#now Jaytim won

[familymeansnoonegetsleftbehind]

#just wanted to say #ty guys for interacting <3 #I’m excited to see what ship wins everyday #now Jaytim won #I’m calling it early bc I started yesterdays poll a little late #and I don’t want to start all the other polls late #I don’t see the winner changing but I’ll change this if remrom wins #btw #absolutely loved my fellow remrom shippers #banding together #great to see #proship #proshipping #problematic shipping #proshipper #pro shipping #proship safespace #<3 #ship and let ship #anti anti #proship positivity #proship safe #proshippers please interact #problematic ship tournament #ferriswheelshipping #snufmin #Hilda x N #snufkin x moomin #stupid that I can’t edit posts on a side blog #at least not on mobile :(

[redjaybathood]

(am I writing jaytim (?) dick killed joker au after yesterday? yeah and what about it)

Jason never liked the "come back wrong" trope. He feels vindicated, now, walking the streets of his hometown and not recognizing anything at all.

He didn't come back wrong. It was everything else that turned topsy-turvy.

Even this one thing he wanted more than anything else - Joker being six feet under - was messed up. Nightwing was the one who did it. And while he didn't turn himself in, he didn't stick around either. Dick Grayson turned his badge in, leaving Bludhaven PD the same nightmare of corruption and institutional racism, and was globe-hopping with Arsenal (who lost his daughter, and even a chance of getting revenge, seeing as Oliver Queen shot the bastard and was awaiting trial, currently) and Starfire (Jason wasn't sure what that was about). 

And Bruce, he got himself a new Robin. But it alone wasn't what made him feel sick.

With Joker being long gone before Jason finished his training with All-Caste, with Gotham being raised to the ground and rebuilt again, now with cheap materials in even poorer neighborhoods, boondocks; while fancier districts like Fashion, or West End, had historical landmarks erased, and the stupid ceiling-to-floor windows of business centers and shopping malls came into being instead. Come on, this is just a trauma due to a shockwave from an explosion nearby, waiting to happen! And these monuments to corporate greed served the community none, taking up valuable public space.

But most importantly, people.

Yeah, Joker was gone. But, as he traced the information by reports, official and not so much, of what happened during No Man's Land (how did it happen? How did it happen?)... Gangs got much more power than before. That time when the only way you could survive was being in a gang, with a top honcho telling you what to do, or you would literally starve... It changed Gothamites for the worse. It didn't help that companies like Luthorcorp were "helping" with rebuilding efforts, pocketing much of the city relief fund and taking contracts from local enterprises. Didn't help that freaks like Two-Face, Penguin, and Scarface, who stayed in Gotham, got more power after they stuck it out. Mafias were weaker, sure. Street-level gangs wised up.

It all made Jason want to go mad. Except that wasn't a luxury he could afford now.

See, along with the intel gathering, one of the first things Jason had done after getting into Gotham was check on his old connections. Not Batman - he knew about Robin, and he was yet to decide what he wanted to do about it. He was putting off any confrontation before that.

But his friends - people he mostly left behind after Bruce picked him up.

And, see, here's the thing. While he was still alive, he kept tabs on them. He knew when Harlowes moved to a new house. He was able to sneak Max some money - he didn't even ask Bruce for it. Won in a poker game with Two-Face, at some point before he found out he killed Willis. He was worried about Numbers' decision to apply to military school, so asked Bruce to find a good one, if there was such a thing. He ran a background check on Gabbie's fiance and warned her anonymously about him scamming his past girlfriends. After Chris, Jason asked Bruce about setting up a fund to help with legal representation for youthful offenders.

It wasn't much. They, Max said once, would rather have him there, with them. Not with them, with them, living in the slums. They knew he was better off living conditions-wise being off the streets than on them. But just like, hanging out. Talking to them for more than 5 minutes when he dropped something off - it felt like charity, like he was buying off his guilty conscience that he didn’t want to be seen with them anymore.

Yeah, but Jason could not be in three places at once. And if Robin was his job, and Jason Wayne was his cover for said job, Jason Todd had to give way. Every time.

Until there was nothing more to give.

But even after his death, Gotham still took from him.

The worst thing, the thing he didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself, was Max Dawkins. Dead at seventeen. Few weeks before Jason came back home. At the time Jason probably was still doing katas, or kissing Essence under a three-thousands years old tree that was vaguely related to sycamores, now. Or was training his vision to focus on the future with his right eye and the past with his left. 

Point is, Jason doesn't even know and will never know, and it doesn't even matter, because Max won't be any less dead.

Overdose, can you believe that? Max didn't even sniff glue when they were both young and stupid. They want to believe he would go hard on speed after receiving acceptance letter with full ride scholarship for GCU? He wanted to drag the cops who closed the file on Max as soon as the medical examiner sewed him back, onto the street, behind the dumpster his body was left behind, and...

He stopped that trail of thought. Fumbled for the phone. Opened BetterMe Mental Health app. Grief, his plan for today said.

He put the headphones in.

Three minutes later, he stood up straight and cracked his neck this side and that. What he loved about this app was, unlike with Ducra, it was a really low-commitment, no risk of being thrown out of his own body on astral plane, meditation. It wasn't a panacea, but it helped. He wasn't throwing things around, he wasn't screaming at no one, he wasn't crying. He was breathing evenly. He was thinking straight.

The report he stole said the body was in the morgue, still. Unclaimed. The autopsy was obviously a hack job, with inconsistencies showing how little the ME cared about a dead guy nobody will come to claim. It's not like he will get an opportunity to recommend a respectable funeral home to make sure your loved ones were comfortable on their last journey - and that the ME gets his kickback. Now, though, this guy will find out what a real kick in the back feels like.

No. He can't make noise.

He got Talia to agree to reinstate him among the living, legally-speaking (done thanks to her contacts in Qurac councilship), and then take her last name.

It was the most 'fuck you, Bruce' way for Jason to return to the States. He was alive again, and Bruce had no idea, and he wouldn't, because Jason Head nee Todd wasn't his in any way. Anymore. But if he wanted to keep it from Bruce without going fake identity for the rest of his life, he needed to be low-key.

So. Jason Head went to the city morgue as himself - but also a third cousin twice removed of Maximillian Dawkins' maternal aunt. Which, actually, was the truth. There was a reason Max was tasked by his grandma to hang out with him from time to time when things went rough at home. That, and Catherine never liked Chris.

Good judgment, if only she could apply it to Willis as well.

He waved a couple of hundred dollars bills around. Said he wanted to take Max to bury him - but he also wanted to find out what actually happened. And couldn't they redo the autopsy? 

They could, agreed the guy. He even allowed Jason to be present.

Downstairs, they almost ran into a girl. Despite the poor lighting, Jason didn't plan to take off his sunglasses, hat, or a jacket that added bulk to his shoulders, not until he needed to put on a white suit and protective mask, glasses and gloves. He still managed to see the way her makeup was a touch overdone, didn't mash with the brand clothes she was wearing, and the hair, he was pretty sure, was a wig.

He noted the name and the bullshit excuse the girl gave, and stopped trying to supress his irritation and impatience.

The girl gave him a once-over too. Asked why he was there. Jason told the truth: he was here for his nephew, preparing for the burial.

"Why not during working hours?"

"Because I work during working hours," Jason explained to her. "Nobody is going to give me a day off, doesn't matter if I'm his only family."

"Capitalism," the girl sighed.

Jason huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, I don't think I would have paid leave for this somewhere like China or North Korea. It's funny but the exploitation of the working class doesn't stop regardless of what fancy words they use to keep the sheep complacent."

"Are you an anarchist?" The girl eyed him warily and even moved a bit back, almost dropping into a defensive stance.

"What I am is tired and have a long to-do list, ma'am." He stepped closer to the opposite wall and motioned for her to go on.

She caught herself not quite finished mouthing off "ma'am" and finally, thankfully, left. Jason looked at her gait, slightly swaying on way too high heels (in Jason's estimate, anyway; he would never be able to walk a step in them).

"Are all of your doctors so..." He said when he caught the ME looking at her as well.

He didn't like that gaze.

"Fine?"

"Rude."

#jason todd #my fics #dick killed joker au #max honey i am so sorry for fridging you again you deserve better

[elareine]

ooh if you're still taking prompts & feeling up to it, it'd be fun to see jaytim where Tim wrongly assumes that Jason is the hypersexual bad boy type. he's got the vibe! his banter sounds exactly like flirting!! Meanwhile Jason's had little to no romantic experience and is pretty sure if anyone's the bad boy here it's Tim, who's been in plenty of well-publicized relationships. As their relationship moves in a romantic direction, they are both *very* confused.

Very fun, indeed! Hope you don’t mind that some RoyDick crept on here...

When Tim first came to Dick for advice, he was honored. He tries to remember that feeling. 

“—he’s like, a total bad boy, right?” Tim asks in a line that Dick cannot believe he’s hearing in real life. What does “bad boy” even mean? Jason is a literature nerd who sometimes kills people. 

“Right,” is what he says out loud. 

“And he always flirts with everyone! How am I supposed to know if it’s special for me?” Tim’s pacing up and down the cave. 

Dick has never seen Jason being particularly flirty, but, again, he’s trying to be supportive here. “Maybe you need to look at other things.” 

“Like what?” 

“His actions. Does he do anything to show you that he cares?” 

Tim stops. “He did bring me food that one time.” 

Yes. Dick knows. Tim didn’t shut up about it for five whole days. “Yes,” he says encouragingly. “And doesn’t he make you tea, too?” 

“Every night.” There’s a small smile on Tim’s face. “’Cause I get cold.” 

“See. The best I get is a snide comment about dress code,” Dick chuckles. “He cares about you, and in a different way than about the rest of us.”  

“Okay.” Tim takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’m gonna ask him out.” 

Atta, boy. 

—

Roy loves his best friend. He does. However: “Please tell me what’s making you so nervous, or I will be forced to stab you.” 

Jason throws him a look of pure exasperation. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Nope. You’ve been crushing on Tim for months.” It’s so cute how his Jaybird blushes at that simple statement of fact. “And now you’re going on a date with him. What’s the problem?” 

“All of it.” Jason throws up his hands. “According to media reports, he’s had at least four girlfriends—not to mention the rumors about that Kent boy—“ 

“According to media reports, Dick is straight,” Roy mutters. 

Jason ignores him to wail: “—and they’re all gorgeous.” 

“So are you,” Roy points out loyally. “And anyway, he asked you out, right? So he must want to be there with you.” 

“You think so?” The hope in Jason’s eyes hurt just a little bit to see. Man, his friend really had it bad. Roy could feel his anger vanish. 

“Yeah, Jaybird. It’ll be just fine, you’ll see.” 

—

“So how many dates have they now been on, exactly?” 

Dick grunts. “Seventeen and a half.” At Roy’s glance, he adds: “Tim says that one dinner doesn’t count because it was interrupted by ninjas.” 

“Seventeen and a half dates,” Roy repeats, “and they still think the other isn’t that into them?” 

Dick sighs and nuzzles against Roy’s shoulder. So far, they’ve done their best to keep those two disasters out of their bedroom (loyalty and all that), but… desperate times… “Tim thinks Jason is some kind of smooth bad boy who would totally whisk him away to his den of sin if he was actually into him.” 

“Smooth.” Roy sounds disgusted. “That man wouldn’t know smooth if he was on ice.” 

“Says the man who asked me out with a ‘what about it, birdie?’” 

“See, you say that, but you’re still in my bed, so… who won, here?” Roy drops a kiss into his hair. “Anyway. If it’s any help, Jaybird is convinced that Tim is the one with all the romantic experience, so…” 

“Nah, 90% of that is fake,” Dick mumbles absently. Then he sits up. “Wait. Are you saying this is Jason’s first relationship, too?” 

Roy abruptly feels a little bit bad for ratting his friend out like that. On the other hand, he’d really like not to listen to soliloquies about Tim’s eyes anymore. “Oh, yeah. I’ve never seen him so gone on someone before.” He pauses. “Too?” 

“Yeah, Tim has no idea what he’s doing.” Dick groans. “This is never gonna resolve, is it?” 

“Maybe work something like ‘Jay is totally a shy dork who acts tough, so you should kiss him’ into your next conversation,” Roy suggests.

In response, Dick looks more thoughtful than the suggestion really deserves. “You know… I think Tim knows that about Jason. All he ever gushes about is how smart Jason is and how thoughtful and awkward and—well, Tim thinks he’s hot, too, but. He doesn’t have any illusions, I think.” 

“Oh, good, cause Jay thinks Tim is like, the best guy to ever live, which, you know, he’s clearly wrong—“Roy gives Dick a significant look and is rewarded by a slight blush. “—and also he keeps on going on about how funny and nerdy he is. So.” 

Dick groans. “God, they’re cute.” 

As if on cue, Dick’s phone buzzes. He glances over, just to see it’s from Tim. Oh, speaking of the devil. 

“Let me check—“Just as Dick reaches out to check the content, Roy’s phone starts ringing up a storm. 

The redhead mouths “Jay” as he takes the call and puts it on speaker. 

“Roy,” Jason says, “I think I fucked up.” 

With a feeling of dread, Dick checks the text. 

HELP I kissed him and he ran

Oh, goddammit.

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.)

#elareine writes #jaytim #roydick #scheduled post

[aceofshitposts]

another shortish drabble that’s sort of part of a bigger thing but i’ve already got my fingers in too many pies. I also keep posting things to the wrong damn blog so there’s that. Anywho this has a follow up I’m planning on posting for jaytim week but both of them could be read separately lol. It’s more pining Jay cuz I’m predictable as fuck but now featuring special guests: Stephanie and Cass.

ALSO! my inbox is open for sentence/dialogue prompts! I use them as warmups if anyone’s interested :)

-

Stephanie’s apartment is your average, shitty Gotham affair. The kitchen is jammed into the corner right beside the front door and the living room crowded with a couch and coffee table that is currently pushed against the sliding glass door of her equally shitty balcony. Jason knows Tim has tried several times to get her to move, somewhere with less cracks in the wall and a more reliable water heater at least; but Jason and Stephanie are cut from the same cloth and he knows that no matter how much Tim may pester her she will stay here out of pure spite until she damn well decides otherwise herself.

Despite the ramshackle appearance, the apartment is currently crowded with laughter as Tim spins Stephanie around the cleared space of the living room, Cass randomly picking music for them to dance to from the spot she’s curled up on on the couch. Jason opens the oven, thankfully cooperating compared to the last time he’d been here to try and make a cake, and removes the chicken lasagna Stephanie had begged him to make hours before.

“Don’t you dare dip me!” Stephanie shrieks over the sound of Tim’s slightly manic laughter as he pushes forward into her space, obviously intending to dip her.

There’s a loud THUD that shakes the floor as Stephanie flails and Tim loses his balance, landing them in a pile of limbs on the floor. Jason imagines if Stephanie’s lower neighbor is home they’ll be hearing about this soon.

“I told you not to dip me, dingus!”

“I wouldn’t have dropped you if you didn’t go dead weight like a stone!”

Cass turns her head to look at Jason, Tim and Steph still laughing on the floor, and says, “children,” in a tone that is both endearing and bone tired.

Jason leans over the kitchen counter, putting his weight on his forearms as he watches Tim and Steph begin to wrestle on the floor; arguing over who could dip who and whether they should test this theory at the next gala Bruce drags them too. Tim might know how to do a passable box step but Jason knows Stephanie would just step on his toes, maybe even on accident, if they attempted a dance. Jason hasn’t been to one of those fancy parties in years, being legally dead will do that to you, but part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind trying to dip Tim.

Just to see the expression on Bruce’s face, of course.

It’s hard, sometimes, when everything feels as easy as breathing to remember the road that lead here. Jason doesn’t want to forget, eyes drawn to scars he remembers tracing on previously blank skin on Tim, it feels irresponsible. The way they’ve all managed to match their broken edges and stitch themselves back together is nothing short of some kind of miracle, the peace they feel now was hard fought for and won and sometimes they still snag on each other’s barbs. Tim spent so long closed off from all of them, no thanks to some of Jason’s own actions. Seeing him now (they’ve stopped wrestling and are instead pressed shoulder to ankle  on the floor with their heads ducked under the coffee table, talking in hushed but no less giggly tones) feels like something Jason shouldn’t be allowed to be here for.

It wouldn’t be the first time he withdrew in a panic, feeling like the walls were closing in and the ceiling was about to drop. Out of everyone in this room, Jason knows he’s the biggest threat; the one least deserving of the peace they find themselves. Least deserving of Stephanie pestering him until he agrees to come to her shitty apartment and make homemade lasagna, the way Cass won’t take no for an answer when she decides they’re going to play rooftop tag after patrol, how Tim smiled when Jason had walked through the door with an armload of groceries.

They’re all misfits in their own ways. Even if things are smoothing out with the rest of the family, the four of them have carved out their own irreplaceable spots in each other’s lives. He might not deserve it but Jason knows now that each one would drag him back kicking and screaming if he tried to run. Tim had, quite literally, had to beat the idea that he’d long since forgiven Jason into him at one point. Sometimes he still rolls his eyes and punches Jason in the shoulder, seemingly having developed a sixth sense for Jason’s personal pity parties.

“You’re soft,” Cass says, apparently having moved from the couch to stand next to Jason in the kitchen like a fucking ninja. Jason is not ashamed to admit he jumps.

His eyes slide from Cass back to where Tim is lying on the floor with Steph and back again. Stephanie cackles and Tim sputters something incomprehensible in response, shoving her shoulder in an argument Jason can’t quite hear.

“When you look at him,” Cass clarifies because he definitely needs it.

“Uuuh,” Jason says eloquently, eyes roving around the ceiling (is that mold? He should let Stephanie know so she can tell the landlord), desperately searching for the exit to this conversation. He clears his throat, remembering the cooling lasagna resting on the stovetop, and raises his voice, “food’s ready!”

Cass gives him a look, the one of a deeply disappointed sibling. It’s a look Jason knows well. Tim and Stephanie are getting up, Tim punching her again in the shoulder and saying something Jason can’t hear over the pounding rush of blood in his ears as Tim finally looks towards the kitchen and grins directly at Jason. It’s a good thing he was leaning on the counter because Jason thinks his knees went a little weak.

“Don’t worry,” Cass says, voice firm but quiet, knocking her shoulders in his, “he’s soft looking at you, too.”

#jaytim #jaytim fanfiction #jason todd #tim drake #astrix writes #i posted this to my main by accident and lost all the after thought tags i put :') #just know it was about bruce being an idiot which is hilariously out of context now #my favourite part of this one is jason trying to find the exit conversation button #which is a mood i know well from customer service

[bionerd2point0]

Congratulations on your milestone! \o/ Might I request something involving JayTim and SPACE?

Thank you so much Mandy!!!! I had to think about this one for a minute, cuz I love sci-fi stuff but it’s something I struggle with when it comes to writing AUs (my brain likes the canon too much lol), so have a Star Wars AU!

-

Jason stared at the kid sitting across from him. He didn’t have much moral ground to stand on, but the kid couldn’t be more than fifteen and this was the seediest bar on Malastare. “You need to go where?”

“Klatooine.”

“Why the hell do you need to go to Klatooine?” His knowledge of Klatooine was a bit rusty, but he knew it wasn’t the kind of place a kid went by themselves. “Where’s your parents? I don’t have time for this, kid.” 

He moved to get up, but the kid pushed him back with a surprisingly firm hand. 

“I’m eighteen, I don’t have parents, and I’ll be paying you to not ask any more questions.” The kid dropped a handful of credits on the table, more than three times what Jason would normally charge for ferrying people around. Credits were losing their value now that the war was over, but this was still excessive.

“What’s your name?” He wasn’t agreeing to anything yet, but the kid sat down with a pleasant smile like he’d already won.

“I’m Tim.”

Jason would look back on this later as the point of no turning back.

- [insert several months of accidental adventuring and bonding as Tim never actually makes it to Klatooine, and instead ends up planet hopping with Jason as they fly circles around the Empire]

It had been bound to happen. They’d been touch and go with a couple different bounty hunters over the past few months, and it had only been a matter of time before they were noticed. 

He still didn’t know why the Empire wanted Tim so damn bad, maybe it had to do with the faraway look he got right before he guided Jason out of almost certain peril, or the way he flat out refused to talk about anything from his past. Either way, when they finally caught up, Jason had not been expecting fekking Ubu to be the one to corner them. 

Emperror al Ghul’s right hand scowled at them from across the hanger, a platoon of troopers fanning out behind him with blasters drawn. 

“Any ideas, bird brain? Cuz we could really use ‘em.”

When Tim didn’t respond, Jason glanced over. He did not like the solemn resignation of Tim’s face.

“None of that now, give me one of those genius ideas!” Jason flicked his blasters from stun to kill. These guys weren’t here to play games.

Tim looked at him, smiling sadly. “Get back to the ship. I can hold them off, give you enough time to escape.”

“Oh, hell no!�� Jason firmed up his stance, he should have known Tim would suggest something stupidly self-sacrificing. “I ain’t going anywhere without you.”

“They’re after me, Jason. Not you! You can go live your life, but they will never stop chasing me. What kind of life is that?”

Jason pursed his lips into a thin line and lined up his shot. “It’s a life worth living, and I’m gonna fight for it.”

He could feel Tim staring at the side of his head, feel the moment when Tim decided to fight, to really fight, too. 

“Let’s kick some bucketbrains ass.”

 There was a snap-hiss, and Jason was illuminated by golden-yellow light. The source was the Jedi laser-sword in Tim’s hand, and suddenly things made a lot more sense.

Tim smiled grimly, shifting into a defensive position. “Let’s.”

[and then they kick ass and win by the skin of their teeth and kiss as everything blows up behind them. The End!]

#jason todd #jaytim #tim drake #bio writes #star wars AU #SPACE #Promptathon #jedi Tim #smuggler Jason

[dcomicsficrecs]

Can you recommend the angstiest Jason-centric fics you know? I want to cry.

Do I ever. So here’s my top-5 Jason Todd Angst fics that made me cry, and will make you too:

1. Zoology series by jerseydevious

Weird things happen, when Batman's your dad and Batman's not alright.

The series is incomplete but you can read the first one without fear, it’s great as it is on its own. Though the second one packs a mightier punch but, sadly, is not yet finished.

I love author’s portrayal of complicated familial relationships where no one is right or wrong but everyone struggles.

2. No Way Out by d_aia                

It’s almost dawn. The city is as peaceful as it gets, preparing for a new day. Earlier they had to deal with Black Mask’s dealers moving in on Red Hood’s territory, but the whole thing ended before they got there. Unsurprisingly, Jay’s people won and they apparently did without him. He must have been busy with something else, which could be bad, good, or both.

“Nightwing, there’s an explosion at the Gotham harbor,” Babs reports. “Sending you the coordinates… now.”

* Dick's week is about to be derailed.

It’s not the most popular work of this author, and while I appreciate their other fics as well, I honestly don’t know why not - it literally made me cry, every time I read it.

3.The Bargain by glymr, iesika

Wayne is sitting there staring at him, his thick, scarred legs and his huge fucking chest not hidden at all by a flimsy silk robe.

Jason swallows, and then he just stands there getting stared at until he wants to scream.

It’s not what the summary would make you think, okay? It’s a part of the larger series, Kings Among Runaways. But this one made me cry, not because something awful happens between Bruce and Jason, but because how Jason is, as a character, where he’s at this point of this story, what’s he’s ready to do.

Fair warning, it’s a No-Batfam jaytim AU, with underage relationships depicted and alluded to so check tags and warnings, and use your discretion.

4. Little Absences by MoonySideDown 

There's an empty seat straight across from him. A seat where a little boy used to perch each morning, wolfing down his breakfast like someone was about to take it from him. He would poke at his food with his fork and tell Bruce about whatever he was studying in school, or what book he was reading.

    A gaping hole sits in front of his face. A bleeding wound in his life where his second son used to be.

    Good morning, B.

The summary sets the reader’s expectations perfectly, imo.

5) Scheherazade by Cerusee

Alfred angles himself so he can stir the diced pancetta, sizzling away in the pan, and watch Jason at the same time.  “You’ve never shared the particulars of your…missing years.”

"Yeah.”  The rhythmic thunk thunk of the knife against the wood falters. “The missing years."

"I wish you would.”

Or, the one where Alfred drags the tale of Jason’s death and resurrection out of him piece by horrifying piece.

It’s a very powerful retelling of the Lost Days. It will make you sad even if you’re ambivalent toward that era of Jason’s life.

Please note that every author on this list is a really good one, and I would recommend going through all of their fics. Those mentioned above are just the ones I have proof I cried while reading.

#Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Dick Grayson #Batfam

[drabblemeister]

Viking AU | the Red Hunter

Pairing: JayTim Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @tanekore​!!! I know you’ve been pining for more Viking AU and so I fell into an idea for a continuation to that first part that...I think only you and I have ever seen, LOL. I hope that you like this and that you have an absolutely wonderful day and that this helps feed your creative fire! <3 More Notes: For everyone else reading, all that needs to really be known is that Tim is on the run, under the impression that Bruce (and Dick and Damian respectively) think he is responsible for a death that seems to have Clan Drake written all over it. Since they’ve all taken a vow to not kill...well, this spells betrayal. ___

The stream frothed at the edges, the runoff catching against twigs and leaves and mulch. Songbirds exchanged staccato beats of warning, and Tim, swallowing against a lump in his throat, kept moving.

The water was freezing. It had flooded his boots hours ago, icy and searing, turning his feet and calves numb – but there could be hounds behind him and this was the only way to throw their scent. He wondered how far they’d chase him. How far he’d have to run.

How many hours has it been? It was past midday and the netted canopy of tree branches held him hostage from the sun. His skin felt cold, damp with sweat. He’d nicked himself on thorn-brush somewhere along the way, and the skin on his forearm itched.

How much longer can I keep going?

He knew the answer.

His lungs burned. His muscles ached. The blood-rush had long left him, and now, as he staggered about in the wild, legs sloshing against a freshwater flow, he found his thoughts fraying.

Where am I going to go?

It was a cold, dark thought.

He didn’t have anywhere to go. Ahead, there was forest. Trees, streams, and the Red Lake – which was dangerous. He wouldn’t be protected there; he wouldn’t be known. They’d take away his name – make him fight, like the bloodthirsty animals they were. Tim’s stomach curled.

And then he froze, his world-sense driving him to a halt as soon as he heard it – a long whistle, high-pitched and singing, just before contacting with a tree with a studded thud.

“Arrow…” Tim whispered, heart jackhammering. His head whirled as he searched for the source. For an archer. For anything. At the same time, his thoughts shifted a mile a minute. There shouldn’t be anyone here; it was the Midland, unless he’d followed the wrong stream, unless he was lost.

He felt hot. Above him, the birds had quieted. Tim felt the smallest threads of panic unwind because it was a saturating silence, one that weighed heavy, made his throat feel dry – and he was itching at his arm again, it was so red—

“Oi!” A voice, loud.

Tim snapped towards it. It sent the forest into chaos – a wild goose burst from the hedges, squawking and desperate. Another arrow sang loud enough that Tim squinted his eyes closed, a deafening ring in his ear. It had missed him by inches.

Another thud, as the arrow pegged a tree behind him, and then Tim’s eyes were open – then wide when he and the marksman met eyes.

Red paint, Tim thought. It was smeared across the other’s eyes, like a mask, and contrasted the deep black of the leather sheathing his chest, though the center bore the blood red crest of Red Lake – a scarlet bird taking flight.

Tim took a step backwards. He wasn’t sure how he looked, young and alone, dressed in western furs. The only ink he had was on his back, hidden from sight – not that it would mean anything to a Red, anyway.

They were Drake markings, and since that particular clan, save Tim, had perished – well, few people knew what the art actually meant.

Raising his hands, enough to show he had no weapon, Tim said, “I just wish to pass through.” His throat felt raw and his words came out scraped.

The stranger, not twenty paces away, shifted on his feet, half shrouded by shadow. He was tall, thick-shouldered, drawn with angles that spelled warrior. His hair had been shaved above his ears and the top, long grown, had been swept back into braids, woven with cherry-red string.

When he didn’t reply, Tim tried again, in Norseman tongue. It had been a while since he’d practiced these words, and his lips stumbled through – only, to be interrupted.

“Stop talking.”

Tim did. He tried to think, but his thoughts slipped from sharp to muddled, so much that he had to force himself to focus. He blinked. Licked his lips. Tried not to waver on his feet, though the stream water felt faster now – colder.

He’d seen the stranger come forward, and even though it had been slowly, and with intent, the approach happened quickly. It would have been silly to move, to try and leave. There was no place to go, and aside from that – the man had a bow. A longbow, Tim noted, absently, and at least ten daggers of varying sizes on his belt.

Tim had nothing.

When the Red used the corner of his bow to prod Tim’s furs out of the way, he learned as much. It was fear that pooled in Tim’s gut, paired with a numb feeling as he suddenly felt sluggish instead of alert.

Why did he ache this badly?

His arm felt like fire. Had he touched poison…?

Out of patience with being assessed, Tim lifted his eyes to meet the other’s. “Let me pass,” he said, urging cooler notes into his words. They worked on Dick, most times, when Tim wanted something.

This stranger, however, simply thought it was funny. Up close, Tim guessed they were of an age, which reminded him how much Drake he had in him; it felt like standing next to Bruce, overwhelmed by both stature and presence. His family had never been known as warriors, but they had the sight, and had been graced with cutting, blue eyes that sought to duplicate the colors of the sky.

The man dropped a hand and drew a blade, slow and with meaning. It made Tim remember all the things he’d heard about the Red Lake in one big sweeping rush – Bruce’s warnings that they never hesitated to kill, that they played games, that it made the hunt more fun.

So Tim stood stock-still as the blade twirled expertly between calloused fingers, surprised but unwilling to show it when the dagger was eventually handed to him.

“If you want something from me,” the Red stated, standing languidly at the edge of the stream, “earn it.”

Tim understood now. He was going to have to fight his way out. He was being given an opportunity – but also was at a handicap, legs aching and fevered as the rash on his arm had finally gotten into his bloodstream, and tch, because that meant he didn’t have time for this.

But, if anything, he was decent at compartmentalizing. To an extent, at least. He accepted the dagger and took a few steps forward, meeting the other along the shoreline, keeping his composure somehow, hiding his weaknesses, like he’d been taught, behind a straightened stance and narrowed eyes.

“If I defeat you, you’ll let me pass?” he asked, seeking and agreement.

The Red, with his dark hair and dark eyes, and darker, sun-drenched skin, offered a smirk. “Sure.”

In terms of small victories, Tim appreciated that the man didn’t think he could fight. Too little was said for the element of surprise, and Tim had won a fair share of sparring matches by pretending to be less than he was. This wasn’t quite the same, he knew – because  no one picked fights against this particular tribe; they cheated, and didn’t have rules.

The dagger was well balanced, the handle of the leather worn. Tim considered another disadvantage: he couldn’t kill.

Focus, Tim thought, and he breathed in, centered himself, struggled to think of strategy and strategy alone. His vision spotted when he felt a flash of heat burn at the back of his neck, up through his temples and forehead. His legs felt heavy, so he’d rely on his core. More than any time he’d fought before – he needed to end this, quick.

The bow got tossed aside; Tim noted how far without really looking. It was useless in hand-to-hand, and Tim hated bloodsports, which is exactly what this was. The man tugged out a blade of his own – shorter and duller. His lips were quirked and his eyes glittered – this had his interest piqued, and on a better day, Tim would have been anxious to bring the stranger to his knees.

Tim cleared his throat, ignoring the damp of sweat on his back, in his hair. For what it was worth, the stranger hadn’t seemed to realize Tim’s state, which was either a blessing or a curse.

And then…

…the Red leapt. It was fast, even though he was so built, and when he came forward, Tim went on autopilot. So many hours grappling with Dick; so many times he’d successfully fought off Damian, who’d thought to take Tim by surprise.

And this – this wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t unfamiliar, either. So Tim discarded the blade, a quick flick towards the earth below him, imbedding it there – and shifted easily enough, catching the other’s outstretched arm while twisting his own body, using his centered weight to toss the other up and over his shoulder, and down, hard enough that the Red was forced to roll.

Then Tim was ducking, grabbing for the blade, ready for the Red to scramble up and double back, preparing to shuffle backwards – only the other man leapt at him low, tackling him flat, and Tim’s knife when sputtering sideways into long grass.

Tim rolled, just before the other’s full weight settled, pinning the man beneath him with just enough effort to reach for the longbow, which was only a hairsbreadth away. The Red was onto him though, and Tim noticed, with some degree of confusion, that his opponent had lost his weapon somewhere along the line as well.

“Nope,” the Red said, wrapping an arm around Tim’s waist and flinging him sideways, sending him a decent distance from the wooden arch of the bow. His side scraped against the gravel; his arm scalded, laced with a teeth-gritting pain that threw Tim’s concentration off and forced a stuttered sound from between his lips. He clawed at his arm violently and it burned beneath his touch.

“Well aren’t you a bundle of surprises,” the Red said, and he crept over Tim with the intent to pin him down, to rub it in Tim’s face, most likely, how easy that had been—

—but Tim was shaking, unable to help it, the heat finally having gotten to him, and the Red, confused, looked him up and down before he finally realized that Tim was gripping his arm tight enough to cause the skin to go white.

It was hard to tell if the look on the warrior’s face was curiosity or concern; as he dragged a leg over Tim’s torso, holding Tim down by the his weight and thighs alone, he made quick work of peeling Tim’s arms apart – which had Tim raking in air like his lungs had forgotten how to breathe.

“You managed to throw me,” the Red yanked Tim’s arm higher, so that it was nearly straight, to get a better look at the wound, “half dead from this?”

Tim could barely process pain in a way that it was growing more and more difficult to stay conscious. It wasn’t made easier by the weight of another man weighing down his abdomen, and Tim could barely make out the world around him through tear-blurred eyes and double vision.

And then, “How long?”

Tim had no idea what that meant.

A finger stabbed against the rash, bringing a sudden burst of pain-driven clarity as Tim gasped and threw his head back.

“How long has it been like this?” the stranger tried again.

Tim felt chills rack him; language was suddenly hard, he couldn’t grasp what he needed.

“Mor-ning?” he tried. His voice sounded miles away.

The Red cursed, and it was a dark word. In less than a moment he was shuffling, yanking Tim up to sit, running a finger along Tim’s jaw in order to tip his chin upwards.  There eyes met, and Tim realized the other’s weren’t black, like he’d thought. Just some shadowed, dark-water color; an ocean tide during a storm, lost to light.

“Who do you belong to?” the Red questioned, tone urgent even if Tim couldn’t put together just what as being asked..

No one owned him. He was a Drake.

“I am…not…”

The Red seemed to know where he was going, and disagreed. “This will be a life-debt,” he pointed out, as if it was matter of fact. “If you wake, you’ll belong to me.”

Tim wanted to argue; felt it in his bones.

But then the man asked, “Do you want to live?” 

The darkness was a consuming thing, chewing at the edges of his thoughts, devouring his sanity whole. The pain felt distant, the world felt like a faraway thing. It was a wonder, then, that Tim said, “Yes.” ______________

#jaytim #viking au #TK BDAY #ahhhh #thinking about Tim waking makes me giddy #and honestly i have no time to edit so let's just form a prayer circle

[chibinightowl]

33. "You're really soft" JayTim, pretty please!

It’s just occurred to me that I used this line in Hidden Depths. Let’s see what else I can come up with!

~*~

Sometimes Jason really hates his boss. Sure, Tim is smart, sassy, and is absolutely vicious, whether it’s in the office, the bedroom, or when he’s popping an underling for their complete and utter failure to do their fucking job, but right now, all Jason wants to do is break him.

Too bad Tim’s got the leverage to keep him in line.

“What the fuck you sayin’, Tim?” Jason growls, glaring at the other man. “I just slit that punk’s throat for you.”

“You’re my right hand man, Jay. I shouldn’t have had to tell you.” Tim’s voice is sharp as the blade dripping in Jason’s hand. “You’re getting soft.”

Jason stalks forward and looms over his boss and occasional lover. “Say that again?”

Tim’s eyes are glacial. He doesn’t back down. He never does. “You’re really soft.”

The knife buries itself up to the hilt in the wall beside Tim’s head. He doesn’t flinch. Jason grips it tight. It’s either that or Tim’s throat. “I haven’t heard you complainin’ recently. What’s crawled up your ass that’s not my cock, huh?”

Tim glowers, looking all prissy in his light gray three piece suit. “If all my problems could be solved with your cock, don’t you think I’d make use of it more?”

Jason’s lips twist into a thin sneer. “You wouldn’t even if you could.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re selfish and don’t like to share.”

Tim shoves him away, both men knowing that Jason only allows it because he’s won this little round. “I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, babe.”

#chibinightowl writes #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #JayTim #Villain!Tim

[cat-the-dragon]

Jaytim week Day 5:  Fake/Pretend Relationship // Royalty AU

So. I can be a bit Extra, and I decided to do both at once, except I have two possible scenarios:

1: When young noble Tim was 13, he was friend with prince Jason, and he had a big scare, Jason noticed, and nudged him until he slipped “I think my parents want to sell me.” It was a bit exaggerated, of course, but very frightening for both of them. Jason took Tim to go find his older brother Dick, told it to Dick, who was 19 and not particularly equipped to deal with this either, so they went to find Bruce, the King (who was up to this point trying to sleep). Bruce coaxed Tim into telling him the whole story, and it turns out with their excessive spending ways, the Drakes were about to go broke, and they were considering marrying Tim into a wealthy but not noble family to help shore up their funds. Bruce sighed and said that it would be hard for him to stop that, and when Jason started throwing a tantrum, he tried to stop it by telling him that if he pretended to be in love with Tim, then Bruce could do something. It was seven years ago, and now people are asking them when their wedding will be.

2. Prince Timothy is getting fed up with stuck up nobles trying to approach him with plans to overthrow his older brother on the basis that prince Dick was lowly born, but Tim, while also adopted, at least has noble blood. In a last ditch effort to make them stop trying to set him against Dick, he decided to get a lowly born man to be his date in the upcoming spring festival. Who better to make all these stuck up conservative fucks to hate him than Jason, the Red Knight, born street rat, but who had won a title of Duke though his own hard work, studies, and saving King Bruce almost at the price of his own life in the battlefield? Now Tim just has to find a way to explain his plan to the intimidating and incredibly handsome knight without offending him while doing so.

Hum. Say which one you’d prefer in the comments?

#jaytim #writing idea #Help

[write-my-dreams]

Day 4: Car Wash

Title: Soap Suds

Author: write-my-dreams

Pairing: JayTim

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Tim bet Jason he couldn't go four days without killing anyone. Jason wins that bet so Tim has to wear little red shorts and wash his car while Jason fantasizes about bending him over it.

Read it at Ao3

Jason leaned back in his chair. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and he was getting hard watching Tim. He tilted his head to admire how Tim’s wet shorts clung to his body. Everyone always raved about what a great ass Dick had (to be fair, it deserved the praise) that they neglected to appreciate Tim’s. He adjusted his jeans as he dragged his gaze away from his boyfriend’s ass. “You missed a spot, baby bird. Front right tire isn’t clean yet.”

Tim took his hand off the shiny red car to give him the finger. “Why don't you come over and drool on it then?”

“I’m not drooling.” Jason touched his mouth to ensure he wasn’t. “I’m just admiring my beautiful boyfriend. Seriously, Timmy. The view is great from here.” He licked his lips when Tim climbed onto the hood of the car to scrub the windshield. Now if only he could get Tim to bend over it. Tim hadn’t done so at all when cleaning the back half of the far and now that he was working on the front, it seemed that Jason would be out of luck. He’d get it some other time though. Bending Tim over the car to have sex with him was his newest fantasy. It really needed to become a reality. “Who needs porn when I can watch my sexy baby bird putting on a show for me?”

Tim stopped scrubbing to glare at him. It wasn’t too effective. Jason’s eyes were immediately drawn to Tim’s bare, soapy chest. Then lower. Down to the waistband of the tiny red shorts Jason requested (insisted) he wear. The hem just barely covered Tim’s ass and showed off his long, smooth legs so perfectly. “Jason!” Tim snapped.

“What?”

“I’m going to dump this bucket over your head unless you stop your creepy staring! I can feel it. And if you say anything else about how me washing your car is ‘pornographic’ or how I’m ‘giving you a show’ then you’re going to be jacking off to the memory of this scene for the rest of the week instead of having sex with me.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Baby, you can’t resist me. Who else can give you amazing orgasms like I can?” He would tone down on his leering if Tim did wind up being serious. Jason wasn’t ashamed to admit that having sex with Tim was an addiction. Best lover he’d ever had. The only lover he wanted to have.

Tim raised his chin and gave Jason a challenging look. “Right now your smug pervert look is turning me off.”

“I—“ Jason paused when Dick came cartwheeling out of the manor. He froze when he reached the driveway and saw half-naked Tim washing the car Bruce had bought for Jason’s birthday while Jason watched. He couldn’t help but snicker at the mixture of alarm and confusion crossing Dick’s face.

Dick stared at Tim for a few moments, looked at Jason, then back to Tim. “Um, are you two filming a porn or something? Because Alfred will have your heads for fucking in the driveway like cats in heat.”

“We are not filming a porn!” Tim huffed. He sat down on the hood to cross his arms over his bare chest. “Jason and I made a bet last week. I lost, so that’s why I have to wear these ridiculous shorts and wash his car.”

Jason grinned at Dick. “I'm enjoying it.” He wondered if Tim would be willing to have sex over the freshly cleaned car if Jason gave him a mind blowing orgasm (like he always did) and cleaned the car afterwards. Or maybe he could lift Tim up onto the car. Pull down the tiny shorts like his fingers itched to do and suck him off. He noticed Dick looking at him, specifically at his crotch. Jason shifted in the chair.

“It’s easy to see that,” Dick said dryly. “Do I want to know what your bet was?”

“When you’d drop your pants for the latest villain or antihero lusting over your ass,” Jason replied. He laughed at Tim’s indignant shout of his name while Dick made a choked noise. If only he had his phone to take a picture of Dick’s expression. Tim threatened him with blue balls if he dared to take video or a single photo so Jason had reluctantly left his phone inside. “I’m kidding, bluebird. Tim bet me that I couldn’t go four days without killing anyone.” Restraining himself had been difficult. Jason was never one to turn down a challenge so he’d pushed through and come out the winner. No regrets there. The result was well worth his struggle.

Dick beamed at Jason. “That’s great! I knew you were capable of not killing someone. Just… do it willingly next time.” He smiled sadly at Jason before directing his attention back to Tim. “What would’ve happened if you won the bet?”

“Jason would attend Bruce’s next four events with me as my date. He’d wear a suit and be on his absolute best behavior.”

Dick blinked at Jason. “Is that possible? Even when you were Robin you hated high society parties. And that… really hasn't changed since you came back to Gotham.”

“He claims it is possible,” Tim replied.

Jason crossed his arms. “Both of you know how much I despise rich airheads who love to talk about their obscenely expensive new house or car or whatever while people are starving in the streets or struggling to pay for their kid to go to school. Just because I can’t stand people like that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of behaving if the situation calls for it. Or if my boyfriend needs some decent company to keep from going insane. Thankfully I didn’t have to put on my polite face because Tim lost.” He gestured to him. “Keep working on my car, baby bird. The demon spawn will be getting out of school and coming home soon.” He knew Tim would sooner eat his sponge than have Damian see him so objectified.

Tim blanched. “Shit.” He began scrubbing the windshield with renewed vigor.

Dick cast them one more look before taking a step back. “I’ll let you two, uh, continue. Just don’t have sex in the driveway or the living room. Or anywhere Alfred and Bruce can see you.” Because he was an annoying showoff he did a back handspring and a flip to get away from them.

“It can’t be worse than us fucking on the Batmobile when we got hit with Ivy’s weird sex spores,” Jason called after him. The lack of response spoke volumes about Dick’s embarrassment. They’d both agreed not to mention the incident after it happened – though sometimes Jason slipped up. His snicker died on his lips when he noticed Tim had stopped washing the car and was scowling. “Sorry, baby bird. You know you’re the only man for me.” He got up out of his chair. Each step was uncomfortable given the hard on he was sporting.

“Uh huh. You sure you’re not just saying that to get in my pants?” Tim gave his crotch a pointed look. “Because I don’t think I’m in the mood after being teased so much.”

Jason laid his hand on Tim’s wet thigh. “Technically, you’re not wearing pants.” He tugged the hem of the little red shorts. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were a porn star or embarrassed you like that in front of Dick.” He took the hand not holding the sponge to give it a gentle squeeze. “I had my entertainment and you only have what, another wheel and a window to wash? So you don’t have to finish if you don’t want to.”

“…Did you and Dick really have sex on top of the Batmobile?”

Jason blinked at the change of subject. “Er, yeah. Bruce was an equal combination of pissed, mortified, and disturbed to see his two former Robins fucking on his car. You know what’s the worst though?” He complained. “Bruce made me clean it! Even though Dick contributed to the mess too!”

Tim cracked a smile. “That is pretty unfair.”

“It was. So am I forgiven? No sexless week ahead for me?”

“I’ll consider it if you kiss me.” Tim smiled playfully. “I may even give you a blowjob in the shower if you throw the water bucket over Damian’s head.”

Jason was always impressed by how much of an evil genius his boyfriend could be. “You know he’ll want revenge on both of us for that.”

Tim shrugged. “It’ll be worth it.”

So would the blowjob. “Face of an angel and the devious mind of a devil.” Jason claimed Tim’s lips in a hungry kiss. Slender fingers rubbing against his crotch had his breath hitching. “Fuck, Tim, I know… I deserve teasing… but please. Don’t.” He didn’t think he’d last long and he didn’t want to wreck his favorite jeans.

Tim opened his legs. “Come here.”

Jason stepped between his boyfriend’s thighs to kiss him again. His hands fell to Tim’s hips, thumbs rubbing against bare skin and fabric. Tim’s legs wrapped around his waist so he could rock up into Jason. Fuck. That felt incredible. Jason pressed closer to him as the kiss deepened. It didn’t take long before all thoughts of washing the car or soaking Damian were gone from both of their minds. Jason was just about to pull down Tim’s soapy shorts when Alfred emerged from the manor with an apron over his suit and a sizeable rolling pin in hand.

“Master Jason and Master Tim,” Alfred said sternly. His expression conveyed his disapproval all too well. “I will not have the two of you behaving like rabbits in the driveway of Wayne Manor!”

It was embarrassing how quickly the mood died. Disappointing Alfred had always been painful for Jason. For all the bats, he thought. “Er… we’ll take it inside?”

Alfred sniffed. “Quite right.”

Tim pushed Jason back so he could slide off the car. “Sorry, Alfred.” He fixed his eyes on Jason. “My room. Now. And I’ll make you a deal, Jaybird.”

Jason’s hands found Tim’s hips again. “What is it? Because I’ll happily throw water over Damian’s head in exchange for a blowjob.”

Tim grinned. “That’s still an option. Come to the Wayne Gala on Friday night. Then we’ll go back to your place,” his voice lowered as he reached up to press his thumbs to Jason’s nipples. “And you can bend me over your car.”

Jason swallowed. That… was a difficult bargain to make. Wear a suit and make nice with the spoiled elite who wouldn’t know hardship even if it bit him in the ass. But… he had told Dick that he could behave at a gala. That he could be there if Tim needed him. “All right. I’ll be your date if you wear the Red Hood underwear you found.”

Tim leaned in to kiss him. “Deal.”

#jaytimweek2017 #jaytimweek #jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #write-my-dreams wrote this #I wrote this

[familymeansnoonegetsleftbehind]

#Hannigram won :D #now we’ve got #remrom #jaytim #I honestly don’t know who I’m rooting for on this one #Remus x Roman #jason x tim #proship #proshipping #problematic shipping #proshipper #pro shipping #proship safespace #positivity #<3 #ship and let ship #anti anti #proship positivity #proship safe #proshippers please interact #problematic ship tournament

[obsessedauthorchan-blog]

Shakespearean - JayTim - Chapter 2

AO3 | Wattpad | Fanfiction

Story Summary: 

Jason didn't know how he managed to get into college at all, let alone such a good one, but he was determined not to mess it up.

Of course, it was after he made that decision that everything went to hell.

Chapter Summary: 

Jason arrives at his first Journalism class.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, M/M Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Cassandra Cain/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Past Bruce Wayne/Talia al Ghul Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Wally West, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Damian Wayne, Ra's al Ghul, random OC named Jimmy, Alfred Pennyworth Language: English

Chapter Two - Gullible

By the time Jason got back to his dorm, changed his shirt and his jeans, which had been dampened by contact with his wet shirt, and made it to class, he was a good 30 minutes late. He slipped in through the side door just as Professor Kent was finishing up going over the syllabus. He looked up at Jason and nodded his acknowledgement, but he didn't pause as he went on to describe how everything was going to work in the class and what he hoped everyone would get out of it.

Jason sat in the back row and paid close attention to everything being said. He didn't actually care much about the information being given, but he was hoping to make up for his tardiness. There were only a couple dozen people in the class, which Jason assumed was because it was supposed to be a third year level class, not a freshman class. Jason was on the verge of zoning out when Professor Kent said, "Now, I know going over the syllabus is the most boring thing on earth, so most of you probably didn't pay much attention." A few of the kids a couple rows up looked sheepish, but Kent had everyone's attention now. "So, for those of you who weren't interested in anything else, listen to this part. If the lot of you only remember one thing from today's class remember what I'm about to tell you."

Jason subconsciously leaned forward in his seat. He vaguely heard a random student tapping his foot, and another one sneezed. Other than that there was utter silence in the room as Professor Kent paused, presumably for dramatic affect. He smirked, as though he knew and expected what his words would do to the class.

"Every lesson I will teach you something about journalism. I know, I know, that seems rather obvious since you are in a journalism class. But instead of teaching you a bunch of jargon or definitions or rules or whatever, I'm going to give you one lesson, just one, in easily understood words. I'll keep this lesson short and sweet, and more often than not, it will probably be very applicable to life in general in addition to journalism." Professor Kent finished his statement and walked to his desk. He grabbed a stack of papers and handed them to a student in the front row, giving him instructions to take one and pass it down. "This is your assignment for the week. Each paper has a topic. You are all to research the topic and compile as much information as you can in an essay-style paper in the allotted space on your sheet. You are not to write on any other paper, you may not write on the back, and you may not write in the margins. Your writing must be legible, so don't make it too small."

Everybody took their paper and read their prompt. Jason raised an eyebrow when he saw his topic: 'Human Trafficking.' Jason swallowed and wondered what it would take to get someone to switch with him. Jason didn't have a problem with the topic itself, but it brought a familiar bad taste to the back of his tongue.

"I know some of you are tempted to switch your topic. While I can't track whether or not you do, I would encourage you not to." Jason internally groaned at Professor Kent's words. "I gave out important topics, some of which aren't very well known. While they might be difficult to find information on, or you might not be interested, I would encourage you to research them anyway. If it doesn't interest you, you might change your mind when you have more info." One of the students snorted at that, and the corner of Professor Kent's mouth quirked in a barely-hidden smile as he continued. "Regardless of whether or not you like it, I know for a fact that each of these topics will grow you as a writer, a researcher, a journalist, and maybe even as a human being. Just give them a shot."

Half the class groaned while the other half mostly nodded or shrugged. Jason sighed in resignation and slipped his paper into a binder so it wouldn’t get wrinkled up. A lot of students started packing up when everyone noticed that the class was supposed to be over three minutes before. As people started standing up and moving towards the door, Professor Kent spoke again. “Oh, and one last thing.” Everyone paused in what they were doing and looked his way. “The word ‘gullible’ is written on the ceiling.”

Half the class gave him a look of skepticism, while the other half looked up. Jason was part of the latter group, and he couldn’t restrain himself from uttering a quiet, “The hell?” as he saw that there was, in fact, a large paper sign with the word ‘GULLIBLE’ written in all caps taped to the ceiling. Now the whole class was staring at Professor Kent with confused expressions.

Professor Kent smirked. “First lesson of Journalism: Always check your sources. If someone tells you something, if you read something, if you get any kind of information in any way, check it out. No matter how ludicrous it sounds, or even if it sounds so logical and makes so much sense that you don’t think there is any way it could be wrong, check it. Don’t take somebody’s word for anything, and don’t ignore what you don’t think is plausible. Anyone can be wrong, and anything is possible. Now, you’re all dismissed.”

Tim was right. Jason did like Clark Kent.

As the class broke up and students started filing out of the room, Jason slowly packed his bags as he considered how exactly he was going to do his research assignment. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by someone tapping on his shoulder. It took everything Jason had not to reflexively sucker-punch whoever snuck up on him. He jerked his head up and over his shoulder to find Professor Kent looking at him with an expression torn between concern, curiosity, and disappointment. “You’re Jason Todd, right?”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Um, yeah? How’d you know?”

Kent’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes were lit with amusement. “Well, you were the only student who wasn’t present when everybody introduced themselves at the beginning of class.” Jason shifted his weight and tried to keep his hands from fiddling, his ears going red with embarrassment. “You also received the Wayne Scholarship. Makes you easy to recognize.”

“Oh, yeah. Nice to know that everybody knows I’m a charity case.” Jason hadn’t meant for that to come out or for it to sound so rude. Jason had a lot of pride and not much self-control, and that wasn’t usually a very good mix.

Professor Kent’s eyebrows wrinkled. “You aren’t a charity case, Mr. Todd. And if you are, I guess that makes me one, too.” Kent elaborated when he saw Jason’s look of confusion. “I won that same scholarship when I was about your age. Good thing, too, or there was no way I could have gone to college at all. But I guess that’s the whole point of the scholarship, isn’t it?” Jason nodded and Professor Kent gave him a warm smile. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It just means that the appropriator of the scholarship saw something in you that made you worth all that money.”

Jason’s lips quirked in a small smile. “Right. Thanks, Professor Kent.”

Kent nodded, then his look of disappointment returned. “Speaking of your scholarship, most winners are usually more concerned with arriving to their classes on time. Did you get lost?”

Jason stiffened. “Um, this kid ran into me on my way over here. His name was, uh…, well, he told me to tell you that Tim spilled his coffee all over me.”

Kent busted out laughing. It was a deep belly laugh that reverberated throughout the whole classroom. The two or three stragglers glanced over with raised eyebrows before carrying on with their very slow meander toward the door. When Professor Kent finally calmed down, he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “He did that again? Gosh, that kid will never learn.” Jason tilted his head to the side, and Kent explained. “Tim is always running into people. Too little sleep and too much caffeine doesn’t exactly help him with observation, and it isn’t good for his reflexes either.”

Jason grinned. “Yeah, he told me you’d probably get a kick out of it if I told you.”

“He was right.” Kent chuckled one last time before shaking his head. “As excuses go, that’s actually a really good one. I’ve known that kid since he was, like, nine, and he’s been doing stuff like that since long before I met him. He must have been awfully quiet after that fiasco.”

Jason shook his head. “Not really. He actually kept asking me questions and offering to pay me for ruining my shirt and stuff.”

Kent didn’t seem to believe him. “Really? Tim did?”

“Yeah. Is that unusual?”

“Tim is by far the most anti-social, introverted kid I know. He doesn’t prolong conversations unless he has no choice or it’s a conversation about something he actually finds really interesting. So talking to a stranger that he embarrassed himself in front of?” Professor Kent snorted his disbelief. “Never in my life time, that’s for sure. Are you sure we’re talking about the same Tim?”

“Black hair, blue eyes, nerdy glasses, the biggest coffee mug I’d ever seen in my life, about yay-high?” Jason held his hand up just below his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s him. The coffee mug confirmed it.” Kent shook his head.

“Weird.” Jason couldn’t think of another word for it. He certainly couldn’t reconcile the Tim he’d met that morning with the Tim Professor Kent was describing.

“Yes, weird.” Professor Kent’s tone made Jason snap his head up from where he’d been arranging his backpack. He older man was giving him a strange look. It only lasted a moment before Kent blinked and shook his head a little. “Well, maybe you bring out the best in him.”

“Maybe.”

“Well,” Kent looked around to see that the classroom was empty. “Another teacher has this room for the next class, so we’d better skedaddle. Unless you have Intro to Metaphysics as your next class?”

Jason shook his head emphatically, causing Professor Kent to laugh. The two made their way to the door, and Kent quickly grabbed all his things. They headed out together into the fresh outdoors, and Professor Kent shook Jason’s hand. “It was nice meeting you, Jason.” He flashed him a crooked grin. “Try not to be late next week, alright?”

Jason smiled back and nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best. Maybe I’ll pack an extra shirt in my backpack, just in case.”

“You do that, kid.” Professor Kent laughed and nodded before turning to walk to his car, and Jason walked the opposite way back to his dorm.

AO3 | Wattpad | Fanfiction 

#shakespearean #jaytim #fanfiction #ship #fanfic #chapter 2 #gullible #update #fic update #journalism class #jason todd #tim drake #clark kent #timjay #superbat #birdflash #ao3 #wattpad #fanfiction.net #scheduled update

[familymeansnoonegetsleftbehind]

#Hannigram won in a landslide! #but now it’s time for #jaytim #maxvid #ik who I’m rooting for lol #can’t wait to see who wins #jay x tim #max x David #proship #proshipping #problematic shipping #proshipper #pro shipping #proship safespace #ship and let ship #anti anti #proship positivity #proship safe #proshippers please interact #problematic ship tournament

[drabblemeister]

a Study in Red {4}

Read this chapter on Ao3! Pairing: JayTim Author’s Notes: I meant to post this last week but I got sick - boo! Sorry about that! Thank you for all of the kind comments, likes, and reblogs! You all are the absolute best. Hope you enjoy this next chapter! Chapter 4:

It was half past midnight when Roy slouched backwards against his chair, rolling his head back dramatically. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

It was enough to draw Tim’s attention from the couch, where he sat cradling one of Jason’s laptops. He’d borrowed it an hour or so earlier, intent on reading through all of the end-of-day reports he’d missed from WE.

“Too bad,” Jason replied, flinging the bow’s cracked cam piece at Roy’s unguarded chest. “It’s not going to fix itself.”

Even though Tim’s energy had been focused on stocks and upcoming company projects, he’d occasionally glanced over to the dining room table where Jason and Roy had decided to work. The night’s goal seemed to be re-wiring Roy’s bow, and due to the fact most of the replacement supplies were in the bay, they hadn’t made much progress.

“It ain’t gonna work even when it is fixed,” Roy said, tilting backwards in his chair. He’d caught the cam as it’d fallen to his lap, and now lifted his head in order to flick it back Jason’s direction. “Tension’s all wrong.”

Tim watched Jason catch the disk with both hands before setting it onto the table with a snap. A moment later, he kicked the leg of Roy’s chair, which sent Roy scrambling to keep his balance while yelling an offended, “Oi!” Jason’s direction.

Sliding an elbow forward and onto the table, Jason simply sighed before balancing his chin on the upturned palm of his hand. He delivered Roy a questioning smirk and said, “Don’t tell me it’s past your bedtime?”

For a moment, it looked like Roy might stay annoyed, but Jason’s slow smile seemed to give him life. “Why? You got somethin’ more fun to do?”

Tim filled the small gap of silence with loud clacking, his fingers dancing across the keyboard rhythmically. As the report came to life in front of him, he saw Jason’s gaze shoot his way in his peripheral vision. It only lingered for a moment, and that was because Roy made a sudden, sharp sound that evolved into a wistful sigh.

“I’d love to watch you restring my bow, Jaybird.”

Jason snorted. “As talented as these hands are, I don’t think they’re the solution to your problem.”

Without pausing in his typing, Tim said, “You should probably try a thicker gauge.”

The comment sat for a moment, drawing attention Tim’s way; even so, he continued on with his report. Roy’s tech was strikingly similar to a project he and Lucius had tackled a few years back, and so it was easy to see the gaps in what Roy had put together so far.

“If that wire snaps, my fingers go with it,” Roy finally said.

This time, Tim looked up, his typing slowing but not coming to a stop. “It won’t snap if you use a hard cam,” he commented before raising an eyebrow. “You’re probably using a round because it’s quieter, right?”

When Roy’s head tilted back, his hair fell loose across his cheek. “Can’t use a hard cam ‘cause it ruins the system. The shot ain’t reliable.”

Tim glanced at the bow, though he could only make out the bottom limb from where he was sitting.

“You’re using a hybrid?” he asked.

Roy nodded.

“Use a single. Custom doesn’t always have to mean more complicated. And if the sound is still an issue, switch out the arrester.”

Tim caught Jason staring at him with lidded eyes, wearing an expression he couldn’t quite place. It felt like one he should remember.

“Well, that settles it,” Roy slapped a hand onto the table just before pushing himself up. “You’re hired. It’s all yours.”

As Roy waved a hand across the entirety of the table, which was scattered with parts and pieces, Jason calmly caught his wrist. “Tim isn’t building your bow.”

“Ah, Jay,” Roy sighed, gently shaking his way out of Jason’s grip. “I wanna see if his hands are as talented as yours.”

Tim didn’t miss the unimpressed frown that tugged as Jason’s lips and Roy didn’t either, because his grin went wide as he glanced between them.

Roy said, “Maybe when he’s done, you can get him to polish your gun.”

Jason’s mouth opened, but Tim beat him to the chase.

“I have no intention of handling either of your malfunctioning weapons.”

Roy pressed his long fingers to his chest in feigned offense, looking lanky in the dim light.

In contrast, Jason slouched back lazily in his chair and rubbed his nose. “My weapon works just fine, thank you very much.”

“Hahaha!” Roy laughed. “Doesn’t mean Red here can’t help with the maintenance. Rumor has it you bats don’t get a lot of hands-on with pistols.”

Jason rolled his eyes and reached for his water bottle, which was tangled in cable wire.

Recognizing a challenge when he heard one, Tim sighed and swept section of hair behind his ear. When he spoke, his tone came languid; easy.

“You’re right,” he said, matter-of-fact. “Most of my hands-on involves my staff. It may not be much to you, but it’s long and gets more than eight rounds.”

Tim had expected a moment of quiet, one where he could hold Roy’s gaze in a silent dare to continue.

He did not expect Jason to spit up the water he’d been drinking in one, dramatic spray that soaked the entire table and it’s contents, threatening to kill the candle.

Roy didn’t bother looking at Jason; he simply kept his eyes on Tim, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Ohhh,” Roy drawled. “I like this one. Let’s keep him.”

Tim shifted in order to pull his phone from his back pocket. He hummed to himself as he said, “Opening calendar...right. Let this day be remembered as the one where I got the last word in against a certain Roy Harper.”

As his fingers poked at keys, Roy offered a dramatic bow of respect and tossed a smirk Jason’s way. And Jason - he responded by glaring from between his fingers, which he’d been using to shield his face, which had gone slightly red. He asked, “Weren’t you going to bed?”

Roy grinned like he’d won some unspoken battle, and gave Jason a significant waggle of his eyebrows. “You’re right.” Stretching his hands high, he took a few lofty steps away from the table and made a show of sitting on the edge of the couch. “Upsy-daisy. I’m sleeping here.”

Tim stared up at him. “What?”

Various pieces of Roy’s bow went clattering to the ground as Jason pushed up from the table, flicking a pointed finger Roy’s direction before tossing his thumb another, a clear and decisive demand for Roy to move it to the bedroom.

“Aw, but Jaybird,” Roy said. “You’re gonna make an injured kid sleep on the couch?”

At that, Tim felt offended. “Um, not a kid?”

“Roy,” Jason stated. “Get.”

As expected, Roy laughed, not at all intimidated. Tim watched him huff an amused sigh just before meandering down the hallway where he turned into the room Tim suspected housed an actual bed.

“I’m going to grab you some clothes,” Jason said, but Tim didn’t miss the grudging edge to his tone. He opened his mouth to tell Jason he was fine sleeping in what he had on, but the words didn’t make it to his lips.

He had class later, and wasn’t going to have time to run by his apartment. He’d have to make do wearing this outfit again. So, when Jason returned with a bundle, Tim simply set the laptop onto the coffee table, not bothering to close it.

Jason noticed.

“You need to get some rest,” he said.

The comment had the opposite effect. Instead of feeling any of his own exhaustion, Tim simply noticed the tired, darkened circles under Jason’s eyes and once again remembered the red-circled Friday on the calendar.

“You too,” he said, rising to his feet while holding out his hand for the clothes. He glanced down the hallway, distracted by the sound of Roy whistling. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

At the mention of the exam, Jason’s demeanor shifted; his gaze wandered and he seemed to remember that was a thing. He groaned, looking exhausted, and dragged a hand down his face.

“Ugh. Tomorrow is Friday.”

Tim thought that Jason’s anxiety had more to do with the significance of the diploma rather than his ability to actually get it.

“It’s only 2am. You have plenty of time,” Tim decided to say, just before giving Jason a questioning look. “Bathroom?”

There was only one, and it was a narrow space wedged at the end of the hall, just across from the bedroom. Tim got a modest glance at the space - saw a shape that resembled the foot of a bed and a square piece of furniture he assumed was a dresser.

The view was intercepted by Roy, who was dragging a heavy bag towards the door. When he caught sight of Tim, his lips folded to form a grin and he waggled his eyebrows in invitation.

Tim allowed his expression to fall flat with disinterest.

In the bathroom, one lone candle flickered, it’s wick burned to a hairsbreadth. Tim made quick work of changing, not entirely surprised when Jason’s loose, cotton sweat-shorts fell past his knees and hung loose on his hips. Less shocking was the size of Jason’s shirt; it’s wide neckline dipped low against Tim’s skin, not quite covering the smooth lines of his collar bones. It fell nearly halfway to his thighs, reminding Tim that Jason had a good seven inches on him.

When Tim ventured back to the living room, he watched as Jason returned his gun to its holster on the underside of the coffee table. When it was secure, Jason glanced up, only to look caught off guard.

“Yeah, I know,” Tim waved him off. “You should really take it easy on the protein bars.”

Jason’s eyes lifted until Tim caught them with his own. He expected a witty comeback. Instead, Tim watched Jason bite at his lower lip, as if whatever he had planned to say, he’d decided against it. Then, he was standing.

“Is there anything else that you need?”

Tim watched Jason’s eyes look everywhere but him. “Just your all clear to leave later,” he said, finally. “I have a class at eight.”

At that, Jason’s attention slid towards the bedroom. “If we haven’t been ambushed by now, I think we’re good.”

Tim agreed, but it felt like the right thing to get permission, seeing as to how it was Jason’s safehouse they were attempting to keep hidden.

Quiet stretched, one that felt strangely empty. Tim opened his mouth twice only to realize he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to say. Eventually, Jason drifted towards the table, picking up the bow parts he’d scattered earlier. Not too long after, Tim watched him disappear down the darkened hallway from above the screen of his laptop.

When his thoughts wandered too far, he pulled them back to his work. It was another hour before he finally decided to sleep.

***

By the time Tim’s alarm sounded, he was already awake. Jason had ventured out at some godawful early hour and Tim hadn’t bothered asking why; Roy’s cacophony of snores had woken him up as well.

He and Jason shared the couch, bookended and blearily dozing until Jason decided to do them both a favor and make coffee. It was the pick-me-up Tim needed, and within the half-hour he was dressed and ready to head out. When he confessed he would probably be about fifteen minutes early – a record, really – Jason shoved a protein shake at him and refused to disarm the premise until at least half of it was gone.

The bay looked the same as Tim remembered, and when Jason turned on the overhead lights, Tim blinked at the brightness. He was in the process of tugging on his helmet when Jason asked, “We on for tonight?”

It took Tim a moment to connect the dots, realizing tonight was Jason’s final opportunity to cram. He nodded. “My place?”

Jason tipped his head back to yawn and held his hand up, waving it no. When he could speak again, he managed a “Mine,” smacking his lips just before scratching at his scalp, sending his hair into a disheveled frenzy. “I’ve got a date with Ermanno Endrizzi tonight. Something tells me he’ll be wanting his breadsticks to go.”

Tim snorted as he righted his bike and took a heel to his kickstand. “Just text me. I’ve got two classes and a lab, and I should probably shower at some point.”

Jason looked impressed. “That’s it? By golly, that sounds like a light day.”

Tim said, “Whatever will I do?”

“Have dinner with me, apparently,” Jason replied. He took a moment to look smug about it, and Tim pulled his helmet down and over his face.

With a smirk, Jason raised the bay door and waved him off and Tim raced against time to make it to campus.

***

It was nearly evening when Tim left his lab, in dire need of both caffeine and answers. The former was easy enough to remedy, but the latter meant a quick trip to Wayne Enterprises. Since Tim had his own transportation today, he weaved inner-city rush-hour traffic and parked in an emptied, private lot.

This late, the building had mostly cleared out. Floor managers bustled in the lobby, overseeing registrars and receptionists as security shepherded their departure. His entrance meant undue attention and he wasn’t at all surprised when a manager came jogging after him in order to say, “I’m sorry, but the building is closing.”

The comment brought Tim to a halt; he’d nearly forgotten that he wasn’t dressed for the occasion. Fresh from classes, he was wearing faded denims, a graphic tee, and a jacket distressed more from wear than aesthetic. When he turned in acknowledgement, he threw his head a bit in order to slant his bangs sideways and out of his eyes.

“The internship program hours are nine-to-noon,” the manager went on to say, and Tim couldn’t help but be amused. The man was just like Bruce liked his floor-people: sour-faced and suspicious.

“Timothy Drake-Wayne,” Tim stated, holding out his hand. He’d long-mastered the art of standing his ground, and the look he delivered was enough to at least earn a pause. “I was hoping to catch Bruce before he left. Is he still around?”

When the floor-manager shook his hand, it was calculating. “Mr. Wayne wasn’t in today,” he said, and Tim felt slightly annoyed. Mostly it was because he couldn’t tell if he was being told the truth or being dismissed.

One of the elevators pinged, and since the lobby was nearly empty, the sound was loud enough to fill the space. A receptionist across the room scurried from behind her desk to greet whomever had descended and when Tim turned to see for himself, he bled a sigh of relief.

“Timmy?” Dick questioned, and he looked incredibly dapper in a suit he probably hadn’t worn in well over a year. His hair was artfully slicked back, and when his eyes danced up to the floor-manager, Tim found his hand immediately released.

“Hey,” Tim said, wondering what bet Dick had lost in order to be here, dressed like that. “Did I forget about an event?”

Dick laughed and it was perfectly charming. Since the receptionist had approached to ask if he needed anything else, he did the polite thing and told her she was free to leave for the evening – and while he did so, Tim delivered a smile to the floor manager that could have been interpreted a thousand ways. In the end, it got the manager to step aside, muttering a small apology before stepping aside, leaving Dick and Tim with due privacy.

“I thought you were sick,” Dick commented when he was close enough to give Tim a knowing look.

“I was,” Tim said, rolling his shoulder for show, “and thanks to modern medicine, I’m getting better. I just got out of class. I haven’t been able to get ahold of Bruce all day. Did he decide to go to the course?”

It was a code they’d used for forever, the course alluding to Justice League meetings, which typically came out of nowhere and meant no contact for days.

“Yeah,” Dick said. “You know how he likes to show off. He asked for me to drop by today since you’d be out. There’s a lot going on, you know?”

Tim nodded, not having to read between the lines. The extent of the cartel issue made more sense now that he knew the Triad was involved, and Tim suspected that Bruce had been reluctant to leave with so much up in the air.

“Walk you to valet?” Tim offered, and Dick looked pleased, giving a genuine smile at the invitation. There were less ears on their way to the curb, and Tim could still feel eyes on him - as if the late-shifters were attempting to memorize his appearance since he looked so different outside of starched material.

Together, they strided to the front door. Dick leaned forward to prop it open, leaving Tim to turn back and wave goodbye to the eyes that followed. When he was sure his words would go unheard, Tim asked, “Do you need me tonight?”

It had been two nights since his injury, which was more than enough time to be considered well enough to get back on the job. He hadn’t forgotten about Jason, but he knew this Endrizzi business would run late.

“If you could cover first patrol, you’d be saving a life,” Dick admitted with a wistful sigh. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. By the time I realized I was hungry, this place had already sucked out my soul.”

Tim laughed. “Dramatic, much?”

“I dunno how you do it,” Dick replied. “That being said, Bruce won’t be in tomorrow. He wanted me to ask if you could fill in.”

As they rounded the corner to the valet desk and Dick retrieved his receipt from his wallet, Tim took the opportunity to dig his phone from his back pocket to navigate Bruce’s calendar.

Two hedge fund calls, an email reply to a state auditor, a new-hire tour and meet-and-greet. Nothing too taxing, though Tim wasn’t entirely sure what work he had to make up from missing both yesterday and today.

“So,” Dick said when he drifted back, digging hands in his pockets. He made an effort to watch the traffic beyond the lot, but only for a moment – and when his eyes found Tim’s, they were full of questions. “You and Jason, huh?”

Tim frowned. “Me and Jason what?”

Dick considered the question, searching Tim’s face before his lips folded to a smile. He abruptly seemed to decide the lot was more interesting. “Nothing.”

Dick’s car arrived before Tim could even feign curiosity and so he let the comment slide without a chase – immediately regretting it when Dick ruffled his hair, a habit he couldn’t seem to relinquish himself from.

“I’ll take over at 11. Sound good?” Dick asked, perfectly happy to let Tim jostle his hand away and take a cautious step back.

“Don’t be late,” Tim said, because he figured Jason would text by then. Dick straightened and saluted with all the seriousness he could muster, and then he was in his car and off to wherever he was staying while in town.

Tim watched traffic for a moment, debating on what he should eat before heading back to his apartment. In the garage, a white van drifted through, weaving other valet retrievals as if searching for an exit.

Tim watched, frowning.

In his hand, his phone buzzed, causing him to take a quick glance at the screen.

Might be finishing early, a text from Jason read.

In their line of work, early was relative.

Please, Tim texted. Take your time. I won’t be free until 11, and that’s if Dick’s not running late.

Boo, came Jason’s reply.

By the time Tim looked up again, the white van was gone. __________________________________________________________ A/N: Somewhere along the way, Roy became my fave character to write, LOL. I love how he picks on Jason, haha. Anywho, plot’s pickin’ up...

#jaytim #a study in red #ladelle writes

[write-my-dreams]

JayTim Day 1: Carnival

Author: write-my-dreams

Pairing: JayTim

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Summary: Jason takes Tim (along with Dick and Damian) to a carnival in Metropolis.

Read at Ao3

Tim didn’t care that he was seventeen. He could seriously use a drink right now, painkillers be damned. The last few days had been hell. Absolute hell. He’d broken his arm going up against some of Scarecrow’s thugs. Bruce had benched him until he healed, refusing to take no for an answer. Cassie and Kon also refused to let him work with the Titans until he was back to full health. Balancing Wayne Enterprises, his relationship with Jason, spending time with friends, and patrolling as Red Robin had kept Tim’s life beyond busy. Now that he couldn’t be Red Robin he felt restless. Bored. Like the walls were starting to close in on him. 

He glanced up from his computer when Jason came through the door. “Timmy! On the computer again I see. Put it away. We’re going out.” 

Tim glanced at his screen. He’d just been going over the presentation he was giving tomorrow. “Okay. Where?” He put his laptop on sleep mode and set it aside. Jason was doing his best to keep him entertained while he healed.

“Metropolis,” Jason replied. “There’s a summer carnival in town for the week. Dick found out about it and said we should all go. I said I could stop by his apartment to pick him and the demon spawn up if you’re interested in going.” 

Tim blinked. He hadn’t expected Jason to suggest a ‘family bonding’ activity. It’d be nice to see Dick again even though Damian would be involved. “Okay. Give me a minute to get my things then I’m ready.” The alternative was nitpicking the presentation or finding something else to amuse himself. He had been thinking of planting a virus into Ra’s al Ghul’s security network…

Damian approached the colorful gates with trepidation while Dick bounced on his toes. Tim and Jason exchanged amused looks. Damian usually acted like the bored parent being dragged along by his eager child whenever he was out with Dick. 

“Poor little baby bat looks like he’s being tortured,” Jason muttered to Tim.

Damian stopped to glare at him. “I am not a baby, Todd. Cease calling me such an absurd pet name.” 

“Fine, demon spawn.” He laughed and took Tim’s good hand. “Tim and I are going to the games to win Cass the biggest teddy bear we can find. You two have fun. Keep an eye on Dick and don’t let him get kidnapped.” Jason ruffled Damian’s hair with his free hand for the sole purpose of irritating him. Tim ignored the angry snarl as they walked away. It’d been a long time since he’d last been to a carnival as a guest. There just wasn’t time in his life. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Tim squeezed Jason’s hand. “Not much. I’m just trying to remember the last time I went to a circus or a carnival. I know Dick and I went the last time Haly’s Circus came to Gotham, what, three years ago? You know how Gotham doesn’t really attract fun.” Too much chaos in the city and too many costumed freaks. 

Jason cocked his head. “Roy and I took Kori to a few carnivals last year.”

“What’d she think?”

“She loved it, though she almost made herself sick with cotton candy and elephant ears at the first one. It was fun though. We went on every ride and I think played every game. We won a lot of prizes. So many I could barely fit them all into the car.” 

Tim smiled as he visualized it. He stopped as he noticed the rack of prizes behind the ring toss. Given their location, there were plenty of Superman prizes. Shirts, plushies of varying sizes, even a few body pillows. “I’m going to win Kon a Superman plushie.” 

Jason snorted. “Go for it.” He took a closer look at the prizes. “You should win him the body pillow. Or give it to Bruce. The looks on either of their faces would be priceless.” He pulled out his wallet, grinning as they stepped into the line. 

Tim rolled his eyes. “Selina won’t be thrilled if she comes by and finds him in bed with a Superman body pillow. Besides, we both know that Dick would steal it. He’ll probably ask Damian to win one for him so he has an excuse to cuddle him.” Somehow he’d have to hide the pillow from Dick so he couldn’t take it for himself. 

When it was their turn, Jason paid for Tim’s three tries. The carnie gave Tim’s sling a skeptical look as he handed over the rings. Clearly he thought there was no chance Tim would manage to toss a single ring over the bottles. Completing a ring toss would be no difficulty for him at all. Something Tim demonstrated, to the surprise of the carnie and the line behind them. “I’ll take the body pillow,” Tim said with a grin. “My friend just loves Superman.” He tucked the pillow under his arm. He was meeting Bart and Kon tomorrow so he’d surprise Kon with his very own Superman body pillow. Tim made a mental note to message Bart to record the whole thing. 

“He’s going to be so confused.” 

“It’ll be great. Oh, look over there.” Tim pointed at two different stands. One involved knocking over bottles with a ball and the other was a shooting game. Each offered massive teddy bears as prizes. “Steph will love that big purple one.” He imagined Cass would be just as confused as Kon, but she would appreciate the gesture. Jason held Kon’s pillow while Tim did the ball toss to win Steph’s teddy bear. Tim could just barely fit both under his good arm as he watched Jason take out each target to get Cass her prize. “Let’s stop at the car and drop these off. I won’t be able to eat any cotton candy like this.”

“Or elephant ears.” Jason carried the bears so Tim could manage the pillow. “Wonder what Dick and the demon spawn are up to right now?”

“Probably going on rides.” Tim glanced up at the Ferris wheel. He wouldn’t mind going on a few himself. He would happily avoid the funhouse or any of the cheesy ‘House of Horrors’ attractions. He adjusted his grip on the pillow when they reached the car. “Looks like Dick and Damian did the same thing we did.” There was an oversized cat plushie in the trunk along with a big pillow bearing the Superman logo. Tim shook his head as he set the pillow next to it. As if Dick didn’t already have his own supply of Superman shirts. And underwear. Quickly he banished the thought of his brother in underwear out of his mind. 

The bears just barely fit in the trunk. Jason shut it then locked the car again. “What do you want to do next? Ferris wheel?”

“Not quite. We’re at a carnival, which means we need to eat some cotton candy and greasy fair food."

Jason grinned as he took Tim’s hand. “I like the sound of that. Are we going on any rides or are we going to be too busy eating carnival food?” 

“Why don’t you pick? I’ll buy us a bag of cotton candy then we’ll ride on the Ferris wheel. What’s next is up to you.” 

“Twister,” Jason said promptly. “We’ll have to get an elephant ear at some point too.” 

Tim nodded. “Sure.” 

About an hour later, they’d been on most of the rides they were interested in and demolished a bag of cotton candy, a deep fried candy bar apiece, and were now working on an elephant ear. Tim watched Jason scan the carnival as he chewed a piece of the fried bread. A steady relationship had done wonders to ease Jason’s anger. He and Bruce still had their issues, but Tim hoped that would eventually change. Especially if Bruce could see this version of Jason. Eyes bright, having fun, chatting away between bites of the enormous cinnamon elephant ear they’d bought to share only for Jason to eat most of it. Seeing Jason so happy made Tim’s heart swell with love. He didn’t care about their rough history. What they had now was all that mattered. 

“Tim?” Insecurity crossed Jason’s face. He dropped the piece of bread back into the basket. “You’re staring at me.” 

Tim leaned in to kiss some of the cinnamon away from Jason’s mouth. “Because I love you. And you’re hot when you’re smiling and excited.” He kissed Jason again, this time just because. “We should do things like this more often.”

Jason drew him closer. “Yeah? My workaholic can be pried away from his computer and his case notes without violent protests?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Yes. If it’s to spend time with you.” He grinned as a blush replaced the insecurity. “Want to go ride the Ferris wheel again and make out in the car?”

“I should make out with you by the cotton candy seller. She was checking you out. So was the fortune teller.”

Tim snagged a piece of the elephant ear. “Better them than some creepy old man.” He didn’t mention who crossed his mind. Jason’s scowl made it clear they shared the same thought: Ra’s al Ghul. Tim took another piece and changed the subject. “Since we’re eating so much unhealthy food we’re going to have to work out tonight. You especially. I’d hate to see your butt get fat.” He smirked at his boyfriend. 

“Or your thighs.” Jason gave Tim a wicked grin. “Sex after we drop off Dick and Damian?”

Tim stepped closer. The carnival faded into background noise around them as he leaned into Jason’s space. “I can think of a good way to work off some of these calories. Like I said, you better work hard.”

Jason’s eyes darkened. “Is that a challenge, Timmy?”

“It is.” Tim pushed up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“You know I won’t.” 

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