#but now that Tim Is back taking the reigns

[makorragal-312]

I wish you guys could understand how much it sucks that this season really does seem to give the POSSIBILITY of something ACTUALLY shifting in terms of Buddie, but Kr*sten did so much damage and had me so pissed and scarred from the Season 6 finale that I spent this whole goddamn hiatus conditioning myself to stop getting my hopes up.

[spicy-apple-pie]

Swearing is weird in Wayne Manor. Especially before Jason dies.

Alfred was taught that swearing is impolite and implies that you have a small vocabulary or are dumb. So when he’s in charge of Bruce he, of course, applies those same principles. Once Bruce hits the age where he knows what swears are and how to use him, he introduces a swear jar. Which he thinks is very lenient because he used to get a wooden spoon to the butt at Bruce’s age. Bruce, being a tween, is pretty upset with this, but accepts it as he grows older.

Fast forward and Dick is adopted. Dick’s parents (and the circus in general) swore like sailors, so they didn’t really see the need to limit his use when it’s just them. But when interacting with children, they teach him not to use those words. When he asks why, they shrug and say that some times people don’t like those words, and you can’t tell who’s okay with it and who’s not. So make sure you use those words when you’re with someone who is comfortable with them.

And Dick thinks to himself how much it would suck to have to watch your language with someone 24/7.

Cut to Alfred bringing the swear jar back because Dick is swearing too much for his taste. And Dick is pissed. Because he wants to say whatever he wants, and his parents always let him swear. Alfred allows him a little grace, but for the most part, he will ask that Dick put a dollar in the jar for anything worse than crap or hell.

But Bruce remembers how frustrating it was, so he lets Dick swear as much as he wants when Alfred wasn't around. Even though the swear jar isn't for him, he still doesn't want to risk Alfred going off on him. So long as Dick isn't swearing in school or in front of Alfred, he can say whatever he wants.

But Jason is another story. Because Jason swears in almost every sentence, but the swear jar gives him massive anxiety because of his financial insecurity. Alfred tries to get creative and assigns chores for Jason to do. But Jason is like, not too upset by the idea of taking the trash out, or vacuuming. Until he realizes that it takes time away from his reading. But since Dick is an adult now, Alfred has no say in what kind of language he uses, so he's swearing more often. So eventually Alfred gives up but still doesn't approve.

After Jason dies, all sense of normal is thrown out the window. And with Tim and Cassandra, it's hard to discipline them for different reasons. Tim technically isn't Bruce's child, so it feels a little weird to impose a swear jar on him. Luckily, Tim doesn't swear too much to begin with, because when he was little is mom and a few nannies would wash his mouth out with soap when he swore. Alfred is not happy when he hears that, but again, not Bruce's kid. Cass is just learning to talk with them so she doesn't know a lot of swears. When she does learn them, Alfred really can't get made because it just shows him how much progress she's made.

So thanks to Tim and Cass, swearing in the manor is free reign. Dick and Jason are a little jealous of their sibings that didn't have to get lectures about swearing tho...

[pucksandpower]

Wagification

Max Verstappen x analyst!Reader

Summary: your job was slowly crushing your soul and stealing your sanity … until Max showed you the pleasure to be found in letting yourself be cherished and cared for (or in which a chronically overworked Sky Sports analyst becomes a WAG)

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, the Monaco sunshine bright and warm on your face. Max comes around and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You ready for this?” He asks, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, though your stomach is fluttering with nerves. It’s been nearly a year since you were last at a Grand Prix, and so much has changed. You glance down at the massive diamond on your left hand, still not quite used to seeing it there.

Max kisses your temple. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

Hand-in-hand, you make your way into the paddock. Immediately you’re assaulted by the familiar sights and sounds — mechanics yelling, engines revving, reporters gesturing to their cameras. It’s like you never left.

You keep your sunglasses on and your head down, hoping to avoid notice. The last thing you want is to be bombarded by your old coworkers. As a data analyst for Sky Sports F1, you knew everyone in the paddock. But you walked away from it all for Max and you aren’t sure what kind of reception awaits you now.

“Max! Max Verstappen!” You hear a female voice call out. You suppress a groan as you recognize it as belonging to Emma, one of the network’s top reporters. She hurries over, dictaphone in hand. “Max, can I get a quick interview for the pre-race show?”

“Sure,” Max says easily. He keeps holding your hand, drawing you forward. “Just make it quick, yeah?”

Emma nods, then seems to notice you for the first time. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m Emma Walsh, with Sky Sports.” She sticks her hand out with a friendly smile.

You hesitate a second before shaking her hand. “Y/N,” you say simply, not offering your last name.

Emma’s eyes widen behind her glasses and she leans in for a closer look. “Wait a minute, I know you ...” Her jaw drops open. “Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

You give a little shrug. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh my god!” Emma practically shouts. “I can’t believe it! We all thought you fell off the face of the earth after you left Sky. What happened to you?”

Max slides an arm around your waist. “She fell for me,” he says with a grin.

Emma’s eyes bug out even more as she takes in your designer dress, heels, and rock on your finger. “You mean … you and Max ...”

You nod, feeling yourself blush. “About a year ago, yeah.”

“Wow.” Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “Just … wow. I mean, look at you! You look incredible!”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. Your style has certainly changed since your Sky Sports days of sensible pantsuits. As an analyst, you had lived in jeans, flats, and minimal makeup, your hair always pulled back in a simple ponytail. Now your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders, and you’re wearing a floaty floral maxi dress and strappy heels. You went from broadcasting racing stats to being a WAG almost overnight.

“Thanks,” you say, your cheeks growing even warmer. “It’s really good to see you, Emma.”

“You too!” She grins. “I have so many questions, but I better let you go for now. Don’t want to keep the championship leader waiting.” She winks at Max. “We’ll catch up later, yeah? Drinks tonight to celebrate your return?”

“Sure, sounds good.” You smile, thankful she’s not pressing for more details now. Emma waves and heads off in search of her next interview.

Max keeps his arm around you as you continue through the paddock. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” he murmurs.

You let out a shaky laugh. “One down, about a hundred more to go.”

Over the next hour you run into what feels like every person you used to work with. They all react with similar shock at the former paddock nerd turned glamorous girlfriend of the reigning four-time World Champion.

You chat briefly with Will, who stutters over his words and goes bright red when you say hello. He had the biggest crush on you back when you worked together. Sarah can’t stop gushing over your ring. Tom tells you how weird it is not to see you hunched over a laptop crunching numbers.

The encounters leave you feeling drained, but also relieved. Your old coworkers seem genuinely happy for you, not resentful like you had worried. They don’t pry too much into how exactly you went from reporting race stats to ending up with Max Verstappen. That’s a story for another time.

Eventually you make it to the Red Bull garage, where you let out a long breath. “Phew, I survived.”

Max grins and pulls you close. “You were amazing. And you look beautiful, as always.” He nuzzles your neck.

You smile and loop your arms around his shoulders. “Have I mentioned how happy I am whenever I’m with you?”

“Mmm, maybe once or twice.” Max kisses you softly. “But feel free to keep reminding me.”

“Ahem.” Christian Horner clears his throat from behind you. “If you two can pause the PDA for a moment, we have a race to focus on.”

You spring apart, blushing furiously at being caught by Max’s team principal. Max just laughs and slings an arm around your shoulders.

“Lighten up, Christian. I’m allowed to kiss my fiancée.”

Christian shakes his head, but he’s fighting a smile. “Indeed you are. But perhaps when there aren’t cameras around?” He nods over your shoulder.

You turn to see several photographers zooming in, no doubt dying to get shots of the paddock’s newest it couple. You bury your face in Max’s shoulder.

“Ugh, no privacy anywhere,” you grumble.

Max kisses your hair. “It’s not so bad. Just part of the deal when you’re with me, remember?”

You smile up at him. “Very true. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

The day passes in a blur of activity. Max has various sponsor obligations and media commitments. You stick close by his side, learning how to avoid the cameras and deflect the constant questions about your relationship. Being the center of attention still feels strange, but you’re getting better at handling it.

During Max’s autograph session, you chat with some of the other drivers’ girlfriends and wives. They give you tips on dealing with the madness. You’re touched by how kind and welcoming they are.

“It takes some getting used to,” Alex Albon’s girlfriend, Lily, says. “But once you figure out how to focus on what really matters, the rest just becomes background noise.”

You nod. Your priority is Max. Everything else is just part of the ride.

***

One Year Ago

You sink down onto a stack of tires behind the Red Bull motorhome, finally letting the tears fall. This weekend in Barcelona has been a nightmare so far. Your team at Sky Sports is chronically understaffed, so you’ve been working 18 hour days analyzing data and prepping stats graphics.

You’re exhausted, frustrated, and seriously questioning your career choices.

On top of that, you just found out that your coworker and boyfriend Jamie has been cheating on you for months with one of the new junior reporters. You feel like such an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

You just need a few minutes to yourself to cry it out before plastering a smile back on and soldiering through the rest of the weekend. You hear footsteps approaching and quickly dab at your eyes with your sleeve, but it’s too late.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to ...” The voice trails off awkwardly.

You glance up to see none other than Max Verstappen standing there, a look of concern on his face. Great. The last thing you need is Formula 1’s wunderkind catching you bawling behind the motorhome.

You scramble to your feet, trying to compose yourself. “Um, hi. No worries, I was just ...” You trail off, at a loss for how to explain.

Max steps closer, head tilted. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

His kindness makes the tears threaten again. You stare down at your scuffed sneakers, embarrassed.

“I’m fine, really. Just had a bad day. You know how it goes.” You force a weak laugh.

Max doesn’t seem convinced. “Here, come sit for a minute,” he says gently, guiding you back over to the stack of tires.

To your surprise, he sits down next to you in his designer jeans and Red Bull Racing hoodie like it’s no big deal. You would laugh if you weren’t still fighting more tears.

“I’m Max, by the way.” He smiles and holds out his hand.

You shake it weakly. “Yeah, I know. I mean, uh, I’m Y/N.” You blush. Smooth.

Max either doesn’t notice or is too polite to comment. “So Y/N, what has you so upset? Boyfriend troubles?” He raises an eyebrow knowingly.

You let out a watery chuckle. “Yeah, something like that. The idiot’s been cheating on me it turns out.” Saying it out loud makes the hurt swell back up.

Max shakes his head angrily. “What a dick. I don’t understand guys who treat girls like that. You deserve so much better, Y/N.”

The genuine outrage on your behalf makes you smile a bit through the tears. “Thanks, Max. I appreciate that.”

He nods. “Any guy would be lucky to have a girl as pretty and smart as you. This loser doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

Now you really can’t help blushing. You’re used to being called a lot of things — nerdy, awkward, obsessive about stats — but no one’s ever called you pretty before. Especially not a kind, cute, and famous race car driver.

You dip your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear self-consciously. “You’re very sweet to say that.”

Max bumps your shoulder with his. “Just calling it like I see it.”

You chat for a few more minutes about nothing in particular. Max is easy to talk to, and makes you laugh with funny stories about mishaps in the garage. By the time you hear your boss calling your name, you’ve almost forgotten about Jamie and your tear-stained face.

“Shit, I have to get back to work,” you say, standing quickly and grabbing your laptop bag. “Thanks for listening, Max. I really appreciate you taking the time.”

“Of course.” Max stands too, shoving his hands in his pockets. He seems reluctant to end the conversation. “Hey, maybe I’ll see you around again this weekend?”

You give him a curious look, wondering why he’d want to see you again after witnessing that mess of emotions. But he looks sincere. “Yeah, maybe! I’m around if you need any stats analysis or data work.” You tap your temple. “Numbers nerd, at your service.”

Max grins. “Good to know. Take care, Y/N.” With a little wave, he heads off, leaving you staring after him in surprise.

The rest of the day you keep replaying those moments with Max in your head, unable to focus. Why did he seem so interested in a frumpy data analyst having a meltdown? You can’t make sense of it.

By the time qualifying ends on Saturday, you’re practically dead on your feet. Your eyelids keep drooping as you pack up your equipment. Maybe you’ll just sleep under your desk tonight instead of walking all the way to the hotel.

“Long day, huh?”

You jerk awake to see Max leaning in the doorway of your makeshift office, thumbs hooked in his pockets. He looks annoyingly energetic and put together compared to your disheveled state.

“Uh, yeah.” You smooth your hair back,feeling self-conscious. Why does he have to catch you looking like such a mess yet again? “Just have about a million graphics to finish before tomorrow’s broadcast. The glamorous life of a data analyst,” you say wryly.

Max frowns. “They keep you here this late doing all the work yourself?”

You sigh, rubbing your grainy eyes beneath your glasses. “Unfortunately yes. We’re way understaffed, but it’s not like they’ll give us more budget to hire help.”

Max shakes his head. “That’s unacceptable. You deserve so much better than this.”

The kindness in his voice makes you suddenly emotional again. You bite your lip, willing yourself not to tear up at work twice in one day.

“Thanks, Max. I’ll be okay though, once I get some sleep ...” You know you don’t sound convincing.

Max appears to think for a moment, his brow furrowed. “You know what, enough of this. Come on.”

Before you can react, he takes your hand and gently tugs you to your feet.

“W-what? Where are we going?” You stammer, heartbeat quickening.

“We’re getting out of here. You’re clearly exhausted and need a break.” Max keeps hold of your hand as he leads you from the office.

“But-but my work … I have to finish-” Even as you protest, you let him continue pulling you along. A rebellious part of you is thrilled at this sudden adventure.

“It can wait. Right now, we’re getting some food and drinks in you so you actually have energy left for tomorrow.” Max winks at you as you exit the paddock into the cool night air. “Trust me.”

And despite barely knowing this man, you realize you do trust him. Max guides you around the corner to a lively tapas bar, chatting all the while about random topics to make you laugh. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know you.

Over shared plates of patatas bravas and fizzy cocktails, you find yourself opening up to Max in a way you never do with people you just met. But his kindness and openness make you feel comfortable. He tells you more about life as an F1 driver, the pressures and perks.

“It must be amazing getting to travel all over the world racing cars,” you muse after your second cocktail. “Like a dream.”

“Part of it is, yeah.” Max smiles wryly. “But it can also be lonely. Never really putting down roots anywhere. Hard to meet people outside the racing bubble, you know?”

You nod thoughtfully. Under the playboy racer exterior, it seems there’s a down-to-earth guy who just wants connection. On impulse, you cover his hand with yours and give it a squeeze.

“Well, you’ve got a friend here now if you ever need company at a race.”

Max turns his palm over to link his fingers through yours. “I was hoping you’d say that.” His smile is so warm and genuine, you feel your cheeks heat.

By the time you stumble back to your hotel, you’re laughing and chatting with Max like old friends. When you get to your door though, you blink blearily and sway on your feet — the long day and alcohol hitting you hard.

Max steadies you with a hand on your waist. “Whoa there. You gonna make it okay?”

You wave a hand drunkenly. “Oh yeah, totally fiiiine ...” Your balance wavers again. Okay, maybe not so fine.

Max bites his lip, seeming to have an internal debate. “Alright, slight change of plans. You’re in no state to be left alone right now.”

In one smooth motion he scoops you up bridal-style. You make a very dignified squeaking noise and clutch his shoulders.

“Max! What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re safe for the night.” He grins down at you. “You can stay in my suite where I can keep an eye on you.”

“But … people will think ...” Even tipsy, you know spending the night in Max Verstappen’s hotel room is probably a bad idea.

“Let them think whatever. I’m being a gentleman, I promise.” The sincerity in his eyes melts your feeble protests. You really are in no state to be left alone.

You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “Okay fine, you win. But just for tonight!”

Max chuckles, carrying you towards the elevator. “Deal. We’ll get you sobered up and rested for tomorrow.”

You have vague impressions of a plush suite, being tucked into cool satin sheets and handed water and pills for your headache. Max brushes hair off your face with a lingering touch. “Get some sleep, Y/N. I’m right next door if you need me.”

His kindness brings tears to your eyes again, but happy ones this time. As you drift off surrounded by his scent, you think dazedly that maybe this race weekend hasn’t been so terrible after all.

In the morning, waking up in Max Verstappen’s hotel bed, you at first think it was all some crazy dream. Then the smell of brewing coffee draws you out to the living room, where Max stands in the kitchenette.

“Morning! I ordered us some breakfast.” He hands you a mug, smiling softly.

Daylight streaming through the windows makes last night’s events seem even more surreal. You feel suddenly shy as memories return. A part of you wishes you could stay here in this peaceful bubble with him forever, away from the outside world.

But reality calls, as you both have jobs to return to. Max convinces you to eat some food and take more pain meds before he walks you back to your own room to shower and change.

At your door he pulls you into a gentle hug. “Take care of yourself today, okay Y/N? And if you need another break or company again, you know where to find me.” He presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead that sends tingles through your entire body.

Somehow you make it through the day fueled by Max’s kindness and the smallest hope this could lead to more. You catch sight of him striding through the paddock, fans clamoring for his attention. His eyes always seem to find you though, lighting up with that warm smile.

After the race, you’re back in your makeshift office trying not to fall asleep at your desk before the last minutes of broadcasts. When you walk outside into the golden hour sunset though, Max is waiting for you.

“So, ready for round two at the tapas place to celebrate my win?” He bumps your shoulder playfully.

You grin up at him, this beautiful boy who inexplicably wants to spend all his free moments with you. “Definitely. Bring on the croquetas.”

Laughing together, you start making your way there. And though you don’t know what this budding connection will lead to, you’re ready to find out.

***

Nine Months Ago

You snuggle deeper into Max’s arms with a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest. The lights are dim and music plays softly in the background of his hotel suite. Rain patters against the windows, making it the perfect night to get cozy indoors.

Being wrapped up with Max like this, away from the chaos of the race weekend, has become your favorite place to be over the past few months. After that impulsive first night in Barcelona when he took care of you, you started spending more and more time together.

What began as a supportive friendship soon turned into dates, kisses, and eventually becoming official boyfriend and girlfriend. You still can’t believe that Max Verstappen, Formula 1 superstar, wants to be with a plain data analyst like yourself. But from the way he looks at you — like you’re the most captivating person in the world — you don’t doubt his sincerity.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” Max murmurs, trailing his fingers slowly up and down your arm.

You smile and nuzzle his neck. “Mmm, I think you mentioned it once or twice.”

His hands drift up to stroke your hair and you practically purr, eyes drifting shut. Max kisses the top of your head. “I mean it though, Y/N. Being with you makes me so happy.”

You lift your head to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “You make me happy too, Max. I-” You cut off with an enormous yawn that you fail to stifle in time.

Max chuckles. “Am I boring you over here?”

“No no,” you insist around another yawn. “I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open tonight.”

It’s true. As blissful as you feel cuddled up with Max, you’re utterly exhausted. This weekend has been nonstop work with little sleep. By the time you wrapped the Sky broadcasts up for the night, you could barely see straight.

Max brushes a strand of hair back from your face, his expression growing serious. “You’re completely worn out, schatje. I hate seeing you push yourself to the breaking point like this.”

You give him a tired smile. “It’s okay, really. I’m used to the long hours by now. Occupational hazard.” It comes out less convincingly than you intended.

Max’s frown deepens. He shifts around to face you, cradling your cheek in his palm. “But you shouldn’t have to be used to it, Y/N. Your bosses take advantage of your dedication. It’s not right.”

You bite your lip, not meeting his earnest gaze. Deep down you know he’s correct, but you don’t know what else to do. This career has been your life for years now.

Max gently turns your face back to his. “You deserve so much better. You keep giving everything to this job and they just keep demanding more. When’s the last time you took a real break?”

You look down, feeling the prickle of tears. You can’t even remember your last vacation or rest day. “It’s okay, really ...” you whisper half-heartedly.

“No, it’s not.” Max’s voice is firm but caring. He tips your chin up to meet his eyes. “I can’t stand seeing you being taken advantage of. It makes me want to take care of you properly, the way you should be.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his gaze. Being taken care of and cherished so deeply is new for you. You don’t know how to respond.

Max seems to take your silence as uncertainty. “Just think about it, liefje. You could finally put yourself first and do what makes you happy instead of what makes Sky Sports happy.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Doesn’t a break to rest and recover sound nice?”

You close your eyes with a shaky exhale, admitting to yourself just how badly you need it. Your health and mental wellbeing have been steadily declining under the relentless stress.

“It really does sound nice,” you whisper. A few tears leak out beneath your lashes.

Max kisses them away tenderly, holding you close. “Shh I know, baby. You’re burning yourself out trying to do the impossible. Anyone would be exhausted.”

You cling to him, sniffling. “But it’s my job, my career. I can’t just walk away ...” Even as you say it, the prospect doesn’t seem as scary as it once did. Not if you get to have this, being wrapped in Max’s love and care.

“You can walk away from anything that’s making you suffer. You’re so much more than this job. And you’ll never have to worry or want for anything ever again.” His tone drips with promise.

You lean back to search his face. “What do you mean?”

Max smiles and brushes his nose against yours. “I mean, I’ll take care of you. If you leave your job to focus on yourself and our relationship, you will want for nothing. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your eyes go wide. “You mean … quit working altogether and just … be with you full time?”

Max nods, still smiling. “It can be that simple if you want. No more crazy hours and stress. Just let me spoil you and give you the life you deserve. What do you say?”

Your pulse races as you imagine it. No more coming home at 2 am and collapsing, living off vending machine snacks. Instead you could be leisurely mornings with Max, seeing the world together, doing activities you actually enjoy instead of endless stats analysis ...

It sounds idyllic. But could you really just stop working and let Max support you? Would people judge you for it?

As if reading your mind, Max says “Ignore whatever anyone else might think. This is about what’s right for you and makes you happy. I’m sure of this, Y/N. Please trust me.”

His eyes radiate so much love and certainty. Slowly you nod, feeling a weight lift from your chest.

“Okay,” you whisper. “If you’re sure then … I trust you, Max.”

Joy spreads across his face. He kisses you deeply, pouring all his feelings into it. When he finally pulls back you’re both breathless.

“You won’t regret this, schatje. I’m going to take such good care of you from now on.” Max strokes your hair, eyes shining. “No more exhaustion and stress. Just being together and enjoying life. It will be amazing.”

You truly believe it as you drift off, safe in his arms. No more pressure to single-handedly carry Sky Sports’ data analysis. From now on, you can just be his … and find yourself again.

The next day you take a deep breath and knock on your boss’ door. Within minutes, you’ve quit your job and ended a years long chapter. It feels bittersweet but right as you box up your belongings from your little makeshift office. This time when tears prick your eyes, they’re from overwhelming relief.

Max is waiting to pick you up, greeting you with a spinning hug and long kiss. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be so much happier and healthier from now on, I just know it.”

You hug him tight, burying your face in his neck. “I already feel lighter. This was the right choice.”

And it truly is. As you jet off to a tropical island just the two of you that weekend, it feels like a new life.

The days pass in a dreamy haze — sleeping in, long massages, breakfast in bed courtesy of Max, sunset walks on the beach holding hands. He delights in pampering you with gifts, gourmet meals, and your every whim met often before you even speak it.

“I could get used to this,” you sigh contentedly as you lounge together in a cabana, sipping fruity cocktails.

Max smiles and nuzzles your neck. “That’s the idea. You’ll never lift a finger except when you want to from now on.”

It amazes you how he transforms from fierce competitor on the track to this caring, protective boyfriend behind closed doors. He seems to find his greatest happiness in making sure you’re thoroughly spoiled.

You do occasionally think of the drastic shift your life has taken. But any flicker of doubt is erased by Max’s love and devotion. He’s given you freedom from exhaustion and anxiety. You’ve never felt more adored.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper one night as you sway together on the balcony under the stars, your silk robe fluttering around you.

Max gazes at you like you hold the secrets of the universe. “You just had to be yourself, schatje. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

He takes your breath away with slow, passionate kisses until you meltingly agree to take things inside. Your first time together is everything you imagined and more.

Afterwards, lying entwined with Max stroking your hair, you have never felt more whole. You found in each other what you needed most — care, understanding, and unwavering love.

This blissful new life together has only just begun.

***

A Few Hours Ago

You hum to yourself as you flip through the designer outfits in your massive walk-in closet, selecting options for the upcoming race. This will be your first time attending a Grand Prix on Max’s arm and you want to look perfect.

As you sift through rows of Chanel, Dior, Valentino, and Prada, you feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist.

“Need any help choosing?” Max asks, nuzzling your neck.

You lean back into him with a smile. “I was just trying to narrow it down. I want to look nice for your big weekend.”

Max turns you in his arms, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. “Schatje, you could show up in sweatpants and you’d still be the most beautiful woman there.”

You scrunch your nose. “But it’s Monaco! I need to look at least semi put-together.”

“It’s impossible for you to look anything but,” Max declares, stealing a quick kiss. “You always look perfect to me.”

You swat his chest but can’t help grinning. His constant compliments and admiration still give you flutters even after months together.

Taking your hand, Max comes to stand before the endless clothing options. “Okay, let’s see what we’re working with here.”

You pull out two of your favorites: a sleek black Balmain jumpsuit with a deep neckline and waist cutouts, and a shimmering floral Givenchy maxi dress.

“Ooh, these are both amazing,” Max says, fingering the luxe fabrics. “That jumpsuit would show off your sexy legs, but this fabric is so pretty with your skin tone ...”

You chew your bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’m torn too. What’s your vote?”

Max pretends to scrutinize them closely before breaking into a smile. “Well you know I love you in anything. Or nothing,” he adds with a wink.

You roll your eyes and swat him with a hanger. “Behave! I need actual fashion advice please.”

“Okay okay.” Max puts on an exaggerated serious expression. “The Givenchy dress is very classy and princess-like. But I love the way this Balmain hugs your curves.” To demonstrate, he traces a hand along the waist and down your side.

You shiver pleasantly at his touch. “Mmm, good point ...”

Max leans in close behind you, hands resting on your hips. “Imagine me peeling it off of you after my win.” He presses a kiss below your ear.

You melt back into him, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. “Well when you put it that way ...”

“The dress would be pretty easy access too though.” Max slides his hands under the fabric across your thighs teasingly.

You gasp and swat him away again, laughing. “Okay stop distracting me! I really do need to pick.”

Max relents with a grin, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, you win. I officially vote for the dress. It’s sexy yet elegant, just like you.”

You smile and give him a peck on the lips. “Now, what about bags and shoes?”

You move through your endless options as Max offers his input. He has a surprising eye for fashion despite his own relaxed, sporty style.

“This one matches the best.” He selects a sleek black crocodile Birkin. “Classy and understated.”

You turn the bag over in your hands. “Ooh I forgot I had this one. Good call!”

After picking strappy heels to complete the look, you start browsing your jewelry selection.

“That’s a lot of shiny stuff,” Max remarks, eyes roving over the boxes of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and more.

You arch an eyebrow. “Says the one who got carried away with the jewelry purchases ...”

Max just grins and pulls you close. “I want you to have it all. You deserve to be spoiled.” He captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You hum happily against his mouth before pulling back. “Will you help me pick something?”

“Hmm let’s see ...” Max peruses the options before selecting an elegant diamond necklace. “Yeah, this one is perfect. Really complements the dress.”

He fastens it carefully around your neck, meeting your eyes in the mirror with a smile. His gaze trails down your body as you model the full outfit together.

“You look absolutely incredible, liefje. Every man in Monaco will be drooling over you.”

You turn to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Well I only care about impressing one man.” You kiss the tip of his nose.

Max’s hands find your waist again, warm on your exposed skin. “Oh trust me, I am very impressed. And the second we’re alone after the race this outfit will be on the floor.”

You laugh as he nuzzles into your neck, nipping lightly. Somehow, you manage to fall more in love with Max every day.

You eventually disentangle, needing to actually get ready for the day ahead.

“What should I wear in the meantime?” You muse, fingers drifting over the designer options.

Before you can choose, Max comes up behind you and starts guiding a silk robe onto your shoulders.

“How about nothing at all? I’m enjoying this view already,” he murmurs against your skin as he wraps the sash loosely around your waist.

You lean back into him with a hum of pleasure. “Well if you insist ...”

Max takes your hand and leads you to the bed, laying you back against the pillows. He undoes the robe just enough to expose your body as he trails kisses everywhere. “Mmm yes, this is much better than any outfit.”

You run your fingers through his hair, arching into his touch. “What happened to getting ready for the race?” You breathe.

Max pauses his kisses just below your navel to flash a wicked grin up at you. “Race day can wait for a few more minutes. Right now I want to appreciate my gorgeous girl.”

You have zero arguments with that logic. With a happy sigh, you surrender to his skilled and eager mouth, letting all other concerns fade away. Everything else will have its turn — being worshiped by Max is the only thing on your schedule this morning.

Eventually though, you manage to dress and make your way to the circuit. As you ride through the streets together on the way, Max keeps an arm curled tightly around you.

“You know, despite the fancy clothes and jewelry, you’re still the same humble, kind-hearted woman I fell for,” Max says, kissing your temple. “All that other stuff just enhances your inner beauty.”

You smile and squeeze his hand as you lift your lips to meet his. “You always know just what to say.”

You keep your chin up and shoulders back as you step onto the harborside track that will soon be swarming with VIPs. With Max by your side, you have everything you need — now and always.

***

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

The cheers of the crowd echo in your ears as you watch Max pass the chequered flag, securing his win. Your heart swells with pride and love as he pulls the car over to parc fermé and hops out, immediately searching for you on the other side of the barriers.

The second his eyes land on yours, his face lights up with that smile that melts you every time. He’s barely stepped out of the car before you launch yourself into his arms.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you,” you breathlessly exclaim.

Max laughs and pulls you closer. “I’m just happy to win it for you, liefje.”

Still holding you against his chest, he claims your mouth in a fierce celebratory kiss as the team and cameras swarm around. Your world narrows to just the feeling of his lips on yours, his race suit damp with sweat under your palms.

When you finally break for air, foreheads touching, Max murmurs “I love you so much. This one was for you.”

Your answering smile feels brighter than the Monaco sunshine. “I love you too. You were incredible today.”

The podium ceremony and interviews pass in a euphoric blur. Max keeps you tucked close to his side whenever he can, his arm firmly around your waist. He only has eyes for you despite the chaos surrounding him.

Finally escaping to the privacy of his driver’s room in the Red Bull motorhome, Max properly ravages you up against the door. The heady mix of victory and desire is intoxicating.

Much later, surrounded by empty champagne bottles with Max nuzzling lazy kisses across your bare shoulders, you hear a tentative knock.

“Decent?” Comes Emma’s teasing voice.

“Just a minute!” You call out, scrambling for your discarded dress.

Max pouts adorably as you wriggle back into it. “Do we have to go out? I’m enjoying having you all to myself ...”

You smile and kiss him sweetly. “Soon baby. But let’s celebrate with some friends first.”

Max sighs but nods, taking your hand as you go open the door. Emma’s eyebrows shoot up as she takes in your thoroughly debauched state, but she politely doesn’t comment.

“Y/N! There you are! Oh, and congrats on the win,” she says to Max before turning back to you. “We’re all heading to Jimmy’z for the afterparty. You have to come!”

You hesitate, glancing at Max. “Oh, actually we already have plans ...”

“Come on, it will be like old times! We can squeeze you both in, I’m sure,” Emma pleads. Your former colleagues are beckoned over — Tom, Will, Sarah, and others waving excitedly.

Their eager faces make you pause, but Max just chuckles and slides an arm around your waist. “No need for squeezing into crowded clubs. I’ve already reserved some VIP booths so we can party properly.” He winks down at you.

“Oh! Well in that case, we’ll see you there.” Emma looks impressed. The others chatter excitedly as they head off to get ready.

You grin up at Max, arms looped around his neck. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Only the best for you, beautiful.” He kisses you softly before you head off hand-in-hand.

After making yourselves presentable again, you set out into the Monaco night. The Circuit de Monaco is still abuzz with energy, music and laughter pouring from every corner.

The line outside Jimmy’z stretches far down the block. But the bouncer immediately waves you through with a respectful “Mr. Verstappen, this way please.”

You exchange a smile with Max, who keeps you tucked close against his side. It still feels surreal being ushered into exclusive areas that once intimidated you. Now it’s your glamorous new normal.

“Y/N, you made it!” Emma jumps up and hugs you tight. She eyes your designer outfit and perfectly styled hair. “Damn, look at you! Got that WAG glow going on.”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. “Oh, thanks! Just trying to look the part, I guess.”

You chat and laugh with Emma and your former coworkers as music pulses around you. When the Go-Go dancer comes by with a tray of sparklers, you impulsively grab two, popping one in your mouth and handing the other to a wide-eyed Emma.

She fumbles to light hers, watching as you tilt your head back and laugh, little sparks showering your face.

“Girl, you are wild tonight!” Emma has to shout over the music. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

You just smile and rummage through your Birkin for lipstick to touch up, crossing and uncrossing your legs that sport sky-high Louboutins. Your time working 18 hour days hunched over a laptop feels like another lifetime.

Eventually needing a break from the noise, you head to the bar to refresh your drink. Emma joins you, peering at the menu.

“Damn, I can’t even pronounce half this stuff,” she laughs. “What are you thinking of getting?”

You scan the options. “Mmm, maybe the Dom Pérignon Rosé? Sounds nice.”

Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “You really have gone full glam. I don’t think I ever saw you drink anything but Heineken at the track.”

You scoff, “Well we didn’t exactly have champagne on offer in our part of the paddock.”

You smile politely as the bartender brings your drink over. Emma is still eyeing you curiously.

“What?” You ask, laughing under her scrutiny.

“Nothing, just ...” She waves a hand at you. “Look at you with the designer outfit, Birkin bag, $500 drinks … you’re a whole new woman!”

You take a sip of the bubbly pink liquid and just smile. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, not at all!” Emma rushes to say. “You seem really happy. I’ve just never seen you like this before. You were always the practical, focused one. Now you look … fully embraced by the glitz.”

You lean against the bar, considering her words. She’s right — the old you never could’ve imagined fully embracing this lifestyle. But now you can’t imagine anything else.

“I am happier than I’ve ever been,” you tell her honestly. “With Max I’m free to enjoy life and not worry about anything. He takes care of it all.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “So he just … pays for everything, and you live this champagne lifestyle together?”

You smile, fingering the enormous diamond on your left hand. “Basically, yes. And it’s as amazing as it sounds. I’ll never need to work or stress over bills or anything again.”

“Huh.” Emma takes a thoughtful sip of her own drink. “Don’t you ever miss the thrill of data crunching and racing strategy though?”

You consider it for a moment. The thought of long hours analyzing race stats and performance metrics makes your brain hurt.

“You know … I really don’t,” you realize. “I can barely even remember the programs and systems we used. And I like it that way.”

Emma nods slowly. You can tell she’s making an effort to be open-minded about your new life. Before she can respond, you feel the presence of someone behind you.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” Max murmurs, sliding his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck. “This party is nowhere near as fun without you.”

You lean back into him happily. His passion and desire for you still give you the same flutters as that first night together in Barcelona. You doubt that will ever change.

Turning in his arms, you accept the kiss he gives you, not caring that Emma is still standing there. Let her see how crazy you are for each other.

When you pull back, Max smiles down at you like you’re the only person in the crowded club. “Dance with me?” He extends a hand, already gently pulling you towards the dancefloor.

You let him lead you away without a backwards glance. Emma can think what she wants, but she can’t possibly understand your relationship with Max. You know this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Max hands you a fresh glass of champagne and keeps an arm curled around your waist as you sway together. The music and alcohol fill you with euphoria.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” Max murmurs in your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

You smile up at him coyly. “Feel free to keep reminding me.”

Max’s answering grin is sinful. His hands travel your body as you move together. “I plan to show you later just how irresistible I find you.”

The night flies by in a blur of dancing, drinks, and stolen kisses in the shadows with Max. Your former colleagues party into the early morning, but eventually stumble back to their hotels.

You and Max retreat back to your shared apartment just as dawn breaks over the horizon. As promised, your dress hits the floor immediately. He ravages you with hungry kisses, urging you higher and higher until you cry out his name again and again.

After, wrapped securely in his arms, you sigh in utter contentment. The smooth sheets feel divine against your skin and Max gently strokes your hair as you doze against his chest.

“So I take it you had fun?” He asks, a smile in his voice.

You lift your head to grin at him. “It was amazing. Although ...” You bite your lip coyly.

Max raises an eyebrow. “Although what, schatje?”

“Well, this part is still my favorite.” You punctuate your point by straddling his waist again, bending to kiss him deeply.

Max groans appreciatively against your mouth, hands grasping your hips. “Mmm mine too. In fact, I don’t think we’re done celebrating yet ...”

Your lips part in ecstasy and your nails rake down his back as he takes you right to the edge again and again. Finally collapsing in a tangle of sweaty limbs, you’re both completely spent and blissful. You curl into Max’s side, eyes drifting shut.

“I love you so much,” you murmur, the words slurring together.

Max kisses your hair, stroking your back. “I love you too, Y/N. Being with you is a dream.”

You slip into peaceful dreams still wrapped in each other. The glitz and glamour of F1 life is fun, but nothing compares to the private world you share with Max.

You’ll face the crowds and cameras again soon. But right now, lost in Max’s embrace, you have everything you need.

[witherby]

Everyone immediately folding to mouse is adorable

Omg mousey that’s so cute

Ooooo imagine everyone’s reactions if mouse gets bullied when they’re older

-🪼

That's an excellent thought experiment! Let's play around with that scenario!

What would everyone do if you were being bullied at school?

Featuring: a black eye, a concerned/angry Batfamily, a doting Justice League, and a kid who fucked around and is about to find out.

Alfred:

He's the information collector. He's calling the school. He's asking to see the footage from the incident that sent you home with a black eye. He's firing your body guard. He's reigning in your youngest brother so he won't storm the elementary school and start throwing down with every adult in sight. He's fetching the cold compress and extra blankets. He's prepping your favorite snacks. Anything you require, Flittermouse, you just need ask. Grandpa is livid, but he's also keeping everybody's lids from blowing.

Bruce:

He's walking right out of an important meeting (like, multi-billion with a B dollar investment type of meeting) and driving straight home to assess the damage. Daddy's here, let him see, tell him what happened, Mouse. Bruce stays home for the rest of the day with you, honestly kind of overdoing it with the fussing and babying, but his arms are so secure around you and his heartbeat in your ear is so steady, which you love. In the short bursts of time he lets you go, it's to call Commissioner Gordon to pursue charges against the school and the family of the kid that gave you a shiner. He doesn't need Batman for this; Daddy's got it handled.

Dick:

No worries allowed! No tears allowed! Big Bro Dicky is all smiles and distractions. When Bruce gets too suffocating, he's there to take over and take you someplace fun. You wanna hit up the playground? Done and done, hop in his car. You want ice cream from that one vendor downtown? Sure, get the biggest size and as many flavors as your tummy can fit. Bet that nasty bruise doesn't hurt as bad with all these cool distractions, huh? It's mind over matter, Flitty. You'll be okay, pinky promise.

Tim:

Your cool brother Tim's orchestrating the narrative. What do you want, Mouse? You want that kid expelled? He can do it, say the word. You want him just suspended for a couple days? Done. Easy work. Child's play. You want him to systematically ruin his and his parents' social standings among the Gotham Elite until their names are worth little more than the dirt under the boots of this city? Because he can do that, too. If you want. No biggie. Oh, you just want to be cuddled and marathon Bluey for a while? Hell yeah, M, settle in, we're using the theater room for this. He'll whisper cool facts about the show to you in between the credits while you share the popcorn.

Jason:

Your actually cool brother is gonna ruffle your hair and give you a pep talk about bullies, conflict resolution, and the best ways to handle a situation like this if it ever happens again. He's also gonna teach you how to throw the nastiest right hook anybody's ever seen. With the right technique you could fell a grown fuckin' man, Mousey. Just cause that's your nickname doesn't mean you have to have the matching demeanor. You're gonna come back from this with your chin up and, if need be, your fists clenched. You don't have to pick up the vigilante mantle to avoid becoming a victim. Maybe he'll... also buy you a stuffie and teach you how to milk your injury for extra goodies, whatever. All his tips and tricks don't need to be based in violence!

Damian:

Oh man. This boy's got no chill when it comes to you, for real. He's spent so many years being the baby of the family and that was never a title he wanted. Now here comes you, who used to be an actual, literal baby, growing up faster than anybody wants, and you've come home hurt? Give him the name of the pathetic whelp that dared lay a hand against you, Flit. He'll make them pay dearly. He's your big brother. He's your protector. He's come to love you like a blood sibling, and he won't stand for any injustice committed against you. Damian's hands are rated E for Everyone; he'll punch out a child without hesitation and make them wish they'd never even thought about touching you.

Of course, the Justice League is your family, too! They used to look forward to seeing Bruce bring you to the Watchtower in your little car seat and portable playpen. They come to all your birthday parties. They're your aunties and uncles through and through.

Hal:

Uncle Hal (who eventually becomes your step-dad Hal, or Papa) is sympathetic. He used to get into fights at school, too. His more down-to-earth advice for dealing with the problem — ironic, considering his intergalactic occupation — is really helpful. Sometimes you just need a comforting squeeze, a kiss on the forehead, and a classic everything will be A-okay, kiddo. You just gotta take life one step at a time and don't let it keep you down. 10/10 most reasonable and normal reaction to the whole thing, honestly.

Diana:

Y'know I think she's only slightly more chill about it than Damian. She's infuriated that any mere mortal would dare harm your previous head. She's trying to convince Bruce to grant her temporary custody so she can take you to Themyscira for intensive warrior training. She's offering to end the bloodline of the soul that caused you injury. She's commending your fortitude and the fact that a black eye isn't dissuading you from going back to school tomorrow. She will go to battle about it if you just ask.

Clark:

Baffled that children are this cruel. (<- This motherfucker was getting bullied way harder than you did when he was your age, but his invulnerability made it really easy to deal with and he just pretended to be hurt by his aggressors.) He's offering to fly you to the Kent family farm to hang out with the animals for a day in a nice, quiet environment. He's gonna give you a little pep talk like Hal did, but again, he's invulnerable, so it's going to sound disingenuous coming from Uncle Clark. It's the thought that counts, though. Thanks man.

Long story short: you're getting bullied and injured. It's blown just a little out of proportion, but you feel no less loved for it, and you can rest assured that it won't happen again.

[deadsetobsessions]

Okay, so maybe Tim has no business being in Bludhaven. Tim maintains that since his parents fail at parenting, he can do whatever he wants.

Besides, it's for a good cause. Like, not letting Tarantula get her dirty hands on his big brother in another time line. Tarantula had popped up in the Bludhaven servers - by that, Tim means the endless amounts of threads and underground fronts for criminal activity that he stalks on a regular basis- by being seen with Nightwing. Tim had immediately booked a ride to Bludhaven and bought another burner. He'd try to take care of her himself, but if worse comes to worse, he'd call Deathstroke. He's totally aware of the weird tension Deathstroke has with Nightwing and Tim's kind of banking on that.

Dick's been back in Blud for two months now, Jason having assuaged his mother hen tendencies enough for Dick to get sick of the Manor. Tim hadn't meant to follow since he had plenty of projects to work on now that "SAVE JASON" wasn't blaring at the top of his head.

But then Tarantula appeared and Tim saw red, remembering the way Dick spoke about her and what she did to him.

He bids the driver goodbye. The driver doesn't question his being on his lonesome mainly because 1) Gothamites mind their own busines, 2) Tim gave him a $500 tip to make sure he remains a "good" Gothamite cabbie, and 3) Tim made sure he was dropped off in the swankiest, most ostentatious hotel Bludhaven had to offer.

"Rich people," the cab driver had muttered as Tim closed the door. Perfect.

Tim got his keycard, having checked in under Alvin Draper over the phone. Normally, they'd require an in person visit, but money talks. And people listened when Tim had a lot of things to say.

Tim even feels like he's trained enough to go out! Lady Shiva's training was ingrained into his memory, and Tim's built enough muscle to make use of some of it. He is still nine, after all. He's so much stealthier this time around. Plus, he's got almost his full tool set back. Sure, some of the tech is ancient, but he managed to finagle it to make grappling guns and smoke pellets more along the quality that he's used to.

Tim waits until nightfall, looping the surveillance around his window to mask his exit. Tim adjusts his domino, eyes scanning the city skyline as his handheld computer (god, he can't believe he has to invent wrist computers) tracked reports of Nightwing through Tweetings.

Ah. He's around Seventh. Tim grimaces as his untested joints adjusts to the grappling guns. His dark clothes make him hard to spot, to his advantage as he tracks down Nightwing.

Tim watches, perched on an adjacent roof as Nightwing takes down a crowd of goons with the flips Tim remembered watching from afar and up close in another timeline.

"Blockbuster'll kill everyone you love, Nightwing!"

Tim winces at the rather brutal crunch that followed, Nightwing having punched the guy and knocked him out in one move. He watches Dick sigh, tugging at his hair in stress.

Tim could... no, no. He shouldn't think of murder as a first option. Well, no, he shouldn't think of Deathstroke as a first option. But he'll need to take Blockbuster out before anything happens. And he needs to threaten the new Tarantula before anything happens. He won't allow her to even get close to Dick.

Maybe it's unfair to punish her for a crime she hasn't done, but unlike murder, rape can never be defended. Catalina Flores is a dead woman walking.

Tim stalks his big brother back home and then broke off to begin his short reign of terror over Bludhaven's underground. If he can't get Dick to take a break (and Tim's tried, a lot, over the years) then he'll make sure that the next month is as gentle as possible on his older brother.

Step 1. Murder Take care of Blockbuster

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

No. Wait. Tim has a better idea. He's got dirt on them, on top of the murder thing. He'll fabricate Catalina's tax returns, embezzle a shit ton of money from the IRS, and get her and her corrupt brother (because getting your sister out from murder charges is considered corrupt) arrested and locked away. And he'll make sure they stay locked away with some good old blackmail on Amanda Waller.

Tim grins, tranquilizing the building with an ungodly amount of knock out gas pellets, to riffle through the police precinct's files.

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

Step 2. Cripple Catalina Flores and her brother with blackmail and the IRS.

In three hours, Tim has everything he needs to begin a temporary hostile takeover. He's got the names of local mob bosses, the big players, and the names of practically every police officer that takes bribes and their... sponsors.

He'll have to cut off Blockbuster's lines of supplies first. Then, blacklist him from local suppliers, mobilize the police precinct against him (by imitating his M.O. perfectly- Tim's not a fucking amateur- and pretending to rob the precinct blind), and then break his knees.

Step 3. Profit

Tim takes out his shiny new burner phone, enjoying the loud sounds of the police squawking through his planted bugs. He lounges on the building next to it, keeping an eye out for Nightwing just in case the man decides to respond to the crisis.

[Unknown: It's RR.]

[Deathstroke: New phone?]

[RR: Who dis?]

[Deathstroke: What?]

[RR: Nevermind. I'll give you forty thousand to shoot someone's knees out.]

[Deathstroke:... That's it? Who?]

[RR: Blockbuster. Bludhaven. Extra twenty thousand if you tell him he's got the spine of a sea slug, kick him in the balls, and post it on Tweeting.]

[Deathstroke: What did he do to you? Deal.]

Tim ignored Deathstroke's question.

[RR: Half sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Timeline?]

[RR: Three weeks. 21 days.]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed.]

----

Tim grins ferally, all teeth as Catalina Flores looked on in horror at her computer screen.

"Get out of Bludhaven, and don't come back. If you even think of going near Nightwing, I will rip what's left of your pathetic, sniveling swine of a brother apart. You will not enjoy the consequences."

Tim clicks off, watching Catalina and her brother launch themselves into mad packing. He tapped out a short message to Amanda Waller for her and her team to intercept them at the state lines. They'll never get away from Tim's fury. Never.

[Waller: It's done.]

[Waller: I will find you.]

[RR: You can definitely try, Waller. Good doing business with you.]

Tim can see the blood vessel the woman popped after he sent that last message. He laughs.

He saves Deathstroke's video from Tweeting onto his actual, spoofed phone. He destroys the burner phone, less shiny now that he's dragged it through two and a half weeks of breaking heads and terrorizing the Bludhaven Underground. Nightwing hadn't even gotten a whiff of his activities, this Dick being far less experienced and known in this version of Blud.

One more week and Tim can continue his other projects.

----

Nightwing, going about his vigilante business: wow it sure is peaceful

Feral Tim Drake, Nightwing's scary dog privilege: try me, bitch

[kinichval]

all at once, everything is different

he finds no meaning in celebrating the day of his birth (or creation), yet this year he finds himself whispering a wish — please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh he can recognize anywhere.

content. wanderer x rtawahist!fem!reader, wanderer is addressed as hat guy, reader can see aranara, not dating but clearly in love ykwim, one (1) kiss, hat guy hates his birthday, not-so-mean because his soft spot is showing lol, mediocre writing, slight angst if u squint. | 3.5k words

“hat guy, you have a visitor!”

the said man groans and shuts his eyes, displeased with the interruption. if ignoring the knocks were not enough to convey the message, then he will not be liable for his harsh tone over the unwanted company.

except, well, the visitor on the other side of the door happened to be his new friend — durin.

wait, what the fuck is he doing with nahida?

“hat guy!” the little dragon's enthusiasm explodes across the room. he quickly flies over to the indigo-haired scholar, taking a peek at the paperwork on his desk. “what are you doing?” his curiosity is rather adorable, though hat guy would not let that thought slip out his lips (and hopefully the dendro archon wouldn't attempt to read his mind).

“i'm working on a new thesis.” he simply responds, durin lets out an innocent ‘woah’ although he knows he doesn't fully grasp the concept. nahida giggles; the thesis proponent has been cooped up in this room for days, it's a given that scholarly papers and academic writing generally takes months before completion, but it's also clear to her that his response was merely an excuse.

“let's go out, hat guy!” durin initiates, flipping in the air as excitement rushes through his little body as he expects his first friend to agree — only to frown when hat guy scoffs, “i'm busy right now. let's plan another time.” hat guy hopes the compromise would convince his dragon friend to leave him alone and so will the dendro archon.

but no, both of them are determined to reign victorious against his convictions.

hat guy knew what day is it today, he sighs heavily, eager to stay put in his lair doing whatever academic duty there is just to avoid the light of day and utmostly reject the idea of celebration.

it's as if a simple greeting of ‘happy birthday’ bears no sense of something, it feels awkward to receive such words when he feels nothing about the beginning of his existence. was he supposed to say ‘thank you’ when in the first place it's an unsolicited message?

one of these days, he's sure to receive a smack on the back of his head if this attitude continues.

(he'll just protect his head then.)

(unless the prevailing lord of sumeru casts a more perilous punishment when he wears her patience thin.)

durin's crimson eyes dulls, the drop in his float and lowered head presents his broken heart, “allow me to go through your progress and i'll leave my own criticisms, take it as a partial checking. we wouldn't want to finish a thesis then realize the whole paper is wrong, would we?” nahida suggests, her eyes round and pleading. hat guy stares down at his desk, almost praying to some other god — probably the anemo one, though he doesn't have much faith in the freedom archon — to make nahida and durin realize that he is unavailable at the moment.

“come on, hat guy, today looks like a good—” nahida's words are immediately cut off when hat guy finally looks at their gazes, “fine!” he abruptly stands up with his palms on the desk, the split second of his widened eyes being enough evidence for nahida to see his true feelings without needing to use her mind-reading prowess.

“really?!” durin's eyes sparkle and wings flap in triumph, hat guy groans in defeat, and nahida smiles brightly. “but i'll decide when the day is over.” his tone is as cold as his color palette, but durin does not complain about his condition, his little cheers soften hat guy's bleak exterior.

hat guy detests walking around the heart of sumeru during this time of the year, he remembers in the previous year when akademiya students ambushed him just to get him to blow a sickeningly sweet birthday cake. he lowers his head, until now he can't fully comprehend the nature of birthdays and its significance — for mortals, it may be because their lifespans are merely a flick of a finger compared to non-human races.

he has already lived for so long and will continue to do so, but what part of birthdays satisfy fulfillment if he rejects it himself? it's even so absurd that he is expected to extend gestures to others on his own day.

“hey, hat guy, do you know those tiny things with hats and a smiley face?” the little dragon's query snaps hat guy out of his zoned out state, he momentarily pauses to think what creatures he is referring to before furrowing his brows at the unsure conclusion in his mind, “what things?” the boy envisions the forest spirits around sumeru, the aranara. he doubts durin means the smiles as they do not have a smile, still he remarks those elemental clusters as cute.

“those little things! with hats like yours!” durin tries his best at composing his description, “wait, they have pointy hats, yours is flat.” his voice is small at the realization of the difference in design, “you should know what i mean, right?” he flies right in front of hat guy's face, hoping that his thoughts will get through to his friend.

“perhaps you mean the aranara? they're plant-like forest spirits in sumeru. where did you see one? they don't often show themselves as i've known.” hat guy explains, he sees the bright grin on durin's face, the sight melts him.

he knows the aranara only allows their presence to be known by children (adults can see them but terms and conditions must be met first, e.g. the traveler), and deep down he hopes for durin to take sight of those little things. he believes that durin is a child at heart, not only his small size and curious nature, but his core is akin to a little kid who dreams and hopes.

“they're called aranara? it sounds adorable!” durin giggles, “i saw a couple of them tailing behind the archon! do you think i can befriend them?” hat guy smiles, his sentiments mirroring durin's aspirations. “you can go find them and ask for a friendship contract.” he smirks, obviously teasing the little dragon, though his words carry genuine wishes for durin to create friendships.

“do we like call for them? i want to talk to one!” durin's eagerness at meeting the aranara spreads warmth in his chest, “you have to be patient. they'll appear whenever they deem right.” hat guy responds, he's not entirely knowledgeable about their decisions when or when not to appear, but he knows enough that the aranara values the people of sumeru — even if they're unseen, they're the nation's closest companion.

and he's assured enough that the aranara will welcome durin just as much as he was accepted as their friend.

“there you are!” a deep voice pipes up nearby, durin hastily flies behind hat guy to hide from the unknown voice. “who's there?” the little dragon closes his eyes, the fear of being judged is still within him, hence hat guy extends out both his arms as an act of protecting durin as his gaze seeking out who had spoken to them.

the general mahamatra comes to sight, albeit the most distinguishable factor for hat guy is the tall ears poking out from his hat. his right eyebrow is raised, posing a skeptical expression at the big-eared hat guy's presence and intentions with him.

“ah, the famous hat guy of the vahumana darshan. i believe you remember me from the interdarshan championship last year?” cyno utters, there's a prideful look on his face that makes hat guy even more wary of where this is going. “i recall our sparring moments during the competition, yes, you were the representative for spantamad.” hat guy responds, he knows this man is a big persona in the nation although he couldn't dig it in his memory what his name was.

“speak your intentions, i do not have the luxury of time right now.” hat guy asserts, he watches as cyno takes a deep inhale — and wonders what it's for — before he takes hat guy's hand and slaps down a stack of cards (dear archon, how did he manage to hide a tall stack?)

“do you know about genius invokation tcg? i've been meaning to find you and discuss the game. i have high hopes that you'll be a prodigy of a player, so please hear me out. i have read a few of your research, i applaud your intelligence and critical thinking for curating reasonable claims and powerful arguments. you know what else uses the same strategy? tcg! with your keen observation, wits, and quick analysis, i'm sure you'll be sumeru's second best player — i'm the first, of course — please accept my offer and play with me, i assure you that it is an efficient mental exercise outside of the akademiya. furthermore, playing with others allows a space for building relationships and strengthening bonds. what do you say, hat guy?”

oh, cyno definitely needed that deep inhale. hat guy, on the other hand, is bewildered.

“hat guy, what is he talking about?” durin whispers in his ears, still out of sight.

“you should take upon his offer, hat guy. not only will you gain friends in sumeru, but also acquire a reputable image across teyvat.” the green-eyed desert guy (who hat guy knows as the one who's oddly interested in his hat) shows up and backs up cyno's claim.

right now, he feels like nahida casted him in some weird dream spell because what the hell is going on?

hat guy scoffs, “only brains as small as a sweet flower seed would reckon that a measly card game is enough to be a backbone of life-and-death bonds.” still, the stack of cards remained in his hand.

as if cyno was about to take no for an answer, “keep the stack, hat guy. maybe one day you'll have a change of mind, come find me if you find it in yourself to admit that this game is—”

“hat guy!” another voice pops up in the scenario, but rather than having his guard up higher, hat guy's shoulders seem to relax upon hearing your voice.

as you enter the scene, you immediately realize the situation. there's a look of dread in hat guy's eyes that shows his disagreement towards card games. “general mahamatra, pardon for the intrusion, but please do excuse hat guy and his… displeasure with tcg. i'm sure there are other skilled scholars who are more interested in playing a match with you.” you intervene, a nervous laugh at the end because despite this silly interaction, cyno still holds a high position and you know the power this man has.

cyno was about to respond, but sethos — the green-eyed desert guy — beats him to it, “apologies, my lady. the general here just wants a formidable opponent because apparently i don't play enough tcg.” sethos explains as he casually points his thumb at cyno, “i'm not interested to be your opponent.” hat guy coldly rejects.

“no! you will play tcg with me one da—” sethos covers his mouth that he almost stumbled backwards, they bicker among themselves.

“hey, yn! long time, no see!” you hear durin's little whisper, you assume he's hiding behind hat guy, a giggle passes your lips and the endearing thought. “hey, durin. i missed you!” for a moment, you reminisce the first time durin visited the real world — you met him them as he and hat guy relayed to you the tales of simulanka and all the shenanigans that occurred.

“anyways! hat guy, you know you'd be so cute with your hair tied up.” sethos grinned, the change in topic also brightened up his aura however it only dimmed hat guy's. he takes off hat guy's hat, now he's just guy, and his fingers swiftly grabs a portion of his midnight-hued hair and ties a little bun.

and the cherry on top, a bow.

“...tch.”

hat guy never had his hair tied, you had played with a few strands whenever he lays down on your lap, but that's the closest his hair ever got touched. mini durin struggles to hide his laughter at the sight of his best friend's angered face being ten times more adorable with the new hairstyle.

he's extra convinced that this is just another dream simulated by nahida.

“i wonder what you would look like with your hair braided.” you giggle, envisioning different styles on his jellyfish-like haircut. “whatever it is, don't.” hat guy rolls his eyes.

you, hat guy, and mini durin continue to walk to whoever knows where, your path has strayed away from the city but it's no issue when hat guy finds relief in not having to be jumped on by scholars.

along the way, laughter and banter were thrown back and forth. “don't pretend it's erased in history that you broke my favorite pen!” you nag him, “it was already cracked, it just happened to break apart in my hand!” he defends himself, this argument has been going on for months now, it's your personal grudge against him that you bring up whenever he tries to drag you down.

“it's raining!” durin points out as the rain loudly splatters on the ground, “oi!” hat guy yelps as you take his hat and hovers it over your heads. “c'mon it's big enough.” you reason out, he sighs and rolls his eyes, durin is in between you two as you walk to find a better shelter.

until a small meow catches your attention, as if on instinct, your eyes darts toward the sound's origin. it didn't take long to find a small cat inside a pot, wet in the rain. the little guy seemed to be alone with no owner or parent cat around.

and it didn't take another thought for hat guy to grab his hat and cover the white cat's head, leaving you and durin exposed to the rain, “i'll take you to the shelter. follow me if you want.” he says, but instead picks up the cat in his arms — talk about personal autonomy, no?

shortly, he returns to you and durin, the hat barely covering your group but settles with whatever his hat can provide. it's a wondrous sight, no words were spoken at this moment, even durin who enjoyed conversing let the serene silence overpower the rainfall.

and hat guy realizes that not a word had fallen off your lips about his birthday. you certainly had not forgotten, right?

suddenly, his chest feels empty, which is weird enough for he doesn't even possess a heart. a human heart. his ribs feel tight, as if clenching on nothing; he doesn't understand the anomaly taking place within his core, the cat meows and snuggles against his chest, serving as a temporary remedy for the internal ache.

sometimes you were infuriating. not for reasons that are shallow and certainly he doesn't wish for your demise; he finds you the cause of the berserk inside him, for whenever you two are within each other's parameters, suddenly he's at ease and for some reason that he time and time again fails to provide an answer for, troubled.

dear archons, hat guy could almost solve all of sumeru's political issues — if he dared to — but this predicament that involves you bears no fruition to his efforts in understanding the effect you have on him. the lack of an emotional organ within him feels more and more apparent when there's a rampant of feelings flowing in his blood.

is this what a heart is for?

“the sky's clearing up!” durin beams, flying forward. “don't fly too far, you don't know where you're going.” hat guy scolds the little dragon who muttered an apology and returns close to him. 

you settled in an abandoned hut, based on the nearby surroundings, it's safe to assume you're around the region in between avidya forest and vanarana. “are you hungry little guy?” durin converses with the lone cat that chooses to stay on hat guy's lap, rendering him immobile until the cat is satisfied with its rest.

“say, durin, do you know what today is?” you ask the dragon, he tilts his head in response, “hat day, is today a special day?” you softly smile at how closely tied durin is to hat guy, you've known him since the day he started as an akademiya student, you were together at the same table in the library. he wasn't the sociable type, he made that clear, but you were persistent to break into his personal bubble until you finally claim a spot in his vicinity.

“it's just a normal day.” hat guy rolls his eyes, but the slight tint of pink on his cheeks doesn't go unnoticed. for hat guy, you were like a cat that demands to be paid attention to, a ginger-colored one that he can not seem to predict. 

“really? the sun seems to be too bright just for today to be normal.” he's confused, were you about to break open the forest and have the entirety of sumeru to sing him a happy birthday or there's something else up your sleeve that he can't guess.

“is that an aranara?!” durin squeals upon the sight of a blue aranara walking towards the group, hat guy follows durin's line of sight and spots not just one or two, but a small group of aranaras… and origamis?

his brows furrowed in disbelief, “what's going on?” hat guy looks at you with a puzzled face, you want to snort at his expression because clearly he's trying to avoid his birthday.

and you were not about to let him disregard his day like that.

the army of aranara and origami surrounds hat guy, the aranara orients a necklace of origami flowers around his neck. their little squeals speak of their joyous sentiment for this moment, a moment that belongs to hat guy.

“happy birthday.”

hat guy is stuck in a trance when he finally hears you say it.

“happy birthday, hat guy!” durin exclaims, he's flipping in circles, finally releasing the words he desperately tried to hide since he saw him.

“happy birthday, blue nara!”

“happy birthday, hero of simulanka!”

hat guy puts his hand on his chest as the greetings continue to echo in his ears, is this what happiness feels like?

“thank you.” he simply responds, clearing his throat to regain his usual composure. 

“we have gifts for you!” you crouch down in front of him, a big smile on your face. you gesture the aranaras and paper squirrels to come forth, they carry boxes filled with secret stories whose main character is hat guy.

“i got one too!” durin flies down to sit beside hat guy, his own little gift in his embrace.

“why would you celebrate my birthday?” his voice falters as he lets the question fly past his lips, “because i care for you, hat guy. you're special to me.” you simply reply, hoping that it delivers the deeper meaning of his existence to your life.

you love him, you will forever do so.

hat guy hums, unsure how to reply when he's fighting his innermost turmoil of crystalflies. he resorts to opening the gifts instead, one box containing a hand-crafted paper doll of himself, the enraged expression has him instinctively mirroring the same look, “is this how you see me?” he scoffs, but they let him tell his rough comments and cold feedback as he continues his unboxing spree.

“i've got plenty of unusual stuff from you and you still haven't run out of ideas? even durin has his own contribution.” he sighs, his indigo orbs lingering on the gifts you prepared. the stack of tcg cards from cyno still in his possession.

“because you deserve to be reminded that you're loved and wanted.”

loved and wanted, huh?

hat guy quietly apologizes as he moves the cat off his lap, he leans down to you and his hands cup your cheeks. “last time i checked, you're one of the top rtawahist students, but i must refute your claim on that one.”

“then i'll defend my argument, the absence of a physical heart does not restrict your emotional intelligence and morale. your ribs may not house an organ, but your embrace has proven otherwise.”

you may not know the burden that he hides underneath his facade or the weights that made him believe that love is an outerworldly entity, but one thing you will attest to is the hat guy who knows how to love.

even if it takes years for hat guy to realize and admit that he loves, you will continue to be the one to assure him that it's alright.

for the love he yearns and continues to long for is the birthday gift you promise to give him every year. for as long as you live, and in every reincarnation, you will love hat guy.

hat guy covers durin's eyes as he leans down to collide his lips on yours. the crystalflies in his stomach explode, but it's soon replaced with fulfillment. maybe, he doesn't need a heartbeat to tell him that he can love when he's capable of choosing to love.

there's light in his life when you arrived that one afternoon asking what thesis he was working on, there was you who appeared to hold him when the akademiya felt suffocating, and there will always be you beside him who loves and teaches him love.

if the dendro archon is reading his mind right, he would like to say that he doesn't feel lonely now. he has you now. and even without a birthday cake, he'd like to make a wish: please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh i can recognize anywhere.

“it seems like you're the one who's looking forward to my birthday.”

[necrotic-nephilim]

I think what I love the most about Reverse Robin AU TimJay is the absolute potential for hero worship with Jason toward Tim. In canon we often forget that Tim didn't really care for Jason as Robin, meanwhile as I never shut up about, Jason has been weirdly respecting and obsessed with Tim since finding out about Tim's existence. So if you flip their order, make Tim Red Hood and make Jason Red Robin, there's so much room for hero worship from Jason.

As Robin, Jason has always teetered that edge of being pro-murder or not. Whether you believe he killed Felipe or not, even in his Post-Crisis introduction as Robin, he almost kills Two Face. Those concepts of lethal justice have always been brewing inside him, just reigned in by Bruce. So if you have Robin!Jason witnessing Red Hood!Tim start killing people and quickly making noticeable change in the landscape of gangs in Gotham, Jason would take quick notice. I think Tim as Red Hood would still be lethal, but there'd be a different application than Jason's Red Hood. Heads in duffle bags isn't Tim's style, even if he kills. I think you'd see something much more akin to that time Tim almost killed Boomerang, where it's such an elaborately thought out set up, it realistically doesn't even look like Tim killed anyone. It'd take months for Bruce to connect this string of deaths as anything other than coincidental, let alone link them to Red Hood. And Jason is wickedly smart, even as Robin. Jason, putting those pieces together before Bruce does and witnessing the undeniable positive change for Gotham it's enacting? Robin!Jason would be incredibly drawn in by that, and then even more-so, a Red Robin!Jason who has to grapple with being replaced to make room for the next Robin would I think, in anger, turn to Red Hood. And Tim would push him away at first, his plans don't have room for a scorned teenager who's trying to get back at Bruce and Nightwing!Damian like this- but I think Jason would wear him down. Prove to Tim that Jason can think on his wavelength.

Slightly related, what interests me about Red Hood!Tim is how it'd implicate his closeness to Ra's. Jason is taken into the League by Talia in Lost Days and Ra's doesn't necessarily approve of Jason's presence, especially not of Talia dunking him in the Pit, but Ra's has always canonically been A Little Weird about Tim. I think in a world Tim dies as the second Robin, it would be Ra's who dunks Tim to preserve his mind that Ra's thinks shouldn't be wasted, and you have the potential for 'apprentice of Ra's' Tim wrapped up in it all, even without him experience the Red Robin arc. So when it's Jason as Red Robin, instead of him going to Ra's when he's scorned by the Batfamily, he goes to Tim. The person he once idolized, because I think Tim would've been Jason's Robin. Smart, competent, a strong legacy to live up to. And now he's back, and he's pro-killing, an edge that Jason has always teetered on and would feel even closer to when he's replaced by a young Dick. I think Tim wouldn't ever be able to get rid of Jason.

Then on Tim's side, I think his reaction to being replaced after his death would be a complicated one. Objectively, being the Robin who believes Batman needs a Robin, he'd respect the logic and know Bruce was always going to replace him eventually. But still, there's always going to be that instinctual emotional reaction of betrayal and replacement. I think he'd view Jason at first with anger and distance, but then, seeing Jason as this street kid with begrudging potential, I could see Red Hood!Tim testing Jason. Constantly throwing things at Jason, seeing how he reacts, if he lives up to being Robin. Tim has a need for analyzing people, understanding their strengths and weaknesses. And he seems the Robin mantle very uniquely, he'd need to have it proven to him that Jason can handle it.

So you would have this dynamic of Jason hero worshipping Tim, slowly believing in Tim's methodology. While Tim is at first dismissive of him, but then starts to test him, see what makes this kid tick. And I think the TimJay potential of Jason trying to prove himself to Tim could be Neat.

[gemstone-roses]

Attitude adjustment

Summary: Tim is sick of your attitude.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Praise, eventual smut (not in this part) teasing.

Note: ah I love Tim bradford okay that's all. Likes comments and reblogs much appreciated , please be kind this is my first fic for weeks.

There will be a part 2 coming soon! 👀

It's ridiculous, you long graduated from being a rookie and Tim still treats you like he did your first year on the job.

Only difference is now, you give as good as you get.

And Tim? He's sick of it

Every time you open that pretty mouth of yours and respond with that teasing tone, that small smile that knows he can't get rid of you now, his cock strains in his pants. The way you stick your tongue between your teeth after you've talked back to him makes him think so many sinful things he struggles to reign in his composure. His knuckles turn white around the steering wheel, because of course he's not letting you drive.

He corners you in the locker room, both hands on either side of you, trapping you.

"You, are driving me nuts" he sneers, taking a deep breath.

Your heart thumps in your chest.

"You have a bad attitude, boot"

"Im not your boot anymore"

"Yeah? You should be, thought I did a pretty good job of snuffing out that little bit of defiance, I guess not" he runs his thumb across your lip as he speaks.

His eyes bore into you, watching, waiting, he doesn't miss the way your eyes go wide with lust at his actions.

"You like them fiesty, officer bradford" you sneer out the last part, or try to, but you are far too turned on for it to sound mean at all.

Tim leans in, places his forehead on yours.

"I am going to fuck that attitude out of you" he whispers.

Arousal pools between your legs at his words.

"That's what you need? Isn't it?" His hand grips your jaw.

You nod.

"No, I need words" he states softly, his finger tracing your jawline as he waits for your consent.

"Yes" you say firmly

"I want this- I need this, need you" you continue.

Tim smiles, moving his hand to the back of your neck.

"God, I was hoping you'd say that" he tightens his grip on your neck before crashing his lips into yours.

[fancycat-thesilvertux]

Okay, so I’m a fan of Brain Dead - these two overworked boys who need hugs, melatonin, and to sleep in a comfortable pillow fort while wrapped in soft blankets like burritos (bonus points if it’s actual tortilla-pattern blankets) - and I’m also a fan of petty revenge like -

Tim accidentally getting married to Ghost King Danny because Red Robin got captured and used as a sacrifice by a cult to summon the Ghost King to reign destruction but mishap someone forgot to read up on their runes so the “sacrifice” was actually a “sacrificial bride”, meaning magical contract between GK!Danny and Tim.

And Danny, when he gets summoned and realizes what happened, is like, nope. Takes down the cultists, does abscond with Red Robin just to explain the situation and how right now, the dude is his Queen Consort or co-king because magically enforced marriage at least they don’t have to copulate that would have been even worse. And Tim is just computer crashing as he gets an information dump on how one, there’s another realm that’s, two, filled with dead people who, three, is ruled by a guy his age and who, four, Tim is now married to because, five, cultists really need to do their hOMEWORK WHAT THE HELL -

And did I mention that the contract lets them know no secrets between them? So Danny knows who Tim is meaning he knows who the Batfam is but that’s okay since Tim knows who Danny is and oh wow that explains a lot about Jason now with the ecto-contamination by impure ectoplasm -

And Tim really doesn’t want to tell the Batfam what happened since he still has insecurities regarding his place in the family which isn’t helped by their treatment - and Danny is seething because him and Tim actually get along pretty well as friends and Tim has quickly worked his way into Danny’s Obsession of Protecc because Danny will always protect those he cares about and he doesn’t like how Tim gets treated especially when it came to learning about Tim’s missing spleen.

Now here’s the funny part of this AU - because of the marriage contract between Danny and Tim, Tim gets the perks of being Queen Consort/co-king in having power over ectoplasmic beings, so when Jason’s going in on Tim who has been stressed from the situation despite Danny and Tim’s new friends in Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Jazz, and Dani (and Dan if you want to include him) doing their best to help him destress which he greatly appreciates, is still operating on little to no sleep, AND just found out that somebody replaced his extra strong coffee with decaf, Jason who calls Tim “Replacement” one last time -

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Tim snarled at Jason, his eyes glowing a scarily familiar green to the Batfam. Jason’s own eyes began to glow green in response, but instead of his feeling angry, the Pits encouraging him to hurt, Jason can feel the Pits actually COWERING back instead this time, and an incredible urge to not say another peep.

Meanwhile the rest of the Batfam is also freaking out because holy shit when did Tim take a dip in the Pits?!

[asagewitch05]

I've seen Jason and Tim as fannish, but now I give you this.

If there was one thing Jason and Tim agreed on, over anything else, it was fanfiction. Perhaps it wasn't quite what Bruce or Dick would think of as the ideal bonding, but it worked. Tim helped Jason, sometimes even Beta-ing, much to his delight, and Jason helped Tim much the same.

They were both long-standing and respected authors in the Gotham, Batman, and Superhero fandoms. One could rarely go on a 'Best in Batman Fics' list without one of theirs showing up.

But one reigned above them both, having written for longer, having been more widely recognized as their fics weren't as fandom specific.

BlueJay01.

They wrote characters in Gotham- in any shape and form. He even had written about Robin- quite a bit actually.

Jason and Tim both revered BlueJay01. Their works were emotional, famed to make anyone who read them be brought to tears. But they were... concerned. Quite a few readers were, actually.

They wrote about abuse. Earlier on, it was subtler, or they didn't seem to recognize it- that or they truly were a god of words- but now it was quite obvious.

Older siblings protecting younger ones through keeping them in the dark. Brothers taking the brunt of a father's cruelty. Death riddled every story, but it seemed to only get worse over time.

Many were worried about BlueJay01's mental health, Tim and Jason included.

So they decided to find them.

...okay, through illegal means but it was for a good reason!

But Tim couldn't find them. At all. It was like they were a ghost. Well, with how much grief and pain wrought their works, Jason didn't seem to dismiss the idea.

...they never put the dots together. Damian was the only one who knew, mostly because he had found Dick writing in a sobbing rage induced frenzy after a particularly painful argument with Bruce. Steph likely had an inkling due to the terms he put together sometimes, but Dick couldn't be quite sure. He was however, completely aware of the fact that his brothers wrote- it may or may not have indirectly been his fault as to why Jason found AO3 in the first place.

He didn't stop writing unless when he was Agent 37 and Renegade. Didn't stop him for long, since when he came back to 'normalcy' both times, he furiously wrote about his situations- through other characters of course. He would be stupid to put his entire self out there.

But it was a nice vent. And people genuinely liked his writing, so that was nice. Although, he couldn't let Jason or Tim ever find out due to the obvious references to Bruce- hell, he'd even put 'Based of my father lol' as a tag once. Okay, not once. Many times. As well as vent fic. So, suffice to say, he couldn't EVER let his siblings know. Nope. Too dangerous.

[yjcorefourenjoyer]

Been seeing a lot of de-aged Tim posts now you will be burdened with this small little thought I had.

I feel like Tim believes that he got away with the way he used to make sure Bruce behaved bc he was young and cute, yk? Bc Bruce’s weakness is young boys with black hair and big blue eyes.

So in Tim’s mind when he sees Bruce slipping back into ✨ violence ✨ he wishes that he was still young bc then Bruce would listen to him instead of ignoring all of Tim’s attempts to help and it’s not like anyone else is going to do anything.

A favor to Zatanna called in later and suddenly Tim is physically 12 yrs old but he’s mentally 17 yrs old. Not that anyone knows that second part though.

Cue the reign of tiny Tim once again hounding on Bruce to take care of himself, armed with a chloroform bottle and a dream. And Bruce let’s him bc he wants to do better by Tim but again, no one knows Tim still has all of his memories.

And while Tim is whipping Bruce back into shape he ofc is being a menace to everyone else. As a treat. He deserves some stress relief too.

.

[jasntodds]

Penance [7]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 8,230

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, fluff, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, mentions of scars, small description of jason's autopsy scar, smut, 18+ mdni

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: It was my birthday a few weeks ago and 2 days later I was in the ER with a bad kidney infection so that's why this is late lol I'm sorry!! lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Jason and you patrol together and it feels like old times. You work well together just as you always have and it’s something the both of you really needed. Patrolling with Tim was different because you had to and you couldn’t really do it how you were used to because it was about training Tim and showing him the ropes. But this? This is like it always was, fighting side by side, teaming up and taking turns interrogating people. You stop at Excellent Gotham halfway through and park yourselves by Jason’s favorite gargoyle to eat.

You think tonight is healing parts of you. You felt hopeless before and now you're sitting here with your favorite person as if nothing has really changed. Maybe you don’t need to punish yourself all of the time and maybe this can be good. Maybe you can let yourself heal from everything. If Jason can, don’t you deserve to try?

“Wasn’t too boring tonight, was it?” Jason quips, the both of you back in your street clothes as you stand outside of your apartment building, Jason having rode home with you to make sure you got home safe.

“Eh.” You shrug. “It was alright I guess.” You scrunch your nose at him.

“Alright?!” Jason scoffs. “Bullshit. I’m a fucking trip.”

“You’re something.” You let out a cackle and Jason is relieved to see you look so happy. You looked lost earlier. “Can I ask you something?” You ask.

“What’s up?” Jason shifts his weight to his left leg, resting the helmet on his hip.

“When do you go see Leslie again?” You look down, tugging your sleeves over your hands before your eyes come up to Jason's.

Jason's brows raise slightly before he shrugs. “Uh…few days, why?”

“Can you, uh, a-ask her if she…ya know…maybe I need���to go.”

Jason nods his head with a warm smile. “Yeah, I’ll ask her and give her your number.”

“Thanks, Jay.” You give him a small and shy smile.

“Of course.” Jason smiles softly. “Hate fucking admitting it, but it’s been helping a bit again.”

“Good. I, uh, that’s why I wanna go. Might be for the best.”

“Good. Can’t hurt.” Jason nods his head.

“Yeah.” You smile softly. “Well, I’m gonna head in but thanks for tonight.”

“Do it again?” The corner of Jason's tugs into a hopeful smirk.

“Hell yeah.” You laugh softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You beam before spinning on your heels and entering the apartment building.

A smile is stretched across your face as you make your way up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. No part of you believes going to see Leslie is going to be easy but if she’s helping Jason who literally died, surely she can help you. And it feels really good to finally feel like you and Jason might be falling back into some sort of normal after everything.

You enter your apartment, pressing your back against the door as it shuts behind you. The TV is playing quietly from the living room, the rest of the apartment is dark. You're so stuck on how well the night went, you almost miss the sound of Molly’s voice coming from your living room.

“Molly?” You question, pushing off the door and walking the few feet into the kitchen, looking into the living room thanks to the open concept layout.

Molly is leaning against the arm of the couch holding her phone against her thighs. A wide smile splits her face as Jurassic Park is playing on the TV. Molly is still rambling on about the first time she saw the movie, completely ignoring your presence. You roll your eyes and walk over to the back of the couch, looking at her phone screen.

“Hey.” Gar chimes.

Molly jumps. “When did you get back?” Molly ask.

“Just now?” You question. “Hey, Gar?” Your brows furrow, looking between the two of them.

Nothing going on, sure.

Molly looks at the time on her phone. “Did it go okay? You’re not mad are you?” Molly questions.

“What happened?” Gar asks.

You look between the two of them and maybe nothing is going on but from where you're standing, it definitely looks like it. You aren't even upset about it, but if something is going on, you think it's weird and confusing neither one of them would just say something but you aren't going to push. It's not really your business or your place. So, you decide, you're not even gonna say anything. You'll sit back and see what happens with them.

“Nothing?” You shake your head. “We patrolled together, grabbed some food, and came back.” You shrug your shoulders. “So, I’m gonna shower and head to bed.” You reach over the couch and steal a handful of popcorn from Molly’s bowl. You glance to the TV, watching the water in the cup on the dash of the Jeep start to vibrate. “You guys are missing the best part.” You state as you start walking away. “Get it together, guys.” You make your voice cheery, making sure they know you're joking and you can hear Molly laugh quietly as you enter your room.

You grab your change of clothes before heading to the bathroom and hopping in the shower. Music plays through the bathroom until it's interrupted by a ding from a text. You peek out of the shower just in time to see your phone screen still on with Jason’s contact on your screen. He’s texted you a quick ‘made it home’. You smile to yourself and continue washing your hair while your phone chimes again. This time when you look over, it’s a second text from Jason telling you you should just meet him at his place around noon and you can go to Home Depot together. You roll your eyes but your smile is glued to your lips while you finish your shower.

You take a seat on the toilet seat with a towel draped around your body. You pick up your phone while your stomach bubbles and twists.

You: What? Don’t trust my driving?

Jaybird: No ☠️

You: Fuck you 🔪

Jaybird: I’m really shaking in my boots babe

You: You suck

Jaybird: 🤤

You: 🤮

Jaybird: 🖕

You: Ill see you tomorrow I do like to be chauffeured around

Jaybird: How many times did it take autocorrect to get that word right?

Your jaw drops before you burst out laughing. He’s such an asshole but it did take more than a few tries to get that damn word right and he would know.

You: I will walk over to your apartment and fucking stab you so fucking help me jason todd

Jaybird: You’d have to catch me first babe

You: That a dare?

Jaybird: I dare you

You: Okay

You toss your phone and immediately start getting dressed in sweats. You don’t bother with makeup or anything else. You get the bathroom tidied up before you exit the bathroom, phone in hand before you go for your backpack. Molly is still peaking over the couch on her Facetime call with Gar.

“What’re you doing?” Molly asks.

“Going to stab Jason.” You answer casually while Molly looks to her phone at Gar.

“She’s doing what?”

“He dared me, Gar!” You yell but Molly and Gar can tell by the airiness in your voice it's really not that serious.

“He dared you to stab him?” Molly asks, unsure if she really heard you correctly or if she really wants to any sort of context.

You widen your eyes at her, nodding your head quickly. “Yeah! And I’m not gonna back down. It’s a dare.” You scoff with the furrow of your brows.

“Were they always this weird?” Molly asks Gar.

“Hey!” You yell.

“Yes.” Gar answers with a nod.

“Okay, I’ll be back!” You call with a smile as you kick your shoes on and head out, locking the three locks on your way out.

Jason prepares for you to get there, knowing you take dares seriously. He unlocks the door and shuts every light off in the place. If you want to come for him, he’s not going to make it easy. That ruins the game. It’s silly and he knows but at this point, he doesn’t want to miss even a single opportunity with you. Yes, he shouldn't have wasted a month and a half and neither should you but he’s thinking maybe that was for the best. It did give you both space to start to healing. It gave you both space to start setting up your own lives and finding out who you are today. It seems to have helped and there’s nothing saying you can’t continue while trying to get back what you once had. Optimism is not something that ever came easy to Jason Todd but he’s letting himself feel optimistic about you for just a second.

You pull up to Jason's place, seeing it’s completely dark. At first, it almost scares you, thinking maybe something happened and this is a trap. That would be something that could happen. But, that thought fades quickly because you don’t have that pit in your stomach and Jason would never have played along with anything to endanger you. This is Jason being a shit.

You dig in your bag and pull out your phone, using the flashlight as you enter the building, keeping light on your toes.

“Finally.” Jason's voice rings through the speaker system. “Usual rules?”

This was something you did at the Manor when Bruce was out. You blacked out the entire house, the only light would come from the moon outside. Other than that, it was just you two and a black house trying to locate each other. The only rules were not to permanently injure the other one -- don’t shove each other down the stairs and no lethal weapons. First person to disarm the other wins.

“You’re on, Jay.” You call as you shut your flashlight off, pocketing your phone.

You have your hands at your sides as they start to warm and glow a vibrant shade of green. Your steps are careful, using the glow to guide your feet. Back at the manor, you didn’t even need the light from your hands at one point. You had the whole place memorized from doing this with Jason which did kind of defeat some of the purpose of the blacking out the building but it served enough purpose. Plus, there are more stakes. It has the same premise as Dick’s whole thing with the blindfolds but this is more fun.

Jason is positioned at the end of the hall, carefully listening. He can see the glow of your hands which he said was cheating at first, until he realized he can also find you. He doesn’t need the glowing but it’s definitely not a bad thing to have on his end. So, he stands against the wall, watching and listening to you walk closer. His eyes track you, knowing you’ll search the full hallway before attempting the stairs. A part of him wants to dodge around you and essentially play a weird game of hide and seek but instead, he keeps his feet planted. The idea is to disarm, not to find.

Your hands stop glowing the further down the hallway you get. Jason's brows furrow, still listening to your footsteps. They echo softly no matter how light on your feet you try to be. If you know anything, it’s that Jason likes to play games. He’s going to make finding him easy the first time because that’s the point. And then you’ll have to spar it out until one of you backs off and runs off. He’s done this before so you keep walking with soft feet until you reach the end of the hallway. Jason is like a radiator. He could heat up an entire room if left there long enough so as you stand right in front of him, you can feel the space between you growing warmer.

You strike first, just missing his head as Jason grabs your arm. He spins you around as you kick your leg around his, sending you both to the ground. Jason falls on top of you, barely catching his weight on his hands to not crush you and you don’t miss a beat, crawling from under him only for Jason to grab your ankle and yank you back. Jason hears your laugh through a squeal.

“That’s a fucking ego boost.” Jason laughs with you.

“You’re not scary, sorry, Jay.” You tease, yanking your ankle free.

“Lotta people'd beg to differ." Jason defends as he hears you run off down the hallway.

“Not to me!” You sing-song, your voice echoing off the walls and staircase.

A smile stretches across Jason’s face as he shakes his head. He starts walking after you, not hearing your footsteps anymore and he knows you've hidden yourself behind some sort of corner so he’s careful with his steps.

A large part of him thought the good parts of him died and the pit kept them. It kept them in exchange for his life, maybe that’s just the price he was to pay in order to live. Someone can’t come back to life without sacrificing something. Look at Ra’s. But, over the last few days, he’s learning that may not have been in the case.

His bones still ache and something still feels hauntingly different but the good parts of him are still there. Tim didn’t even blink when Jason showed up in the alley, he was so unbothered by all of Jason’s training methods that even got you to pitch a fit every once in a while. Jason had a good time training Tim and him and you are back to doing this stupid game in the middle of the night with laughter bouncing off of the walls. He’s smiled more the last few days than he has in two months. Maybe the good parts of him aren’t entirely gone. They were just covered in guilt and remorse.

You're tucked away in a corner and you always wonder how Jason manages to be so silent as he walks. You can be quiet but you can’t even tell when he’s moving until it’s almost too late. It’s for his own protection, he’s been doing this longer, but it’s always fascinating to you and it'd be a little scary if you didn't know him. One second he’s down the hall and the next, he’s standing in front of you without ever making a sound. It’s his most intimidating quality.

But you're careful anyway, listening, focusing on your surroundings and then the hairs stand up on the back of your neck with a subtle throb starting to your right. You dodge just as Jason's fist flies through the air and you grab his arm, elbowing the inside of his arm. Jason lets out a groan and you twist it around before Jason laughs.

“It’s cute you think you still stand a chance.”

“I’ve taken you before.” You quip, holding his arm behind his back.

“You’re out of practice.” Jason chuckles, pulling his arm away before he spins back around, going to grab you but you jump back.

“So are you.” You quip.

“You sure?” Jason asks making you nearly scream. He’s right in front of you now and you didn’t feel him that time. His breath is fanning over your face and without needing to see him, you can tell he’s smirking, cheeks probably that pretty shade of pink.

“Uh-huh.” Your voice catches in your throat.

“Right.” Jason gives you this chuckle that makes you want to kiss the smirk off of his face but you know you can’t very well do that now so instead, you make your move.

You quickly slide to the right before kicking his feet from under him. Jason lands on a knee and he swipes his leg across the floor, knocking you down just as you try to run off. It’s Jason’s turn to get to his feet and find a new spot.

The two of you go back and forth like this and it’s different this time. Usually, you spar hard and you both make solid efforts to disarm the other but this time, you’re spending a lot of time hiding and running. It wasn’t so much intentional at first from either of you but the more you do it, the more you realize this is just more time to spend together. Tomorrow comes eventually and tomorrow always has some sort of surprise in it. Tonight, you don’t wanna worry about that. You spend your time in the dark, finding each other and going back forth with fists and quips.

Two hours in, Jason is hiding out on the landing of the first staircase, tucked away in the corner. The window is two feet away from him, the city lights cascading through the pains and onto the wood flooring. His eyes stay trained in front of him, hearing you from downstairs walking around. You've been looking for a few minutes and Jason is wondering if you’ll give up. And then he hears a smack and a groan from down the stairs. Jason has to stifle his own laugh, far nicer than you who burst out laughing when Jason hit the doorframe. You seem to recover okay, your steps picking up a few seconds later and he can hear you ascending the staircase.

Your steps stop right at the top.

You roll your eyes and you know damn well Jason is right behind the light of the window. He’ll be able to see you before you can see him. And if you know anything about him, you know he’s standing right in the corner, right foot lifted and pressed against the wall with his arms crossed and that stupid smirk on his lips. This game was never very fair from your perspective. You've never won. Jason’s senses have always been better, Bruce trained him well. As much as you hate the thought. You let out a sigh, take two steps forward and stand directly in the light, a taunt telling Jason to get it over with.

Jason pushes off the wall with his right foot and makes his move but he’s cautious. You do not give up, especially to him when there’s a game like this in play. He strikes first, you block him in an instant, using the light to drag him from the shadows and you get him with your knee right in his side. Jason doesn’t even flinch, throwing another hit, this time hitting you on your side. The two go back and forth, breathing turning heavy as you use the city lights to your advantage. But, it’s Jason who gets the upper hand as he almost always does, grabbing both of your wrists as you use one to try to punch him and the other to block his hands. His grip is tight and unwavering.

Jason’s chest is nearly touching yours as you look up at him. There’s a devious gleam you can make out even in the low light, the corners of his mouth perked into a subtle smirk. Your heart jumps into your throat.

“Giving up so quick?” Jason questions.

“No.” You let out a soft pout but you aren’t fighting him.

Jason can feel his heartbeat on his tongue. His grip loosens on your wrists but he doesn’t let go. Instead, his thumb rubs your skin softly, not even realizing he’s doing it. It’s been hours and he’s been having a blast and he knows she is, too. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why you both let time go by. He does know why, because it all hurt but maybe it was just getting over the hump of it all. He thinks it must be just as hard for you to overcome as it is for him. But, you both always seemed to be able to cope better around each other. It’s the understanding of every action and word that leaves your lips. The feeling that you’ll both never be alone.

Jason nods once. “Not trying very hard.” Jason whispers softly.

Last night felt so good and cathartic. Maybe you just want to live in another one of those moments for a few minutes.

“You’ll just tighten your grip.” You whisper back, watching a cheeky smirk grow on his lips.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you much.” Jason quips and his eyes glance to your lips.

What if he kisses you anyway? Just one more time. Then you can do this friend thing with the game and the banter. What if he kisses you anyway?

“No.” You answer back, glancing to his lips.

What if you kiss him? Just one more time and then you can do the whole friend like you did before. What if you kiss him?

“How’re you gonna get out of this then?” Jason quips.

Fuck it.

You lunge forward, your lips connecting with Jason’s. He groans and immediately drops your wrists as his hands come to your cheeks, pulling you closer to him. Jason melts right into you, nearly exploding at the seams with the very thought you were thinking the same thing he was.

His mouth moves with yours and you push forward until Jason’s back hits the wall. Jason grabs your hips, turning you both around so your back is pinned against the wall. He kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the flesh. Your heartbeat skyrockets as your hand tangles into his messy hair. Your eyes are closed as a soft moan escapes your lips. Jason bites down, sucking a mark into your skin.

You pull his head back to your lips, the kiss turning sloppy and wet. Jason slides his hands under your thighs, picking you up to pin you against the wall as his knee slots into between your legs. His thigh hits just the right spot making you let out a moan into his mouth immediately followed by a groan.

You pull his hair back, getting a pretty groan from Jason before you go to his neck, leaving your own purple mark. Jason holds your hips helping you grind down against his thigh. The sound of your desperate gasps makes him want to lose his mind. He wants to surrender all control he has ever had and forget anything bad ever happened. His head is lust drunk and all he wants is you. His bulge is growing and throbbing through his sweatpants, desperately wanting free.

You feel yourself growing closer and wetter but more desperate. There’s not quite enough friction and he knows it. He knows this only ever gets you teetering on the edge but it’s never quite enough. He knows exactly what he’s doing and you want to bite him. Your pussy throbs and aches for something to fill you up.

“Jay.” You pant desperately into his mouth.

He fucking snickers.

And stills your hips.

“Jay.” Your brows pinch together as if you're in pain.

“What’s that?”Jason teases.

“Fuck. You.” You nod your head, trying to move your hips but his grip keeps you steady.

Jason leans forward, nipping up your neck making you whine. He can feel your pulse against his lips as he kisses his way up to your cheek. You feel him grin against your skin and you think your skin might set the both of you on fire.

“Say please.” Jason mocks you, whispering in your ear, his voice deep and graveled.

You think you've melted into the palms of his hands.

Jason loosens his grip slightly, allowing you to get some friction for just a few seconds before stilling your hips.

“Didn't hear ya, babe?” Jason’s eyes lock on yours with the quick raise of his brows, using all of his self-control not to cave himself.

There's a sliver of you that wants to push him, see who can actually outlast the other because you know it'll be him begging for you in about ten minutes. But, your head is swimming and your body is erupting in goosebumps. The desperation of wanting him all over you makes you lose every other thought that was once there.

You kiss him, keeping your lips close to his, pulling away just enough to speak. “Please.”

Jason doesn’t waste a single second to dropping his knee as his lips connect back with yours.

Jason pulls you with him, his back towards the second set of stairs as you both walk up them, unsteadily with your lips connected. Once you’re up the stairs, Jason is grabbing the hem of your hoodie, tugging it over you and tossing it on the floor. Jason’s hoodie is next, tossed somewhere in the dark hallway. By the time you reach Jason’s room, he’s tugging your top off and tossing it to the floor.

It’s all hasty and hot, desperate and needy as Jason pulls you to his bed. He lands on top of you, catching you to mind your fall and your hands are under his shirt. They’re warm and soft. They make him feel whole again.

The words ‘i need you’ circle his brain but never quite make it out. He needs you like he needs air. You're the breath of fresh air on the first day of spring. It’s the first day the air doesn’t hurt his lungs. You taste how the word cathartic sounds. He needs you like he needs the oxygen in his lungs.

You scratch up his back and Jason arches his back right into you. His head spins. His lips trail down to your cheek and then your neck. He leaves a second mark in his wake and your head falls fuzzy. You aren’t even entirely sure you're even here anymore. All you know is that you want him and your skin is on fire. You can’t form a single coherent thought as Jason makes his way down to your collarbone, leaving yet another mark. All you can think about his him. His mouth and his the way his teeth graze over your skin, how warm his hand is as it trails up to your breast. All you can think about is the pretty moans and groans that leave his lips as you claw his back again. You've turned to mush all over again.

He presses some kisses around where your braw cuts off, just enough to tease you before he comes back up, kissing your lips. And all you know for certain is how badly you need him. You need him today and tomorrow and every day after. Every moment with him is worth every bit of pain and agony. Every moment without him is boring and lackluster. Jason walks into a room and it’s like a color bomb explodes through the room. His laugh could light up the darkest of hallways and his eyes are the prettiest shade of green, they could convert anyway to love the color. Breathing is easier whenever he's around.

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and try to tug it off of his head but Jason stops you, shooting up immediately. Your high immediately vanishes seeing the look of panic spread over his feature. Jason’s head comes back, still spinning but down in panic and his chest heaves. What’s he supposed to do?

“I-I’m sorry.” You shake your head, leaning up on your elbows. “I-, uh, I thought…well…I…I should have asked--”

“No.” Jason shakes his head, looking down then back to you. “It’s not…that.” Jason nearly chokes on his own words.

“What’s wrong, Jay?” Your brows tug together and even though you're the one half-naked, he’s the one feeling exposed.

Jason’s teeth grind together and he didn’t really think this far ahead. His mind was clouded with the thought of you and the desire to just have one more fucking night. His mind was clouded with the idea of chasing the feeling you shared just a few months ago. He didn’t think about this step. This part of the whole sex thing. You don’t care. You never care about scars but it hurts him.

Jason clears his throat as he brings his hands back to your hips, watching your chest quickly rise and fall with every breath. He's running through everything he could say. How is he supposed to tell you he has a thick, protruding scar from his collarbones all the way down his abdomen? That can't possibly be some sort of turn on and if anything, he's almost certain it'll send you into a spiral because it nearly does to him every damn day he looks at it. What's he supposed to say? What's he supposed to say without making you feel worse or feel like you need to push to make sure he's okay?

What's he supposed to say in order to keep this moment intact without it being just another moment tainted by painful memories?

“We can just keep doing this. Um…I-I don’t mind…if you don’t.” You try to pull in a breath. The guilt chews at your stomach. “I, uh, I don’t—“

“Y/n.” Jason cuts you off, not wanting you to spiral. “It's not that, I fucking swear.” Jason squeezes your hips and his brows twitch up with reassurance. He's just not sure if he's ready to reveal that part to you. It makes him feel guilty. He's supposed to be able to share everything with you but the shame eats at him. “I want to.” He clarifies, earning a nod from you. “It’s just…” His eyes go distant for a second before coming back to yours. “Stays on.”

You offer him a large nod and you thought it was odd he turned around before to change. Jason has never been very modest about anything ever. He has worked very hard for his chest and abs and he doesn’t mind showing off a bit, especially in front of you because he’s still a shithead. But, last night he didn’t and sitting here now, you're putting the pieces together while a piece of your heart breaks for him.

“I, uh…I know.” You nod softly, pushing yourself up to sit up fully.

Jason sits on his knees, his knees on either side of your legs.

You can't know.

“What?” Jason’s brows tug together.

“The night Crane kidnapped you, you, uh, you couldn’t get out of your gear so I had to help you.” You offer him a soft shrug. “So, uh…I just want you to know that I already know. It’s completely fine, I get it, but I wanted you to know that I already knew.”

Jason can feel his throat wanting to close and his world feels like it's closing in on him. It feels like a nightmare. He doesn't want you to know. It's embarrassing.

“You saw it?!” Jason’s voice cracks as his cheeks burn a vibrant red as he bites his own tongue to try and hide and his shame.

You nod again. “Yeah. You, uh, you were really high and I figured it would not be something you would want brought up.”

Jason shakes his head looking down. He feels tainted, ruined, a mess of broken and damaged pieces piled on the floor to be discarded and forgotten about. He's not even sure what's worse. The fact you knew and then never said anything or the fact he didn't even get a chance to make peace with it before he told you. He hates it so fucking much and it just makes him feel like the biggest failure there is. What more proof does anyone really need? He failed at being Robin, failed at taking down the Joker, failed at being a good son, failed at being a good boyfriend, he even failed at staying dead. It's just embarrassing and shameful.

You can see the gears in his head working overtime. He's going to spiral and the scar doesn't mean shit to you. Your entire back is riddled with them. Any one of those could have caused massive bleeding and killed you. The way you see it, his scars were better because most of them were just part of the job. He got them putting himself in danger for the greater good.

"I don't care, ya know?" You state with the raise of your brows and all Jason does is shake his head. "I don't fucking care about it, Jay. I know you do. Whatever the fuck you're thinking about it, you're wrong." You rest a hand on his cheek. "You don't have to take your shirt off around me if you don't want to. I get it."

"I fucking hate it." Jason states, taking your hand in his, his fingers delicate over your skin. He uses both hands to rub circles into your palm, massaging the muscles.

"For what it's worth," You let out a breath. "I don't. I don't care and I don't mind. That shit doesn't matter to me, Jay."

"I know." Jason nods his head because he knows you don't. It's something in his own head. It's just really difficult to move on from.

"So, whatever you wanna do, I don't mind." You offer him a tender smile.

Jason lets out a breath. “Thank you.” Jason says back. “Did you know? That Bruce had it done?”

“Yeah.” You pull in a breath, biting back your bitterness for Bruce. “He didn’t say why though I was screaming at him when I found out so he didn’t have much chance, I guess.”

Jason lets out a quiet but sad chuckle because even in death, you will fight tooth and nail for him. “You were screaming at him for it?”

“Well, yeah, I thought it was pointless. I figure it’s just legal reasons, maybe.” You shrug. “But I didn’t wanna hear it then.” You chuckle softly. “So, yeah, I uh, I knew he did and I knew the Pit didn’t take it away.”

It's something he's going to need to find a way to make terms with but at least, you're understanding about it. He wishes he had the opportunity to tell you himself but...he's thinking maybe this was easier. You've known and never batted an eye or said a word about it. Maybe he doesn't have to feel all that shame and embarrassment around you.

“White hair, kept all of my scars, and got the one my chest.” Jason lets out a scoff.

“Least it fixed your face.” You quip back with a cheeky smile in hopes it'll help cheer him up a bit.

You see the flash of something kind and cheeky cross over his face.

Jason drops your hand, leaning in. “What’s wrong with my face, huh?” The corner of his mouth perks into a grin and you always have a way to make him feel better about anything and everything.

Your name might as well be synonymous with catharsis.

“Did you want a list?” You raise with a smirk as you tilt your head to the right.

Jason lets out a laugh. “Fuck you.” Jason shakes his head at you and his eyes go to your lips before traveling back up to your eyes.

“Say please.” You lean in closer to him, brushing your nose against his.

Jason shakes his head, bursting at the seams with a devilish grin. His hand comes up to your cheek before he kisses you, pushing the both of you down to the bed.

“Please.” Jason nearly growls into your mouth.

Jason leans up and tugs his shirt off quickly before coming right back to your lips. Your hands tangle in his hair and give the strands a light tug. You push on his shoulder, signaling for him to roll over. You get on top before you trail down and press kisses to his cheek and then to his neck, leaving your second mark of the night.

The words ‘i love you’ bounce around Jason’s head like a pinball in a pinball machine. He’s so in love with you he thinks he might have lost all of his sanity. He did not know it was possible to feel so strongly for another person but he does. And he wants to live here forever. You make him better and he is so certain of that if not for everything that has happened but the reason that Jason doesn’t want to self-sabotage with you. It’s not worth it. You’ll fight and make up and it’ll have been for nothing. All it would do is hurt the both of you and haven’t you both been hurt enough?

You can feel Jason's hardening bulge beneath you. Without breaking the kiss, you slide your fingers into the waistband of his pants, helping him tug them down. Jason sits up, helping you get the rest of his clothes off before he flips the two of you so you're back on your back. You let out a laugh just as you always did and Jason thinks he'd never grow tired of it.

Your hands are in his hair and he can feel you smiling against his lips despite the haste of your kiss. Jason slides his hand under your back, undoing your bra before he helps you get off. His hand goes right to your right breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and finger. You moan into his mouth as your head starts to go fuzzy all over again. You squirm under him and a grin comes to Jason's lips.

You snake your hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around the shaft before you start pumping him slowly. Jason's mouth opens against you as his hips stutter for just a second. You start moving your arm faster and Jason's mouth trails back down to your neck. His teeth graze the skin and you think you'd let him mark every part of your body without ever putting a thought into it.

He sucks a mark into your neck.

And then another.

And another leading down the scar on your shoulder from the bullet wound.

He stops there, switching to a kiss and your stomach twists while your brain starts to turn to goo. He presses kisses back up to your lips and you're squirming under his touch as you can feel yourself growing wetter by the second. 

"Condom." You mutter against his lips before removing your hand from his cock, precum leaking from the tip.

Jason wastes no time in reaching for his nightstand to tug out a condom. You're already stripping the rest of your clothes by the time Jason has the package in his hand. 

Jason smirks down at you. "Not wasting any time, huh?"

You shrug, almost taunting him as you keep your eyes locked on his, careful not to look down at the scar. "Been a while."

Jason chuckles as heat runs over his neck. "Having withdrawal?"

"I could just do it myself." You quip back.

"Can I watch?" Jason questions and a part of you thinks he's serious.

You roll your eyes. "Maybe next time."

Jason has to clear his throat as his cock twitches with the remark. "Hold you to it." Jason mutters as he finally gets the wrapper open.

"Then I get to watch you."

Jason's eyes flash over to you as his stomach drops and spins. "Whatever you want, princess." Jason finally gets the condom on and you pull him back down to you.

His lips connect with yours, hot and fast at first, hungry as if he hasn't eaten in a month. His cock is lined up with your soaking pussy but the kiss slows and deepens. Jason's hand trails down your right thigh, delicate fingers running over your skin as goosebumps erupt over your body. You run a hand down his shoulder and to his arm, his bicep twitches under your touch.

Jason is warm and sturdy, an unwavering force that you find yourself so intertwined with, you really aren't sure how you've managed to live so much of your life without him. It always feels like he's meant to be around you like someone out there made him just for you and you were made just for him. In some ways, that's scary and feels like a big responsibility, but in others, it's comforting. It's the reassurance that it's just you and him in the end of it all. You'll get there one day. That's how it's supposed to be.

Jason pulls away, resting his forehead against yours before he starts sliding his cock into your aching pussy. The pit in your stomach grows as you start to see stars. Jason's eyes are shut and he's thinking he's left this whole plane of existence. He sinks into you slow and steady until he bottoms out.

His eyes open, locking on yours. Your fingers are lightly running up his arm and the words of 'i love you' almost spill from his lips like an overflowing cup of water. His nose brushes yours and he almost says it. He doesn't want to scare you away with piling too much on you at once. Last night and the scar tonight, he knows you're worried the Titans.

He'll tell you later.

Instead, Jason settles for something with the same meaning.

Your eyes close and the words of 'i love you' almost escape your lips like an easy breath. You brush your nose with his and you almost say it. Jason has been through a lot. You don't want to add to it, not right now. You don't want to add more pressure if he can't say it back yet. You don't want to scare him off.

You'll tell him later.

Instead, you settle for something with the same meaning.

"You and me." Jason whispers to you as he goes to kiss your cheek.

A tender smile pulls at your lips as your heart stutters in your chest. "You and me."

A smile rips through Jason's lips as his heart feels like it's just burst through his ribcage.

Jason pulls out and pushes back in, just as slow this time before he starts picking up the pace. Your mind starts swimming with his quick movements. His mouth is on yours again and you can barely keep up. Your mind is flooded with how full he's making you as your pussy clenches around him.

You try to form words, anything to tell him to keep going but nothing can form quite right, giving Jason the ego boost he doesn't exactly need. He gets the idea and doesn't lighten up. His hand grips your thigh, tugging your leg up near his hip. With the new angle, he's tapping the patch of nerves inside of you. You gasp against him, your nails digging into his back.

"J-Jay." You nearly whine into his mouth and Jason nearly finishes right there with the first word you're able to get out being his name.

"Hmm?" He hums, trying to hold his composure. "Gotta speak up, babe." Jason teases.

"H-harder." You get out.

Jason grins wickedly against your lips, doing as you asked but only for a few thrusts before he stops entirely. "Like that?"

Your eyes shoot open, pupils blow with desperation and lust. "Please."

You don't have to ask again.

Jason thrusts his hips harder and faster than before. You groan louder below him almost immediately. Your pussy is clenching around him more and more and he can tell you're getting close. He slides a hand between you, rubbing tight circles around your clit. You nearly scream with the new sensation.

You grip his hair and pull his neck closer to you just as Jason gets you to reach your high. You let out a mixed whine and moan of his name before you bite down where his shoulder meets his neck, desperately trying not to scream. Tears prick your eyes as your stomach tightens and your whole body shakes and twitches beneath Jason.

It takes everything in him not to lose himself until you're finally finished, panting below him. His hips stall against you as his head hangs in the cook of your neck, his cock twitching as he shoots his load into the condom.

Jason leans up, chest heaving and he places a kiss to your cheek and then your forehead before he rolls off of you to dispose of the condom in his bathroom.

You sit up, wrapping the blanket around you with your chest still heaving and you give Jason a tender smile as he walks back towards the bed. He grabs his clothes as you watch him and you're getting your first full view of the scar. It doesn't bother you but you understand why it bothers him. Seeing it in full, it's a harsh scar, not something that looks like it'll even fade. You think if it were you, it'd bother you, too.

Jason makes his way back to the bed, plopping back down before he leans against the pillow. His eyes are still lustblown as he gives you a soft and tired smile, and you think his eyes are filled with something you became so accustomed to. Your hand goes to his hair, brushing the white streaks away from his face. Jason’s hand grabs your hand before bringing your palm to his lips and he presses tender kisses over your hand.

“For the record,” You start as Jsaon places your hand back down. “I don’t care what scars you come home with.” You say so easily and your word choice doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason. “I know you do but I don’t…” You pause, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Just as long as you come home.” You nod a few times as your brows pinch together.

Jason sits up, his face coming just a few inches from yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t.” His voice is rough and this is a different apology than the one you got on the roof. The one you got at his safe house. There are no stakes in the apology.

“It’s not your fault.” You place a hand on his cheek and Jason leans into it. "I forgive you anyway, though."

He still wonders how you were ever able to bear it. Despite his general feeling of self-doubt and self-loathing, he knows your feelings have always been very real for him. You didn’t cope, that he knows for certain and he’s not entirely sure if you ever will. It’s something you have to make peace with just as much as he does. And he thinks about how maybe that’s an important part of you both moving forward. You forgive him for some reason but Jason doesn’t think you've accepted it yet. A part of him has, it happened to him and he’s alive. He went through it. One second, your world is moving at a steady pace and the next it’s halted, suddenly stopped with no warning and then it’s thrown in the other direction. It sounds more like whiplash. So, Jason wonders if you’ll ever hit the acceptance stage. He wonders how you were ever able to bear any of it. He knows for certain if it were him, he’d never be able to.

Your eyes are soft and tired and there’s the tiniest, adoring smile on your lips. A look Jason is privileged enough to be the only one to receive. And he thinks about he’d never be able to bear the loss of you. It rips him to shreds. It would take all of the remaining good parts of him and shatter them. He’d never recover if something happened to you. Even if it's beyond his control. It’s terrifying feeling that way about another person.

Jason nods against you before he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Yeah…” He lets out a breath. “Thanks for sticking around.”

“Thanks for letting me.” You smile softly. "You and me?"

Jason offers the same smile back. "You and me." Jason confirms. “You still gonna talk to Leslie?” Jason asks as you pull your hand away.

You nod softly. “Yeah. If she has anything open.”

Jason gives you a soft smile. “Good.” He nods softly. He sits back up all the way, looking to his doorway. “Gonna grab your clothes.” Jason chuckles softly, tossing his shirt over his head before he gets up.

You watch Jason disappear through the doorway and you're quick to grab his pillow, checking to see if he’s replaced the knife with a gun. Your chest warms with the sight of your blue switchblade still locked and lying under his pillow. It’s a relief he hasn’t put the gun back. Your thoughts are jolted as fabric hits your face.

“Hey!” You yell through a laugh, your clothes falling into your lap.

“Fucking nosey ass.” Jason nods his head at you, making his way back to the bed with his hoodie in hand.

“You’re an interesting person to be nosey about.” You shrug as you get the blanket off of your shoulders. You can feel the tiredness weighing on your bones and you know if you don't head home soon, you'll end up staying here. As much as you really want to, you do not want to overstay your welcome. “Well,” You sigh as you tug your shirt over your head. “I should probably head home.” You laugh softly, seeing the orange light of sunrise seeping through Jason’s window.

“Guess so.” Jason nearly pouts at the thought. He never wants you to leave but he doesn't want you to feel obligated to always stay just because you're here late. You'll be back here later anyway. “Still gonna help me today?” Jason’s eyes are hopeful and big.

“Of course.” You laugh softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’ll just sleep for a few hours and how about we like one?” You ask. “We’ll both be out of it if we don’t get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jason says in agreement. “Want an escort home?” He asks but you can tell by the way he raises of his brows and the way he's already moving to get up, it's not really an offer. He's going to do it anyway.

“Thank you.” You stand up, putting the rest of your clothes on. "Just get some sleep when you get back, okay?"

Jason nods with a grin. "Of course. Gotta be well-rested hanging out with you."

"I can not help you." You quip as you grab your bag.

"Sorry." Jason lets out a chuckle.

"Let's just go." Your eyes widen at him to tease him before Jason gestures towards the door for you to lead the way.

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[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Yippy! Once you have the time to write, how would the Creeps (any of your choosing) feel when y/n surprise them with a drink or meal? Like after a hard day.

-🪱 anon

As usual, when given free reign with characters, i do my characters that are most popular at the time, so i hope you enjoy!

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toby

Usually its pretty obvious when Toby's having a bad/rough day

He is one of the few creeps who doesn't mind wearing his emotions on his sleeve

So when he comes home from work an hour or so late, more twigs and dirt in his hair and on his face than usual, and doesnt even bother to bid you hello, you know somethings up

So you make a quick trip to McDonald's, and get him his favorite

10 piece chicken nugget meal with sweet and sour sauce, and a medium sweet tea

When you get back to the manor, there is no sign of Toby anywhere

So you go ahead and go up to his room, where you hear the shower running

You put his food on his nightstand, turn off the lights, light a few candles and pull up his favorite tv show

While you wait, you go ahead and pick up his very dirty uniform that reeks of dirt and dead things, and go ahead and put it in the washer for him

About 30 minutes later, he emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist and another towel in his hands that he uses to dry his hair

He jumps a little bit when seeing someone in his room, but when he notices that it's you, he calms down

He doesn't speak to you as he shuffles over to his dresser and picks out some sweatpants and a baggy band t-shirt he got from Tim

After putting his clothes on, he comes to lay on his bed with you, putting his head on your chest and awaiting the headrubs

You wrap an arm around him lazily and use your other hand to stroke his damp hair "do you wanna talk about it?"

He shakes his head

"Ok. I got you some food" you say, offering a fry

He takes and eats it, before sitting up and eating the rest of his meal

All the food is gone and he is still sipping on his drink when he finally speaks "thank you." Is all he says

You smile and kiss his shoulder "of course, love"

Jeff

Jeff is another one that you can easily tell when he's upset

He has very explosive anger that can sometimes get out of control

And depending on what hes done and who hes hurt, he can sometimes feel very guilty when he comes to

Which is exactly what happened this time

He's punching walls, throwing things, screaming, you name it

No one really knows what triggered this, but Liu eventually tries to step in

Liu is almost immediately shut down, because as soon as he tries to say anything, jeff is shoving him up against a wall and screaming at him next

Which of course, triggers Sully to front

So now Jeff and Sully are in an all out fist fight, and Jeff ends up hurting him pretty bad

Sully ends up with a gnarly concussion and has to spend the night in the medical wing

Now, jeff doesnt feel bad about hurting sully at all, but he does feel bad that he hurt his brother's body

So he shamefully locks himself away in his room, refusing to come out for anything

After an hour of trying to convince him to at least let you in, you instead decide to go get him a tasty treat to make him feel better

You go to a sushi restaurant and get him his favorite rolls, then make a trip to a gas station to get him some arizona tea, mango flavored

When you get home, you slide his food under his door (pretend it wouldve fit 💀) and await a response

You are met with him taking the food and eating slowly, before he eventually lets you in

You spend the rest of the night consolling him, sitting in his lap and telling him that it'll all be ok

He does end up thanking you for the sushi, but its not until a week later when his ego is all better

And in the morning, you take him to see Liu, who is totally playing it up to make jeff feel exxxxtra bad (lmao what losers)

Eyeless Jack

Unlike the other two, jack is very hard to read

He almost always has the same, neutral expression on his face

His emotions only show if he especially vulnerable, like during a blood moon or around other demons, etc

And even then, he tries his hardest to remain nonchalant

So when you finally find him in the library, pacing around, you know somethings bugging him

You know its not gonna be easy to get it out of him though, so you go to his favorite steakhouse and get him steak, loaded mashed potatoes, and water

You come back to the library where he is still pacing, seemingly very deep in thought

You place his food down on one of the long library tables, and watch as his pointy nose twitches, and his eyes flick over to the food

He comes over to the table, where you are now sitting and points at the food "is this for me?" He asks

You nod and he sits next to you, beginning to eat in a way that looks quite weird, almost like hes trying to eat the way a human would, but is failing miserably due to his large teeth and multiple tongues

"What's on your mind?" You ask as he finishes his potatoes

"This and that" he mutters

"This and that being...?" You trail

"Just...a lot" he says, finally finishing his food and taking a sip of water

"I see." You say, standing and coming to drape your arms around his shoulders

"Did the food help? At least a little?" You ask, pressing a kiss to his sharp ear

"Yeah, it was nice. Thank you, dear" he says, turning his head and kissing your nose

"Anytime" you respond, allowing him to kiss you several more times all over your face

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

Okay, you like birds and you like superheroes, so you seem uniquely qualified to answer a question that’s bothered me for awhile: WHY is Red Robin named that when there’s already a Red Hood AND a Robin. It just. . . Blends with the rest of the post robin personas so poorly

(If the Crow wasn’t already taken I would have suggested that since Tim has that whole thing going on with the court of Owls and those two species notoriously hate each other.)

So if you could redesign Tim Drakes vigilante persona what would be your pick?

Hoo boy, now there's a goddamn question, isn't there? I answer it at the end, I promise, but I wanted to explain my reasoning. So, yeah, scroll down if you want the answer quick.

But OK, I can answer your first question really easily: why is Tim Drake called Red Robin if Red Hood already exists? Easy: because Red Robin came first. And I don't mean that as a concept or nursery rhyme or expression; I mean that a Robin, one of Batman's sidekicks, taking up the identity of Red Robin, existed first, complete with the costume. BEHOLD! Mark Waid and Alex Ross' brilliant comic book Kingdom Come, one of the most important DC Comics stories ever published, and arguably one of its most iconic near-future stories!

First published in 1996, this story came out after Tim Drake was introduced in comics, and well before Jason Todd came back to life as Red Hood. And...is actually Dick Grayson in the future, not Tim Drake. In fact, Tim never appears in Kingdom Come for some reason, but a future version of Damian surprisingly does! Ask Mark Waid, not me. Anyway, when DC introduced Damian Wayne into the main continuity, they realized two Robins weren't going to do. SO, they reintroduced the identity of Red Robin, and this time gave it to...Jason Todd. Yeah, Jason actually picked up the identity in main continuity first, during the Countdown to Final Crisis storyline. He was given the costume by Batman from an alternate universe that was a utopian society yaddayaddayadda, you get the point. Jason had it first.

But, that didn't last very long, and Jason became Red Hood again after that event was done. And so, Red Robin was eventually picked up by...Ulysses Armstrong. Yeah, the identity was stolen by a Nightwing and Robin villain previously known as the General, who was basically a child genius that used the identity to...well, kill Robin. Ulysses is an asshole, it's a whole thing. Anyway, after this event, FINALLY, Tim Drake takes up the mantle of Red Robin. So, yeah, Tim is the THIRD Red Robin in continuity. Which, now that you mention it, DOES make it odd that Tim would adopt the identity after it was stained by Ulysses. But, DC editorial wanted the Red Robin character to exist in canon, and Tim was the only character that made sense to wear the mantle. It's a reference for reference's sake, which isn't great, admittedly.

But, OK, you're asking me what I would do if given the reigns to Tim Drake's identity after Damian Wayne essentially steals the mantle of Robin. OK, Anonymous, I'll play your game. And I actually do have an answer to this question. First off, what does Tim Drake represent amongst the Robins, especially compared to the others and their superhero identities? All of the Robins are reflections of Batman himself, often somewhat unintentionally. Their superhero identities similarly reflect this. Let's give the two most prominent examples.

Nightwing is the superhero. Dick Grayson, originally, was the kid sidekick of Batman, and embraced that with a lightness that Bruce could never manifest. As a result, his ideals were that of the traditional superhero: the day-saving good guy who does the right thing for the disadvantaged, old chum. So, his adult persona reflects this. It's a reference to Superman (Nightwing was originally a superhero and Krypton that Superman told a young Dick about early in their friendship), and it's a sort-of cheesy heroic name that also references Batman. Nightwing, savior of Bludhaven! Has a ring to it.

Red Hood is a vigilante against the law. Jason Todd, originally, was a little street punk who stole the tires off of the Batmobile. He's a criminal. When he becomes Robin, he embraces the vigilante identity by also embracing his temper, becoming a rougher-around-the-edges Robin who doesn't follow the rules very well. And then, he dies at the Joker's hand. When he comes back to life, he embraces the idea of being a brutal vigilante that doesn't care about the rules or morality, essentially becoming a criminal in the process. And so, when he has to choose the name of a criminal, why not name himself after the man who created him: Joker. So, he names himself Red Hood, which is also the Joker's old identity before getting acid dipped. Maybe this was on purpose, maybe it was subconscious, but it doesn't matter. He wants to be a lawbreaker, so he gets the identity of a lawbreaker.

Damian Wayne is the martial artist. To be fair, Damian still hasn't come into his own as an adult, since he's...well, a teenager. Because of that, we don't know what his identity is going to be, other than...well, Batman. Yeah, he's quite literally the son of Batman, so it does make sense that he'd become the next Batman. But again, that is yet to be seen. In terms of being a reflection of his father, though, he's the overdisciplined and overserious martial artist, and also...a child. Yeah, no offence to Bruce, but he's still in many ways a child in a mask. And so, Damian originally represented that. But now, as he's grown older in comics, he instead reflects the self-assured determination of his father, as well as the superior martial arts skills. And that finally leaves one major aspect unaccounted for, and you know what it is.

Tim Drake is the detective. Look, Tim is known as the "smart Robin" for a reason...because he is. He's the smart Robin. But in terms of being a reflection of Batman, he represents the Dark Knight's more Holmesian aspects. He's the inquisitive analyst, the tactician, the observer, the planner. So, whatever Tim's adult persona is, it should reflect him as a detective and tactician. And here's a question: should it be a bird at all? I mean, Nightwing only evokes a bird, and Red Hood definitely isn't a bird. So maybe Tim should actually be the only one to keep the bird thing in earnest. But if he does...maybe he could be a little smarter about it.

Y'know, I like your suggestion of "Crow", Anonymous. Smart bird, love the enemy of owls point, too. But Crow feels...off. It's not a great superhero name, as you pointed out. Of course, we're really looking for the name of a good detective. So, maybe you have the right family, just the wrong member. SOme people I've seen suggest Jackdaw, which...come to think of it, may just be a Reddit joke, but either way, I don't like it? So, instead, how about...

The Rook (Corvus frugilegus) is a Eurasian corvid known for its ability to solve problems. It's often seen in the presence of similar, related birds (like the Jackdaw), and lives in nests called rookeries. They have the ability to use complex tools, and even understand the concept of gravity. But perhaps the biggest reason why I think Tim should take up the name Rook, other than the fact that his hideout already has a name now (the Rookery), and the fact that he can keep the "R" on his costume, AND the fact that Rook is also a pretty good codename for a detective or spy...is the double meaning.

After all...I feel like Tim is the kind of person who plays a lot of chess to harness his skills in planning and tactics, amongst other games. He probably has played a lot of games with Alfred, maybe with Bruce. And another name for the castle piece is, of course, the rook. A double-meaning, and BOTH work for the character. And for some reason, I've never seen anybody suggest this as a name for Tim Drake. Maybe I haven't looked in the right places, but thinking on it now...I honestly really want this name for him in the future. Give him a dark costume, maybe replace the red with blue, or even give him the Red Robin costume, recolored to reflect this identity instead! The possibilities abound, really.

Hopefully that was a satisfying answer for you! May not work for everybody, but that's what I would do if I were in charge of Time Drake! Definitely not Drake, or Sparrow, or the other names he's been given in the last few years, just sayin'.

[ladytauria]

omg yeah not sure i want to know more about the brujay first heat WIP (the snipped u posted a whole back was CRAZY or the dick tim hands on sex ed one

hehehe, why not both?

brujay first heat was smth that i meant to have ready by the end of kinktober and then… did not. it’s aob + underage, with alpha bruce & omega jason, & basically just bruce spoiling & lavishing jason with attention for his first heat <3

i don’t remember what i shared snippets of last time ahskdjkdj and picking one is so hard… ah i’m so excited to finish this one, lmao, there’s so many little moments i like

While Jason is much shier about his body than Bruce is, it's not the first time that Bruce has seen him.

It is the first time he's been allowed to look properly. To see the way his time at the Manor has softened his body. Bruce had known about the little paunch in his stomach, had seen glimpses of his ribs, the way the jut of them is no longer clearly visible under his skin.

And he'd seen hints, teasing little glimpses of Jason's breasts. They're cupped in a soft, cotton bra now; buttery yellow, trimmed with a bit of lace. 

It's cute, though with his heat like this, Bruce imagines that lace must be itching terribly. He slips his finger under it, and follows along where the cups meet Jason's skin. 

"Did you put this on for me, Jaylad?"

Jason makes an aborted movement to cover his chest before curling his fingers into the nest instead. "Yeah. Do—" He swallows, adam's apple bobbing with the movement. "Do you like it?"

His silly boy.

Bruce is deeply, inextricably fond, and he's sure it shows in his smile—his scent. "I do," he says. The urge to shower Jason in finery has always been strong. It will grow stronger after this, now that he knows his omega would wear it to please him. Reigning it in will be difficult. Jason's body is still changing, shifting; he'll have to keep that in mind for anything he buys. It would be a travesty for Jason to love something only to grow out of it.

Bruce could replace it easily, of course, but that would never erase the moment Jason tried to put it on and failed.

"I like it very much, Jaylad." Bruce bends his head, kissing the lace at the top of the cup, sitting at the swell of his breast.

More than anything, he likes that it's yellow.

It’s Jason’s favorite color. He could have picked any color in the world to wrap himself in—could have marked himself as Bruce’s by wearing black, could have challenged him with Nightwing blue. But instead, Jason had picked yellow. Indulging himself. The rumble in Bruce’s chest deepens. His boy has come so far.

and then for dicktim, i shared one snippet of them already—you can find that here—but, here’s another—

Tim is probably a bad person.

Here Dick is, vulnerable and needing Tim’s help… and Tim is taking and advantage.

A lie by omission is still a lie.

That said—Dick knew about his relationship with Steph. Beautiful, pregnant Steph, whose hormones often left her flushed and slick with desire. Tim would hardly have been a good alpha if he’d left her wanting, would he? If Dick assumes he’s a virgin, well—

That’s his own fault.

Maybe Tim should feel guilty for playing into it the way he is, but he can hardly help it when it makes Dick look at him like this. Like only the thinnest of threads is holding him back from leaping over to devour him.

His scent has gotten thicker. Headier. Tim’s head is cloudy with it. The world has shrunk down to the confines of Dick’s nest. Nothing outside of it matters.

Only Dick, thighs spreading to reveal a glistening pink pussy. His hand catches Tim’s wrist, guiding his fingers there. Tim bites his lip, watching Dick’s face as he strokes over puffy folds. He keeps his touch light. Tentative.

Dick shudders at the touch, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen bunching. He blinks, lashes fluttering. “Just like that,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” Tim strokes again, a little more boldly. He keeps his touch light—heat has clearly made Dick more sensitive.

[curious about my wips? send me an ask about one of the ones on this list!]

[moonlight0934]

Only Around You

Tim scratches at his arm, staring at the ugly stitches that Bruce gave him yesterday. He got hit by a knife on patrol, but for some reason, Alfred wasn’t home at two a.m. So, Bruce stitched up his arm, and now it looks like someone just attacked his arm with the stitches too. He was shaking so badly, and Tim has no idea why. He’s never gotten stitched up by Bruce before, but he’s seen Bruce execute perfect stitches on numerous people, and that includes himself.

Tim forces himself to his feet, wincing as the large bruises on his back rub against the chair. The cave is quiet, so he turns on some rock music, and gets to work. His music is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear the alarm from the monitor that watches news channels. He flips the music off, and pulls the alert up on the main computer over his case.

Ivy and Harley are trying to take over downtown again. Tim pulls himself to his feet, wondering how they got out of Arkham so fast since they were only put there a few weeks ago. He rushes through getting his gear back on, then slips a comm into his ear.

“Bruce? Batman, are you there? If you are, we have a situation downtown. Ivy and Harley are trying to destroy everything again, and I need backup. I’m heading down there now, so just meet me when you get this message.”

He also texts Alfred to come down the stairs if he has the time. Alfred texts back almost immediately saying that he’ll be there in a minute, and that Tim can contact him over comms if he needs anything. Then Tim heads out. He makes it downtown, but no one is there. There’s no carnage, no broken buildings, and no crazy, screaming bitches trying to kill people. Tim pushes down on his comm.

“Hey, can you check the alert again, please? I think I’m in the wrong place, but I’m sure this is where it said.”

Static crackles through the comm, and Tim frowns.

“Agent A?”

Still nothing. Tim turns to grapple to a higher vantage point, but something hits him from behind. His jaw slams into the concrete, and stars dance across his vision. Everything fades to black quickly after that. Tim wakes up quickly, jumping to alertness. Tim’s eyes scan the room immediately. It’s dark, but it looks like he’s in a moldy basement. He’s restrained, and it’s pretty good, but definitely something he can get out of. His comm is still in his ear, and his mask hasn’t been tampered with.

A light flips on overhead while someone comes down the stairs. He can’t see them until they get all the way down the stairs, and Tim feels like he recognizes the young man, but he can’t put his finger on where he’s seen them before.

“Ah, Robin, you’re awake.”

“What do you want?” Tim asks, sounding annoyed already. He can tell that this is only a half professional job, and this guy was the one hiring people to do the professional parts.

“I want to know why you’re here.”

Tim pauses, confused.

“I think it’s because you kidnapped me, but now I’m not so sure.”

He walks over, and slaps Tim across the face. Tim winces as his already swollen jaw is dealt more damage.

“Wait, I know where I saw you before. You were the one at the second Robin’s memorial every year. You were the one that gave a speech.”

“How would you know? You weren’t there until you stole his costume and his partner.”

“I didn’t steal anything, and I was there. You just wouldn’t know. I think I know what this is about now. I looked up to him too, and I’m not trying to replace him. Batman needed someone to reign him in.”

“Yeah right. You realize that you’re causing more harm than you’re helping, don’t you? Batman didn’t usually almost die, especially saving his partners. Robins didn’t get hurt so much, and criminals didn’t used to get away.”

Tim stays quiet, not planning on telling this kid that Batman is the one hurting him most of the time, and the reason why most of those bad things happened. He’s not wrong about one thing, it never used to happen to the other Robins. Bruce was only this way around him. Part of him knows that it isn’t his fault, but the other part whispers in his ear that it is.

“You ruined him, and you’re ruining the legacy of Robin. He needs to be helped, and you’re not doing that.”

Tim bites his tongue as he resumes his work on the knots tying his hands.

“Are you even listening?”

“Yes, I’m listening. Don’t worry, I hear ya. I’m the worst, and Batman could do so much better. He should just bring the last Robin back from the dead. Then all of his problems could be solved. Oh, wait, he can’t do that. Whoops.”

The man slaps Tim again. Then he pulls a gun out of his waistband. Tim raises one eyebrow.

“You’re going to shoot me?”

“Yes, then Batman can move on from his extra baggage.”

Tim sighs.

“Jeez, I freaking hate fanatics.”

“I am not a fanatic!” the man screams, pointing the gun at Tim’s head.

The ropes drop from Tim’s hands, and he launches to his feet. The man gets two shots off before Tim snatches the gun, and slams it into his nose. Maybe it was a little harder than he had to, but he doesn’t stop to worry about it. Tim gently places a hand against the waistband of his suit. It comes away red, and he curses. He reaches up to flip his comm back on. It crackles to life instead of the static from earlier.

“He must have had something to block the communication lines. Is anyone there?” he asks, pushing down on his comm. There’s no answer, but he’s pretty sure that he’s getting through. “Ugh, do I always have to do everything myself?” he mutters, grabbing the rope.

He ties the man up as fast as he can before lugging him up the stairs. He’s bleeding heavily by then, and starting to get a little light headed. He uses the function on his comm to call the police station, and tells them to meet him at the man’s address. They get there within twenty minutes, and Tim has stopped the bleeding as effectively as he can by then.

“Gordon, hi,” Tim greets from his position on the floor.

“Robin, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just bleeding a little bit. I am going to have to track down the people that this guy paid to help abduct me, but he’s mostly harmless. He’s just another fanatic.”

Tim pulls himself to his feet.

“I’m going to head out though. I have all my gear back, so I’m going to get off the streets for the day. Let me know if you need anything.”

Tim doesn’t actually wait for an answer before heading out of the door. Alfred is fretting around the cave when Tim gets back.

“Master Tim, where were you?”

“I got kidnapped. I tried comming you a little while ago.”

“I was trying to get a hold of Master Bruce, I’m terribly sorry.”

Tim’s vision starts to tilt.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Can you patch me up? I got shot.”

Alfred nods, and takes Tim to the infirmary.

“So, what happened?” he asks as he’s taking the bullet out.

“It was another Jason Todd fan who thinks I’m the bad guy.”

“You know you’re not, right?” Alfred asks after a quiet minute.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just really tiring, you know?”

“Yes, I understand. It must be quite hard being in your shoes.”

Tim laughs bitterly.

“Yeah, sure.”

What an understatement.

“I’m always here if you need anything, sir.”

Tim smiles.

“Yeah, thanks, Alfred.”