Where everything is Hallmark and Homos

Title: Trickster, Trickster, free me with your silver tongue
Characters: Clint Barton, Loki
Rating: PG-13?
Word Count: 781 
Summary: In which Clint lost faith in himself 

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Title: The Joy of Sexting
Pairing: Joy
Rating: M
Word Count: 1118

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Tim waits until the line goes dead before letting his smile drop. He sighs and the action seems to expel all the energy from him, his shoulders dropping. Tossing the cell on the bed he trudges down the stairs and into the living room where Dick and Jason are playing video games, the air thick with friendly competition. He watches the screen and waits for the match to be over before falling heavily over one of the arms of the couch and across their laps.

Jason tries to tickle his feet but he just kicks his hand away, making a soft noise as Dick cards his fingers through his hair.

“What’s up kiddo? Thought you were hanging out with Kon and Bart today?”

Tim shifts his knees up a little higher, curling up as he presses his face into Dick’s stomach. “Something came up, I guess. I don’t know, but they cancelled again. Shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”

“Assholes,” Jason quips, fingers mashing his controller. Tim smiles a little. Leave it to Jason.

“Drake.” The irritated tone is the only warning he gets before there’s a heavy weight suddenly on his back. “Your insufferable angst is palpable all the way upstairs. Some of us still have work to do.”

Tim rolls his eyes, shifting so Damian’s boney butt isn’t digging directly into his spine. “My bad, I forgot everything revolves around you.”

“Well, as long as you’re aware of your grievances. I’ll forgive you only if you take me out for ice cream. “

“Oh, how merciful,” Tim snorts, but secretly he’s thankful for something to do.

There’s a moment where everything is right. Dick’s hand is in his hair and Jason’s rubbing his ankle, both of them warm and open beneath him, willing to give anything. Tim could take and take and take and they would keep on giving without question. And there’s the faintest pressure of a hand between his shoulder blades, small and reassuring.

But then the moment is broken and Damian’s sliding off him and straightening his shirt, all business, and Tim wonders if he imagined the touch all together.

“Better be quick about it before I change my mind.”

Tim smiles up at him, lips curling in a soft, telling sort of expression. Damian’s sneer falters. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away—trying to ignore how blue Tim’s eyes are under his dark lashes—mumbling something about “…be in the car” and “don’t keep me waiting with your damn primping.”

Tim’s chuckle turns into a yelp as Jason smacks his ass and shoves him onto the floor, cackling as Tim glares. Dick pushes some cash into his hand with a bright smile, and Tim… Tim pushes Kon and Bart from his mind. Because this is good. This is all he really needs.

“Thanks.”

And there’s enough weight behind the words to sober Jason up. He nudges Tim with a foot and nods.

Title: Electrifying
Characters: Tim, one-sided DickTim 
Rating: NC-17/M/R take your pick.
Word Count: 1128
Warning/Kinks: Fingerstripes and Masturbation

Tim watches him, has always watched him. He’s his hero, his inspiration, his everything.  Tim would not be where he is now if it hadn’t have been for Dick.

Becoming part of the line of Robins has only fueled his obsession, escalating it, morphed it into something softer and more acceptable; adoration and affection and genuine longing. He’s so much closer than before, but somehow it’s only made Dick more inaccessible. Someone he can pull close, but never have. And it tears at him, burns deep and permanent.

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So remember that little piece I did where it was basically the robins just cuddling? Well apparently that’s a thing people liked, and restlessangel requested a movie night, so now it’s its own verse. 
 

* * * * *

“Absolutely not,” Damian snarls.

“Oh, come on, it’s Timmy’s turn to pick.”

“I will NOT watch something so childish as the Muppets.”

“Treasure Island is a classic,” Tim snaps back. “And besides, with the semester I just went through, I deserve to pick.”

Alfred brings in a tray of buttered popcorn (one bowl extra salted as Jason likes it) and mugs of hot chocolate, tailored to  each boy’s tastes.

“Please do not break the coffee table this time, young masters,” Alfred sniffs. And they have enough experience to know it’s more of a threat than it sounds.

“Of course, Alfred, they were just settling down,” Dick hints, giving both of his younger brothers a stern look as he sits beside Jason on the couch. Tim smiles triumphantly at Damian and pops the movie in before settling on Jason’s other side, legs curled up beneath him. Damian sits on the floor grudgingly, pillowed between Jason and Dick’s legs.

The lights dim automatically as the movie starts, the menu music filtering through the surround sound. Tim takes control of the remote and the opening credits cut begin to roll.

It’s dark and comfortable. Dick enjoys nights like these above all else, nights where they’re all together and there’s no emergency or drama to deal with. It’d be better if Bruce was there, but he has to work late and that’s okay too. Because for some reason their dynamic is different when no one’s watching. Damian stops trying to be the best, and Jason isn’t quite so razor-edged. Tim lets down his many-layered guard and fronts. And Dick loves it best when he gets his baby brothers, when he really gets them.

Tim half turns and scoots into a more comfortable position, stretching his legs into Jason’s lap. It’s a familiar routine and Jason merely lifts his popcorn before settling it back on Tim’s shins, the weight warm and relaxed. He absentmindedly rubs his thumb back and forth along the bone.

Dick tugs the blanket off the back of the couch and unfolds it over the three of them, mainly for Tim’s benefit. It’d been a Christmas gift from Clark many years ago. Tim snuggles down further and it’s not surprising when his eyes begin to droop.

Half way through the movie one of Tim’s legs slips off Jason’s lap to drape over Damian’s shoulder. The youngest tenses automatically, and scrunches his nose in irritation when he looks over his shoulder to complain. But he stops upon seeing that Tim is out cold; his chest rising and falling softly, and his face turned into the back of the couch, no longer pinched with worry like it had been the last few months. With only minimal grumbling he lets the foot remain, cautiously resting his head against the side of Tim’s leg.

~*~

The grandfather clock in the front hall is chiming a quarter past midnight when Bruce comes in. He leaves his things by the stairs before wandering into the TV room, finding Jason flipping through channels with only slight interest, the soft glow from the screen reflecting off the streak of white in his bangs. Bruce smiles softly because he’s practically buried under his brothers.

He quietly moves into the room and leans against the back of the couch, nudging Jason to get his attention.

“You’re home late.”

Bruce doesn’t know whether it’s a statement or an accusation. He lets it slide in favor of smoothing Tim’s hair out of his eyes. “You look rather cozy.”

Jason huffs, rolling his eyes. His arm is asleep where it’s curled behind Dick, who’s passed out into his shoulder. Tim’s leg and half his hips at this point are in his lap, and Damian’s fully leaning between his knees (he’d complained that Dick’s were too boney) with Tim’s other leg looped lightly in his grip, much like a child’s toy. It makes Jason warm and his chest a little tight; makes him tighten his arm around Dick and shift his legs so they’re almost a cradle. Because they’re the only family he’s got. Because they’re more than family, and it’s his job to protect them as best he can.

“Snug as a bug,” Jason mutters. But there’s more fondness than anything in his tone, and so Bruce merely ruffles his hair and stalks to the kitchen easily in the dim lighting. He would help Jay, but the boy is stubborn and would insist on handling his brothers on his own.

Tim’s eyes briefly cross, stubbornly refusing to focus. He sighs, which turns into a yawn, as he rubs them furiously. He can’t pass out, not now, not when there’s still so much to do.

His computer hums softly, the artificial glow throwing shadows around the dark room, ever diligent in the face of his exhaustion. But he sucks down the last of his very cold coffee and pushes on. He can’t stop yawning and his mind continues to wander fruitlessly. But he can’t…he can’t fall asleep when there’s….

A warm hand grips his shoulder and he jumps, heart lurching and slamming his knee into the bottom of his desk painfully. “Mother…” he hisses, half turning in his chair.

Dick rubs his shoulder. “You should really get some sleep. You can finish this in the morning, I’m sure.”

Tim shakes his head and goes back to his computer, fingers flying. “Can’t miss my deadline again…need to finish these reports and file those…” he trails off absentmindedly. His eyes are drooping and his breathing is thick and labored, like he’s about to drop at any moment. Tim is obviously far away already and Dick just laughs softly. Typical.

“I figured as much. Good thing I brought some muscle.” He looks up at Jason, who’s leaning in the open doorway, bright light spilling in from the hall behind him.

They share a warm expression.

Jason pads softly across the room and turns the monitor off before gathering Tim up in his arms. He’s still so light and Jason has no problem holding him tightly to his chest, unaffected by his half-hearted struggling.

“Come on, baby bird, you can’t stay up forever.” He crawls into bed with Tim, holding the covers open for Dick to slide in on Tim’s other side. Dick makes a happy sound and pulls Tim close, curling his body around him and nuzzling a kiss into the back of his head. Jason flops an arm over them both and curls his hand at Dick’s lower back. It’s warm and snug, just like a nest.

“There,” Jason says smugly, voice already rough with sleep. The low sound rumbles through Tim and he finds his mind shutting down without his consent. “Now you have to go to sleep.”

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Tim murmurs. But his eyes flutter, body relaxing as tense muscle melts into jelly.

The door creaks and Jason half twists, craning his neck over his shoulder. Damian glares from the doorway and huffs loudly. He pulls the door shut behind him and quickly crawls on the bed, forcibly wedging himself under Jason’s arm between him and Tim, wiggling so as to fit with his head under Jason’s chin. Damian mutters angrily about ‘some nerve’ and ‘as if you could just…’ and ‘reduced to such pathetic measures’. Dick chuckles, already half-asleep as he leans over Tim to kiss the tip of Damian’s nose. Damian sputters indignantly, but settles down soon enough.

Dick intertwines his free hand with Tim’s, and a smaller hand twists loosely in the front of his shirt. He doesn’t really know which legs belong to him anymore.

All is quiet and dark and warm. There are no deadlines. There’s just comforting bodies and warm breath washing over his face, rising and falling in sync with his heartbeat.

And Tim has never felt so loved. Never knew it could feel like this.

He falls asleep with a ball of light locked deep in his chest.

I REACHED 100 FOLLOWERS

So here, have something I’ve been thinking about starting for quite a while.

The archer sees him before he’s cleared the tree line. Because that’s what he does. That’s what he’s there for. He brings the bow up in one practiced move, graceful and flawless. Steady. Draw back the string, arrow already notched. Deep breath.

Fumble the arrow, the smooth exhale coming out in a harsh cough.

The armor glitters black in the sunlight, just like a young man boasted all those years ago. The red insignia on the chest plate is stark and angry, too fresh, like a wound. His massive stallion, dark as ink, drags a decaying dragon’s head through the grass as if it weighed little more than a lamb.

Up in the gate towers the guards are scrambling, unsure what they’re supposed to do. The Crimson Knight wasn’t supposed to return. He’d been exiled, a mere boy of fourteen, knighted too soon. Not long after his wrathful departure came word of his death. All ten years past.

The archer was the first to see him, and yet his heart is still in his throat, fingers digging into the warm dirt between the stones.

The Crimson Knight stops at the gate and removes his helmet, shaking out his slightly longer hair with a cruel grin. There’s a streak of white that was never there before, but doesn’t seem so out of place, reflecting the bright sunshine. The archer wonders what could’ve happened, how horrific an event had to be, to cause such a thing.

And even though it’s been so long, the look and demeanor is so painfully him that the archer can’t breathe. 

The knight calls up to the guards and after a few uncomfortable minutes, shifting on his steed as he grows too hot in the heavy armor, the gate lowers and he parades through. His prize gathers a crowd and it’s tangible how his ego swells, the arrogant tilt to his head all too familiar.

High atop the castle wall, bow hanging from his slack grip, Roy saw him first—both now and when it all began. Yet Sir Jason Todd does not once look up. And so he has no choice but to follow, just as it’s always been.

 * * * 

Sir Jason presents his gift to the High King Kal-El; bowing so low it seems a mockery. The High King masks his appall better than Sir Bruce the Knight Master, and anxious whispers spread like wildfire amongst the court.

A miracle.

A trick.

Witchcraft.

Jason is dismissed and when he turns he finally spots Roy, leaning against a pillar on the fringe of the buzzing crowd. But Roy’s pleased and relieved grin dies out, something tight and cold taking root in his chest.

Because there is no recognition to be found in Jason’s eyes.

Title: Apocalypse
Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 782
Summary: [RP Verse] It hits Damian like a Batarang, because no, no, no, this is NOT happening! (Okay, so maybe it’s not THAT drastic, but Damian is sure this is all Drake the Harlot’s fault, which in itself is a complete disaster).  

Direct follow-up to Kitt’s Leather Gloves.

Can’t stop, won’t stop.

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Title: Satisfaction
Pairing: DamianTim
Rating: Ava tells me this is at least T
Word Count: 1,455 

Pornish Sequel to To Woo A Bird, for Thren. Because I got to see the new haircut. 

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This is all kittgriffen’s fault, companion fic to “Leather Gloves”. Our damn rp is too inspiring for it’s own good. Also it’s shameless Robincest

Title: Pride
Character: Damian Wayne
Words:430
Rating: PG

Everything Damian does is for Gotham.

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Title: Breaking Point
Rating: G
Character: Tim Drake
Words: 536
Summary: Despite the collective belief, Timothy Drake is not a machine. There’s only so much he can handle, so much he can take, before he snaps.  

He feels sick with the stress, coiling and building in his stomach, constricting around his lungs.

He’s going to pass out.

His thoughts race a hundred miles an hour, but in the same way they go nowhere at all and he can’t think; stability and sense flitting just out his reach.

He’s this close to screaming.

He can’t remember the last time he’s slept more than three hours; or eaten solid food. There may have been a doughnut at one point, but he’s basically running on coffee alone. His brain feels fried, body full to the brim with too much pent up energy and stress.

His door slams open and he barely registers it before Dick is on his knees in front of him, holding his face and shushing him. Suddenly Tim realizes he must have been screaming after all, and he doesn’t know when his cheeks became wet. He tries to speak, but can’t, emotion balled up in his throat. He gasps and Dick seems to get the point.

Dragging Tim up to his feet, Dick lets the younger boy cling to him —fingers frantically twisting in the front of his shirt—as they move out onto the balcony. The night air is crisp and clear, easing Tim’s shallow breathing a bit. Dick sits against the wall, the concrete cold enough to seep through his jeans, and gathers Tim down into his lap. Holding him tightly and rocking slowly. Murmuring soothing nonsense and gently combing through his damp hair.

Tim doesn’t know how long he’s been shaking, but he can’t stop. He feels like he’ll never be able to.

Damian stops at the open door. Hesitant. Almost surprised. Like he wants to help, but doesn’t know how. He settles for running to get Alfred, his bare feet pounding down the hall. Alfred will know what to do. Alfred always knows what to do.

It’s not too long before the butler comes with a full tray, Damian trailing behind him. Curious. As if seeing a new side of Tim. As if it makes everything else make a little more sense. It is he who hands Tim the glass of water. He keeps his judgmental quips to himself, but Tim still presses into Dick, wary. Like he wouldn’t be able to handle any of Damian’s verbal abuse; already doesn’t know how he’s going to pick himself back up from this.

For a moment Damian seems hurt.

Dick thanks them quietly before waving them away. He watches carefully as Tim sips the water, forcing him to eat a bit of the sandwich and fruit Alfred brought. Slowly Tim’s heart evens out; his hands stop shaking and regaining some color.  

His eyes grow heavy and although he says nothing, Dick tucks him under his chin, resuming his therapeutic petting and humming a Romanian lullaby softly.

As he drifts off, Tim realizes how tired he really is. He doesn’t want to deal with the responsibility of their lifestyle anymore. He doesn’t want to fix everyone else’s problems. He doesn’t want to live under the high expectations, doesn’t want to have to be perfect all the time.

He just wants to fall asleep and never wake up.

Here’s 410 words of pure Timmy smut. I’m pretty sure I got everyone included one way or another… >_>

Love you guys <3 

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Title: To Woo A Bird
Rating: G
Pairing: DamianTim
Word Count: 675
Summary: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, a very confused Tim, and an awkward Damian because he doesn’t know how these things work. 

Happy Valentines Day, Thren. If you would prefer porn, I can make that happen too. Loves~

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