just…never cared. He’s never been in close enough proximity to have an opinion on the matter. “He was all, ‘ahhhh!’ and I was all, ‘BAM in your FACE!’ and now look at ‘im!”

He hates this child.

“I saw, Robin.” Batman, that sorry, self-righteous bastard, this is his fault. “I was here the entire time.”

“But were you looking?” Robin bounces up and down, not even caring that Roman is flat on his back with a concussion and a sprained ankle from falling down the stairs. “Because sometimes you don’t look and you miss sh–uff. Stuff. I said stuff!”

Roman envisions bludgeoning Robin to death with a crowbar. Or maybe a flaming candlestick. Anything, really. Something heavy that will shatter his skull and shut him up permanently.

“Of course you did, Robin.” How dare Batman sound so indulgent. His little monster assaulted him in his own home! “Now come on.”

Owww.

* * *

One of the best days of Roman’s life is the day Joker announces to Gotham that he’s killed Robin. Some would say that’s terrible. To that, well, he’d respond that he’s not a very nice person.

But nobody says anything to him. They know better. And if they feel the need to judge him pouring himself a nice glass of champagne, they keep it to themselves.

He kicks back at his desk, a little disappointed that he couldn’t do the deed himself, but alas. Can’t always get what you want, and never again will that cackling little brat come flying out from a vent to kick him in the face and mock him.

He raises his glass and says, only a little sardonically, “May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest, you little shit.”

* * *

Roman is not having a good day.

The last several have not been good days. He woke up to find that some punkass kid calling himself the Red Hood (cute) had come roaring into Gotham, hurled a bag of heads into the middle of a drug meet, and, well…

Twenty of his people are dead and three high-profit shipments have been stolen. Of the Hood himself, there’s no sign.

Or at least, there hasn’t been. Up until now.

The underworld’s been all abuzz over the identity of the Hood. But Roman? Roman now knows. The fucker’s bigger, sure, more willing to thumb his nose at Daddy Bat’s no-killing ideals, but that’s Robin. The one who is supposed to be dead.

Will his suffering never end?

Typical Joker, never could do anything properly…an absolute miracle the clown managed to die right…

He gets a shot off in Hood’s direction, but he flips aside, somehow managing to give Roman the finger in midair.

“Missed me, now you gotta kiss me!” On a cold day in Hell, maybe. “Or maybe not…you ever get that mask off?”

Roman sees red, both literally and figuratively.

“Quit flippin’ around and fight me, you sorry coward!” Hood laughs at him. “You want to play with the big boys? You gotta act like one!”

He regrets this immediately. The guns go away, and Hood grapples up in a cloud of smoke. He’s just about to complain about the predictability of this when he takes a boot to the face and careens backwards.

Right down the back stairs that lead to his office.

He screeches as he falls, feeling his ankle twist most unpleasantly, and fires desperately into the smoke cloud. Hood cackles, the same horrible noise that haunts his dreams, and there’s the sound of shattering glass followed by a, “So long, and thanks for this briefcase of money–ooooh, that’s a rocket launcher, that’s mine–”

Hood. Is going. To die.

THE END

I had a dream and am inspired for Dragon Boy. But first tell me which you would prefer:

And don't worry you'll get your egg smut chapter either way.

Jason + Ra's and that huge drama that lead to Dick figuring out that Slade is the one who took Jason.

"Finder's keepers!" Dick has called out just as quickly as he makes his leave, and then it’s just Jason standing in the middle of the Cave with Bruce holding on to him not unlike a koala to a tree.

They make full eye contact.

“Well,” Jason starts, and stops because frankly, he’s got no idea where to go from here when he can’t even hold that stare, being the first to have to look away.

It’s the way the old man— a kid, now and just, wow— still has the audacity to blink those big baby blues at Jason like he’s only got eyes for him.

It’s an expression that Jason wishes would be unfamiliar. But it’s not. Not by a long shot. Not when Jason’s had that same expression on his own face for the longest time, thirteen years old and sneaking glances to Batman with Robin magic at his fingertips.

Even with no one else around now, Jason doesn’t understand what it is about himself that makes Bruce want to stay close. Too tall, too broad, too mean when his scowl is practically etched into his face (but damn, if that doesn’t remind himself of someone he knows).

Jason goes to set Bruce down on the ground.

But the kid makes a sound in protest, the loudest one yet before he is clinging to Jason even harder than before. He’s got a vice grip that Jason wasn’t sure a child of Bruce’s current size could be capable of. Figures, baby Bruce would still be worthy of the Batman mantle even when he gets magicked in to something more pocket-sized.

It’s then that what Dick says finally clicks into place.

He doesn’t find Bruce, not the first time and most definitely not this time either. It’s Bruce that finds him.

(He wasn’t even supposed to be in the Cave just now, he only came by to dig through the old archive that was never uploaded into the existing network. It was Bruce on the back of Dick’s motorcycle being set down to the ground before he walks right to him. Dick following with barely half an explanation before he had to take off for the secondary scene that Damian is currently holding.)

“Jay.” Little Bruce says, his voice is quiet, is steady. Like he’s been waiting for Jason to figure it all out.

It’s a different kind of recognition, the kind that doesn’t come with years of misery and then years more of a cold war held over the roof tops of Gotham. This is the kind without any baggage at all.

Just trust as Bruce extends his hand, small palm upturned.

And he isn’t asking.

Jason wonders if there is any version of himself that has the heart to turn it down. He’s pretty sure when he thinks: No, there really isn’t.

He’s been Bruce’s to keep ever since the very first time. Jason goes red with the realization, a mumble that dissipates between the barest of space still left between them.

“That’s cheating, B.” And he is crimson up to the tips of his ears, “I can’t hit a fuckin’ kid even if it’s you.”

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner Additional Tags: Star Sapphire Jason Todd, Smut, Celebrations, Cake, Bottom Jason Todd Series: Part 13 of Star Sapphire Jason Summary:

Jason was alive again, finally alive in every way that mattered. As nice as his celebration with the Lanterns was, he needed something a bit… more with Kyle. They’d been talking about it for long enough, and with Kyle waiting for him it seemed inevitable. Not that Jason was going to complain.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, DCU Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Guy Gardner/Hal Jordan, Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/ Koriand'r, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Hal Jordan & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Hal Jordan, Kyle Rayner, Dick Grayson, Clark Kent, Diana (Wonder Woman), Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (DCU), Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Guy Gardner, John Stewart (DCU), Carol Ferris, Lian Harper Additional Tags: Minor Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Koriand'r, Star Sapphire Jason Todd, Red Lantern Dick Grayson, Homecoming, Jason Todd Feels, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Mental Health Issues, Broken Families, Families of Choice, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Lantern Family (DCU) Series: Part 12 of Star Sapphire Jason Summary:

Earth didn’t feel quite right anymore, Gotham certainly didn’t. But Gotham wasn’t Jason concern, not really. No, his concern was with the family, with making sure Dick got the welcome he deserved, with making sure Bruce didn’t screw that up. He could do this, he’d be fine. Even if there were a few surprises along the way.

Title: bringin’ home the rain

Summary:  After Jason digs his way out of his grave, he lives a broken existence in the city unable (and unwilling) to remember his life before. That changes one night when he sees Robin flying overhead and follows her home.

3300 words, T, Jason Todd & Stephanie Brown. 

Notes: Written for @dn-ky for the STAY server birthday prompt exchange, for the prompt  Steph is the Robin flying on Gotham’s rooftops when Jason digs his way out of his grave. He saw her one day and followed her home.

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