#ra*bits juniors

[shinobus-left-eye]

NEW FITS‼️‼️

[nguyenfinity]

For the doodle request, may I request the Five Eccentrics ?

I don’t know how Japanese graduations work but I imagine they’d be insufferable at Natsume’s

[raelyn-dreams]

Do you ever think about how the Ra*bits juniors were only desperate enough to beg Nazuna to join because they absolutely REFUSED to join a pre-existing unit that wouldn't have all three of them?

Tomoya and Hajime had decided on becoming idols together in middle school and stubbornly stuck with it, but they had known Mitsuru for like a few weeks at most and were already so attached to him that the thought of joining a unit without him or each other was utterly inconceivable to them.

They all loved each other so much from the beginning, and among all the manipulation, reluctance, and fear permeating the other units of early ! era, they still had the courage to say "You take all of us, or none of us". And it paid off with a loving nii-chan who found his place, songs full of hope and smiles to heal the broken, and one of the most genuine, heartwarming relationships in all of enstars.

[michizousnumber1fan]

i relate to nazuna nii chan bc i too was born with the urge to be a reliable big brother figure but im both tiny and the most unreliable person you'll ever meet

[daily-mao-isara]

Day 496 : BRAND NEW STARS SPP with Hajime !

[turkey-sandwich]

With the graduation otw there are a lot of stuff that's bound to happen...

Tori going in his student council president era, Shinobu probably, probably the new vp, and Yuzuru not being at Tori's side at all times in school anymore... Ouh. (President pattern: fine -> Trickstar -> fine. I find that amusing but also that could probably mean something)

Mido and Aira are the only ones left in the basketball club (since both Subaru and mao are graduating, and idk if they have other members) which could also mean that Midori might get promoted to basketball club captain (captain pattern: ryuseitai -> Trickstar -> ryuseitai. AGAIN. IT'S A LITTLE INTERESTING TO ME IDK)

Poor tsukasa being the only Knights member at yumenosaki since ara-nee and ritsu are graduating, and I'm��� and SORA TOO WITH NATSUME GRADUATING!!! AAAAAAA–

Anzu... Anzu being a full-time producer now................ Trickstar graduating..........

Ra*bits are now third years.... I'm just. They've grown so much...... Ough....

[domjaehyun]

i ❤️ hot nerds (l.dh, n.jm)

PAIRING. pervert!nerd!haechan, pervert!nerd!jaemin x popular!fem!reader  GENRE. smut, slight fluff CONTENTS. explicit smut (kissing, fingering, oral (receiving), titfucking, breast play, lots of drool and spit, overstimulation, snowballing, dirty talk, rimming, anal play, missionary, riding, mating press, breeding/creampies) WORD COUNT. 8.7k SUMMARY. when your professor pairs you with the two smartest students in your class for a group project, you find yourself making an interesting deal with them. or, alternatively: the one where you have to help two nerds learn to get girls so you can pass your class. PLAYLIST. n/a NOTES. remember when i said i was up to something with these two? this is it! teehee :3 i hope you enjoy!!

“Professor Kwon, I really need to pass this class,” you say with a worried frown, and she nods in understanding, reaching over to pat your hand gently.

“I’ll see if I can scrape up any extra credit assignments for you to do, but in the meantime, you can try and do your best on the group project coming up. It’s worth thirty percent of your grade, and if you want, I can pair you up with some of the stronger students in the class to help ensure you get a good grade.” she offers helpfully, and your face lights up with a relieved smile as you nod.

“I would love that,” you gush gratefully. “Thank you so much, Professor Kwon! I really appreciate all your help.” You can tell from her kind expression that she knows your words are sincere, and it warms your heart that she’s been so helpful and generous.

“No worries, dear. I’ll email you tonight with some extra credit assignments for you, okay?” she says, and you nod in agreement as you pack up your bags to leave her office hours.

“I’ll be waiting! Thank you again, and have a great rest of your day!” You chirp, slinging your bag over your shoulder before exiting her office.

As you head down the hall, you think about who, in your thirty-person class, she could possibly pair you up with that could help your grade.

“Okay, class, I’m going to pair you up with your partners for the group project. Just a reminder—it is worth thirty percent of your grade, so please take this seriously. I would hate to have to fail any of you.” Professor Kwon says as she looks out at the classroom. 

Indistinct mutterings go around, and you look around as you contemplate who she might put you with. There’s Mark Lee, the sweet, endearingly bubbly English major in the year below you who’s also an RA for the building across from your dorm.

There’s Huang Renjun, the smart, quiet art major junior in the same year as Mark, and he could be a good partner, you suppose—

You’re dragged out of your reverie by the sound of your professor saying your name, followed by, “Lee Haechan, and Na Jaemin.”

Oh. Well, you’re certainly not upset by that development. You look across the room, where Jaemin and Haechan are sitting together, to see that they’re already looking over at you. Haechan smiles nervously and averts his gaze quickly, but Jaemin leans into the eye contact, giving you a small wave. 

You smile and wiggle your fingers back in greeting, making Jaemin grin and Haechan dissolve into excited giggles, the older male pushing his thick, black-rimmed glasses up on his nose absentmindedly.

Your professor finishes reading off the groups and waves her hands at you all, gesturing for you to get situated with your partners. You move to stand only to see that Haechan is rushing to stand up and make his way over to you, clutching his notebook and papers to his chest almost protectively.

Haechan and Jaemin are also the year below you, and you know them relatively well, given that you’re the RA for their dorm building—well, you know a bit about them: they live across the hall from you, they’re avid gamers, and, if you’re not mistaken, they’re two of the top students in the class.

You watch with an amused smile as Jaemin leisurely slings his bag over his shoulder, the cool, calm, and collected counterpart to your other partner, and they both make their way over to where you sit, Haechan sitting in the chair in front of you and turning it around to face you while Jaemin sits beside you.

“Hi,” Haechan greets quietly, and you shoot him a friendly smile.

“Hi, Haechan,” you reply sweetly, and his face breaks out into a brilliant, shy grin. 

“Hi.” he says again, and Jaemin snorts.

“You said that already.”

“Well, I’m saying it again.” Haechan counters, and you chuckle.

“Hi,” you say, “again.”

“...Hi.” he mumbles shyly, barely able to get the words out past his excited smile.

“Hi, Jaemin,” you greet, turning to look at the male beside you.

He shoots you a dazzling smile that makes you wonder, for a moment, how he even got the label of “nerd” everyone classifies him as. Haechan is a bit more understandable, given his general flustered nature around girls, but Jaemin’s always been calm and easygoing—you’d even go so far as to say he’s smooth. However, you suppose that after hearing Jaemin rant and rave about video games and the like, you can see why someone might label him as one even if you don’t find video games all that nerdy. 

“Hi,” he replies easily, lifting his eyebrows in greeting. It’s your turn to avert your gaze, the mildly suggestive gesture making you feel a little hot under the collar when you couple it with the fact that he can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“So, um,” you say, clearing your throat slightly, “I think we should meet up after classes today to talk about what we’re gonna do for our group project.”

“Okay,” Haechan agrees instantly, nodding vigorously. “We can meet up in the library? Or the cafeteria—or—well, maybe you’d wanna meet up somewhere private—” he starts to ramble, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, holding up a finger to stop him. He falls silent immediately, widened, slightly starstruck eyes gazing at you so intently you find yourself growing more endeared to him.

“Why would it matter if it’s in private or not?” you ask, brows furrowed, and Haechan nibbles at his bottom lip, exchanging a wordless glance with Jaemin. “Haechan?”

“In case you… y’know… don’t necessarily want to be seen with us.” he mumbles quietly, and you frown deeply. 

“Why would I not want to be seen with you?” you ask, already feeling like you know the answer.

“Because—” Haechan looks around the room to see if anyone’s paying attention to him before continuing, “because we’re nerds,” he says, whispering the word like it’s a slur, “and you’re—well, you know who you are.”

“How about you tell me who I am?” you press gently with a playful smile. “Just to refresh my memory.”

“You’re you. You’re one of the cool seniors—you’re one of the only RAs that everyone likes—and you’re…. y’know… popular.” Haechan whispers that word both like it’s a dream and a word that doesn’t belong in his mouth, and you won’t lie and say it doesn’t bother you slightly.

“Haechan.”

“Mm?” Haechan replies, and you drum your manicured nails on the table in front of you to stop his gaze from wandering furtively around the room. 

“First of all, this isn’t a stereotypical clique-y high school movie.” you chuckle. “I can be seen with anyone I want; it never mattered to me.”

“Okay,” he replies hesitantly, but you can sense some of the tension leaving his body as he gradually relaxes.

“Second of all: don’t call yourselves nerds like that—like it’s a label that actually matters. You’re just Haechan, and he’s just Jaemin, and I’m just me.” you finish carefully, and he cracks a smile, looking up from where your hands rest on the table to meet your gaze.

“Okay, cool.” he mumbles, smile growing as your words sink in.

“We can meet on the quad after class if you want,” you say, deliberately choosing the most public location you can think of.

“Well—” Jaemin cuts in, and you turn to look at him to see that he’s looking between you and Haechan. “There are no outlets on the quad… it’s just grass and some trees.”

“True,” you muse thoughtfully. “Where do you guys want to meet?”

“The dorm? Oh, but—” Haechan cuts himself off, shooting a panicked glance Jaemin’s way. “I don’t think my side of the room is presentable right now.”

“Okay,” you say with a laugh. “How about we meet in my room?” you offer, and Haechan’s eyes get so wide you fear he might hurt himself, while Jaemin’s brows shoot up in surprise. Looking between the two of them with growing amusement, you add on, “My last class ends at 4:30pm, and I can be back at my dorm by about 4:45pm, if that works for you guys.”

Neither of them speak for a moment, Haechan seemingly rooted in place with surprise, while Jaemin looks at him expectantly, eyes widening pointedly before he sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, that works for us.” Jaemin answers finally, and you smile, nodding in confirmation.

“Great!”

“Class is over, everyone! Good luck on your projects, and I’ll see you next Wednesday!” Professor Kwon bids you all goodbye, and everyone starts to gather their things. 

“Well, I’ll see you guys then; you know where my room is!” you say, putting your notebook in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. 

“See you later!” Jaemin replies easily, and Haechan nods as if to second Jaemin’s words.

“Bye, Haechan,” you say with a playful smile, finding it cute how flustered the male is by your attention.

“Bye,” he croaks weakly, and you giggle, turning to leave but not before catching a glimpse of Jaemin swatting Haechan’s arm in a scolding gesture.

“Would you relax? At least try to play it cool,” Jaemin whispers loudly from behind your retreating back.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it!” Haechan exclaims in a hushed voice. “She’s so pretty.”

You can’t help but smile widely to yourself as you keep walking, pretending you haven’t heard a thing.

They’re perfectly on time—in fact, if your ears don’t deceive you, they’re five minutes early, the two of them standing outside and bickering quietly.

“Listen,” Jaemin says in a stern whisper, “you’re going to act normal when we get in there. No being weird and quiet and awkward.”

“Yes, sir,” Haechan replies sarcastically, and you snicker quietly. “You try staying calm when she looks at you with those eyes.”

“I do,” Jaemin replies flatly. “If you can’t… skill issue, I guess.”

“Wh— skill issue? I bet I’m skilled at putting my foot up your ass—”

“Shut up, she might be able to hear you!”

“Why don’t you knock, then? We can meet early.”

“Why don’t I knock?” Jaemin replies incredulously. “Why don’t you?”

“Why would I knock?”

“Why would I?! You’re the one all eager to see her.”

“I’m not that eager.” Haechan mumbles bitterly, and Jaemin scoffs.

“You showered to see her.”

“So did you!”

“I always shower after classes. You also put on cologne.”

“Well— Is it a crime to want to smell good in front of a pretty girl?”

“No, but it is a crime to act like a wuss when she so much as looks at you,” Jaemin snarks, and Haechan sucks his teeth.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

There’s a brief scuffle on the other side, and you hear faint slapping sounds like they’re smacking each other back and forth, and you giggle softly, walking over to your door and waiting patiently. 

“Would you cut it out? Here–” Jaemin snaps, and three knocks sound out on the other side of your door. 

“Shit! Do I look okay?” Haechan worries.

There's silence before Jaemin replies. “No.”

“Fuck you.”

You decide to end their bickering and open your door, smiling at the two of them. “Hi, boys.”

“Hi,” Haechan mumbles shyly, and Jaemin elbows him, glaring at him.

“Hi,” Jaemin greets pleasantly, and you step aside to let them in.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” you offer, and they enter slowly, Haechan moving cautiously like you might change your mind at any moment. “I have snacks, water, and juice if you want anything to eat or drink.” 

“Oh, dope,” Haechan says eagerly, heading to your mini fridge and opening it, retrieving a blue Gatorade and plopping down on your fluffy pink rug. Jaemin takes a bag of chips from the basket on top of the fridge and sits beside Haechan so there’s room for you to sit across from them. 

You take a can of pineapple juice and frown down at the metal tab. “Can one of you open this? I don’t want to break a nail.”

“I’ll do it!” Haechan exclaims, leaning forward and taking it from you. He opens it with ease and hands it back to you, blushing when you smile gratefully and slip a straw into the opening.

“Thank you, Haechan,” you hum, and he smiles bashfully, nodding.

“You’re welcome.”

“So,” you say, sitting on your bed in front of them as you sip your drink. “What should we do our project on?”

“We were thinking we could do it on something cool, like…” Haechan says, trailing off towards the end and looking over at Jaemin with a clear request for help in his eyes.

Jaemin rolls his eyes slightly, sighs, and says, “Sex.”

You can’t help but smile slightly. “Sex is cool?”

“Well— well, I guess it’s not cool,” Haechan mumbles, unsure of himself, and you cross your leg over the other, watching as his eyes drop to the hem of your skirt, a latent hunger in them as he eyes your bare legs. “But something, like, trendy and relatable.”

“So sex is trendy?” You can’t refrain from teasing him slightly, admiring the way his cheeks flush. “It’s the cool, hip, new thing all the kids are getting into, huh?”

“Well—” Haechan stammers, and you hold up a hand to stop him, the male falling silent instantly and watching you intently.

“I’m just messing with you,” you assure him, and his shoulders slump in relief. “I’m okay with that! I just wanna be super transparent and let you guys know that my passing this class is riding on this grade for this project, so it’s really important to me. I’ll do my best to pull my weight, but I’m not doing as well as you guys, so—”

“We’ll do all the work,” Jaemin offers, and you stop short, blinking at him in surprise. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Haechan chimes in, pushing his glasses up his nose slightly. “You won’t have to lift a finger.”

“...Why?” you ask carefully, and they look at each other, now both a bit shifty. “Guys?”

“Hm?” Haechan asks, and you raise an eyebrow when he doesn’t meet your gaze, clearing your throat and waiting until he does.

“What’s in it for you?”

“Well… we were thinking we could trade services.” Jaemin interjects when it becomes evident that Haechan won’t be answering your question.

“Services?” you question, sitting forward slightly. Shifting your position, you cross your legs at the ankle instead, your knees falling apart slightly, and Haechan’s eyes zero in on the space between your legs, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips as he watches you. “Your service is helping me get an A, and my service is… what, exactly?”

“Um… we were thinking you could help us socially.” Jaemin says carefully, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“How?”

“Teach us how to get girls!” Haechan blurts out.     

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, looking between the two of them. “You’ll make sure we get an A on this project, and in return, I have to… help you get girls?”

“Teach us how to get girls,” Haechan stresses. “Don’t just help us get one girl.”

“What’s that quote? Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day, but teach him how to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime.” you recall proudly, and Jaemin nods, pleasantly surprised.

“Exactly,” Haechan confirms. “I’m trying to eat for a lifetime.”

“Noted,” you giggle, and you shrug before nodding. “I don’t see why not.”

Haechan pumps his fist and whispers some sort of victory affirmation that you don’t catch but Jaemin stands up, walking over to your bed, and extends his hand in offering, making you blink at it in confusion.

“Shake on it?” he says slowly, and your mouth makes a little “o” of realization as you nod in understanding, now reaching out to shake his hand. His lips curl into an unnerving yet attractive smile as he grips your hand and pulls you a little closer to whisper, “I can’t wait for our first lesson.”

Something about his intent, unwavering gaze and the way his fingers drag against your palm as you retract your hand—the longing of it all, the lingering touch like he doesn’t want to let go—has your mind reeling in that dizzying feeling from earlier, and you wonder for a minute just what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

It’s been about a week of meeting up with Haechan and Jaemin every day to work on your project, and you’ve been giving tips and tricks on how to get girls every day, both boys studiously and dutifully hanging onto your every word.

“I have a question,” Haechan states about twenty minutes into your study session, and you look at him expectantly. “When do we get to the makeover portion?”

You make a small hum of confusion. “Makeover?”

“Yeah, where you style our hair and our wardrobe and get us contacts and stuff.” Haechan says eagerly, and you chuckle.

“Your wardrobes are completely fine, my only advice for your hair is to style it off your forehead more often, and I happen to like your glasses.” you reply, and Haechan sighs in mild impatience, waving his hand dismissively.

“You don’t get it—we need to be fuckable!” Haechan stresses, and you roll your eyes in exasperation.

“Haechan, you’re already fuckable.” you explain calmly, and he opens his mouth in preparation for some witty remark, but after processing your words, his eyes widen and his mouth hangs open uselessly, his accusingly pointed finger now pointing meekly at the floor at an angle. 

“I—So—so you would fuck us?” he stammers, and you nod slowly, looking from him to Jaemin.

“Why do you think I let you get away with your numerous dorm violations?” you snort in amusement, and he blinks hard.

“I thought you just took pity on us, y’know? Like you had a soft spot for nerds or something.”

“I don’t have a soft spot for nerds.” you answer. “I have a soft spot for hot nerds, though.”

His mouth opens and closes pathetically as his normally quick-witted brain scrambles to process the information you’ve just presented to him. Jaemin is quicker to act, sitting forward so suddenly the move could be considered as predatory, and you’re not sure if it’s the lighting reflecting off of his glasses or what, but there is most definitely a glint in his eye as he regards you, his lips gradually stretching into a toothy grin.

“So you let us get away with stuff? Because you like us? Like what?” he questions, and you tilt your head to the side as you think. 

“Your candles, for starters. Haechan’s tapestry, your many many noise complaints from your neighbors when you two get too heated as you’re gaming,” you start to list off on your fingers, and you cross one leg over the other, not missing the way both of their eyes shift to your newly exposed skin and how… hungry they look. “The way you—” you point at Haechan, “always try to get away with looking up my skirt.”

Haechan’s face flushes a pretty shade of red, and you smile, amused, as he scrambles to defend himself. Before he can, you hold up a hand to silence him. 

“Haechan?”

“Yes?” he replies meekly.

“If I minded, I would have said something by now. I certainly wouldn’t have kept wearing skirts and accidentally flashing you.” 

His eyes roll back into his head with a whimper and he nods in understanding. 

“And you—” you round on Jaemin, who’s still perched like a lion about to pounce, and the male just smiles wider, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“What about me?”

“You probably think you’re slick with the little lingering touches on my back and waist when you’re ‘trying to get by,’ but I only let you do that because I like it.”

His grin widens more than you even thought possible, the glint in his eye now unmistakable. “Oh, yeah? Where else do you like being touched?”

“I mean,” you hum, uncrossing your thighs and smiling as both of their gazes hone in on the space between your legs, “I could tell you, but I think you’d rather have me show you.”

“I have a better idea,” Jaemin murmurs, moving towards you slowly. “How about you let us find out?”

You pretend to think about it for a moment, relishing the way they look at each other with equally worried expressions as they silently pray you won’t back out, before you shrug nonchalantly. “Okay.”

No sooner than the last syllable’s left your mouth do they spring into action; Haechan clambers onto the bed beside you and Jaemin lunges forward to settle himself between your legs. Large, warm hands glide up your inner thighs, pushing them apart as he hikes your skirt up to reveal your light blue boyshorts. He moans loudly at the sight, immediately running his thumbs over your clothed mound, eyes flicking up to your face when your breath hitches softly. 

“Princess likes being touched here, huh?” he marvels quietly, leaning in with a slow lick of his lips. “How about kissed, hm? Do you like being kissed here, too?”

“Yeah,” you exhale with a smile, and he grins, wetting his lips once more before leaning in closer and pressing his wet lips to your core, bottom lip barely grazing your concealed clit. As he does, he takes a deep, loud inhale followed by a lust-filled groan that has heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“Jesus, Jaemin—”

“Not now.” His reply is distracted, but blunt and domineering all the same, and you find yourself falling silent in surprise. When he pulls back, there’s a wet spot on the fabric where his mouth used to be, and the cool air hits it, making you hiss quietly.

“As hot as these look on you, I want them off.” Jaemin mutters, hooking his fingers into your underwear and tugging it down and off your legs. “Wanna taste it.” he mumbles—you think it’s towards himself—before he’s burying his face between your legs with another loud moan that makes you curse under your breath, overwhelmed with desire.

His tongue lies flat against your folds, languidly and deliciously dragging upwards to circle around your clit. He grunts in delight and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, hooking his arms around your thighs and pushing forward again, the bridge of his nose pressed against your mound. 

You gasp and clutch at the nearest thing in your grasp, which just so happens to be Haechan’s thigh. “Fuck,” you whisper loudly, and Jaemin chuckles.

��Stop neglecting Haechan,” he scolds playfully through a mouthful of your pussy. “This was his idea, you know.”

You manage to redirect your attention to Haechan, whose eyes dart around as he watches you and Jaemin with a wild look in his eyes, the male seemingly frozen on the spot. 

Your nose nudges at Haechan’s, the male tilting his head towards you and parting his lips in a soft sigh as your lips meet. It takes a moment for him to reciprocate, almost long enough for you to pull back, but he finally starts to kiss you back with a whimper caught in the back of his throat. 

“Haechan, touch me,” you urge, gripping his wrist and bringing his hand to your waist. He clutches your waist, but there’s a hesitance to it that leaves you wanting more.

“Yeah, Haechan, touch her.” Jaemin chuckles before massaging your clit with his tongue. Your eyes roll back into your head with a groan and he rewards your reaction by pressing the wet muscle against you more insistently. “Maybe he needs some incentive.”

“Incentive?” you hum curiously, and he nods, that wicked glint returning to his eyes.

“Take your shirt off.” he presses, and you oblige without hesitation, discarding the shirt behind you on the bed and looking at Haechan expectantly, finding yourself endeared by the way he nibbles his bottom lip nervously. “Haechan, doesn’t she look so good like that?”

“Amazing,” Haechan breathes reverently, and you smile at the praise, eyes closing in bliss. 

“Kiss her.” Jaemin suggests, and Haechan does just that, tentatively approaching you and gently connecting his lips with yours. As your mouths move together, you can’t help but notice the same reservation in Haechan’s movements, drawing a plaintive whimper from your lips. “Stop kissing her like you’re scared, Haechan,” Jaemin scolds. “She likes it. Don’t you, princess?”

“Yes,” you reply instantly, reaching up to cup Haechan’s cheek. He shudders at the contact, eyes fluttering shut before reopening with a darkened intensity that clues you in to the fact that Haechan seems to be done holding back.

Sure enough, Haechan clutches your chin and pulls you closer to him, tongue boldly slipping between your lips and exploring the wet warmth of your mouth. His thumb pries your lips apart with a forcefulness that delights you, and he hovers above your open mouth, eyes scanning yours before letting a string of saliva drip down from his lips onto your waiting tongue.

You whine when the spit connects with your tongue and he grunts, “Don’t swallow,” before kissing you again, tongue swirling confidently around yours even as a mix of your saliva drips down your chin and onto your chest. He’s quick to act, leaning down and dragging his tongue up the trail of spit before connecting your lips again in a more heated, desperate kiss that slowly takes your breath away. It’s wet, and hot, and messy and sloppy and everything you could have wanted from him and more as he leans in, pressing into you and leaning you back onto your mattress. 

Jaemin seems to be done assisting Haechan, as he returns to eating you out with a renewed fervor and, as Haechan kisses down your body to your breasts, it dawns on you that they might be competing for your attention. 

With every swirl of Haechan’s tongue around your nipple, Jaemin echoes the action around your clit, their synchronization sending you spiraling into a frenzy. When Jaemin flicks your clit back and forth with his tongue before taking it into his mouth to suck, Haechan does the same to your breast, lapping at your nipple eagerly before sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Fuck—” you hiss, realizing—perhaps a moment too late—that you may have bitten off more than you can chew as you let the two sexually frustrated males have their way with your body.

Before long, you feel that tightening sensation in your stomach as your climax approaches, and you whimper in lieu of a verbal warning, Jaemin picking up on your cue instantly and diving back into your core with an eagerness that both startles and delights you. With another well-timed suck at your clit, you’re climaxing with a cry of pleasure and a full body tremor as you curl in on yourself. 

Before you’ve even recovered from your high, Jaemin’s pressing on your stomach to keep you in place as he resumes lapping at your core, his tongue gliding with ease against and between your slick folds. 

“Fuck—Jaemin, it’s sensitive—” you moan, squirming away from his touch, but he ignores you, two fingers prodding at your entrance before slowly easing their way in. “Oh, shit—”

“That’s it, just take it, princess,” Jaemin coos, swirling sinful circles around your clit as his fingers move in and out of you slowly. “Feel so good around my fingers like that, angel.”

“Can I—” Haechan swallows thickly before continuing, “Can I fuck your tits?” Before you can answer, he adds, “Please?” fully laden with desperation and you can’t even fathom saying no to him—so you don’t, instead nodding and watching his face light up with excitement.

He rushes to pull off his pants as if you’ll change your mind at any moment, and when he pulls his boxers down, his fully erect length springs up, girthy and long with an upwards curve. You watch with fascination as he straddles just below your chest, laying his length between your breasts and pushing them together with a groan. 

With his eyes locked on your breasts and where his length disappears between them, he starts to move, slowly fucking himself on your breasts. His gasps and whimpers are both adorable and arousing, his fingers greedily clutching the mounds of flesh as his thumbs swipe over your nipples rhythmically. 

Apparently dissatisfied with the sensation, Haechan pauses, smearing his precum over your chest and pauses thoughtfully before leaning forward and letting several large droplets of saliva drip down from his tongue to your breasts, the clear liquid landing on either side of his cock and slowly sliding down the insides of your breasts to coat his length. “That’s more like it,” he grunts, and resumes fucking your cleavage, his eyes rolling back into his head at the sensations, his length gliding between your breasts with ease. 

Meanwhile, Jaemin curls his fingers inside of you, fucking them into you quickly and mercilessly as you cry out in pleasure. His tongue keeps swirling around and flicking at your clit, massaging your little bundle of nerves as his fingertips fuck into your other patch of nerves along your inner walls that has you seeing fireworks.

“God, that feels so good,” you whimper out, and Jaemin nods vigorously, tongue messily gliding along your folds with every movement of his head. 

“Mm, I know, princess—tastes so good, too.” he purrs, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to peek past Haechan at Jaemin, noting fondly that his glasses have almost completely fogged up. 

Haechan shoves his glasses up his nose hurriedly with one hand, mumbling something about wanting to see better, before he speeds up, small moans leaving him as he approaches his high.

Jaemin digs his tongue into your core, greedy muscle slurping up your arousal as it gushes from your hole, and you moan loudly, walls clenching desperately around the intrusion. His fingers slide up and down your slit, parting your folds, and he uses the combination of your slick and his spit to lube up his fingers for when he presses them to your asshole. He chuckles darkly when you squeal and squirm, fingers pushing into your tight rim without pause. 

“You can take it, right, princess?” he coos, and you nod, panting, even though you’re not sure he can see you. “That’s it, pretty, just like that. So fun to play with,” he murmurs, the last part almost sounding like it’s to himself as he moves his fingers inside of you, tongue gliding up and down to swirl around your clit and your entrance teasingly.

“So good,” Haechan moans, still using your breasts to stroke his length. “Wanna cum—fuck, you’re so hot—gonna cum, pretty—where d’you want it?”

You find that you can barely form thoughts, let alone words, so, in lieu of a verbal response, you open your mouth, tongue dropping out slowly, and he moans again, this one higher and audibly overwhelmed before he thrusts his cock faster between your breasts, the tip of his length occasionally rubbing against your tongue. With a low groan, Haechan cums, abdomen tensing as he pants his way through his climax. He releases onto your waiting tongue, one spurt of cum landing on your cheek and bottom lip. 

He admires the sight of you with his release painting your face and swipes up the stray seed with his finger, pushing it into your mouth and groaning when your lips wrap around it and suck it clean.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs reverently, shuffling down your body to kiss you sloppily, tongue swirling around the inside of your mouth to taste himself. 

Looking behind himself, Haechan takes one look at Jaemin’s fingers diving in and out of your core, slick arousal and Jaemin’s saliva dripping from your entrance, and groans, rushing to get off of the bed and shove Jaemin out of place none too gently to take his place between your legs and study your glistening core, eyes roving over how your entrance is still clenching reflexively around nothing and how your clit twitches with every clench, both overstimulated and in search of something more.

You’re barely done with coming down from your last high when Haechan moans loudly, at his limit, and buries his face between your legs, tongue delving into your folds as you squirm and whimper.

“Haechan, holy shit—” you gasp, squirming away from him, but he just winds his wiry arms around your thighs and tugs you back to the edge of the bed, roughly massaging your clit with his tongue. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, slow down—”

“Tastes so good,” Haechan moans, gaze flicking up to look at you. His hair is all messed up from the numerous times your legs closed around his head and his glasses are fogged up with the heat radiating from your body and his heavy panting, but you can clearly see a wild look in his eyes, his gaze hungrily drinking in the sight of you in front of him. “Don’t wanna stop—don’t make me stop—please—”

“Haechan, baby, please take it easy,” you pant, but Haechan pays you absolutely no mind, his thick tongue slithering into your entrance and drawing out a sharp whine from you as you struggle to sit up, trying the whole while to swat his head away so you can catch your breath.

Your hand barely clutches at a lock of Haechan’s hair before Jaemin’s pulling your hands behind your back and settling you against his chest, his incredibly strong and firm grip leaving you stuck in place as Haechan has his way with your pussy.

“Let him have his fun,” Jaemin purrs in your ear as Haechan laps at your entrance before stuffing his tongue back in as far as it’ll go. “Can’t tell you how long he’s been waiting for this moment.”

“But—” you whimper, walls clenching helplessly around Haechan’s greedy tongue. 

“Doesn’t that feel so good, princess?” Jaemin coos fondly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You turn your head slightly to look at him with pleading eyes in the hopes he’ll have mercy, but he just chuckles, moving both your wrists to one of his hands before cupping your chin with the other and tilting your face back to his to connect your lips in a slow, passionate, deeply overwhelming kiss. 

You can taste your arousal on his tongue as well as a hint of the gum he was chewing earlier, and you keen weakly into the kiss, sloppily moving your mouth with his as Haechan slurps your arousal eagerly before he sucks your clit into his mouth, presses it between his lips, and moans loudly, the vibrations mixed with all of the lewd noises making you hurtle towards yet another high.

“Oh, shit—” you cry out against Jaemin’s lips as Haechan tongue-fucks you to another orgasm, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he claws at you in a desperate attempt to keep you against his mouth. Jaemin’s hand leaves your chin and moves to grope your breast, his large hand kneading and massaging the flesh and tugging at your nipple as he dots slow, wet kisses down your neck and shoulder. 

“Could stay down here forever,” Haechan grunts, and your eyes widen even in their exhausted, drained state as you start to struggle against Jaemin’s grip and fight to close your legs.

“Please leave my poor clit alone,” you plead, finally wrenching one of your hands free from Jaemin’s clutches and clapping it over your core protectively. Haechan barely even pauses, just starts licking at your fingers with desperate little moans and grunts. “Can one of you please just fuck me?”

They both go stiff, looking at each other wordlessly, before Jaemin releases you completely and switches spots with Haechan, maneuvering his length out of his sweats and boxers, and oh—

“You’re big, too,” you mumble in surprise, and he arches an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Did you think it was going to be small?” 

“Well, no, but I definitely didn’t think it’d be that big.” you mutter, and he snickers, lifting your hips to push you further back on the bed. He spreads your legs wider and looks at your core, eyes roving over your glistening folds and inner thighs with such unadulterated desire that you’re tempted to close your legs out of embarrassment.

“Haechan got you nice and wet for me, yeah?” he murmurs, pumping his fist up and down his cock slowly before slapping the underside of his length on your poor, hypersensitive clit and grinning when you jolt from the stimulation. “Think you can take all of me, princess?”

“Only one way to find out,” you reply breathlessly, and he laughs, nodding in agreement.

“You’re right about that,” he grunts as he pushes into you. Both of you react instantly; his jaw clenches while yours drops, and he sucks in a deep breath through his nose as a breathy half-whimper, half-sigh escapes you. 

Haechan watches you two with rapt attention, eyes flicking from your face to your breasts to where Jaemin’s length is slowly disappearing into you.

“Sweet pussy’s sucking me right in, princess,” Jaemin drawls with a smug grin. “Wanted this that badly, huh?”

“Shut—up—” you gasp as he bottoms out, the absolutely full-to-the-brim sensation dizzying and overwhelming and delicious all at once.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaemin obliges, brows knitting together as he pulls out slowly and thrusts back in with a quick snap of his hips. You cry out in pleasure and the corner of his mouth quirks upward in smug satisfaction and amusement before he does it again… and again… and again until he’s built up a steady rhythm, every thrust punctuated by a plaintive moan from you.

His hands glide over everywhere he can reach before seeking purchase in your hips, fingertips digging into the flesh there as he drives his length into you.

“You love this, don’t you?” Jaemin coos as Haechan presses your breasts together and wraps his lips around one nipple, sucking as he tugs at the other bud. “You gonna tell your friends how good we fucked you?”

“Mm—yes,” you pant, and Jaemin grins. 

“Gonna tell ‘em that two little nerds from your Biology class fucked you stupid, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, nodding vigorously. “Mm-hmm—”

“Thought so,” he replies with a dark chuckle before draping one of your legs over his shoulder, angling his hips toward it, and fucking intently into a spot that, you realize after the burst of pleasure from his first thrust, must be your g-spot. 

“Ho–ly shit,” you gasp, clutching at Haechan for something you can use to brace yourself. Jaemin’s thrusts send him into you nice and deep and you’re slowly but surely losing your mind with every stroke, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he fucks into you. Your fingers catch Haechan’s thigh once more, clutching onto the warm flesh in an attempt to ground yourself.

Haechan groans and responds by swirling his tongue around your nipple slowly before flicking it back and forth quickly, using a finger to replicate his actions on your other breast.

“Please—fuck—I’m gonna cum—” you warn Jaemin, and he nods eagerly, letting a hand drag across your body from your hip to your clit, thumb sliding between your messy, wet folds to reveal the sensitive button between them. You inhale sharply when he starts to rub it in circles with the same thumb, fingertips resting lightly on your stomach as if he’s not driving you absolutely insane. “Oh, my God—cumming—I’m cumming—!”

“Me too, princess,” he groans, his hips speeding up as he chases after his own high. You climax first, letting out a drawn out whine, with Jaemin following shortly after, the male burying his length in you and pumping you full of his cum as he groans in pleasure under his breath.

“My turn,” Haechan grunts as Jaemin pulls out of you, both males watching as milky white cum drips from your entrance. “That’s so fucking hot,” Haechan mumbles in awe before reaching for your hands to gently guide you to a sitting position. “Can you ride me, pretty?”

“If my legs don’t give out,” you mumble, and he chuckles, sitting against where your bed meets the wall and patting his lap invitingly. You carefully straddle his lap, fingers wrapping around the thick head of his length as you guide his tip to your entrance and start to ease down onto him. Haechan gapes up at you, prompting you to coo affectionately. “Do you mind if I do it myself?” you ask sweetly as you sink down on it further, your nipple grazing his lips as you move against him, and he shakes his head emphatically, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose slightly. “Good,” you praise softly. “You’re not going to cum early, are you?” you ask with a small frown, and Haechan shakes his head again, the glasses sliding further and further down his nose. You gently push the glasses up, and he smiles appreciatively, tongue darting out to lick at your nipple while it’s near his mouth.

“Feels amazing,” he moans, and you smile fondly. You didn’t get a chance to see his length in all its glory, but you can definitely feel every thick inch of his cock as it stretches you open. He’s not quite as long as Jaemin, but he makes up for it in girth, his length barely fitting in your fist as you finish settling down on him.

When you’ve finally managed to fit all of his girthy length inside of you, you lift up slightly, rocking your hips forward for more friction, and Haechan moans out loudly, leaning forward to suck your nipple into his mouth. He cups your breasts, holding them up and together, and alternates running his tongue over both buds, occasionally sucking on a nipple with a low moan of satisfaction.

“More,” Haechan gasps out.

“More?” you ask, confused and lightheaded from all the pleasure you’re receiving.

“Yeah—need you to move faster,” he grunts through gritted teeth, and you suck your teeth.

“You wanted me on top when I told you my legs might give out—” you start to protest, and he pulls your face to his, kissing you to shut you up.

“Need it like this,” Haechan growls under his breath, swiftly maneuvering you two around so you’re lying on your back and he’s on his knees on the bed between your legs. “Hold these for me?” he asks, pressing your knees as close to your chest as they’ll go. As you tentatively hug your legs to your chest, Haechan spreads your folds apart with two fingers, sucking in a loud breath at the sight before he spits directly on your core, a gasp escaping you at the sensation of the warm saliva dripping down your folds.

He rests the underside of his cock on your clit, slowly rocking his hips forward to drag his thick length against your clit, and chuckles when you keen with pleasure.

“You’re so nasty,” Haechan sighs the words like you’re his dream come true, and based on the way his face contorts when he pushes into you, you just might be. He wastes no time, drilling into you at a quick, ruthless pace that has you moaning mindlessly with literally no idea what’s coming out of your mouth. “So fucking nasty for letting me do this to you,” he grunts, brows furrowed as one hand cups your chin. “Open.” 

You oblige, tongue lolling out without being asked, and he grins, leaning over you and letting more saliva drip from his mouth to your waiting tongue. Haechan dips down lower, maintaining his thrusts as he messily moves his lips against yours, his tongue and spit getting everywhere, and he whines desperately into the kiss, his hand moving from your chin to between your legs where he starts to toy with your poor clit.

A choked wail of overstimulation slips from you before you can even process it, and Haechan silences you by kissing you again, mumbling, “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you—perfect little fuckdoll—gonna fuck you so full of cum, gonna breed you—”

“Holy shit—breed me, yes, breed me—” you pant, nodding eagerly, and you might be imagining it, but Haechan’s thrusts seem to get impossibly deeper like he genuinely might take you up on that offer.

“Gonna breed you, pretty girl—stuff you full of my cum—give you a fucking baby—make you all mine—”

“Want it—Haechan, please—yours, I’m yours—” you can barely keep up with his heated dialogue, your eyes rolling back into your head in ecstasy as you fall apart on his length.

Haechan’s lips seal over yours, tasting your desperate cries as he fucks you foolish, making a weak, overwhelmed moan come from you and your body produce a deep, full-body shudder that travels as pleasure races through you, electrifying your bloodstream. 

Haechan isn't far behind, his tongue playing with yours almost lazily as his thrusts slow to a stop before he buries himself in you, emptying his seed into you and filling you with an impossibly large load of cum. He groans against your lips, slowly pulling out to the tip and staring down at how his length is coated with a blend of all of your cum with a deep-seated satisfaction.

“Holy shit,” he pants, flopping onto his back. “That was incredible.”

“You’re telling me,” you laugh. “Where did you two learn all that?”

“We watch a lot of porn.” Jaemin says, sheepish for the first time.

“And it taught you all of that?” you remark, incredulous.

“It taught us more, too,” Haechan adds, leaning over you with a grin. “Wanna see?”

“So, you’re telling me those two nerds from your class dicked you down… and they did it well?” Jimin remarks over your lunch in the cafeteria, eyes wide, and you scowl at her.

“Their names are Haechan and Jaemin.” you correct her, and she chuckles sheepishly. “But yes, they may have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Well, who would’ve thought…” Jimin comments, her expression thoughtful, and you snap loudly to get her attention. “What?”

“Those two are mine now. You can’t have them.” you state, and she frowns.

“Both of them? Aren’t you greedy?”

You shrug. “Don’t care. Mine.”

“What if they find out you’re actively laying a claim to them? Hm? Aren’t you supposed to be helping them get girls?” Jimin points out, and you frown slightly before pulling your phone out and scrolling through your messages before pressing the “Dial” button. “Who are you calling?”

“Shh.” you say distractedly, placing the call on speakerphone and waiting patiently as it rings once, twice, then stops, the other person on the line picking up. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Haechan greets, sounding slightly concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you assure him. “Is Jaemin with you?”

“Yeah, he’s right here—did you wanna talk to him?” he asks.

“Both of you, actually. Can he hear me?”

“Hi, princess,” Jaemin calls through the phone, and Jimin’s brows lift in surprise.

“Princess?” she mouths at you, and you smile, nodding.

“Hi, Jaemin. I just wanted to ask you guys a question.”

“Shoot,” Haechan says with audible wariness in his voice.

“You’re both… mine, right?” you say carefully, and Haechan sucks in a sharp breath before you hear a thudding noise. “Haechan?”

“I’m here!” he squawks, sounding slightly far away. There’s a rustling noise, and then his voice comes in clearer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. “What happened?”

“He dropped the phone because he’s an idiot.” Jaemin calls out, and you laugh as Haechan shushes him forcefully. 

“An answer to my question would be nice, you know.” you tease lightly.

“I’m yours if you want me to be,” Jaemin replies smoothly, and you smile even though they can’t see you.

“Honestly, I’m yours even if you don’t.” Haechan adds, and your smile only widens as you shoot Jimin an “I told you so” glance.

“That’s good to hear.” you reply, your smile creeping into your voice, and Haechan clears his throat pointedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, are you ours?” Haechan asks hopefully, and you look over at Jimin as you reply.

“Absolutely.” 

“Oh, thank God.” he mumbles, and you giggle.

“So, I’m guessing you two are done with your lessons on how to get girls?” you suppose, nibbling your bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah,” Haechan confirms, and you’re surprised by just how relieved you are. “We got the only girl that matters.”

“You’re too cute.” you chuckle. “Wanna come over later?”

“Yes—” Haechan blurts out before composing himself to say, “yes, absolutely.”

“Good. Six sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” he sighs happily. “See you then, pretty.”

“Bye, baby,” you coo into the phone, and his excited squeal is quiet but unmistakable. “Bye, other baby.”

“Bye, princess. See you at six.” Jaemin calls out, and you smile widely before hanging up and smiling proudly at Jimin.

“My boys didn’t disappoint me.” you remark, pleased, and Jimin huffs petulantly.

“Man. I’m happy for you, but I wish I had two cute nerds at my beck and call.”

“Stop calling them nerds,” you correct, and she rolls her eyes.

“Wish I had two cute guys at my beck and call.” she amends her statement, and you smile, satisfied.

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky, huh?” you muse, and Jimin sighs, a smile curling at her lips.

“Yeah… would you ever wanna share?” she asks with a wiggle of her brows. “Ow! There was no need to flick me.”

“There was every need. Avert your eyes from my men, you lustful wench.”

“Lustful wench? You’re horrible. And greedy! And selfish. Just horrible and greedy and selfish.” she complains, and you shrug, uncaring as you compose a text to your new… boyfriends?

you have created a group message. you have named the group message “power throuple.” you [17:05pm] hi boyfies :)  haechan [17:07pm] boyfies…. i’m weak in the knees jaemin [17:08pm] haechan stand up jaemin [17:08pm] hi baby girl you loved “hi baby girl” haechan [17:10pm] why would i stand up if i could lie down and have our pretty girlfriend sit on my face? 😁 you [17:11pm] you’re bolder over text, huh? haechan [17:12pm] can you blame me? have you seen yourself? you [17:12pm] i have…  haechan [17:13pm] so you know how good you look. don’t judge me when i can’t get my words out in person you [17:15pm] i happen to find it cute when you can’t get your words out jaemin [17:16pm] i find it cute when YOU can’t get your words out you [17:16pm] and when would that be? jaemin [17:17pm] don’t tell me you’ve forgotten so soon… you [17:17pm] i have :( maybe i need a reminder? jaemin liked your message “i have :( maybe i need a reminder?” jaemin [17:18pm] maybe we should come over earlier to jog your memory you [17:20pm] maybe you should. how about 5:45? jaemin liked your message “maybe you should. how about 5:45?” haechan liked your message “maybe you should. how about 5:45?” you [17:22pm] great!! it’s a date :)

“What am I, chopped liver?” Jimin complains as you giggle down at your phone.

“Sorry… and I’m even more sorry for having to cut this short.” you apologize sheepishly as you start to gather your things. 

“You’re kidding…” Jimin remarks, incredulous. “Flat-leaver!”

“I’ll text you after everything,” you assure her, stuffing your notebook in your bag and your phone in your bag’s front pocket. “Gotta go get ready!”

“You’re the worst.” she huffs, but there’s a smile on her face as she rolls her eyes. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Rawr.” You make a claw with your fingers, and she stops short, blinking at you with a blank expression. “Too much?”

“Never do that again.”

You nod in understanding. “Copy.”

tadaaaaa i hope you enjoyed! if you liked it, please shoot me an ask or write something nice in the tags :D i love (positive) feedback!

[robintherobiner]

yesterday i spent an hour in the shower talking to myself about how I think a reverse robins au would go, mainly in the case of Tim taking Jasons place as the revived second robin. I took the Joker Junior thing and decided "Hm.. yes, this is how Tim dies."

I have many thoughts about it.

Basically, Tim's 15, has been Robin for almost two years, when his dad dies. Like in canon, Tim makes a very strategic plan which could lead to the murderers death, but Batman finds out and Tim doesn't enact it. Bruce is still mad about it, and Tim storms out the manor to go visit his dad's grave. While on the way, he gets kidnapped by the Joker and he's tortured for three weeks because Bruce thinks he's just being an angry teen giving the silent treatment. By the time he realises something is wrong and goes to find Tim, the boy is already dead. After shooting the Joker, he shot himself, and Harley Quinn is no where to be found.

Then, six months after being buried, he wakes up in his grave, right besides his father. He digs out, is found by Talia, and taken to be trained. With Jason, Ra's didn't want to heal him and Talia did it without permission, but in this au, Talia is the one who doesn't want to heal him. She thinks he's too similar to Bruce, and that she won't be able to trick him. Ra's thinks he can. He's wrong, of course.

Instead of reclaiming the name Red Hood, Tim decides to stay as Junior. After all, he was extremely mentally unstable before his death, so i think he'd still be suffering fron the torture and think Batman = bad, Joker = good. After a little while, he manages to recover a bit, but he's still mad at Bruce.

Jason forgave Bruce for not saving him, but was angry he didn't get justice.

Tim forgave Bruce for not getting him justice, but he's angry he didn't get saved.

Tim comes back to Gotham and is a lot more sneaky with his crimes. Red Hood came in guns a-blazing, straight away starting to clean Gotham up, but Junior is much more behind the scenes. If the criminals decided to do good, they'd live. It's not his fault the house they broke in to had rabid dogs squatting in it, or that their hard drives were suddenly copied and shared to everyone they knew.

Instead of attacking the new Robin, he kidnaps her instead. Sends Batman cryptic messages like "better find her soon or she'll end up like the last bird" or "you should keep a better eye on your things, Batsy". Bruce is tearing Gotham apart searching for Stephanie, thinking she's being tortured by a Joker wannabe, when actually she's just being forced to sit through slideshows about the dangers of being a child soldier and told annoying knock-knock jokes over burgers.

I might write a fic about this 🤭

[brucewaynehater101]

It really gets me so mad that in Batman: The Animated series when all Joker Junior happens they let Tim go. Just like that. WTF???

That's your boy Bruce, the one you drive in your limo, the one that gets an allowance, the one that impersonates you so good because he's your son. And the minute he goes through the worst experience of his life you just let him go.

Like, I get my boy Tim, him been there just reminds him of his trauma, and if being away helps him, then go away, no one's gonna judge you.

BUT 40 YEARS OF SILENCE

Like. Man. Wtf.

And I get the series has other problems (Bruce and Babs together- yuck )

But Tim, hurt Tim forced to go through it alone.

It hurts me so much, it haunts me.

Fuck. I need to watch that series. I was a wee bit scared cause I thought, at first, that Tim got stuck as Joker. I couldn't handle that, tbh. I heard he doesn't, though, so I'm down to try.

However, that's so fucking tragic. Just Tim handling that trauma alone when Bruce is aware of it. I've seen some cool AUs where Bruce and the others aren't aware, but somehow it's worse where Bruce just ignored Tim (or that it happened to him).

40 is fucking bonkers though.

I kind of want an AU where Tim reaches the 10 year anniversary of the JJ incident. The only person who knows is Bruce (maybe Alfred if you want to make him guilty/bad). The age Tim is can vary (from like 19-24), but it'd be hella cool to see the fallout of everyone else learning that Bruce has been a dick to Tim for that. This would be cool if Tim was RR at this point.

Counter AU:

JJ happens when Tim is Robin, and Bruce fires Tim "for his own safety" or whatever. No one else, not even Barbara, knows about this incident. All they know is that there *was* a third Robin, but now there's not.

Other people rein Bruce in until Damian comes along. Maybe Cass helps or something (for plot purposes, Steph isn't Robin. She does get vigilante-adopted by Oracle, though, and joins the Birds of Prey).

Either way, Tim is no longer Robin and basically ignored by Bruce due to Bruce's guilt/fear (not an excuse. Bruce is a huge colossal asshole for that. This is just his reasoning).

The only people who know who the third Robin was are Bruce, Babs, Dick, Alfred, Leslie, Jason, and Talia (technically Ra's too). No one but Jason and Talia know that Jason knows who the third Robin was.

Bruce, once again, is the only one who knows about JJ and why Tim stopped being Robin (maybe Alfred too, but fun drama if Alfred finds out what Bruce did to Tim).

Anyways, Jason never attacks Tim because Tim wasn't Robin by that point. Damian doesn't either. They don't have favorable opinions of Tim, but he's not really important to them in the grand scheme of things.

Dick and Babs initially kept in contact with Tim, but they slowly stopped checking up with him due to the shitshow of their lives (like Jason coming back).

Tim moves out of Gotham for a few years. He was never adopted at this point and keeps up the fake uncle thing. He's pissed at Bruce for firing him (that man can not tell Tim to stop being a vigilante. That's so fucking hypocritical and that man isn't Tim's father), but he can't do anything about it. Bruce can't stop him from being a vigilante if he isn't in Gotham, though [Tim also gets the opportunity to heal while he's not in the same shadow of Gotham].

While Tim isn't Robin, he does maintain some communication with YJ. It's more distant, but they still go on missions together (as long as word won't get back to Batman). Tim is also more of a traveling vigilante who steals money from Lex or other billionaires to fund Tim's night job (he, begrudgingly, doesn't attempt to steal from Bruce. Babs would catch him). Tim also pockets some of the cash from crimes (particularly if the cops are corrupt and the money wouldn't go towards good causes regardless). Maybe Tim remotely manages DI as well, maybe not.

Anyways, years later, the batfam is slowly starting to heal. Jason is starting to forgive Bruce. The old man is putting in the effort to heal their relationship. Damian is healing and bonding with all of the family members in his own way. Dick has a much better relationship with Bruce, and Steph feels accepted by them.

Then Bruce "dies."

Tim stumbles upon proof of Bruce through his travels. He doesn't trust the Bats (especially after at least a year of no contact with them), so he tries to tell them about his proof as a not well-known vigilante. Red Hood has worked with him when The Outlaws crossed paths with him, but they aren't at the stage where RH trusts him. Tim doesn't trust RH due to a conversation or two about the man's hatred of the third Robin.

The Bats, drowning in their grief, push Tim away and deny him.

It stings, but Tim convinces himself to just shrug. What would he expect from the Bats anyways?

Tim goes through the effort of bringing Bruce back by himself. He then tries to dip immediately afterwards. He wants nothing to do with the Bats.

The Bats become curious about why a vigilante who seems to dislike would risk and sacrifice so much to bring back Bruce. They, like the nosy shits they are, try to investigate, charm, and stalk Tim.

Tim wants nothing to do with those fuckers. He wants to be left alone, fucking hell.

This dissolves into Tim trying to stay the fuck away from the Waynes as they chase him. He also can't help the fact that he cares about them, even if they piss him off.

More secrets unravel. Tim, wanting them to just go the fuck away, admits he knew the third Robin and that's why he doesn't like them.

Tim has changed a ton (personality and looks [he's taller and changes his appearance with makeup/wings]) so they don't immediately think of him as the third Robin. Tim also maintains a spotless civilian cover.

This cues the other Bats starting to question each other and Bruce what the fuck happened to the third Robin to make someone else hold a grudge against them.

I got so distracted. Oh well. Imma have to watch that series to feel the pain you're chatting about ^^ I wanna immerse myself in it, lmao

[valkyrietookme]

Alkaloid relationship charts translations

Taken from "Doki Doki! Ensemble Seminar"

Written descriptions of all relationships under the cut

Unit relationship chart

Hiiro: Leader, spade, Yumenosaki Private Academy 2nd year

Aira: Heart, Yumenosaki Private Academy 1st year

Mayoi: Clover, Yumenosaki Private Academy 3rd year

Tatsumi: Diamond, Reimei Academy 3rd year

Hiiro -> Aira: Dear friend. Cute

Hiiro -> Mayoi: Kind. Feels a strange strength in him

Hiiro -> Tatsumi: Reliable guide

Aira -> Hiiro: Can't look away from. Knows no feat

Aira -> Mayoi: Super excellent trainer. Mom-like

Aira -> Tatsumi: Truly influential. Reliable

Mayoi -> Hiiro: Possesses an outstanding natural talent. Trustworthy

Mayoi -> Aira: Cute. Want to be useful to

Mayoi -> Tatsumi: Feels like he may be purified while they talk. Trustworthy

Tatsumi -> Hiiro: Has high athletic abilities. Surprisingly logical

Tatsumi -> Aira: Keeps an eye on his growth. Suited to be an idol

Tatsumi -> Mayoi: Wants to be a calming presence to. Irreplaceable person

Hiiro relationship chart

Alkaloid: Aira, Mayoi, Tatsumi

Roommates: Hinata, Niki

Hiiro -> Subaru: Comes to hug me every time we meet

Subaru -> Hiiro: Acts all serious, weird, and cute

Hiiro -> Chiaki: Revitalizing. Really good person

Chiaki -> Hiiro: Hero-kun!

Hiiro <--> Tomoya: Omurice partners

Hiiro (youngest) <--> Rinne (eldest): Brothers

Hiiro -> Rinne: Beloved older brother. Chief

Rinne -> Hiiro: Cute little brother. Smart

Hiiro <--> Tetora: Friends. Club partners

Tsukasa -> Hiiro: Wants to stay as the #1 student in their grade*

Hiiro -> Tatsumi: Reliable guide

Tatsumi -> Hiiro: Very athletic. Surprisingly logical

Hiiro -> Mayoi: Kind. Feels a strange strength in him

Mayoi -> Has outstanding natural talent. Trustworthy

Hiiro -> Aira: Dear friend. Cute

Aira -> Hiiro: Can't look away from. Knows no fear

*Tsukasa doesn't want to lose his position as #1 student (grades-wise) to Hiiro

Aira relationship chart

Alkaloid: Hiiro, Mayoi, Tatsumi

Roommates: Eichi, Rei

Aira -> Rinne: A bit scary

Rinne -> Aira: Wants to mess with

Aira -> Subaru: A bit overbearing. Subarudad super fan

Subaru -> Aira: Club junior

Aira -> Koga: Not great with naturally talented people and a rockstar

Koga -> Aira: Shi~ra

Aira <--> Kohaku: Close

Aira -> Hajime: Happy they became close

Hajime -> Aira: Junior I'm close to

Aira -> Tori: Japan's cutest idol. Pretty mean

Tori -> Aira: Junior that respects me

Aira -> Tatsumi: Truly influential. Reliable

Tatsumi -> Aira: Watching over his growth. Suited to be an idol

Aira -> Mayoi: Super excellent trainer. Mom-like

Mayoi -> Aira: Cute. Wants to be useful to

Aira -> Hiiro: Can't look away from. Knows no fear

Hiiro -> Aira: Dear friend. Cute

Mayoi relationship chart

Alkaloid: Hiiro, Aira, Tatsumi

Roommate: Tomoya

Hitsugi/NEGI -> Kind. My idol teacher

Mayoi -> Subaru: Aya-chan...!?

Subaru -> Mayoi: Stands out personality-wise

Mayoi -> Madara: Brilliant. Has a strong presence

Madara -> Mayoi: Sees as a rival

Mayoi <--> Shinobu: Ninja association

Mayoi -> Shinobu: Beloved boss ♡

Shinobu -> Mayoi: Precious ninja partner. Trust

Mayoi -> Niki: Mayo-chan...!?

Niki -> Mayoi: Smells nice

Mayoi <--> Mika: Friends

Mayoi <--> Arashi: Friends

Mayoi -> Tatsumi: Trustworthy. Feels like he may be purified while they talk

Tatsumi -> Mayoi: Wants to make feel at ease. Irreplaceable person

Mayoi -> Aira: Cute. Wants to be useful to

Aira -> Mayoi: Super excellent trainer. Mom-like

Mayoi -> Hiiro: Has outstanding natural talent. Trustworthy

Hiiro -> Mayoi: Kind. Senses a strange strength in him

Tatsumi relationship chart

Alkaloid: Hiiro, Airo, Mayoi

Roommate: Koga

Tatsumi -> Eichi: Skilled. Have been hospitalized in the same place

Eichi -> Tatsumi: Has the feeling he's out of the ordinary

Tatsumi -> Hiyori: Very popular

Hiyori -> Tatsumi: Basically an equal

Tatsumi -> Jun: Good kid. Very upstanding

Jun -> Tatsumi: Great respect for. Idolizes

Tatsumi -> HiMERU: Old friend

HiMERU -> Tatsumi: Hates due to certain circumstances

Tatsumi -> Ibara: Schemer. Has influence

Ibara -> Tatsumi: Stronger than expected

Tatsumi -> Mayoi: Wants to make feel at ease. Irreplaceable person

Mayoi -> Tatsumi: Feels like he may be purified while talking. Trustworthy

Tatsumi -> Aira: Watches over his growth. Suited to be an idol

Aira -> Tatsumi: Truly influential. Reliable

Tatsumi -> Hiiro: Surprisingly logical. Very athletic

Hiiro -> Tatsumi: Reliable guide

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Ninety-Eight

“It is lodged quite deep into the muscle.”

The Queen sat on the edge of her bed, her posture tense as she gazed blankly at the wall. Her dragon rider’s outfit, once formidable in its protection and authority, now lay discarded on the floor, a heap of leather and scales stained with soot and blood. In its place, she wore a sleeveless tunic, its once pristine white fabric now marred by the deep crimson of her own blood, seeping from the wound just below her collarbone.

The room was filled with a tense, focused silence, broken only by the occasional murmurs of the junior Maesters who surrounded her. They worked with furrowed brows and anxious hands, taking turns attempting to remove the arrowhead embedded in her flesh. Each time one stepped forward, tools at the ready, the other would step back, watching closely as their colleague tried to extract the foreign object. But despite their best efforts, the arrowhead remained stubbornly lodged within her muscle

Aemond sat beside Maera on the bed, his arm wrapped tightly around her as if he could shield her from the agony that was tearing through her body. His presence was solid, grounding her as she endured the excruciating attempts of the Maesters.

Maera’s jaw clenched as she bit down on her leather glove, the thick material muffling the screams that threatened to rip from her throat. The pain was relentless, sharp and unyielding, each tug and twist of the Maesters’ tools sending fresh waves of agony through her. Her vision blurred, not only from the dizziness brought on by the milk of the poppy, but from the sheer intensity of the pain.

“How fucking hard is it to dig out an arrowhead?!”

The King’s grip on her tightened with each passing moment, his hand smoothing over her slick skin in a futile attempt to comfort her. His single violet eye, usually so composed and calculating, now burned with a mix of helplessness and fury. He could feel her body tensing against him, her muscles seizing up in response to the pain.

Each time a Maester failed in their attempt to remove the arrowhead, Aemond’s patience grew thinner, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscle ticking with the effort to keep his temper in check. The image of his wife, usually so strong, writhing in pain and stifling her screams was something he could scarcely endure. He felt as though a vice were closing around his heart, squeezing tighter with every pained cry that escaped her.

He glanced at the Maesters, his gaze hardening with each failure. The longer this went on, the more difficult it became for him to maintain his composure. As the Maesters exchanged worried glances, Aemond’s patience finally snapped. His hand shot out, gripping one of them by the arm as they prepared for another attempt. The look in his eye was a warning, his voice low and dangerous. The young Maester nodded quickly and withdrew, his face pale and drawn as he set his bloodied tools aside.

The bowl of water beside him was stained crimson as he washed his hands, the blood swirling away before he dried them with a piece of cloth. He let out a sigh, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. “This will require more experienced hands,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with regret.

Maera knew what he was suggesting, but she was so exhausted from the relentless pain that she couldn’t muster the strength to argue. She lay back against the pillows, her chest heaving with ragged breaths, her skin slick with sweat. Every ounce of energy she had left was focused on enduring the searing pain in her shoulder. Her green eyes, dulled by fatigue, flicked to Aemond, who was watching her with fierce concern.

“No.” Seeing the state of his wife, Aemond acted on her behalf, his voice cold as ice as he addressed the Maesters. “My wife does not wish to have him attend her,” he reminded them, his tone brooking no argument.

Yet, as she lay there, blood still seeping from the wound, pride seemed a distant memory. “Aemond,” the Queen croaked, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with a desperation that tore at her husband’s heart. “We just need to get it out. I don’t care how.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, and in that moment, he saw the depth of her suffering.

Aemond nodded, his jaw clenched as he turned his gaze to the other junior Maester across the room. His expression hardened, and there was no mistaking the command in his voice as he barked, “Well?! Don’t just stand there! Fetch him!” The young Maester didn’t hesitate, quickly scurrying out of the room, leaving the tense atmosphere behind him.

As the door closed behind him, Aemond’s hand tightened around his wife’s, his concern for her evident in the way he held her as if he could keep her anchored to him through sheer will alone. Maera, despite the pain, felt a flicker of admiration for him. He was being cruel, perhaps, but it was only because he cared for her.

Not a moment after the young Maester had left, the door creaked open, and Grand Maester Vaegon stepped inside, almost as if he had been waiting just outside the door. The Queen couldn’t help but let out a soft, delirious laugh, the thought flickering in her mind that perhaps her estranged grandfather cared for her more than he let on. But she quickly shook away the notion, attributing it to the blood loss and the fog of pain clouding her mind.

His chains clinked as he approached the bedside, his movements more hurried than Maera had ever seen him. Vaegon quickly settled onto the stool where the junior Maester had been before him. With careful fingers, he placed his hand on Maera’s collarbone, his touch surprisingly gentle as he began to feel the bones and muscles around the arrow wound. Maera winced and hissed in pain, and Vaegon watched her face intently, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed her reaction.

In this close proximity, the Queen studied him through her pain-hazed vision, unable to shake the familiarity those violet eyes stirred within her. They were the same eyes that had once looked upon her with the love of a mother, a connection to the past that brought both comfort and a twinge of sorrow.

The old man then turned his attention to his students, his voice calm but commanding. “How much milk of the poppy has she been given?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

One of the students immediately answered, “Four spoonfuls, Grand Maester, but she cannot have any more so soon.”

Vaegon nodded, his expression unreadable as he processed the information. He turned back to Maera, his fingers still resting lightly on her skin, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—whether it was concern or merely clinical focus, Maera couldn’t tell.

Her green eyes tracked the Grand Maester as he moved with a deliberate calmness, his old hands steady as he selected a slender, metal tool from the array laid out on the table beside her. His fingers curled around it with the practiced ease of a man who had done this countless times before. He turned slightly to the juniors hovering nearby and asked, his voice a low murmur, "When was the injury sustained?"

One of the younger Maesters quickly responded, "A few hours ago, Grand Maester."

Vaegon nodded, then without another word, he bent over Maera, his expression betraying no emotion as he muttered a brief, almost inaudible apology. The moment the tool entered her wound, Maera's body tensed, a sharp hiss escaping her lips as she instinctively clutched at Aemond’s hand. Her grip tightened, her knuckles white, as she fought against the discomfort that flared up anew. She could feel the tool probing within her, moving her flesh aside, and the sensation made her stomach churn with nausea.

Yet, there was a curious lack of the searing pain she had expected. Vaegon was not attempting to remove the arrowhead—not yet. His movements were methodical, almost delicate, as he studied how deeply the metal was lodged within her flesh. It was as though he was assessing the battlefield within her body, preparing for the final, precise method that would dislodge the foreign object.

When Vaegon finally withdrew the tool, Maera couldn’t stifle the yelp that burst from her lips, her body jolting with the sharp pain of the movement. She gasped for breath, her vision momentarily swimming, and when she looked up, she noticed a change in the Grand Maester’s demeanor. His face, usually as unreadable as stone, had softened ever so slightly. His thin lips pursed as if he were on the verge of saying something—something personal, something beyond his professional duty. But whatever it was, he held back, shaking his head lightly as though dismissing the thought, and the moment passed. He resumed his detached, clinical focus, the mask of professionalism firmly back in place.

Vaegon straightened up, wiping his hands clean before gesturing to one of his juniors. "Fetch the pincer tool from my bag," he instructed, his voice calm and measured. The young Maester quickly complied, moving with haste to retrieve the requested instrument. As he waited, Vaegon dipped his hands into the nearby bowl of water, scrubbing them thoroughly.

Turning to the other junior, Vaegon’s tone took on a slightly testing edge. "Tell me," he began, his voice steady but with an undertone that suggested this was more than just a casual query, "how might one prevent infection in a wound such as this?"

Maera, through her haze of pain and exhaustion, watched the junior Maester closely. The young man’s face flushed as he struggled to find the right words. She could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he fumbled for an answer, finally managing to stammer, "Bryonia and thyme... they could be applied to the wound site, Grand Maester."

Aemond, who remained sitting beside her, his hand tightly gripping hers, suddenly growled, his voice thick with barely contained rage. "This is not a fucking lecture in the Citadel," he spat, his frustration boiling over. "My wife is in pain and needs help immediately."

Maera's eyes flicked between her husband and the Grand Maester, feeling the tension rise as Aemond took a deep, steadying breath. "Can it be removed?" he asked, his voice strained, though more controlled now.

Vaegon, unfazed by Aemond’s outburst, accepted the pincer-like tool from his junior with a nod of thanks. "It can be removed," he confirmed calmly, his violet eyes meeting Aemond's with a steady gaze. "However," he added, with a slight, almost imperceptible smile, "I prefer my juniors to learn with live subjects. It is how they truly develop their own practice.”

Aemond's patience had worn thin. "Just get on with it," he snapped, his voice sharp and desperate. The tension in the room was palpable, a thick cloud of dread hanging over them all. Vaegon, unfazed, nodded curtly and turned his attention to the task at hand.

"Hold her down, Your Grace," the Grand Maester instructed, his tone taking on an ominous gravity. "This next part will hurt."

Maera's eyes widened in alarm, her breath catching in her throat. But she quickly steeled herself, accepting the harsh reality that a short burst of unbearable pain was the price to pay for relief. She reached once again for her leather glove, hands trembling slightly, and stuffed it into her mouth. The taste of sweat and leather filled her senses, grounding her in the moment. With a final, determined nod to Vaegon, she braced herself.

The pincer tool glinted ominously in the candlelight as Vaegon carefully inserted it into the wound. The moment the cold metal touched her flesh, Maera's body convulsed, a scream tearing from her throat, muffled by the glove. The sensation of her muscles and skin separating under the tool was indescribable, a horror that left her mind reeling.

Aemond, his face twisted with panic and helplessness, leaned over her, using his weight to hold her thrashing body down. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmured over and over again, his voice breaking with each word. His hands, normally so steady, were trembling as he fought to keep her still.

Time seemed to stretch into eternity, each second of pain lasting a lifetime. But then, with a sickening, wet sound, Vaegon finally extracted the arrowhead. Maera's scream turned into a choked sob as the pain began to ebb, leaving her shaking and drenched in sweat, her body utterly spent.

A palpable sense of relief washed over the room as the arrowhead was finally extracted. The oppressive tension that had gripped everyone during the ordeal began to lift, replaced by a collective exhalation. Aemond held her close, his face buried in her hair as he whispered soothing words, though his own voice was laced with pain.

The arrowhead lay in Vaegon's bloodied hands before he placed it on the nearby table, a small but vicious piece of metal that had caused so much suffering. Maera, still trembling from the pain, felt the sharp edges of agony dulling, leaving her with a deep, throbbing ache that was far more bearable. Despite her exhaustion, a flicker of delight sparked within her—she had made it through. It was over.

However, the reprieve was short-lived. Maera groaned as Grand Maester Vaegon applied pressure to her wound, his hand wrapped in blood-soaked fabric as he pressed down with practiced care. The pain flared up again, though not as sharply as before, and she gritted her teeth against it. Vaegon turned to his juniors, who were watching with rapt attention.

“Once the bleeding has stopped,” Vaegon instructed, his voice calm and authoritative, “the wound can be stitched. Apply a paste of bryonia and thyme afterward to prevent infection.” The young Maesters nodded eagerly, one immediately beginning to clean the surgical tools, while the other started preparing the herbal paste as directed.

As Vaegon turned back to the Queen, a gentle smile graced his aged face, a smile that was strikingly reminiscent of Maera’s mother. The warmth in his expression was unexpected, and it stirred something within her. “You did well, Your Grace,” he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of familial pride. For the first time, Maera felt a small but significant connection to the man who was her grandfather by blood.

A warmth filled her heart as she met his gaze, a bond forming where there had once been only distance. “Thank you,” she replied earnestly, her voice still shaky but filled with genuine gratitude. She returned his smile, a faint but sincere curve of her lips that spoke volumes.

Lying there on the bed, her thoughts drifted to her brother Cedric’s words, spoken long ago. Vaegon was indeed an exceptional Maester, far more than she had ever given him credit for. In that moment, she understood a little more about the man who had always seemed so distant, and she silently appreciated the care and skill he had shown her.

The one-eyed King hadn’t left the Queen’s side for the rest of the day. He was a constant, silent presence, hovering near her as if guarding her from any further harm. Yet despite his proximity, Maera found it impossible to draw more than a few words or grunts out of him. He was more brooding than usual, his expression locked in a stern, unreadable mask. Maera understood that it was probably the sight of her in such unbearable pain that weighed on him so heavily. She had seen that look in his eye before, a mixture of anger and helplessness.

Throughout the day, Maera attempted to speak with him, to offer him comfort, to ease the tension that gripped him so tightly. She wanted to talk through what had happened, to reassure him that she would be all right, that it was over now. But the stubborn King, ever proud and fierce, was not receptive. His responses were curt, his gaze distant, and Maera eventually resolved to let him sulk for the day. She knew him well enough to understand that forcing the issue would only make him retreat further into himself. They would discuss it that evening, when the rawness of the day had dulled and he was ready to listen.

That night, as the household settled into the calm that followed the chaos, the nursemaids had to assist Maera in feeding Aemara. With the wound above her collarbone newly stitched, any movement of her arm caused a sharp twinge of pain, making it impossible for her to hold her daughter on her own. The nursemaids worked with quiet efficiency, gently cradling the babe and positioning her to nurse at Maera’s chest, carefully placing the weight off the injured area.

Maera watched in silence as her daughter fed, her heart swelling with both love and frustration. The pain in her shoulder was a constant reminder of her vulnerability, of how close she had come to something far worse. Yet it was Aemond’s continued brooding that gnawed at her most. She could sense the storm brewing within him, feel the weight of his unspoken worries pressing down on them both.

Once Aemara was done feeding, Aemond gruffly dismissed the nursemaid, his tone leaving little room for argument. The young woman hurriedly nodded, bowing her head as she scurried out of the room. Aemond then reached down to take the child from Maera’s chest, cradling her with surprising gentleness despite his rough demeanor. He began to rock their daughter, his movements slow and deliberate, a stark contrast to the stormy expression etched on his face.

Maera sighed softly, watching as her husband bounced their daughter in his arms, pacing the room with a careful rhythm. Aemara’s tiny breaths soon grew even and steady, her eyelids fluttering closed as she succumbed to sleep. Aemond continued to hold her for a moment longer, as if the act of rocking their child provided him some measure of peace. Once he was certain Aemara was fully asleep, he placed her tenderly into her crib, his gaze lingering on her peaceful face.

Sȳndor, the small black dragon that had been curled beneath the crib, chirped softly at Aemond’s approach. With a resigned sigh, Aemond reached across to the nearby table and tossed a piece of meat to the creature. Sȳndor snapped it up greedily, her sharp teeth making quick work of the morsel before she settled back down, her head resting on the stone floor, her eyes half-closed in contentment.

The King then moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down heavily with his back to Maera. He seemed lost in thought, his posture rigid, his gaze distant as if he were wrestling with something deep within. He stayed like that for a while, unmoving, and the silence began to grate on Maera's nerves. Her initial understanding and patience began to wear thin, frustration bubbling up within her. Finally, she could no longer hold back.

“I will not tolerate further silence,” she said, her voice firm, cutting through the stillness of the room.

Aemond looked over his shoulder at her, his eye narrowing as he snapped back, “I have not been silent.” His words were sharp, defensive, yet the Queen could see the strain in his expression, the turmoil that lingered behind his cool exterior. The quietness that followed was heavy, thick with unspoken emotions, as the two of them faced the inevitable confrontation that had been brewing all day.

Slowly, he began to disrobe, his hands moving with practiced ease as he unbuckled the black and green doublet he wore. The metal buckles clinked softly in the quiet room, the only sound besides their breathing. Once the doublet was undone, he slipped it off his shoulders, revealing the simple white cotton undershirt beneath. With a practiced motion, he pulled the shirt over his head, exposing the lean, muscular contours of his abdomen.

Rising to his feet, Aemond walked over to a nearby chair, placing his discarded clothing neatly on it. His movements were deliberate, almost ritualistic, as if the act of disrobing offered him some form of control over the emotions swirling within him. Maera watched him intently, her eyes following every motion. When he bent down to unlace his boots, she could see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid lines of his body betraying the anger he was holding back.

Once his boots were removed and set aside, Aemond stood up straight, his hands moving to the waistband of his trousers. With a final motion, he slipped out of them, leaving himself completely bare before her. No matter how many times she had seen him like this, the Queen felt her breath catch in her throat. His body, honed and strong from years of training, was a sight that never failed to stir something deep within her.

Softening her gaze, Maera decided to take a different approach. She offered him a gentle smile, trying to bridge the distance that had grown between them over the course of the day. “I know you well,” she said softly, her voice laced with understanding. Their eyes met as Aemond reached up to undo his hair, the straight silver locks cascading down as he freed them from their tie.

He then returned to the edge of the bed, sitting down once more with his back to her, as if he could hide from her the storm of emotions that brewed within him. Maera reached out to him, her fingers brushing delicately against the smooth skin of his back. The touch was tender, meant to soothe, as she spoke again. “You’re angry,” she said softly, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along his spine.

Aemond’s shoulders, tense and coiled with emotion, seemed to drop slightly at her words. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached up and removed his eyepatch, placing it on the bedside table before getting into bed beside her, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Feeling the tension between them, Maera began to unlace her nightgown at the front, her fingers deftly loosening the ties. Once undone, she slipped the garment off her shoulders carefully so to not further injure herself, letting it cascade down her body before tossing it to the far side of the room.

She turned back to Aemond, offering him a soft, reassuring smile as she spoke, “This is war, as you keep reminding me.” Her voice was gentle, but with a hint of resignation. “I was bound to run into one of the Blacks sooner or later.”

Aemond continued to stare up at the canopy of their bed, responding only with a short, indifferent hum, his eye refusing to meet hers. Undeterred, Maera lay back down beside him, shuffling closer until she was facing him. Her hand reached out to trace delicate patterns on his chest, her touch light and soothing. She sighed softly, her gaze locked on his face. “It was hardly the worst injury I’ve sustained,” she said, trying to downplay the severity of the day’s events.

But as the words left her mouth, Maera noticed Aemond visibly wince. The slight tightening of his jaw, the flicker of pain in his remaining eye as his eye darted to her left shoulder, covered in the deep scar, before staring back up at the ceiling.

After realising what she said, Maera quickly grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes, filled with both concern and affection, searched his. “I’m fine, Aemond. Truly,” she assured him, her smile warm and reassuring. But even as she said it, the frown on his face deepened, his expression stubbornly refusing to soften.

Letting go of his jaw, Maera furrowed her own brow, her mind working to understand the deeper meaning behind his silence. She studied his face, the lines of tension etched into his features, and slowly, a realization dawned on her. There was more to his unhappiness than just the harm that had come to her. She blinked, the truth settling into her mind, and softly spoke, “You’re angry that I let her go.”

At her words, Aemond’s gaze finally met hers, the anger and frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface now clearly visible in his eye. The Queen watched as his jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he grasped at the sheets with white-knuckled hands. The tension in his body was palpable, a barely contained storm of rage and frustration.

When he finally spoke, it was with a low growl, his voice rough with anger. “Baela attacked you on her dragon, shot you with an arrow, and you let her go.” The accusation hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of his disbelief.

Maera, feeling her own frustration rise, rubbed her face with her hands, trying to keep her voice steady as she responded. “Her dragon is dead, Aemond. She’s of no threat to us now.” She dropped her hands to the bed, meeting his gaze with determination, hoping he would understand her reasoning. But instead of softening, his expression only darkened further.

In one swift movement, the King turned to face her fully, their bodies now chest to chest, their breaths coming in heavy, angry bursts. The closeness between them did nothing to ease the tension; if anything, it made the confrontation more intense, their emotions clashing in the confined space between them.

“So many are dead because of Rhaenyra,” Aemond began, his voice tight with bitterness. But before he could continue, Maera cut him off, her voice sharp as she challenged him. “And should we kill another because of her sins?” Her words were a direct counter to his anger, forcing him to confront the cycle of violence they were trapped in. Their gazes locked, both refusing to back down. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken thoughts, the air between them charged with the weight of the choices they faced.

Maera’s eyes drifted across the dimly lit room, her gaze softening as it landed on Aemara’s crib. The steady, rhythmic sound of the baby’s breathing was a comforting presence in the tense atmosphere. A small smile tugged at her lips as she listened, a brief moment of peace amidst the storm. But as she looked back at Aemond, the smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. Her voice was gentle but firm as she asked, “If we apply your logic, should Aemara die because of all you have done?”

The words hit Aemond like a blow. He sat bolt upright, his eye wide with shock and anger. “Don’t you dare bring our daughter into this,” he snapped, his voice sharp with a mix of fear and fury.

Maera didn’t flinch. Instead, she sat up as well, grabbing his face with both hands, forcing him to look at her. Her fingers were firm but tender as they held his face, her thumbs brushing gently over his sharp cheekbones, trying to anchor him to the moment, to her. She stared into his lone eye for a long, silent moment, searching for the man she knew beneath the anger.

Aemond’s tense muscles gradually began to relax under her touch. His breath slowed, and the fire in his eye dimmed slightly. He reached up, placing his hand over one of hers, the contact a quiet acknowledgment of the bond they shared. The connection between them, fragile as it was in that moment, held steady.

“I want to protect our daughter,” Maera said quietly, her voice filled with a deep, earnest resolve. “That’s why I let Baela go. I did it for her—for us.”

Aemond’s grip on her hand tightened as he absorbed her words, the tension between them slowly giving way to a mutual understanding, though the unease still lingered. Eventually, the tension between them ebbed, and the pair lay back down, facing each other in the quiet room. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows on their faces, highlighting the mix of emotions that lingered in their eyes.

Aemond gently pulled Maera into his chest, wrapping his arms around her protectively as he buried his nose in her brown and silver curls. The familiar scent of her hair soothed him, grounding him in the moment. Maera, in turn, pressed her face to his chest, inhaling his scent deeply, a comfort she had always found in his presence.

Breaking the silence, Maera whispered into the stillness, “It has to end with us.” Her voice was steady but laced with exhaustion. “We cannot keep killing, tit for tat.” She tilted her head up, her eyes meeting his. “We need to be better.”

Aemond’s expression softened as he reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her face with a tenderness that belied the storm of emotions within him. He pressed his lips firmly to her forehead, the kiss lingering as if to imprint his love and fears onto her skin. “I don’t want to give them the chance to take you both from me,” he whispered, his voice raw with vulnerability.

Maera sighed, her hand moving in slow, soothing circles on his back as she held him close to her.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

Two days before the turn of the moon, a raven arrived from King's Landing, carrying a letter which bore the seal of the three-headed dragon on black wax—the unmistakable mark of Rhaenyra Targaryen. It was late afternoon when the bird was spotted, its arrival causing a ripple of anticipation among the courtiers. The tension in Dragonstone was palpable, for they all knew what this message could mean. Rhaenyra had waited until the very last possible moment to send her reply, a calculated move to show her reluctance—or perhaps her defiance.

The raven’s message was quickly intercepted and brought directly to the Small Council. The room, usually filled with the murmur of discussions and the clatter of goblets, was eerily quiet as the sealed letter was placed before King Aemond. Every member of the council was present, their eyes fixed on the letter, waiting. The Queen and a few of the councilmen exchanged uneasy glances, their faces lined with the weariness of war, while a few openly displayed their impatience.

Aemond stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding as ever. The Conqueror’s Crown sat heavily upon his brow, a symbol of power that weighed on him both physically and metaphorically. His one remaining eye, sharp and intense, scanned the seal before he broke it with deliberate calm. The room, including Maera, collectively held their breath, the tension so thick it felt as if the air itself might shatter.

With a flick of his wrist, Aemond unfurled the parchment, the rustle of paper the only sound in the room. His gaze moved across the lines of ink, taking in the words written by a woman who was supposed to be his eldest sister, but was now was his greatest enemy. He paused for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he began to read aloud.

Maera,

Your letter reaches me in a time where peace seems as elusive as the dawn after a long, unending night. I commend your optimism, but I fear your proposed terms are not only unachievable but a mockery of the oaths sworn to my House. My father, King Viserys, named me his heir, and the Realm bent the knee to me. Those who have since turned their backs on that solemn pledge are nothing less than traitors, and traitors will be met with fire and blood.

The Queen sat with her head cradled in her hands, the weight of her crown pulling it slightly askew. The Valyrian crown, set with sapphires and rubies, glittered faintly in the candlelight, a reminder of her high station that now felt more like a burden than a privilege. As the contents of the letter were laid bare, a groan of dismay escaped her lips, muffled by the shield of her hands.

There may have been a path to peace, once. Even after the brutal slaying of my beloved son Lucerys, I harbored some small hope that the conflict could end without further tragedy. But now Jacaerys is dead, felled by the arrows of your fleet, and my youngest, sweet Viserys, has been stolen from me—no doubt also claimed by death. You ask for peace, Maera, yet you have taken nearly all that I hold dear. I do not desire peace; I crave vengeance.

Maera’s head shot up, her green eyes narrowing with concern. Her brother Dermot had written to her frequently, detailing the boy’s health and well-being after he had taken him hostage for the Greens. Prince Viserys was safe and well, and had actually grown quite fond of his captor, but his guardian constantly moved him from one hidden location to another across the vast expanse of Essos.

Dermot’s letters were filled with a constant undercurrent of fear—that one misstep, one breach of secrecy, could see Viserys fall into the wrong hands, for not all in Essos were friendly. A silver-haired boy could fetch a handsome price.

The horror I felt at the state in which my stepdaughter was returned to me is beyond words. While she lives, the scars she bears, both on her flesh and in her soul, are grievous, and her dragon, who was born to her, is dead. Aemond, your husband, chose you well, it seems. You both share a streak of ruthlessness, though you wield mercy as if it were a blade, sharp and cutting.

Maera’s gaze flickered around the room, studying the faces of the councilmen. Most of them appeared unperturbed by the letter’s contents, as though Rhaenyra’s rejection of peace was a foregone conclusion. In fact, there was a glint in some of their eyes, a barely concealed satisfaction. They seemed almost eager, relishing the thought of resuming the war with full force. To them, the rejection was not a setback but an opportunity—a chance to finish what had been started and claim victory, no matter the cost.

Under different circumstances, she would have risen to chastise them for their lack of empathy, for their blind craving for brutality that would only prolong the cycle of violence. Her words would have been sharp, reminding them of the lives lost on both sides, of the families torn apart, of the children who would never know peace. But as Aemond continued reading, the next words from Rhaenyra stole the breath from her lungs.

If you are wise, good-sister, you will continue to ask the Mother for guidance, for the day is coming when you will need it more than ever. Pray for Aemond's soul, for his sins are many and grievous. And I urge you to hold your daughter close, for in these dark times, children can be ripped away as easily as a whisper in the wind.

Rhaenyra Targaryen,

First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

Her stomach dropped, the world around her blurring as the words echoed in her mind. She felt the blood drain from her face, her skin growing cold with the icy grip of fear. Her eyes instinctively sought out Aemond’s, desperate for some sign of reassurance, but all she saw was a fury that matched the fire of his dragon. His anger was palpable, radiating from him like heat from a forge, but Maera’s own fear was a different beast—raw, visceral, and utterly paralyzing.

Without a word, Maera stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor as she pushed it back. She took a few unsteady steps away from the table, her breaths shallow and rapid as she fought to maintain her composure. The walls of the council chamber felt as though they were closing in on her, the room suddenly stifling and suffocating. She knew she could not let the council see her like this, could not afford to show any weakness, but the tears threatened to overflow, her hands trembling as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.

Disgust churned in her stomach, a bitter taste in her mouth as she thought of Rhaenyra—the mother who had lost a daughter, who had known the pain of such a loss, and yet would threaten the life of another’s child. It was beyond cruel; it was evil. Maera could hardly believe it, yet the words were there, in black ink on parchment. Even if Rhaenyra had not penned the words herself, she had approved them, allowed them to be sent.

Across the room, she heard the smug, rasping voice of the Master of Whispers, Larys Strong. “I trust,” he began, his tone dripping with false civility, “that all present can now see Rhaenyra the Cruel cannot be reasoned with.” His words were calculated, designed to stoke the fires of war, and Maera’s heart burned with anger. She shot him a glare so fierce that it could have cut through steel. Her eyes locked onto his, brimming with contempt. But Larys merely lowered his gaze, seemingly in deference, yet Maera caught the briefest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Aemond’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, low and edged with warning. “Larys,” he said, his tone enough to make anyone else in the room flinch. The Master of Whispers quickly dropped his gaze further, the smirk fading as he adopted a mask of humility, but Maera could still feel the air of satisfaction around him.

Before she could gather her thoughts, the Hand of the King, Criston Cole, pushed back his chair and stood. His armor-clad form was a pillar of unyielding resolve as he addressed the council. “It is crucial, that we move forward with our plans immediately,” he said, his voice firm. “Too much time has already been wasted in these fruitless attempts to placate Rhaenyra.” His words were blunt, a rallying cry for the war hawks at the table, and Maera felt her heart sink further.

Maera’s eyes swept across the room as she returned to her seat, taking in the faces of those who surrounded her. The small council had become a gathering of soldiers rather than strategists. Lord Unwin Peake, her previous ally, had already departed for Tumbleton, intent on bringing the Dragonseeds to heel, and now it was clear from the letter that all remaining hopes for a peaceful resolution had been extinguished. Aemond, with his crown of Valyrian steel and intent to secure his claim, was ready to do whatever it took, and the lords present—each one hungry for power, for glory, for blood—were eager to follow him into battle.

She realized with a pang of sorrow that her own efforts had been for nothing. The letter she had sent, the mercy she had shown to Baela—all of it was dismissed, seen not as a last, desperate grasp at peace but as a weakness, a hindrance to the inevitable march toward war. The men in this room were too far gone, too consumed by their own ambitions and thirst for vengeance to see the value in what she had tried to achieve. Maera stood there, surrounded by powerful men, and yet she had never felt so alone. Then, a voice broke through the clamor of her thoughts, cutting through the fog of her despair.

“Rhaenyra believes another of her sons is dead,” the voice stated, calm and measured, yet laced with the kind of calculated thought that sent a chill down Maera’s spine. “Perhaps this could be used to our advantage.”

Maera blinked, her gaze snapping upward in surprise. The voice belonged to none other than the Grand Maester. He stood with an air of calmness that contrasted sharply with the urgency of the situation, his violet eyes scanning the faces of the other council members with the detachment of a man used to navigating the treacherous waters of power and politics.

For a moment, Maera was stunned. This man, her estranged grandfather, felt like a myth mere months ago, his appearance at court feeling like a rejection of her family through his abandonment of her late mother. But there Vaegon was, speaking up at a time when she had felt most alone, offering a perspective that acknowledged the significance of Rhaenyra’s letter in a way that no one else had. The older man also offered an alternative path, whilst ruthless in nature, could also be seen as brilliant. In Vaegon’s words, she heard a validation of her efforts, even if they had taken a dark and unexpected turn.

For the first time in what felt like hours, she allowed herself to breathe. The feeling of isolation began to recede, replaced by a new resolve. Maera straightened in her seat, her gaze meeting Vaegon’s across the table. He gave a slight nod, almost imperceptible, but to Maera, it spoke volumes.

The chamber, already thick with tension, grew colder as the council members reacted to the Grand Maester’s viewpoint. The older Lord Bryndemere, Master of Ships, sat back in his chair, his expression a mixture of weariness and impatience. He tutted loudly, shaking his head as if the entire discussion had been a waste of precious time. "It does not matter now. Rhaenyra has refused the terms."

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Alfred Broome, cleared his throat, his armored figure imposing as he addressed the room. He was a man of action, one who measured the weight of a threat by the steel he carried at his side.

"Grand Maester," he began, his voice steady but laced with an underlying fury, “Rhaenyra has done more than simply reject our terms. She has replied with a threat against the infant Princess. This cannot be tolerated."

His words hung in the air like a sword poised to strike. The room fell into a heavy silence, the gravity of the situation pressing down on them all. Maera, who had been silently absorbing the exchange, felt a sigh escape her lips. Only a few weeks ago, the part of her that believed in empathy and understanding might have pushed for Vaegon’s suggestion, clinging to the hope that some resolution could be found without further bloodshed.

But that was long gone. The Mother’s Mercy that had once guided her decisions had dried up the moment Rhaenyra’s cruel words had threatened her daughter. Maera was not just a queen; she was a mother, and no title in the world could overshadow that instinct. The thought of harm coming to Aemara awakened a fierce protectiveness within her, one that blazed hotter than any dragon’s fire. If even a single silver hair on Aemara’s head was harmed, Maera knew with a terrifying clarity that she would gladly burn the Realm to ashes, consequences be damned.

As these dark thoughts swirled within her, she felt the warmth of a hand gently resting on hers. Startled from her reverie, she turned to see her husband, Aemond, the King, standing beside her. His gaze, usually so fierce and commanding, was softened as he looked at her, a rare tenderness in his eye.

For a moment, the room and all its tensions faded away, leaving only the two of them. She was searching for reassurance, for something solid to anchor herself to in this storm of uncertainty. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Aemond..."

Her husband’s gaze never wavered, his grip on her hand firm and steady. "Rhaenyra has made her choice," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "Now it is time to make ours."

There was no hesitation in his words, only the clear, unyielding determination that had always drawn her to him. In his single violet eye, she saw the reflection of her own resolve. After a long, steadying breath, Maera nodded. The softness in her expression hardened into something more resolute. It was time to prepare for the invasion.

Notes: right, let’s see how this goes then 👀 is anything ever straightforward?

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88 @darylandbethfanforever9

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[theyellowhedgehog]

This is a reverse robin AU! Or more like a parallel of the AU.

The thing is I have never finished writing a story to publish, or chicken out before publishing so I thought this would be perfect. I will write this in the form of exploring the relationship between Damian and Tim.

Read along and tell me what you think? And If anyone want to make this into a fanfic, feel free to do so, and tag me so I can see it!

How Damian join the Wayne

Damian arrived to his father doorstep at the age of 12 after being deemed a failed experiment by his grandfather. Because Talia has got attached to her first project, she lied to her father and secretly sent her son away to stay with his dad, Bruce.

How Damian got his junior hero mantle

Damian at 12 years old was as you expected the same as his cannon character. Bruce and him has plenty of fights, no one want to give way for the other. So against his father will, he dressed up in a kevlar armor he made on his own to fight bad guys.

At his first appearance, people didn't know who he was associated with. Then after seeing him together with Batman more often, the public give him a deared title, "Batboy"

Damian at 12 years old felt he finally prove something to Gotham. But then he grew out of that phrase.

How Damian and Tim meet

Tim Drake is the only child of Jack and Janet Drake. When he was ten, he overheard his mother and father talking about the illegitimate wayne brat.

Tim, himself, is a piece of work. He is never quiet, he is loud as a ten years old can be. Mom and Dad let him get away with many things and this made him an arrogant brat.

One gala day, he went up to Damian Wayne when the older boy was trying sneak a sip at the adult drink. "You can't drink that, you know?" Tim said with that annoying childish voice. Damian didn't care and chuck the whiskey all in one go and smirked at Tim.

But unknown to Damian, Tim is a tattle-tale.

"Mr.Wayne!! You son just drink a WHOLE glass of whiskey!!" Scream the ten years old from across the hall.

Their unlikely friendship started when twelve years old Damian tried to silence ten years old Tim by covering his mouth, which the younger one bit and in anger older threw him across food table.

It's safe to say that gala was an unforgettable one for Damian and Tim.

From there one, whether at the Prestigious Gotham Academy or at the Wayne manor, when you hear a high pitched wail and angry shushes, you don't even have to check twice to know its Damian and Tim.

Does Tim still love photography?

Yes, Tim has a love for photography since young, but he also has love for (wheels) Bruce Wayne's vintage cars.

Mom and Dad's rusty vase or priceless goblet? He didn't care.

Bruce's (vintage race car)? That was the love of his life. So as annoying and inquisitive brat, he crawl through a hole he dug and befriended himself with Alfred Pennyworth, then Bruce Wayne. Just after six months of his effort in befriending the owners, Damian arrived. Now he came to the Wayne manor with the excuse of playing with Damian.(But he just want to see the cars and photograph them to add to his scrapbooks.)

This went on for about six months. The first two months Alfred has to accompany them in fear that Damian might tick off and murder the young Drake. After observing them for two months, Alfred deems Damian to be Tim Drake proof.

Yellow Hedgehog, you said Damian behave the same as cannon, then why is he telorating Tim?

You need to remember that Damian is the first project that failed. On spending a little time at the League ( probs about 2 years?) and was sent away quickly after. Why was he sent away? Well, if you put the mind of a baby in a 10 years old, it cannot be called a successful project. And when the project throw temper tantrum like a human, is it consider a failure? Because Ra's goal for this project is not a heir, but to create a perfect clone of Bruce Wayne while he was at the league.(Do you guys know what I'm talking about?) I might come back to rewrite this...

So children get along with children most. In Damian's view Bruce was another person that restrict his freedom and constantly fight him to prove himself right. Which Alfred said, he acted just like Bruce when he was 10 years old.

Tim is constantly on his tail, and you have to be honest, having Tim around mean entertainment and interesting things happen, to a person who know nothing but cold hugs of Talia and a lab test tube. So with Tim, Damian behaved more like a child.

And Tim have this weird knack for turning the situation into his favor? Like when his enemies become his friend?

How Damian almost got his first dog

Damian is now 13 and Tim is 11.

As always when Saturday came, tiny footsteps running on soft padded carpet sounds as it stops in front of Damian door. But Damian didn't care and burrow deeper into the blankets.

The door swung open softly and soft footsteps got closer to his bed and stops. "Damian~~" Tim calls out in a sing song voice, "Let's take a tour to (vintage racecar) today !" and try to pull away the blanket.

Damian just groans, "It's Saturday, why can't you sleep like a normal child?" as if he was normal.

Tim nopes his ways, and hops on the bed and shakes the older boy. "Come on! You promise you would show me!!"

Damian holds on tighter to the blanket, "Can't you go by yourself? You already know this house like the back of your hand."

"Nope," Tim pauses and thinks, "That's not polite."

The blanket got stiff and gives out a dry laugh, "Yeah, right"

Tim pauses and looks at the lump of a blanket, "It's true, mom got me an etiquette teacher last week because I was being-" He imitates his mother nagging, "you are almost eleven now,Timothy. I will not have my kid act like an uncivil wild coyote on the table!" as he puffs out his chest and waves his pointer finger like his mother told him off.

Tim then falls silent because no noise was coming from the lump of blankets. And he wonders for a moment, "Bruce didn't let you get a dog?"

That when 13 years old Damian jumps out with still red eyes and a whine,"He thinks I would not be a responsible owner to a dog! Seriously!!"

Tim looks at Damian's red eyes, "Didn't you fake cry?"

This make Damian blushes and avoids Tim's eyes in embarrassment, "Of course not! That's embarrassing and humiliating!"

"Why?"Tim tilted his head in confusion, "It works with mine." he paused, "Well, until last month. They think a racecar is an unreasonable gift for an eleven years old."

"He said I can't take care of a dog because I'm too young!" Damian burrows into the blankets again.

"Then why don't I help? You just need to show him you are responsible!" Tim suggests. Damian narrows his eyes at his suggestion. "What do you want, I can see you brain scheming."

Tim grin, "Just told your dad to take us out on a ride with the racecar."

One week after convincing Alfred and Bruce to get Damian a goldfish so he can show that he is responsible pet owner, they agreed.

Tim comes to a visit on Wednesday( sometimes after getting the pet), and his eyes bulges when he sees the goldfish floating upside down. He had no time to tell Damian as he ran to the store and replaced it with another goldfish. Tim quietly went back home that day.

Another three week or so, Tim comes to the manor to see the goldfish in Damian's room floating upside down again!

Frustrated, Tim ran to a different pet store to get another goldfish. This time he did not leave and wait for Damian to see what the heck he does for two whole goldfish to die!

Damian and he talks and he SAW Damian putting a hand full of fish feed into the tank!

Tim was so angry that he fishes out the goldfish into a bowl and ran back to his manor screaming, "You don't deserve to have any pets!"

How did Tim find out their secret identity?Since there is no Flying Grayson yet, how did he figure it out?

That I will probably write later, if I stay motivated. This is great! This might be the most I have written in one sitting! There might /is grammar errors, tried my best. Don't come at me for my grammar.😎

Questions are welcome! But do not be mean in the comments.

PART 2 is now out!

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

OMG IS IT HAPPENING OH SHIT I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED WATCHING THIS YET!!!

And now here's my live reaction:

Hey, wait a minute, yeah... where is Mr Puzzles staying anyway?

...uh Mr Puzzles, is this a bad time?

... no... I just... hmmm...

This reminds me so much of the YouTube Arc

AAAAAA THE FACE IS BACK... ahem sorry just Eye of Ra theory stuff

[*looks at my murder board and back to the screen*] ...do they know?

btw people have mentioned about the numbers on the board and I personally think it's a texture. Hmm, then again it could mean something so I'll try to see if I can figure it out.

OMG BOWSER AND JUNIOR I MISSED YOU GUYS

sorry Mr Puzzles, but there's unfortunately an audience for this

hey, kids can be terrifying

can I just say, these little bits of animation are so good!

correct me if I'm wrong but is that a new Mr. Puzzles face (animation)?

Hold up, is he in Karen's house?

HE IS

Karen, you should really upgrade the security of your house. First, Marty, and now Mr Puzzles.

somewhere deep down in my heart i still love you [yes, i did say this out loud]

Karen's kids my beloved ❤️ love it when they act like cute siblings

still the same SMG3 as always... uh, I mean it's totally not Three what are you talking about?

also I want to talk about my Ferris Wheel Wedding concept so bad

also pink…?

[*lays on the floor and zooms out of the room*] ok bye bye

LEGGY?!

[*ducktales theme song plays*]

damn those kids are fast bringing Mr Puzzles from 10 million to 39.7 million (why is that number so specific though, hmm...)

...oh ...oh ...now I feel bad what the hell

HE KEPT THE FLAG I KNEW IT WAS GONNA COME BACK IN SOME WAY

Mr Puzzles: "My ratings haven't moved?"

hmmm.....

please be the car please be the car YEAHHHHHHH

OMG HIIIIIIII

ok, the traffic scene got me lmao (i have no sense of humor anymore)

seriously tho how did he fit in that little car, but hey that's canon now

god I'm annoying but I just love this, found family my beloved ❤️❤️

Mario: "Do I join...?"

well, Mario, you did join Three back in the YouTube Arc (unintentionally) so this wouldn't be the first time...

WOAH WOAH WOAH

I seriously did not expect that, but it makes sense, I don't blame her having mixed feelings about this.

aww Mario and Four making sure Meggy's okay, family is found ❤️

Meggy: "Who does he think he is... thinking he can just roll up and ask me to join him-"

It's technically not out of the question Meggy, that's why we theorize

LEGGY 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

also I smell a redemption arc for Mr. Puzzles

well, Mr Puzzles, kids do deserve good stories and I'm sure they would've loved to know how you do things but looks like you picked that wrong your audience for that

NEGATIVE 1 STARS?!?!?!

oh hey Three :)

👀 "laughing stock" you say?

PFFT I was going to say, that was good cinematography

It's high noon...

wait, was that audio from AMPHIBIA? OH SHIT AMPHIBIA MENTION (timestamp 12:20)

hey remember what I said in my 'ONCE UPON A Ṕ̷̱E̴̺̽R̵̖̎̕F̵̢̗̈́̀E̴̞̍C̴͈̽T̶͓̘̈́ SMG4’ theory:

Every story, no matter how outlandish it seems, is grounded in reality.

The showdown is exactly how it played out at the end of the Meme Factory mini-arc, with the gun and everything!

"I thought we were friends." "You are not my friend(s) anymore."

oh shit OH SHIT

OH SHITTTTTT!!!!!!!

OMG WAS MY EYE OF RA THEORY RIGHT?!?!? HE'S RED AND EVERYTHING, JUST LIKE THE RED SUN DISK RA HAS OMG OMG

oooh that song at the end tho

damn Mr Puzzles really snapped. like, I know that's him breaking down, crying, but I can also hear it as insane laughter. he's broken broken...

....WHATTTTT

also congrats VerperrTea for your art making it to the credits, love to see it!!! 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

so uh, that was a lot to take in. It was good to follow Mr Puzzles in this episode. Love to see all the fanmade faces featured as well. Overall, a great episode! I'm surprised at how much it got me. Now that we know FOR SURE that WOTFI is coming, we're getting the little bits of clues we have put together. And the title did not lie, Mr Puzzles really did reach his lowest point. I also loved the bit of the channel acknowledging the "i want the old SMG4" fans.

Aw, my dear fellows, I'm just anxious but ready to see how Mr Puzzles will go all-out villain again. (please goop!4 please goop!4) I've checked the WOTFI website and nothing has changed so we're good... for now. Can't wait to see what happens next!!!

...what do you mean I have to wait a whole week for the next episode?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[xx-midnight-candy-goblin-xx]

INTRO POST!! :D

[This will update over time]

Old blog: @midnight-candy-goblin (I can't access it anymore)

I'm taking drawing requests!! :)

The fandoms I'm in are;

TV show/movie/indie animation fandoms:

Helluva Boss

Hazbin Hotel

The Owl House

Heartstopper

The Amazing Digital Circus

Nimona

She Ra

Gravity Falls

Monkey Wrench

Death Note

The Hollow

RAMSHACKLE

Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous

Jurassic World Chaos Theory

The Music Freaks

Carmen Sandiego 2019

Wild Kratts

How to Train Your Dragon

Rise of the Guardians

Coraline

Octonauts

Book fandoms:

Wings of Fire

Nimona

The Land of Stories

The Hunger Games

Loveless

Solitaire

A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

Heartstopper

Coraline

The Reappearance of Rachel Price

Webcomic fandoms:

Jackson's Diary

Castle Swimmer

School Bus Graveyard

Heartstopper

High Class Homos

Love Me to Death

Spicy Mints

Verses:

Hellaverse

Osemanverse

I post my art sometimes and make my own posts, but I mostly reblog things

He/they/it, chaotic bisexual, call me Goblin or Ado or Avocado (long story) (or any masculine name that starts with the letter A, really)

I live in Japan currently, but was raised in Washington State and Peru. I'm Peruvian-Japanese-American 🫡 Kuzco is my cousin btw (The Emporor's New Groove)

I speak English, Spanish, some German, and I'm learning Japanese. I also know Morse code ...././._../._../___ :)) (my Morse is a bit rusty though) I also know the runic alphabet and a code called Atbash.

Pfp art is NOT mine!!

Hola, me llamo Goblin. Hablo inglés, español, un poco de alemán y un poquitito de japonés.

Hallo, ich heiße Goblin, ich spreche Englisch, Spanisch, etwas Deutsch, und ein bisschen Japanisch.

私の名前はゴブリンです。 ごめんなさい英語を話せますか? (-_-;)

I'm a ✨minor✨

(but my doctor told me I have the maturity of a junior in college ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

If you ever want to talk about any of these fandoms 👏DON'T👏BE👏AFRAID👏TO👏ASK👏ME👏

I LOVE getting asks and messages, I want to get to know my mutuals and other followers better

Also if you have any recommendations (smth to watch/read) please tell me!! I won't get to it immediately, but (probably) at some point, so don't be afraid to recommend smth <3

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :]

[Insta: xx_midnight_candy_goblin_xx

Pinterest (obviously I only post JD things, it has infested my mind): Ken Okamoto ]

I AM CRINGE BUT I AM FREE

Transphobes, racists, ableists, sexist, homophobes, pedophiles, zoophiles, DO NOT INTERACT.

Free Palestine. I will not be taking questions.

Time zones suck ass. Wdym you're eating lunch? It's midnight??

I am an atheist, but will say stuff like "Oh my god", "like god intended", "holy shit", etc

Yes, I write fics. No, I will not give you my ao3 acc. See if you can figure it out tho :)

I use Heelys still. Be more like me /hj

My favorite quote is "Suck it up, eat cookies." from my band teacher (9/9/22) However my head is FILLED with vine quotes

My art is (usually) tagged with #my art, my posts are tagged with #my post For reblogs regarding bigger fandoms, I probably won't tag them, but if it's a smaller fandom or something I want to find again then I usually will tag it properly

Rules for drawing requests: if you want something NSFW, it's an immediate no. However if it's something mildly explicit (some nudity, kissing, touching, etc) then ask through DMs. If it's something absolutely SFW then please use my asks! I'd like to make my art public. The drawing(s) most likely won't be fully finished drawings, but more like sketches or doodles. No OCs, only characters from the fandoms mentioned above. All drawing/sketches/doodles are COMPLETELY FREE!

I might take writing prompts soon, but we'll have to wait and see. . .

Thank you for reading!!

[blond-jerk-tourney]

Blond Sweetheart Tourney: Round 1, Poll 19

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Nazuna Nito

He's the big brother of his unit Ra*bits!! He's always kind and uplifting to them, and would do anything to help and protect him. He dotes on them and is super caring and is just ADORABLE!!! - In the story Human Comedy, he makes cookies to give to the other members of Ra*bits for White Day. - In the story Frozen Ice, his friendship with Mika is strained, but he still goes and buys candies and ice creams he thinks Mika will like to bring him while he's in the infirmary. - Even his official introduction is super cute and sweet.. "Hello, I'm Nazuna Nito, a member of Ra*bits! All the members of Ra*bits are younger than me, but they're all hard-working and have their own unique personalities, so they're all very cute. I'm a nii-chan, so I have to do my best so that everyone can rely on me for help. When in doubt, it's up to each other, and the four of us will help each other grow as Ra*bits ♪" - Nazuna's solo song 'Niichan Ouen Dan' or 'Niichan Cheer Squad' is an adorable song of him cheering on his juniors, and GOSH ITS JUST SO CUTE AND SWEET AND UPBEAT!!!! I LOVE HIM!!! (link to give it a listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQ0sIeRFB4Q) - He just has a very sweet and warm and comforting vibe and I love him so much.

Tenma Saki

she's so kind to everyone and she cares about her friends and her brother so much and i love her <3

[brucewaynehater101]

Breaking in because some months ago you posted an AU idea where Dick kills Batman before Damian arrives but imagine if Dick realized that Batman got so bad a child resorted to being brutalized because he thinks he's needed to fix him

So then Dick ends up killing Batman BEFORE Jason ever arrives, and disposes of the body in such a way, that trying to ressurect Bruce w/ Lazarus waters is pointless

There's two three four ways we can do this

a. Jason only learns of Batman dying after coming back to Gotham and before meeting the Batclan

b. Jason learns Batman died while still with the League, something that throws him, Thalia, Ra's, and whoever else for a loop

c. Jason doesn't even know Bruce is dead after getting to Gotham, and it takes time until he learns Dick is Batman

d. Jason and the League only knows of Batman being replaced or missing himself, and only later learn he's been found or announced dead

When the newest Red Hood tries to pull shit? Dick (the new Batman) has none of it as he is extrq protective of his Robins (Tim and Stephanie) after Jason died and Tim was abused

Now what to do w/ Bruce and Wayne Enterprises? I mean, Dick w/ Barbara and Tim's help can become the new patriarch and owner/CEO but there's also the fact that tjey need to navitage the chaos that is either Brucie Wayne dying or going missing qnd being qnnounced deqd unsuspiciously

There's also the idea that Dick (+any accomplices) would have to navigate relations with the Justice League whilst hiding his murder, and Gotham has to deal w/ the changes a new Batman introduces

Suddenly Batman is putting the wellbeing of the people, especially his kids, over justice and his ideals, and whether or not anybody suspects or knows this new Batman "took care" of the old one leaves a lot of potential for plotlines

Also Cassandra, if she still joins the Bats, has to grapple with the patriarch being a killer because the previous patriarch was an abuser

Gosh how will this affect Damian and how he's raised? How will the LOA respond to Bruce's death?

Oh yeah Jason, I can't imagine Dick would leave Joker alive either after what happened to Jason, especially if there was a Joker Junior incident

It's gonna be a mindfuck for he, he needs wanted for his father to prove himself as still being his dad, for Bruce to choose him over "The Right Thing To Do" even if Jason became something Batman would hate

Except Jason doesn't even get the closure of his father proving himself a failure of a father, because Bruce already failed as a father to Dick to such a degree that his reward was death

Jason doesn't know who his father is or would have beenanymore, just that Dick is to Tim, Stephanie and so on what Jay dad wasn't as he was in the League, training for an encounter that would never come

Ooh! But let's add on more, shall we?

I don't remember the og post you're referencing, but let's be mean to Dick :)

I like the many many possibilities for Jason you've listed out, but imma get specific on how Dick killed Bruce.

To be cruel, let it be an accident.

For the exact stage, perhaps the JJ incident still happened, but after Tim was Robin. Dick didn't find out about it because Bruce never informed him, and Dick was busy with Bludhaven and the Titans (it was another unfortunate timing for Dick).

About a year or so after the event, Tim is doing much better. He's been on the field for a bit and doesn't relapse as much (either into thinking he's JJ, Joker's his dad, or the laughing spells).

Joker captures Tim again and calls him "Junior." Dick has never seen Tim react the way he did to that name.

They have history. A bad one.

Bruce isn't surprised.

Bruce hid this from Dick.

The young adult has to take several breaths, but he holds his reservations. Maybe Bruce was respecting Tim's boundaries (yeah fucking right).

Fighting happens ya da ya da and Dick learns what Joker did to Tim.

He's fucking enraged. Joker has touched another sibling of his.

Then, the Joker and Tim are in a precarious position. Dick rushes to save Tim and barely manages to get him in time.

When Dick looks up, the Joker is perfectly fine. Nightwing feels his blood start to boil.

His baby brother almost slipped out of his grasp when he rushed as fast as he could to save him. Dick moved, without hesitation, to save Tim.

Batman would have had to move, without hesitation, to save Joker over saving Robin.

Batman put Joker's safety over Robin's.

The flip is instantaneous.

Nightwing starts pummeling the shit out of both Joker and Batman. Due to the element of surprise, Dick had the upper hand. He gets broken ribs and a concussion for his troubles, but Batman is beneath his fist taking the beating Nightwing is dealing out.

He never realizes Bruce has stopped breathing until he feels a hand on his elbow.

Tim's expression is grim as he focuses on Dick. The teen is heavily dissociating as he takes in the scene.

Tim's lips, when he glances down at Batman, start to tremble. He presses them together to try to keep a calm facade.

The teen closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out, nods to himself, and then opens them.

Bruce is dead. Joker is dead.

They've got work to do.

~~~

In this AU, Steph becomes Robin during Tim's recovery stage from JJ and after this incident. Tim takes a step back after helping Dick dismantle and hide Batman's body to consolidate Dick's position as Wayne heir, majority shareholder, and Batman. He works with Babs to aid Dick in these various transitions.

Lucius is the acting CEO, which takes a huge load off of Dick's shoulders.

Dick is obviously not doing fine about accidentally murdering his dad. At least he killed Joker too, though.

Tim's not doing great either, but it's fine. He eventually steps back into the cape. Steph and him like to play pranks on Gotham. They both vehemently deny that there's two Robins running around at the same time.

I don't think Alfred would stick around after they murdered and covered up the murder of Bruce :/ I wish he would, but maybe he takes a nice retirement in England.

Babs, Tim, and Dick are good at covering their tracks. There's rumors that the new Batman killed the old one, but there's also rumors that he eats people.

The LoA don't know who killed Bruce, but they know he's dead. Tim and Dick still grieve him (feelings are fun like that), so they aren't on the suspect list.

Red Hood shows up demanding answers.

Batman (Dick) confirms that he *will* put his family first. Always.