For Wally's 21st birthday, they play spin the bottle.

"When Kon gets hit with sex pollen, all he wants is Tim."

Surprisingly enough, Ivy didn't like getting fruit baskets as thank yous. Jason'd have to find something else to send her.

Kon is bored easily, and Tim is skittish.

"You entertain yourself by drawing on your arm with a Sharpie?"

Does the whole 'we can see your eyes now' thing mean you're going to not be a repressed freak anymore?

Okay, and that was why Bruce had sidekicks. It absolutely made a person feel better about all their shitty mistakes.

Jason Todd isn't what Batman made him, he isn't what the Joker made him, he isn't what the League of Assassins made him, and he isn't what the Lazarus Pit made him. He's his own person and he's taking himself back, one home renovation at a time. Also he might just make friends with the people who are supposed to be his brothers while he's at it.

“If you shower my couch with love and affection, I might actually kill you.” Or: how Tim Drake buys a house, rebuilds his life, and accidentally falls in love.

ne dislocated shoulder and two minor intergalactic incidents later, and all Tim wants is a shower, a mushroom and swiss cheeseburger, and a blowjob, preferably in that order.

Tim has a thing for buying sex toys (in bulk, Jason suspects) and Jason is constantly putting his foot in his mouth about what things his lover likes.

In which the Robins aren’t so good at keeping their sexualities a secret, not that most of them would want to anyway. Or How each of the Robins accidentally came out and made a club to commiserate together.

Jack Drake catches his son sneaking in through the window, and jumps to the wrong conclusion.

Meonji

The news that Timothy Drake, Gotham’s cryptid millionaire, has shot the Joker dead during a public live-stream hits the world like a freight train—and that is just the opening salvo of his bugfuck plan. Maybe there exists, in the multiverse, a configuration of Jason Todd who will weather this with decorum, dignity and self-respect. This version of Jason Todd decides that the life of an academic is not, really, all that rewarding. In contrast, the life of Timothy Drake’s live-in house-husband is looking more appealing by the second.

"Tim?" Jason asks cautiously. It's possibly the first time he has ever used his replacement's first name. Out loud at least. Or where he could hear him. Another whine and the big black dog opens an eye, gazing warily up at Jason. "Okay, you're awake. Not exactly sure what the protocol is here but if you know you're Tim Drake, whine twice for me."

“Why are there reporters-” Dick stopped. His eyes locked on the TV. “Oh, look at that Drake- you’re trending on social media.” Damian offered far too coolly to be any form of casual. XxX In which Tim's nudes get leaked online and he is surprisingly casual about it

All in all, their arrangement lasts for a few months. Months of filthy fucks, cutting words, and hasty walks of shame. Months without Tim letting Jason kiss him once. Months of Jason staring at the ceiling in soiled, cooling sheets after Tim's departure, gut-wrenching loneliness and self-loathing burning in his chest. Until one day, the dam breaks.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm not much of a hunter when I'm not fighting crime," Dick replies with a rueful grin. "Hunter?" Tim tilts his head to the side with a frown. "Right. I guess I should have specified since we’re both Os." His lips curl back to show his fangs. "I don't want you to chase me, Wing. I want to chase you."

When Jason leaves the League, Dick Grayson is the furthest thing from his mind. He has Talia’s blessing and a step-by-step plan to make Bruce pay as well as to rid his city of the Joker. There’s no place in his thoughts for quippy acrobats, not when his every waking hour is tinted green with dreams of revenge. He doesn’t think that anything can possibly break through his single-minded focus… Then he catches footage of Nightwing fighting thugs on the streets of Blüdhaven with none of his usual grace. Fuck, but he can’t leave Dick behind to fend for himself. Not when he can’t be sure that Dick will survive long enough to still be around by the time Jason is done dealing with Bruce.

"Timmers sucked me pregnant," Jason blurts, and Tim watches in morbid fascination as Bruce goes through the five stages of grief in a millisecond. "I thought you said you weren't… sleeping together," Bruce says reproachfully. "He means that I, uh, impregnated him with my teeth. When I drank his blood. No sex involved," Tim explains. "It was an accident. I didn't even know I could do that."

Tim’s trying to run away from his feelings. Unfortunately, he gets abducted to Russia and is rescued by the very people he’s been avoiding.

When Danny gets a scholarship to Gotham University, it's a chance for a new life; a chance to do everything he never could back in Amity. One of those things is exploring his sexuality with whatever willing partners come his way. He honestly didn't mean to sleep his way through most of the Wayne family. Nor did he intend to fall in love with a vigilante crime lord, but hey, that's what happens in Gotham. It's all fine until he's invited to dinner at Wayne Manor.

Danny’s looking at him like he’s crazy. His hair’s dried up into a mess of waves, and there’s some tomato seeds on the corner of his mouth. “You just bailed me out of jail. And you think this is a good idea?” “I don’t have bad ideas, Fenton. And like you’ve just said, I have collateral on you.” “So you’re blackmailing me into pretending to date you?” Tim shrugs. “Or you could just sign the NDA.” OR Danny's trying to recover all the shards to an entity's chalice so that it'll stop destroying the zone while tensions rise amongst his subjects- and trying to finish high school. Tim's juggling his case load, his work as CEO, and does not have time to be embroiled in a sex scandal right now. If that means he has to pretend to date a very suspicious heir to a rival company, then so be it. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. So what if Tim's becoming a little too intrigued by the illusive, powerful Phantom? So what if Danny can't stand the Justice League for leaving him to deal with all of Amity's problems when he was just 14? That's a superhero thing. And their fake boyfriend has no clue that they're a superhero.

“Hey, I do I... Do I know you?” Danny asks, a hand coming up to brush something off Tim’s cheek. “No,” Tim says. “We haven’t met.” “Oh, no, I do.” Danny says, and he smiles, teeth white and sharp. “You’re that guy who rearranged my guts!” Rearranged his- Tim glances at the knotted scars on the boy’s abdomen. He can see the shine and shadow of haphazard stitches that weren’t meant to hold forever, that tore and healed over. His- This- “WHAT!?” Nightwing shouts, equal parts confused and delighted. Tim’s fucked. OR Danny Fenton's been in GIW captivity for 4 months. Tim Drake gets kidnapped by the GIW one Tuesday evening in May. Considering how many of the Bats and the Birds have died and come back to life, it was only a matter of time for some people interested in the afterlife to come poking around. The detectives can't seem to uncover any information about the mysterious white vans, however. And they keep losing the mysterious boy who seems to be the one person in Gotham to know anything at all.

There were a lot of things Bernard knew. He knew how to disinfect a wound, he knew the proper stance to take when punching someone, he even knew who both of his boyfriends were without them having actually told him yet. What he didn't know was how to break the news to his alien boyfriend that their vigilante boyfriend might've knocked him up. Rated mature for descriptions of reproductive biology, discussions of unprotected sex, implied sexual content and mention of nudity.

Darcy thinks maybe her new intern is a slut. Like–a big one. Big ol’ slut. Both metaphorically and literally, since he's 6’3” of Kansas beefcake and maybe the literal only human being alive who has a build remotely comparable to Thor's. So like, a billion steroids or secretly an alien, Darcy’s assuming.

“I need you,” Tucker blurts immediately as he bursts into the living room where he left Kon half an hour ago. Or maybe two hours ago. Hopefully not more than three . . . ? “Like in a sexy way?” Kon asks, sounding halfheartedly hopeful as he looks up from his position draped across the couch with one of Tucker’s mom’s blander gossip magazines, where he’s clearly been bored out of his mind. Tucker will make that up to him later, definitely, but right now– “Like in a rogue attack way,” he says, and Kon makes a face.