3 Ficlets: Various | DCU | Jason/Tim, Joker | R; PG | 1/1 ea
Fandom: DCU
Disclaimer: DC & WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: All written for comment_fic & 50_darkfics. "Wrapped Up in You" was also written for batstalker, based on her wish list. Happy holidays, hon! :)
Title | Characters/Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompts (as Summary)
Third Time's the Charm | Jason, The Joker | R | 130 w | Third time's the charm; gleam
Watching the way the light caught the blood on the knife, gleaming liquid life, death, Jason knew this was the last time. The first time, the crowbar beating, that was all fun and play, letting the Clown know just how he'd felt, all those years ago. The second time, trying to force Bruce to do what he should have done after Jason's death, that was a lesson to his former mentor and surrogate father.
This time... well, third time's the charm, as the saying went. The Joker wouldn't be laughing his way out of this one.
Grinning darkly as he brought the knife down again, heard the gurgle as the Clown tried to cackle around the gash in his throat, Jason felt only glee, satisfaction, and blessed relief.
~*~*~*~
Only the Start | Jason/Tim | R | 168 w | Jason can't experience pleasure without pain. His lover doesn't enjoy hurting him.; metal
Just because it made Jason happy didn't mean Tim had to like it. Keeping him tightly restrained with real handcuffs, the metal biting into Jay's wrists sharply while Tim worked on him, seemed to be the only way to get that pleased groan out of him anymore, and to Tim it all just felt... wrong. He hated seeing Jason injured, hurting, bleeding, only wanted him to feel good. The contradiction was disconcerting, at best, made Tim feel helpless, at worst.
Checking the snugness of the cuffs and finding a small trickle of blood from a torn wrist, Tim wondered if it was a lasting effect of the Lazarus Pit that made Jason like this, unable to experience pleasure without pain. Wouldn't be the first time that a severe trauma broke a person's pleasure center.
He supposed things could be worse, though; at least severe torture was off the table. But then, the handcuffs were still only the start, and Jason's sterilized knives waited, razor-sharp and shining.
~*~*~*~
Wrapped Up in You | Jason/Tim | PG | 195 w | "Here, take my jacket."; leather
“Here, take my jacket.”
Tim doesn't hear him at first, too busy shivering, aching to notice. But then he feels the warmth of Jason's jacket falling over his shoulders, just a size too big for him, and he glances up to find Jay looking at him with that put-out scowl that he knows is his partner's way of hiding his worry.
“Th-thank you,” he manages through chattering teeth-stupid fever, he shouldn't be out here on patrol like this, anyway.
Jason's scowl just deepens. “Don't want you to get pneumonia. You're sick enough as it is. Come on,” he says, standing from their perch on the rooftop and offering Tim a gloved hand.
Accepting the help, Tim lets himself be pulled up, revels in the heat of Jason's embrace as an arm draws him in close. Through his stopped-up nose, he can just barely smell the rich darkness of the jacket's leather, the sweat, blood, gunmetal, and Gotham dirt, all the scents he's come to associate with Jay. It eases the ache just enough for him to stop shivering, leaning into Jason's body.
“Let's get you home.”
Tim closes his eyes, nods against Jay's shoulder, grateful. “Yeah.”
~*~*~*~
Disclaimer: DC & WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: All written for comment_fic & 50_darkfics. "Wrapped Up in You" was also written for batstalker, based on her wish list. Happy holidays, hon! :)
Title | Characters/Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompts (as Summary)
Third Time's the Charm | Jason, The Joker | R | 130 w | Third time's the charm; gleam
Watching the way the light caught the blood on the knife, gleaming liquid life, death, Jason knew this was the last time. The first time, the crowbar beating, that was all fun and play, letting the Clown know just how he'd felt, all those years ago. The second time, trying to force Bruce to do what he should have done after Jason's death, that was a lesson to his former mentor and surrogate father.
This time... well, third time's the charm, as the saying went. The Joker wouldn't be laughing his way out of this one.
Grinning darkly as he brought the knife down again, heard the gurgle as the Clown tried to cackle around the gash in his throat, Jason felt only glee, satisfaction, and blessed relief.
~*~*~*~
Only the Start | Jason/Tim | R | 168 w | Jason can't experience pleasure without pain. His lover doesn't enjoy hurting him.; metal
Just because it made Jason happy didn't mean Tim had to like it. Keeping him tightly restrained with real handcuffs, the metal biting into Jay's wrists sharply while Tim worked on him, seemed to be the only way to get that pleased groan out of him anymore, and to Tim it all just felt... wrong. He hated seeing Jason injured, hurting, bleeding, only wanted him to feel good. The contradiction was disconcerting, at best, made Tim feel helpless, at worst.
Checking the snugness of the cuffs and finding a small trickle of blood from a torn wrist, Tim wondered if it was a lasting effect of the Lazarus Pit that made Jason like this, unable to experience pleasure without pain. Wouldn't be the first time that a severe trauma broke a person's pleasure center.
He supposed things could be worse, though; at least severe torture was off the table. But then, the handcuffs were still only the start, and Jason's sterilized knives waited, razor-sharp and shining.
~*~*~*~
Wrapped Up in You | Jason/Tim | PG | 195 w | "Here, take my jacket."; leather
“Here, take my jacket.”
Tim doesn't hear him at first, too busy shivering, aching to notice. But then he feels the warmth of Jason's jacket falling over his shoulders, just a size too big for him, and he glances up to find Jay looking at him with that put-out scowl that he knows is his partner's way of hiding his worry.
“Th-thank you,” he manages through chattering teeth-stupid fever, he shouldn't be out here on patrol like this, anyway.
Jason's scowl just deepens. “Don't want you to get pneumonia. You're sick enough as it is. Come on,” he says, standing from their perch on the rooftop and offering Tim a gloved hand.
Accepting the help, Tim lets himself be pulled up, revels in the heat of Jason's embrace as an arm draws him in close. Through his stopped-up nose, he can just barely smell the rich darkness of the jacket's leather, the sweat, blood, gunmetal, and Gotham dirt, all the scents he's come to associate with Jay. It eases the ache just enough for him to stop shivering, leaning into Jason's body.
“Let's get you home.”
Tim closes his eyes, nods against Jay's shoulder, grateful. “Yeah.”
~*~*~*~