friggs dc pile

---

 A/N: ee;;;; enjoy me not knowing what this plot is, idk tbh, but it’s fun to write. It’s more plot than fluff, which wasn’t what i meant to write sighs. I’ll probably write companion pieces to this that’s zero plot all fluff. The plot wasn’t meant to be so deep, but I mean, uhm… enjoy papa Bruce and mama Alfred~ 

---

[bigR] Dad’s upset.

[bigR] He’s talking less than usual, not even grunts.

[bigR] I think he’s ignoring me?

[you] crap

[bigR] Worse, there’s no news.

No news? True, you hadn’t seen the info feeds light up, the networks had been offline all day, but nothing from Tim’s side? If you didn’t hate Luthor before, well…

[you] this is giving me a headache ::dizzy_emoji::

[bigR] No kidding, I think he’s figuring a few things out.

[bigR] Patrol with B, everything’s unlocked, bb @ late.

[you] is typing…

             “You sure it’s okay?”

The taller male gave quite the toothy grin, a large hand coming up to pull the awkwardly fitted shirt collar back to center, admiring your new outfit. “You can just bring it back later, besides, I think it’s cuter this way.” After a few hours and an incredibly long phone call between Jason, Tim and yourself, the three of you combined were able to get the suit to come off. 

Tim said he still had a lot to go over, but that the laptop was actually incredibly useful. Much of what Tim had been talking (and geeking) about had been lost on Jason and you, too focused on Terry and wrangling the alien suit off.

Jason said he’d be jealous of the strange futuristic-like material if it weren’t for the second skin-like fit, happily poking fun at Nightwing’s taste in suits.

Most of the work was done on Tim’s side since he apparently already had the ability to take control of the suit. It was something you were rather… anxious about, but unlike the manor, Jason’s place had the advantage of no Bruce and no cameras.

So now you sat in the same pair of pants you’d come over in, the only pair of flip-flops he had. They were far too large for you, but your toes would have to hang on till home, and a large t-shirt that fit well enough. 

“Muscle up, Buttercup” was written on the front, Superman’s flexed arm between the words.

“Your taste in clothes is…”

“Cheap. Like second-hand cheap.”

“But… why…”

“To spite Bruce? I pay more for job-related injuries than money I actually have, it’s been tempting me to go back to crime, honestly.”

“…you sure that’s not to spite Bruce as well?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an impish grin on his face as he lightly ruffled the top of your hair, causing you to childishly swat his hand away, “isn’t that what everyone else does? It’s fun, you should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh…” you were honestly too much of a—

“Daddy’s girl,” he snorted lightly, unimpressed.

Before slipping one of Jason’s unused backpacks on, you stuffed the batsuit in the bottom, and the jacket you arrived in on top. Turning just in time to see him picking up Terrence’s sleeping form with incredible gentleness, you cooed lightly.

“You know, you’re not bad at that,” he looked at you, frowning, ears flushing before his attention went back to the bundle in his arms.

“Not even…” instead of moving to take the child from him, you opted to stand still and just watch the interaction instead, as if a point were being made.

Big boy looked like he was terrified of breaking the child in his arms, like an heirloom British teacup, “You look cute like that, a giant teddy bear and a tiny uh... new bat?” Walking over, he turned his eyes to the side, not a single trace of anger towards the situation in his voice anymore, “don’t get used to it,” he muttered, unsure of himself. “But you could get used to it,” you smiled, taking the giant marshmallow from him, “he’ll be around from now on, you know. You’ll have uncle duties~” Your teasing only increased his rising timidness, “right…”

“Well,” he began, heading to the door once you had everything, “I’m already late for patrol, let’s get you home.”

-

Alfred had greeted you at the door and mentioned putting on some tea, and you gladly accepted, though not before you went up and changed. With the promise to be back downstairs in a few minutes, he took Terrence from you to ready him for bed. Adorable child was actually quite active, having tired himself out at Jason’s temporary housing.

Quickly, you’d headed to Tim’s room to empty the contents of your bag in his faraday cage, hoping that it was secure enough being in his room. Once you’d locked the safe’s door, you headed out of his room and down the hall to your own. Sorry Jay, but the shoes were uncomfortable, and the shirt kept trying to strangle you more than the shirt of a giant should. Pajamas sounded wonderful right now.

The now empty backpack was tossed to the side near where Duke had left the your clothes from earlier in the day, and a few immediate items for Terrence. You figured everything else was probably in the nursery now, hoping it was all waiting for you in the next few days. The awkward clothes you’d worn over the suit had been tossed on your day clothes, and then Jason’s shirt and shoes were dropped on top.

The shower was quick, and having changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, you suddenly felt sluggish, your shoulders now heavy with tightness. Come to think of it, your thighs also felt rather wobbly, like jelly… but the only strenuous activity you can remember doing in all honesty was… base jumping… was it the wings? It’s all you could honestly come up with. Maybe you weren’t used to such a thing yet, and as you rubbed your shoulders, you headed back downstairs to the sitting room. “Nn…”

“Sore?”

It was still too early for anyone scary to be home right now, so…

You nodded, collapsing on the small sitting couch, Alfred going to stand from his seat to fix you a cup of tea from the tray on the table. “I did a dumb thing today. I’m not certain if I regret it or not.” He handed you the tea plate and cup before returning to his original position on a rather regal looking chair, “I’ve already put the Little Master to bed for the evening. The Young Masters went to bed awhile ago, though I suspect, they are not, actually sleeping.” He gave an amused hum at the thought of Damian and Jon and what they were totally not doing. 

He definitely hadn’t noticed when they’d snuck out earlier. Nope, not at all.

It was a long day filled with heightened emotions, anxiety, stress, confusion, and at the end of it, you were just so tired, and Alfred had always been your confidant next to Tim, and—

You tried to keep quiet as you spoke.

“I jumped out of a really tall building. Like… ninety feet up? I’m not certain, I was watching my life flash before my eyes.” He sighed and frowned into his own tea, “Master Bruce has already left for the night, Master Tim is accompanying him, as the boys are… supposed to be here for a night off. I really had hoped you’d grown up to be more intelligent and not as reckless as your brothers.” Or your father, Alfred mused, sipping at his tea, pinky out, the proper macaroni gentlebutler he was.

“I mean, I panicked, I was in a batsuit, I had a lot of intel on me, like, literally stole a laptop and backed up something called Project B (whatever that meant, though you had your suspicions having met Conner), there was a ton of guards outside going from door to door… I don’t have the same muscle mass to fight like my militant brothers, I was scared of what would happen if they caught me, like dad’s reputation?, I may have been overwhelmed by the—”

“—batsuit?” Ah, you looked up from your tea with wide eyes to see him staring, uncertain if the twinkle in his eye was worry or mischief. “Yeah, that. Uhm… Please don’t tell dad,” you sat up straight, gave him your biggest crocodile tears, and were about to clasp your hands together like a beggar before he waved your antics off. “I would not, not unless it endangers your life, Young Miss, you know that. Including young Master Terrence, of course.”

“This afternoon I must ponder over, What you did was, how shall I say, not okay,” he spoke, stern.

He stood to walk over, seating himself next to you while smiling gently, “though I must admit, I am quite curious as to the story behind all of this.” You gave your own small smile as you stared at your tea, “Yeah. I still don’t know all of it yet, myself, but… it’s actually really cool…” The two of you spoke in hushed tones.

Bruce may have been your father, but much like him, you were raised by Alfred, and seeing as you usually weren’t allowed out on the field like the others, your disposition was as Alfred’s was; support. It was something your brothers and father relished in when they had any extra time over the years. You loved to spoil them, and they were readily eager for it. 

It was also thanks to Alfred that you’d learned you had a unique knack for espionage.

Your brothers were raised to protect themselves and others, getting to go out nightly on risky (and deadly) vigilantism escapades. More than that, they not only got to be of use to your father, but they were able to grow up around him, their lives dedicated to the same purpose.

To say you were jealous was an understatement, often worrying Dick and Jay at times.

To say you were your father’s daughter and just as like-minded as him was also an understatement. This was something Tim and Damian understood better than your two eldest siblings.

You were determined as heck.

You graduated from avoiding Alfred’s detection to stalking your father and brothers, skills honed even further as you learned how to use their toys and listen in on their coms system. It was your father’s own fault, leaving you alone all the time.

You would never be useless again.

You would never be left behind again.

“So, your brothers are helping you, then? I am glad of that, it means I need not worry as much,” even though Jason and Damian only knew half the truth, it was Tim who knew everything you did. Duke didn’t want to know and apparently Jon’s dad had warned him not to get involved with “bat business,” and Alfred… “If… If Terry’s parents…” how were you supposed to frame this part, exactly? You ere bothered by the truth of it, so... maybe making it sound worse than it was? If that was even possible... “if they were bad people, like really bad people,” as if suddenly remembering the walls had ears, you lowered your head and voice, barely audible for him to hear, “do you think dad would let me keep him?”

The both of you knew that wasn’t the issue, Bruce had no problem with the child staying, but…

There was something about the boy that seemed to be worrying you…

“If there is one thing I take great pleasure and joy in,” Alfred beamed like the proud father he was, “it’s that at least one of you children turned out more like myself than Master Bruce.” No, honestly, he was so glad you weren’t gloom and doom like your father and siblings, “I’m certain you could tame the wildest of beasts.”

His parentage held no ground here, the two of you understood the meaning behind the words, memories of when Damian met you for the first time after arriving at the manor surfacing, “I think you’ll do just fine with the child. I have all the confidence in the world.”

Maybe you were being overly paranoid about the whole situation.

The evening was finished in comfortable companionship between the two of you, and he’d shoo you away to bed long before it was time for the boys to come home.

After cleaning up and assuring himself that at least someone in the manor went to bed properly, he busied himself with the surveillance of the manor.

He made certain you wouldn’t be caught just because of his curiosities.

-

Through part of the night, you’d begun doing as much research into the relationship between Luthor and CADMUS as you had time for, the past few days having been spent going over only CADMUS information. That was until you got a ping on Luthor’s name written on several specific checks, and gathering as much information available. You looked for key phrases in the news cycle over the past day’s incident, as well as dating back several months. You’d even taken the chip out of your work phone and popped it into the laptop sitting on the bed in front of you, allowing network protocols to take over.

There was only so much the news would give you, so you checked in on security feeds from the area, keywords during phone calls used to see if anyone noticed, satellite intel snapshots, everything. Anything.

The time-sensitive channels still hadn’t opened, no information from other informants was anywhere in the Societies channel logs, not even the time-delayed backlogs.

Someone else was cleaning up.

-

Early morning, the best time to avoid anyone in the manor who had a night life, also just in time to get breakfast as Alfred made the first batch of the day. Though mostly for himself, he’d generally make extras as you’d often join. Heading down the foyer stairs, Terry’s barely conscious form bundled in your arms, you beelined to the kitchen, the smell your guide. “Ah, good morning Young Miss! I even made some for the Little Master, just in case,” Alfred smiled down at the boy in your arms, holding up a small bowl of minced and steamed veggies.

The kitchen was large for an older-modeled mansion, constantly rebuilt with minimal changes, but still cozy and incredibly sustainable. Between the door to the foyer and the opposite wall, where the door to the dining room was, there was a large table. Several shopping lists, foodstuffs, and cookware took up a good portion, but there as still enough room for a small few people to sit comfortably at once.

You smiled, sitting down in the chair the older male pulled out for you, then pushing you in, food for the child set on the table. You situated Terry in your arms, finding a nice spot to rest his bottom without worry of him slipping off, and reached over to spoon some of his meal to him.

Strangely, he didn’t resist much, yawning in between bites as you had to scoop up what tried to spill out of his mouth, “so, how old might you say he is? I’ve been thinking about it, perhaps about a year?” you nodded as you looked up, agreeing with Alfred as he sat down, food cooking behind him in the meantime. “I think… if not that, maybe a few months younger… he can stand, and seems okay with soft solids… I think you’re right, maybe a year?” his clothing size certainly seemed to think the same, Duke having gone to extreme lengths to get a perfectly fitted wardrobe for the boy. He even included a few different larger sizes for the coming year as well.

“Hm…” Alfred leaned on his crossed arms, rested on the table as he eyed the boy, “I suppose we could begin early development lessons with him, signing especially, but I think he can do more, words, possibly.” In response, Terry sneezed, food spraying all over the spoon and bowl in front of the two of you, his eyes still groggy as he slumped in your hold. “Oh dear,” Alfred hummed in amusement, standing to bring you a small terrycloth towel to clean up.

Terry gave a small grunt as he pushed at the cloth now cleaning his face.

“Gonna… Gonna have to get used to that…” the suddenness surprised you, you knew it was a normal human function, but you just hadn’t… expected it.

“I think there will be a great many things for you to get used to from now on, even I will have to relearn a few things. It’s been… a very long time since an infant was in this home.” He went back to finishing his and your meal, a nostalgic and wistful look masking his face. Bruce had no idea what to do with you when you were an infant handed over to him, and it amused Alfred to this day.

Thinking about it, you looked down at Terry, your chin coming to hover over his head, almost as if you were trying to nuzzle him, loud enough for only him to hear, “…mama. S… Say mama.” The child just tilted his head and cooed at you instead, reaching up to pull at your hair again ohdeargodpleasestop.

Releasing your hair from the child’s grasp and holding both of his hands in yours this time, you tried once more, “mama.”

“Mmba,” he blew a raspberry at you as he slurred his speech, becoming more fascinated with the bubbles he blew than your inquiries. “Mm… bah.” He let out a giggle, popped his lips at you and then smiled, trying, and failing thanks to your hold, to reach for your hair again. After several attempts, he settled for turning slightly, resting his head on your chest as he watched Alfred and all of the very shiny cookware.

You flushed, wanting to beam but also feeling incredibly self-conscious about the situation still, it was honestly a lot to get used to. Frowning in determination at the snuggly bug of a child, you tried a different tactic this time, “ma.” He was still more interested in the food being cooked, however, and you heaved a sigh into his head of hair. “Mma,” well, it was a start, and you repeated your previous chant of mama to him, your own eyes wide with what felt like pride.

Was this how Alfred felt?

“Mmba.” Well, as you said, it was a start. With a sigh, you went back to shoving food in his mouth, though quickly you had to wrangle the spoon from his mouth each time. “Stop… biting it, Terry…” you wondered how Conner had gotten so smart in such a short amount of time, wondering if Terry had still been too young when you took him from the bio labs at CADMUS.

“Ah, good morning Sir,” Alfred greeted, and your head shot up to see your father standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes and a yawn hidden behind the back of his hand. “Good morning, Alfred,” he stared at the older man with a frown, obviously trying not to say something. Instead, he looked at you and the child for a long moment, giving both of you a morning greeting. And even though Terry couldn’t properly respond, he did give Bruce the same challenging look as the last time.

He was looking for something out of the ordinary, however, the only thing in the room that was new was Terry, nothing else seemed to be amiss. But you could tell, looking up at him from the corner of your eyes, head still downturned, he was searching.

“Morning dad…” you tried to be light as you smiled at him, nothing is wrong.

“Daah,” Terry tried imitating, but it was lost in the rest of his babbling as he grabbed the food from the spoon. He was making another mess as he shoved it in his mouth, fingers fiddling around tongue and mushy carrots. Thankfully you still had the terrycloth to wipe at his chubby cheeks.

Bruce’s footsteps were as silent as his entrance, stopping next to you and squatting down, large hand, warm and gentle, landing on Terry’s head as he ruffled his hair, “I’d like to talk to you downstairs soon, okay?” He studied Terry for a moment, eyes as brilliant as his own, though it seemed like Bruce almost enjoyed the small head of hair in his palm. You couldn’t tell beyond the awkward chill in the air, but the two of them were giving each other knowing looks, both challenging, though Bruce couldn’t understand why Terry looked at him that way.

He made to stand up, pulling his hand away before Terry could do any damage, cheeks puffing out in a pout. “There’s something I’d like you to look into,” he spoke as he headed back towards the door, a morning coffee handed to him by Alfred, “oh, and you’re not allowed to leave the grounds for the time being. The tracker seems to be faulty.”

Considering you broke them often over the years, well, yeah, of course it was faulty.

Again.

The smile he gave you before he left was smug and you weren’t completely certain as to why, and it was making you really really nervous, “the League computers picked up something quite interesting yesterday.”

“Uh…” Ah yeah. Well heck.

Yeah, metropolis was both a huge risk AND your last outing, you were glad you took the chance though, even if your stunt escalated the situation. You were now officially on house arrest by the most observant secret-wannabe cop in the world.

Then again, there was no telling exactly what he knew.

He might be bluffing.

“Maaam… ah…” Huh? Did he just… Quickly as if borrowed from the speed force, your thoughts of Bruce and the problems at hand seemed to flee as you beamed at Terry. “Mama?”

“Mamhh.”

-

[bigR] Was able to give the drive a quick look.

[bigR] I don’t understand villains. I just don’t.

The hell did that mean?

[steph] c u soon <33

Ah, crap.

-

The table before Bruce had only a few pieces of paper and only two photos. You’d come home nearly a week ago with a new addition to the family, from where he still wasn’t certain. He’d checked and there’d been no missing infant reports that matched up with him, both in looks and location. Tim seemed to be in on it, hiding secrets along with you, and holding back when Bruce would inquire about anything even remotely familiar to the situation. Tim had also been keeping busy with something the past few days, and ever since you’d come home from shopping, he seemed unable to stay still, constantly fidgeting.

Then there was yesterday, when Duke took you out shopping with the boys while Batman had been at the Womb at the League’s watchtower, digging up as much as he could. Which, unfortunately, was just the few scraps of confusing ledes in front of him. The annoying part is how well you avoided the cameras, there were only a few times where he had been able to make you out, the rest he had to guess based on your profile that day.

The subsequent events had started stacking up in a rather annoying fashion. Your tracker’d been broken since you gave everyone a scare a week ago, returning with a child in your arms and something akin to paranoia. Even Tim had been clueless (until he wasn’t), and now even his attitude was giving Bruce pause. It felt more unnerving than bad, something making Bruce’s own stomach knot when he kept coming up with dead ends.

The day you’d gone shopping, the Womb had picked up something the news hadn’t, as the news was calling it nothing more than an accident, and it was that that gave Bruce even more pause. The worst part is that he couldn’t just take a deep dive into the LexCorp building’s system, knowing that much was out of their (or his) hands.

If Cyborg found out that Batman was secretly looking into a non-incident on the League system for family-related business, then he’d never hear the end of it from Superman and the others. He’d have to go out of his way to get into the building, and right now wasn’t the best time to do so, security was increased ten-fold. He’d have to wait it out.

LexCorp wasn’t even reporting it as an incident themselves, but the fact that they were being very stringent about the details, the increase in surveillance, Bruce felt it in his gut; an obvious coverup. The problem was why, there was no way what had happened had been anything short of problematic for Lex, and yet they weren’t filing any kind of paperwork.

They did their best to act as if they didn’t care, but Batman saw all the extra measures, and he also saw the information black hole happening.

LexCorp, no doubt, was scrubbing.

What he had been able to do, however, was gather two snapshots of a black blur that sped out of the building before disappearing into the thick of the city below.

About the same area where Damian’s own tracker took a detour.

“I preferred it when you used to use electrical tape to tape a transceiver blocker to your arm to hide the trackers,” Bruce hadn’t looked up as you approached (and you were dang silent too, even Terry was being chill), “It was much less of a headache.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid. Nothing I do now can hide me from you anymore, the technology is different from back then.”

“Except breaking it.”

“Except that.”

He snorted as you stopped at the table, situating Terry on your hip, and looked down at the photograph that Bruce pushed over to you. It took every bit of training not to give anything away as you picked the photo up and gave it a once-over.

“This is…?” you turned your head to see him with that smug smile from before, tapping the image in your hand with his finger, “this is what I want you to look into.” You would have bristled if you hadn’t known your father better, this was some kind of trap.

“The same day you headed off to Metropolis, intriguingly enough, the LexCorp building had a break-in,” he paused to gather more words, rolling them around on his tongue before swallowing them, I’m worried, and you’re the reason.

“A break-in? I hadn’t heard—”

“No, you wouldn’t have. LexCorp seems to be keeping it from the public knowledge.”

“Then the League computers?”

“Was able to take a few photos from another satellite, these two were the best ones I could find. One of whatever broke in as it took off flying, and another of the same building a few minutes after. No police, no fire crews, nothing.” He was watching your reactions like a hawk, unfortunately you’d played this game so often growing up (learning to lie and stay out of trouble was a skill your brothers and you freaking perfected, even if they got into trouble on purpose), that it was really very easy to just—

“Uhm, but… dad, how? You grounded me, remember? That makes gathering any kind of intel like, y’know, hard.”

The smug smile was back as he pointed at the rather established medical area, the two of you heading over together, “you’re the information broker, I’m sure you can find something useful. It’s not the first time you’ve had to gather information from behind bars, after all,” you really hated how he still felt compelled to remind you of that.

It was once, in a country where no one knew you and where records were shoddy at best.

And on purpose, dangit.

You still weren’t certain how he even found out, besides, he and your brothers had done worse by comparison.

As he began removing the old tracker, you ignored the pain, the lack of anesthetic nothing new to you, too used to it at this point. Not that it was terribly painful. He was precise in skill, second to Alfred, you were too preoccupied with keeping the child still in your lap to notice what he’d been doing prior to your arrival.

All jokes aside, he’d finally gotten ahold of something that could yield actual results.

He looked to the boy again, staring at his familiar features, at his hair, like midnight, “striking how much he looks like us.” You frowned at him.

It was a statement.

The joke wasn’t lost on him.

-

A/N: I love teasing/edging so much urggggh; loosely tied to THIS Kon/Tim/You PWP (forgot to say in the first but they’re legal age imo, Tim’s at W.E. and RR, and Kon is… still called Superboy till Superman decides otherwise. So, you know, never. rip)

-

Tim wasn’t certain what he’d walked in on, the sight of you and Kon stopping him still in the entrance, heart rate increasing as his breathing hitched. “What… What are you two…?” His eyes narrowed, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably before tentatively stepping into the apartment, door closing behind him.

Once he was inside, he leaned on the shut door just taking in the sight for a moment, slightly annoyed. His insides were fluttering, a slight jolt in his core trying to make him jump forwards as he steeled himself, rooted to the spot.

“T-Tim… Hi…” Kon answered, face maddingly red as he failed to keep his breathing even. No matter how much he tried to hide it though, Tim could see the slight spasms running through the Super’s muscles, he could see the occasional shake and twitch coming from his hands.

He huffed, his annoyance short lived as he pulled away from the door, walking towards the couch, leaving his luggage in a pile where he’d been previously standing. “What’s this?” he questioned, stopping next to the back of the couch as he leaned over, getting a better view of you and Kon.

Tim ran his hands through Kon’s fade, massaging his scalp lightly, black curls twirling around lithe fingers. The smile on Kon’s face was dazed, his head so high in the clouds right now, and Tim couldn’t help but smile back, amusement clearly dancing across his face. “Hmm~” his gaze settled on the supers lips for a moment, licking his own before shifting to stare down at you, gazing up at him through your lashes.

You were seated between Kon’s legs, face in a blissful trance as your lips were wrapped around Kon’s dick, doing your best to not move much. Your breathing was a bit rougher than Kon’s, shifting back and forth between lapping up saliva or drinking what little he gave you, and trying to breathe at all. Sitting still and having your tongue gliding across the underside of Kon’s member, when needed, like it was your personal toy just felt so good.

It was so soft that even you had to force yourself from the temptation of doing more, of sucking.

“Watching a movie…” Kon mumbled, clearly distracted, but he did his best to ignore the fact that you were seated comfortably on the floor, head cradled between his thighs. The movie was hardly a distraction from the heated cavern currently surrounding his mostly flaccid cock.  

Obviously, he needed more practice at keeping his own dick under control.

Tim looked to the television, volume turned somewhat low, before settling his eyes right back on the two of you, “right.” So, was this why the two of you hadn’t come to pick him up? Tim reasoned he could forgive the both of you, the sight you’d given him having been more than enough payment. He started getting comfortable, moving around the large high rise flat as if he lived there year-round.

“Why, did you want to… do something else?” Kon queried, watching as Tim took off his shoes, coat and tie, loosening a button on his shirt and removing his belt. Kon’s eyes moved down towards Tim’s ass, following it as he moved around, cute, perky, and toned under his slacks. “Shit,” Kon whimpered, turning his sight back to the movie as he tried to control himself, slowly losing his composure.

“No, actually, this is rather fortuitous,” Tim smiled down at Kon, giving his head a kiss from behind, “I think it’s my turn for once.” Quickly, Kon’s eyes shifted back to Tim and narrowed, watching the other male circle the couch slowly to stand behind you, staring Kon down with a wicked grin.

As Tim slunk down to his knees behind you, he leaned over you slightly, his chest resting against your bottom and backside. He ran his hands up the back of your legs, caressing, giving extra attention to rubbing your inner thighs, “I think I want a turn down here.” His ministrations caused you to whimper and Tim’s grin darkened at the panic on Kon’s face.

The more his hands massaged your thighs, the more ticklish it became and the more you wanted something else. Sure, there had been a heat in you from holding Kon’s cock on your tongue, but now the heat was gathering down there by Tim’s hands. “O-okay…” Kon muttered, eyes never leaving Tim as you bent your back slightly, rubbing your ass against him as best you could, no longer focused just on Kon. Again, you whimpered and the two could almost hear the begging coming from you, you were eager, and it earned you a light groan out of Tim.

“Hey, Kon…” Tim’s hands had raised up to cup your butt, massaging it, and Kon watched him like a hawk, “this… is a game, isn’t it?” His fingers hooked under the edge of your bottoms, tugging slightly, teasingly, “and if I had to guess the point of this game…” Kon could have groaned loudly at the look Tim gave him, “it’s to not get hard, correct?” His expert fingers unclasped and tugged your bottoms down, enjoying the effect he had on both of you.

“Shit,” Kon muttered under his breath, covering his mouth with his own hand as he tried to avoid looking at Tim. He gulped audibly, doing his best to watch what had been forgotten on the television, but it was hard to ignore what was right there in front of him.

Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, think of something else, Kon was chanting in his head, trying to drown out the noises.

Tim almost couldn’t help himself at seeing how wet between your legs you were, his fingers using your own fluids as lubrication.

You did your best to not move your mouth or tongue, Tim was correct, the goal was for the super to not get hard, it was more for your benefit than Kon’s. It was a state of bliss, as if you were meditating, and the perfect excuse at getting better with deep throating. Since holding a cock in your mouth for long periods of time would be good training, you figured.

But even you were weak to the slickness as Tim stuck a finger inside of you, followed by a second without even waiting. As your breathing hitched at the intrusive stretch, Kon did his best to steel himself, already feeling the vibrations from your mouth. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling of Tim’s fingers wiggling around, slightly pumping as he added a third. Opening your legs a bit more for him, you ignored the slight ache in your knees, it would totally be worth it by the end of this.

“Eager~” Tim hummed, pleased by your inaudible begging as he removed his fingers, wiping them off on your bottom, a coolness hitting the wet trails.

There was shuffling as Tim removed his pants and briefs, and Kon could tell, your body temperature was heating up and you had to swallow more often now, saliva building up quicker. He swore he could feel your heart beating through your tongue under his member.

“Mm—h!” Kon had a great view of your face as Tim inserted himself slowly with a grunt, “d-damn…” Your eyes fluttered, entranced, unable to fully focus on tending to Kon’s dick in your mouth, saliva and something saltier mixing to wet your chin. Kon was still flaccid as Tim had fully bottomed out before pulling back out, and every time Tim would pump back into you, you could feel Kon hold his breathing. Trying to hold in his reaction and need.

As Tim sped up, each pump felt like it was hitting your stomach and it made you dizzy, unable to think, so messed up that Tim had noticed and used it to his advantage. “Yeah, that’s how you like it, huh~?” One of his hands found its way to your chest, rubbing as it trailed down around your lower abdomen. Snaking down between your legs, he started playing around, rubbing in motion with his thrusting. Your head was so warm now, your breathing had increased, and the heated breath kept fanning Kon as your body convulsed with Tim.

You felt like there were clouds in your head.

As you slowly began to lose yourself, tongue now sloppy and slightly suckling on Kon’s dick, you knew he couldn’t hold out long. Tim knew as well, Kon had lost the moment he’d found the two of you in such a compromising position. The two leaned in without needing to think, and Tim’s free hand raised to wrap around the base of the super’s neck, pulling him in so their mouths could meet.

Tim was still fucking you as he and Kon couldn’t keep their tongues out of each other’s mouths, and you heard Kon mewl before you felt the pressure. Tears welled up as you could feel his dick no longer try to fight it, hardening to hit you in the back of the throat. He started thrusting his hips to match Tim’s, feeling out the best rhythm to time with the other male.

In a way, you fell back into your trance, being able to accept Kon’s cock in your throat more easily than before, even if it had filled your mouth out. The only uncomfortable part was when his tip would ram into the back of your throat and you almost choked, trying to keep any amount of wits about you.

They were bouncing you back and forth and it was getting harder to hold yourself up now, knees burning from the carpet, throat becoming rawer, and the feeling of being filled up at both ends. And the two above you seemed to get more excited each time you moaned, the sloppy sounds music to their ears.

They had to part for air.

With another push, you could taste Kon spilling on the back of your tongue, unable to think properly to pull out. All you could do was swallow, having gotten used to the taste long ago, daresay, even enjoyed it. With a final bump or two in the back of your throat, Kon moved his hips slightly so you could slip your mouth from around his member.

Your head now rested on his thighs, messy dick situated next to your face, so close you were practically kissing it. And as Tim kept going, intent on having his own release, you did give Kon’s dick a kiss. He shuddered, sensitive as he was, before he had to hold you still as your tongue glided across him. “P-please—” he shuddered as Tim was almost there, a red hot look across his face as he gave Kon a sultry smile, “Looks like you lost, Superboy.” 

As Tim let himself go far quicker than you or Kon would have, you felt a warmth flood your insides as Tim finished, making a mess out of your other end as well.

“H-honestly…” you muttered out, you knew exactly where this was about to go, Tim’s chest heaving on your back, Kon’s thick musk invading your senses, both of them, absolutely intoxicating. You couldn’t register when Tim’d pulled out, only that his warmth had left you momentarily.

“I’m gonna fuck that tight ass of yours, pretty boy.” Kon threatened, not liking when Tim would tease him about his hero name. Tim settled himself back on the floor, pulling you between his legs in a lazy hold as he handed you his boxer-briefs to clean yourself with. You rested your head against his chest while catching your breath, a hum of content tickling your hair. “I’ll just win again,” Tim challenged, ears suddenly heating up from the thought.

Tim really didn’t have the same amount of energy the two of you had.

He knew what he got himself into every time.

The two of you were ready to go again so quickly.

With ease, Kon had pulled the both of you onto the couch with him, though you’d been placed on the bottom, and Tim over top of you, chest to chest. Though he still had his white button down and a pair of socks on. You watched as Tim let out a noise of surprise before shuddering on top of you, feeling something slippery rubbing on his bottom. “I’m ready whenever you are, Timmy~” Kon whispered in his ear, the top to the sandwich.

-

A/N: King’s like 10 I just wanna spoil him sighs, adorable little murderous psycho (okay maybe not, he would be p disturbing irl, so yay for fiction haha). I don’t place your parents, so they could be anyone c’: and uh… you’re slightly older than him by one or three years. This is before Laughs finds King, so he’s slightly less mad. Slightly.

These were supposed to be short but lmao I always get carried away and write too much. Frick. Crow is based on several metalverse batmans always wanting a crow lmao

Straight up self-indulgence here lol

.

.

.

One.

He had been falling, having just dealt with another one of those insufferable heroes, their body already having spiraled to the ground in the distance. His laughter echoed as he watched the final scene before the beautiful view vanished, replaced by buildings as he descended. What did he care? He’d been in so many close calls by now that he believed himself unkillable. And of course, he was proven right when he stopped falling, instead he was now gliding.

The first time he’d met you, more like fell into your arms, his claws digging painfully into your side while he held on. He figured you were someone to get rid of, like those heroes, as you had been gentle when you caught him mid-fall, “saving” him from going splat. Landing on a rooftop, you turned to give him a smile, and he hadn’t even needed to think about it, his hand raising towards your face before you realized what he was doing.

Clawed gloves pinched the side of your temple as he ripped the mask off, “H-HEY! What are you—” The extended claws on his gloves catching your hair, scraping by your ear and you winced, giving him an uncertain look, surprised, “that… is not yours…” You’d never been unmasked so rudely like that before (or ever), your brain trying to find a response to him.

“I was curious~” you frowned at him.

There was the same shine in your eyes as the heroes he’d been systematically eradicating. It was all he needed to confirm that the adults had already gotten to you, had already begun molding you into one of their own. Snatching your mask from him in restrained annoyance, you gave a curt smile. “I gotta get going,” you tried to ignore the creeping unease as you gave him a once-over, but… his outfit… No, he was too young to be the monster going around murdering seasoned heroes… right? With a small two finger salute, you jumped off the side of the building, “cheers, kid.”

Not that you were much older, within two years or so, he surmised.

He was beyond tickled.

Standing on the edge of the building, he grinned wide and looked out over the city. You were still young, still impressionable, still very much like him. There was still time to break the spell the adults had put on you, still time to show you how the world could be, how it should be.

There was still time to show you a free world, free of its heroes, free of its adults, its rules, its morals, and cares.

He’d show you, just like he’d show everyone.

He’d set you free.

“Cheeeer~ cheeer~ cheer~” he sang out.

.

.

.

Two.

The second time you’d met him was when you’d entered the small safehouse you called home, having thought you’d been thorough when you secured the area. He’d been reclined on your couch, dirty boots propped up on the small table in front of him. This time you had gotten a better look, under the dim light of a lamp, rather than the dark nights sky. “Welcome home~” he chirped, shoving a handful of food in his mouth. He had helped himself to anything he wanted, as if this was fine and normal.

You were on guard, not moving from the doorway. 

You had only ever met him once, and in costume.

A bramble crown sat atop his head, face ashen with a garish grin, and his clothes… so dark and yet unable to hide the splotching of stains that had covered it in time. Blood. You thought you could even smell it, a hint of metal in the air, and if it became any thicker… you felt yourself already growing nauseous, “uhm, how did you find m—”

“You got anything sweet?” he was getting crumbs everywhere, especially when he stood up, the bag falling to the floor, spilling some of its contents. He walked into the kitchen and began scouring the cabinets, again it seemed, they’d already been gone through at some point. Following after him, still wary, “Look, I don’t know who you—”

“The Robin King.”

“—huh?” did he say King?

He turned somewhat quickly and grabbed both your arms, getting uncomfortably close, “hey, let’s be friends~!” The smell of iron was a bit more pungent now, accompanied by the scent of wet earth, mud, as it all decorated him. It was so strong that it was bleeding into the back of your throat. When you tried to jerk your hands from his hold, his grip only tightened, smile widening as his face came so close, your noses almost touching, “friends~”

You tried not to breathe, but it was permeating, and then a burning smell, smoke, filtered in with his proximity. You wanted to cough just from the scent, eyes beginning to sting, though they weren’t unfamiliar smells, it was just that, on him, it was so thick. As if he’d just left the middle of a battlefield. He let out a rather cheerful laugh as you nodded your head, let go of your upper arms, and returned to his hunt, “now, about those sweets.”

Your hands went to massaging where he had just gripped, almost instantly, a numbing tingle spread from your elbows to a few fingers on either hand.

“…Robin?” he didn’t acknowledge his name, just kept looking through what you had, “why are you h—” he turned around, a frustrated frown on his face. “I know who you are,” he waved his hand as if to dismiss whatever you were going to say, “no need to tell me.” He bit his bottom lip in giddiness, the black ink on them not smearing a bit as he eyed you from under his mask.

Unnerving.

Honestly, you didn’t know how to react, but it should be fine, he was young like you; he couldn’t be that much of a danger. It was just easier to ignore than to try and comprehend what he meant. Ignoring the warning signs on his clothes and from his personality (how could you have known better?), you hauled yourself on the counter and reached into the back of a cabinet, too high over either of your heads.

Pulling out a bag of mixed candies, mostly of the pure sugar kind, rather than chocolates or nougats, you turned to him and gave a small smile, “will this work?”

“Cheer~!”

.

.

.

Three.

He had taken to visiting you randomly, at odd times, always unannounced, and whenever he felt like it. Many of those times you weren’t even home, but he enjoyed spending his downtime in the small apartment-like safehouse. The more time he spent in the city, the less time he’d spend back at the manor, and the more time he’d spend at your centralized living space. There was always something sweet available to him, you had good taste in snacks, and you had yet to reprimand him for the things he said and did.

You let him do as he liked, gave him his freedom.

He knew there was hope for you yet.

Tossing his utility belt, feathered collar and cape on the floor, he plopped down in his usual spot on the couch. Several different bags of snacks he’d pilfered from the kitchen were dropped on the small table, a few on the cushion next to him.

You weren’t home right now, out on one of your patrols. He couldn’t wait to show you how to hunt. He figured you wouldn’t be out too much longer, since the late night had given way to early morning, and you preferred to beat the sun to bed.

For someone around his own age, you’d done well to take care of yourself, both of your parents no longer a part of this world. Even if that meant squatting in safehouses and going some nights without a proper meal. His masked eyes slid over to the only photo you had in the room, one of your parents as they held a newborn you.

He never got to meet your mother, but oh how he wished he had gotten to, the ways he could have taken her down… she’d been so strong, and your dad? He was one of the first heroes Robin had gotten to test his utility belt on. Oh, he knew very well as to who you were and who your parents were.

All the more to show you how wrong they were, and how right he is. Then he briefly wondered if you even knew what had happened to your father, how Robin unknowingly helped rid you of the burden.

The thoughts of your parents made him remember his own.

He remembered that fateful night when he had dealt with his own parents, wishing he could have let you experience that same feeling. It had honestly been freeing for him, and the betrayal of his trusted family butler… well, adults couldn’t be trusted.

“Oh, Robin, you’re here,” his eyes shifted, and he grinned as you walked in, holding up a large bag of take-out, “have you eaten yet?” He gestured, “noooo~” he walked over to grab the bag from you, sitting it on the floor near the couch as he sat down again. As he began digging around in it, he pushed the unopened snacks off to the side.

Finding his preference, he started eating without even waiting for a plate, having caused you to start keeping a roll of hand towels near the couch. You’d seen how messy he gets on several occasions, often ignoring it until he couldn’t stand how sticky his hands would become.

“I mef Geo-Forf today [1],” he spoke between his bites, not caring that his mouth was stuffed full of unhealthy food. “Ah… Geo-Force?” He nodded eagerly before going back to his meal, “he wafn’t impreffiv. You know he’s really weak if he’s not toudching the grounf? Gefts wraaaay worse the harther up he goes.” You sat down on the couch, listening to him tell his story, voice dripping with glee. He never seemed to be impressed by heroes, always figuring out their weaknesses and flaws. It seemed like a game he loved to play.

“Imahgin shtihcking a reversh pohlarity magnetic fielfd to hish back! He couldn’t toutch the ground at all,” he became a bit giddy at the end, as you looked to him inquisitively, not catching onto the past tense he had used.

“So… he would just keep going up?”

He swallowed his mouthful to gulp down some of the soda you had placed on the table, “Haha yup~! Like a balloon straight into the sky~!! Up and over the clouds he goes~! Until he just can’t go up anymore~! Cheeeer~” he made two wings from his hands and mimicked the call of a bird, his hands mock-flapping.

“Could he ever come back down?”

“Eventually, if the magnet ever wears off,” not that he’d be alive, Robin thought with joy, there was no air where he was going.

“Hum…” you thought between mouthfuls, not completely certain what he meant.

Robin was really… macabre.

He shoved more into his mouth, “He freakin’ trief to telf me what to do, he’s noft my dad, hesh’s dead.” You nodded as he continued, not seeing the harm in his annoyance over heroes and their failings; never noticing when he’d stop short of spilling everything.

“I hate when adults do that,” you grumbled, agreeing with him, his smile never once falling and instead, it seemed to only grow.

“Adults suck, huh?”

You nodded, “it’s not fair.”

“Hm~?”

“Heroes get to do all these neat things, meanwhile I always got grounded for trying to help… the number of times I was caught and brought home by one of dad’s friends…” had you been older, maybe you would have understood why you hadn’t been ready at such a young age. And now, without your parents or many of their friends, you had to figure out this hero business on your own.

“But not anymore~” he practically sang, “your parents are dead. You’re free to do whatever you want~!”

You winced slightly at that. “I miss them sometimes…” you sighed, and he pushed his trash to the floor, moving to sit next to you as his hands once again quickly came up to your face. In each cheek, he put a gloved finger and pulled, forcing a smile, as one of your hands come up to grab his wrist from the pain. Your other hand was trying not to drop the rest of your meal as clawed gloves dug into your cheeks, stinging, “H-hurts… Rofin…”

Robin gave you a wide, horrific smile, “don’t worry, I’ll take you to play with other heroes~!”

He hadn’t acknowledged your statement with words, but confusingly with actions, “ofther… heroefs?” he nodded enthusiastically, slipping his fingers from your mouth as you massaged your cheeks, eyes once again bleary from the sting.

“Yeah, I promise.”

The flavour of what he ate hit first, then there was a horrible taste filtering into your mouth, something foul and sweet. Your stomach churned, and you had to swallow down the water that gathered before you lost your meal. The thought that the stains on his outfit resembled blood seemed to warp in that moment, it was less like iron, and more like rot.

You mimicked his favourite thing to say, “cheer~!”

No amount of food you could shove in your mouth got rid of it.

He joined in, excited,

“Cheer cheer~!”

.

.

.

Four.

Loud thumps (a utility belt and a pair of gloves), rustling of clothing (a feathered collar and it’s cape), and muffled scraping (boots and a hat). Lastly, a light click (a crown of bramble) placed down somewhere to your side, the table, probably.

The more time you had been spending with your edgy friend, the less time you seemed to go out on patrol. He never seemed to mind, once saying he preferred you not to go, he’d rather you go on hunts with him, but your sleeping habits still had yet to change.

The smell of iron and smoke nearly woke you, but the most you could do was slightly open your eyes, groggily. Before you could comprehend, brain still drunk with sleep, you felt something heavy crawl on top of you, and you let out a small noise at the pressure. The weight wasn’t enough to shake the sleep from your eyes, but you could tell there was a body on top of yours.

The couch you had wasn’t very big, but with your pre-teen size and the noticeably smaller size of your companion, you could still fit together on it.

They shifted slightly to get comfortable, using you as a pillow and causing your side to be in slight pain. Even though a limb was pressing a bit too much, you tried to ignore it as you could feel hair, short-cut hair, tickling your chin. The smell of sweat that had built up, the messiness and matting of hair, you could tell they’d come back from something intensive.

“…Robin?” you weren’t even certain if your voice could be heard, but he responded anyway, no more awake than you, “tired.” It was all you got, but you were glad it was him. Not that there was anyone else it could have been. It was dark in the room to where you couldn’t make out any features, just the feeling of it all.

Strangely, rather than irritate your throat, the scent from his hair wasn’t sickening, it was comforting. Mixed with the smell of gun powder, it had been enough to mask the iron that never truly went away. But for now, for the moment, it was more him than them.

You still weren’t certain who they were, and you weren’t certain you wanted to linger on the thought. Something in you told you that if you guessed, you’d be right.

As you drifted back to sleep yourself, you swore you heard his voice again, closer to your ear now as if only for you to hear, “—y crow?”

“—eer…” Your response fell quietly and the weight on you stilled, ear pressed against your chest, against your heart. His scent and the beating in your chest lulled the two of you to a restful sleep, like the singing of a songbird. You stayed that way through the morning and into the afternoon, thick blackout curtains over the windows to keep out any sun.

You’d wake up with a sore side and a numbness that persisted for an hour or so after, but it’d be forgotten the moment he’d said something.

He knew how to distract you.

.

.

.

Five.

“I wanna take you out.” You looked up at Robin curiously, “where?”

He leaned over, both of your knees facing each other’s, touching, “to see what I do~ I wanna show you!” One of his gloved hands steadied himself on your knee as you leaned in, his other hand reaching up to your lips. A pitch black was smeared on them, an effortless skill he’d perfected, “you said you’d join me, right~?” You nodded, lips now dark like his own, even though your skin was still a healthy hue, unlike his almost sunless pallor.

He’d even gone through the trouble of preparing some new things for you, from new clothes, just as dark as his own, and with a flair he thought fit you, to a utility belt he’d made up just for you. 

“You should feel special, these aren’t the easiest materials to acquire,” he’d said.

He made certain you had proper toys of your own to keep yourself alive during the hunt. Reverse polarity magnets, a ring of every kind of kryptonite, anti-life serum, bouncing betties with something other than shrapnel inside, and several items to negate regeneration and magic abilities. You’d even been given a twin set of guns, each bullet stored in your belt holding a different kind of explosive, corrosive, or poisonous material inside. There were other things inside, even part of your outfit had special properties.

He told you that they would come after you while out with him, because they didn’t want him to be himself and have his own freedom. He enjoyed the way your eyes darkened, delighted at the look of disgust that spread across your face.

And… “shark repellant?” you tilted your head at Robin, but he only let out a giggle, as if to stifle his laughter, “thought it was funny.” You smiled at that as he handed you a mask, “Pfff it is~” you hummed lightly, softer than Robin’s singing.

“Ah… this is…?” you looked down at the weighty mask in your hand, “dark nth metal?” He nodded, “use it when you need it, it will…” his tone turned slightly impish as you put it in a secured spot on your belt, “it will… show you things.” He took out his dark nth metal cuffs and held them up, “like these, except these won’t come off again.” There was an upbeat lilt to his voice as he put them away before standing, smoothing out and readjusting his outfit.

Standing like him, you went to put your own gloves on, the black on your nails having dried by now. Even if you couldn’t see either of your hands, the two of you didn’t care, the nail polish was cool.

“Ready, Crow~?” he sang, handing you another mask, one now resembling his own.

“Ready, Robin~” you joined, settling his gift on your face.

“Cheer~”

“Cheer~”

The two of you chirped happily out of the safehouse.

.

.

.

Six.

“What do you think, Crow~?” you weren’t certain, these were heroes, but they’d come at both you and Robin. The heroes having attacked you two was more unnerving than Robin at this point, honestly, he was making sense in comparison.

A man named Richard Swift had come at you, some strange magician-like man who loved to phase around the area. It had really startled you at first, why was a hero trying to kill you? Calling you and your friend monsters? Demon children? Even if he wasn’t trying to kill you (it sure seemed like it), his words were enough to stir something darker in you.

Being younger, you could move around easier, and though you lacked muscle mass, you found you had an easier time on the battlefield than adults. Dang were you jealous of their muscles though. It was also easier for you to throw caution to the wind, partaking in riskier tactics just like Robin did, not having been well acquainted with the consequences. It hadn’t taken long for you to appear above a place he phased in at, dropping a reverse magic separator field right on top of him.

You weren’t really certain what had happened, but the man near fell apart into what looked like dust before coming back together, getting sucked into a small black ball from nowhere. It was temporary and didn’t last long, but the screams the man had let out… You’d watched his body rip and tear as it tried to imitate melting rubber, crack and break as it compacted in on itself, whatever it could do to fit into the bleak ball.

Your mind had gone somewhat blank at that, never having seen something so gruesome. The blood from his compacting was all over the area and yourself, and it was all you could smell.

Was that what you meant to do? Did you really mean to harm them?

“Instead of splitting apart—” Robin knew the man could put himself back together after some time, “—it smushed him together~! Well, it created a small amount of large mass and he crumpled more like, but it had the same effect~” he sang as he came to stand next to you, almost proud at what you’d done.

Biting your lip, you mulled over your actions as he nudged you in the side, “he deserved it, he tried to kill you, you know.” Nodding, you stood a little straighter, shoulders squaring as you puffed your chest a little, “this is what you meant.” He tapped two fingers together, leaning over the edge of the building to look around, “they keep us caged in the dark, housebound and dumb,” he growled slightly, “they deserve nothing but pain.”

Maybe you did mean to harm them.

Had he been so hurt by his own parents? By his own family? You had yet to learn much about the boy past his name being Bruce. Not that you’d ever told him about your parents, but he alluded to already having known. “Hey, Robin…?” He chirped at you as he turned his eyes to the distance, ah, he thought, another one. “My parents… were they—”

“—like all the other adults? Forcing their will on us? Hurting us? Keeping us locked away for their own amusement? Yuuup—”

“—I hate them.” You weren’t looking at him, eyes still focused on what had once been in front of you, processing the sounds the man made. Robin was grinning so unbearably wide, a rather mad cackle coming from deep in his chest, “they feel the same towards us.”

You turned to him with determination, “they tried to hurt you, these…” could you really call them heroes anymore? Weren’t heroes supposed to help others? All these ones had done was try to kill Robin and you, “…these adults.”

“Now you’re understanding.”

“Robin?”

“What is it, Crow~?”

“Show me more.”

Not far in the distance, the two of you watched something incoming, green and bright like a star in the sky, “yeah. It’s gonna be fun. This guy,” he let out a small chortle, “is Guy Gardner. Take his ring and he’s essentially useless, don’t let it get near you. They’ll do anything to keep their rule over us.”

You gave a snort, finding a confidence in having someone next to you telling you the truth instead of some warped ideal. “We won’t let them,” the two of you grinned at each other something vicious, knocking the back of your fist with his, singing, “time to hunt~”

It felt good not having to worry about judgement from someone who thought themselves your superior just because of age.

The song of cheer cheer cheer was heard as the two of you jumped to different rooftops, intent on meeting with the adult who thought himself a hero.

“We’ll make a new world of heroes, of kids growing up knowing what true freedom really feels like.”

He was beyond tickled by it, Robin and Crow.

“Cheer~!”

-

.

Four. [1] I met Geo-Force today. He wasn’t impressive. You know he’s really weak if he’s not touching the ground? Gets waaaay worse the farther up he goes. Imagine sticking a reverse polarity magnetic field to his back! He couldn’t touch the ground at all.

Rossmo’s art makes my heart thump thump i love his style/// so expressive///

-

A/N:  tbh I cut the last chapter in two, this is the second half ee;;;; but I rewrote it to be it’s own chapter tho haha. Hum… this doesn’t pick up exactly where the last chapter ended, but it’s still all here. c’: Also, if you wear glasses, just know grumpy ol’ Bruce would probably force contacts on you in public (he’d see them as more ‘professional,’ and glasses as a danger/hazard in the field). Glasses are for home only sighs.

Ngl I see lexcorp similar to westworld’s delos, lotsa fancy designs ee;;;; Cadmus like nasa test rooms, clinical as heck with little to no windows, and wayne ent with Alien franchise’s archaic but advanced spaceship tech, or dracula’s castle with cubicles lmao

-

             “Hey, Jaybird…”

Normally he knew what to expect, normally he’d open the door braced for a tackle, so when the rush of wind never came, he was at a bit of a loss. There you were, dressed like Bruce for some irritating reason. A size-too-big of a jacket, zipped up over a uselessly thin black turtleneck, a pair of black gloves, pants covering everything, and a pair of black lace-less… boots… with red… soles…?, and a suspiciously familiar-looking kid in your arms…

There was a slight guilty look on your face as you gauged his reaction, he could tell, you were nervous.

Wait.

He eyed the kid something scary, his voice grounding out, “so, who do I have to murder?”

“You weren’t gone that long, you know.” Snorting, you pushed past him into the small safe house, frowning at the bareness of it all before situating Terrence on the floor mattress. “How you sleep on this thing is beyond me…” he just shrugged, “too used to it? Answer the question,” he pointed at the kid while closing the door, “who?”

Agitated.

“Terrence,” said child was looking around, but there was only so much that would grab his attention, as empty as the room was.

“His name is Terrence, and he’s no one else’s, he’s… mine.”

“You just said it hasn’t been that damned long—” his frustration was building; he wasn’t liking where this was going, not that you were aware which direction his head was headed at the moment, you’d just gotten here.

You shook your head, “don’t tell me you…” his anger settled into a dark scowl, but you refused to look at him, “you can’t seriously bring more kids into that fucking prison.” He was so conflicted, it was you, but you were still a Wayne. It scared him to think of more children stuck in that lonely mansion, becoming bitter like he had.

You remembered what Dick had said days earlier when he first saw the child,

“Jason—” you began, a slight warning to your tone.

He didn’t care,

“Don’t be like Bruce.”

His voice was so cold.

Terrence had crawled his way over to the legs of the table in the makeshift kitchen, eyes on a prize as he began trying to figure out how a chair worked.

“You know, that actually hurt.”

You didn’t hate your father like Jason projected, but you knew the way he spoke about him, the way he expressed his feelings, that he ‘hated’ him. It was a half-truth, you knew. Jason preferred not hurting you, next to Alfred, you were more tolerable than the other family members. 

Somedays Tim and Dick made that list. Somedays. 

But that didn’t mean he was actively trying to be kind, he wanted it to stab.

Petty. Resentful. Haunted.

He went to say more, but stopped, fists shaking slightly from anger.

You were staring him down, that same look of disappointment Bruce would give him when he made an obviously stupid decision, as if he were still a Robin in training. Like your father, you could read him like an open book when you tried, it made him feel vulnerable, guilty, small.

Fucking frustrated.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he was at a loss for words, “…shit.” He turned away from you, coming back to the moment as he tried to reign in his temper, “it’s just…”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

Instead of continuing to argue the point, too used to his outbursts (Alfred and your family primed you too well for dealing with the unstable emotions of others), you walked over and wrapped your arms around him, head resting on his clothed chest, “missed you, Jay.”

Almost hesitantly, his arms returned the hug, his head burying itself in your hair, “sorry…” he breathed out, almost too quiet. He was tense as you pulled back a bit, reaching up to grab his face in your gloved hands as you leaned up on your toes, pulling his head down to yours. You touched your forehead to his, making certain to be gentle, “Honestly, it’s okay Jay. I forgive you, okay?”

“Cold,” his hands cupped your (oddly chilled) gloved ones, eyes searching your face before he shifted, head nodding slightly, rubbing yours. A heavy sigh escaped him, an awkward smile forming, “so, how’s my cutest little sister been?”

Glad that he was trying to get past his guilt, you shook your head, “a roller coaster. Dad’s upset at me.”

He just snorted in amusement, relaxing a little as you continued, “And how was California? The Titans? I miss Kory…” you blinked at his flat expression, “what? You were at the Tower, right? With Kory and Roy, and the others?”

Wow you ruined the moment fast.

“Aaaand that’s where you stop being cute. I swear this family is full of creepers. I think Dick’s the only normal one,” you tilted your head as he kept his hands firmly on your shoulders. “Honestly, you and Tim are terrifying, your brother is a demon, and I don’t even want to describe Bruce.”

“Glad you didn’t include yourself in that, zomboy,” he groaned, “that’s hurtful,” then he pouted, finally getting a good look at you.

Terrence was old enough to stand on his two legs as he held onto the chair, but he kept stumbling as he moved uncertainly. His eyes were focused on his mission as he started trying to climb further up.

Something clicked in the back of Jason’s brain, sudden realization dawning, “what…” you sighed, his hand moving from your shoulder, “is this…?” You refused to meet his stare as his fingers hooked on the zipper of your jacket, “uhm…” you flushed as he pulled it down, a bright red bat in his face.

There was a sudden sparkle in his eyes.

“Huh, didn’t expect you to be that much of a fan.” You were burning from head to toe now, refusing to look at him at all, rubbing the back of your neck with a thick swallow. “That… that’s kind of the problem…”

“What, that you’re walking around with my colors?” His grin seemed disappointed, but turned a bit more concerned at the frown you leveled at him, “it… let me explain… I think I need help…”

“Definitely gonna need explanations. A lot of them.” The kid was one thing, this outfit was another. He made to sit down, and you followed, leaving Terrence to his own devices for the moment. 

It’s not like there was much trouble to get into, everything of worth or danger was out of his reach.

“…yeah.”

“…”

“…”

“What is it?”

“…Why’d you think I slept with someone? When you first saw Terrence in my arms?”

He leaned away from you, chin resting on his palm, propped up on the arm of the couch with his elbow, “I’m your brother, and he looks like… it’s… I’m supposed to get upset about that… just… answer…” he did his best to keep a straight face, but eventually he had to turn away, looking at the wall, ears burning.

“Hm…?” you leaned towards him and he didn’t have to look at you to know you had a less than innocent smile on right now.

“Creep.”

You just laughed as you leaned into his side, causing him to crack a small smile, still not looking at you.

-

[“So… How to start this…”]

[“The suit, first, Terry after.”]

[“Terry?”]

[“The kid. Just explaaaaain already, uuugh I have patrol in a few hours…”]

[A heavy sigh, “Okay, then... So, you know how Lex helps fund the Society’s shenanigans?”]

[“…oh.”]

[“Yeah.”]

-

When it came to most places, breaking and entering was always easier at night, but for the LexCorp building? Nighttime came with problems, it came with heightened security, rigorous control, and the easy ability to spot something that was out of place. There was also your youngest brother who had filled you in on his adventures with Jon once, not a single detail of the LexCorp building having been left out; he was a thorough kid.

It was far easier to infiltrate during the day, the number of staff on the security team, the cliques of scientists and researchers, and the average workers meandering about made it easy to blend. You had donned a pair of (older prototype) smart glasses, normal from the viewer’s perspective, an integrative matrix mapping AI system from the wearer’s. Well, it could do more, but this was what you needed, the constant reconstruction of old building plans for more accuracy as you walked around.

Tim’d made some amazing things over the years, such as his matrix encryption to keep your work phone quiet, scrambling any noticeable connections that could be traceable. But this one was probably the coolest in your opinion, and he had yet to see the return of said glasses since you wouldn’t give them up, and he could never find where you’d put them. The glasses were a useful subtle change from the norm, a quick disguise, the security barely giving you a glance-over as you entered the passcode for the ID tag you wore, walking into the building.

With a slight wave from you, and a “Good Afternoon!” from them, getting in the backdoor was always the easy part. There were two more women next to you chatting in excitement and you made to stick close to them, parting only when you came upon the women’s locker rooms. The badge number Tim’d tracked down for you was useful until it wasn’t, Lex’s problem was needing levels three and above extensive background checks on anyone hired, and Tim knew exactly where to look.

-

[“Like I said, terrifying.”]

[“You do the same thing.”]

[“That’s a bit above my paygrade, usually I ask Tim for help when I need information from behind top-of-the-line security walls.”]

[“Oh.”]

[“Yeah.”]

-

Next was invasion of personal privacy and property, and a lot of it. You’d have felt worse if it weren’t for having been raised this way, “you’ll find out that people are just that, some sick and twisted, some happy and kind-hearted, but in the end, we’re all the same. Eventually, nothing will surprise you,” your father would say.

It didn’t take long, going through a few lockers and purses, letting your glasses do most of the work. They were able to see in a three-dimensional matrix, constantly being constructed behind most any material or metal. There were plenty of lab coats in varying sizes to choose from, and you spotted one badge and wondered who the dumdum was. You had plenty of electromagnetic strips for your ID if you needed a switch, but it seemed unnecessary. Some people left their everything when they clocked out, too.

You’d secured your purse around your stomach and under your shirt, the bulge flattened at your side, tying the ends in place. It would uncomfortably dig into you, but you couldn’t leave it behind and it would only be for a short time.

No one had paid you any mind, too busy rushing to get in and out of the locker rooms, and you made to escape with a group of women in the same coats as yourself. The group and yourself came to an elevator, and you let them do all the work. One of them scanning their ID for the group, the rest blurting out the number of the floor they needed to get to, and yourself joining in. A strange calm settling as you got more into the coworker attitude.

Seventh level Research and Development wing.

-

[“Not his office?”]

[“Why?”]

[“I dunno, there’s probably some terrible top-secret info in there.”]

[“I mean, I was on the main R&D floor, how much more top secret can you get?”]

[“Touché.”]

-

The entire R&D area was made up of floor to ceiling glass window dividers, a white and chromatic color scheme, and a lot of tightly sealed doors. You honestly didn’t even need the glasses to find the head researcher’s office, it was written in huge bold letters next to the dumb door on a plaque.

Weaving through a few people with their eyes busy reading clipboards and cellphones, you eyed each inch of the floor, and wondered if the other stock standard R&D floors at LexCorp were similar. No one paid you any mind as you stood in front of the group of office doors, all packed neatly in a little corner, and each leading to a different R&D office. They were mostly empty, only one occupied, most of the techbros and techgals were out and about doing work.

Again, the glasses did the decoding work for you, getting you the set of numbers you needed to enter the room. Unlike the rest of the lab, this office had less windows, though the few it did have were still large. Though they faced out rather than in, and it also wasn’t as large and as roomy as you’d have imagined. The Wayne R&D offices being waaay bigger in comparison.

Taking out two small flash drives, you shoved the sticks into the lone computer on the desk, booted it up, and just let them do their thing. Having the computer start with the flash drive, it acted as an executable program, letting it bypass any needed passcodes or security clearance for now.

One for unlocking the system, the other for information storage.

No doubt someone will notice that.

You wondered briefly if this was how the Cyborg felt, only ever having gotten to see him briefly before he utterly devastated an entire operating system. He then rebuilt it to his preferences, all in the matter of seconds. Tim had always lamented not getting to watch when you described it.

Notably, it was quite lovely how LexCorp’s researchers had everything organized in a folder subsystem so well. You were able to track down the needed information in less than a few minutes through the root directory.

Gotta be faster.

However, as you stared at the processing bar on your information download, there wasn’t a whole lot to do. Clicking the monitor’s sleep button to dim any light, you stood up and strode over to the door.

Being the lookout for a computer program was a new one.

-

[“Pfff.”]

[He snickered behind his palm as you smacked him on the shoulder.]

[“At least you got in without needing to hack anything yourself. Get dunked on, Dick, Damian.”]

[Light laughter echoed.]

-

Nothing had happened by the time the computer let out a small ding, indicating the download had finished. With both flash drives now pocketed, you turned to the next problem: getting out.

It really shouldn’t have been that hard, it was so stupidly easy to get in, thank you new temporary coworkers, but as you eyed the group of security detail by the elevator, you made a hard turn to the side.

Had you gone through the front doors instead of the employee entrance, you would have seen a ton of security. Through the back however, they really were only at certain check points, it’s not like just anyone could get in. So of course, there was no way they would have been able to get so far as the head office of any department.

How long had you been gone from the others? How long did you still have on Tim’s encryptions?

Oh heck.

The options were now trying to squeeze by the security, which was doubtful, they were checking everyone, or figure out a way to base jump without any gear. Neither option sounded appealing, you had no wings or grappling hooks with you, and it was still midday.

The corridor you turned into went from full on glass to a partition supporting windows, half and half, split horizontally to allow for more privacy, probably.

This was also exactly where you didn’t want to be.

Frick.

Most of the rooms looked like chemistry labs, charts everywhere, huge gravity convection and forced-air ovens, and thermo-freezers that looked like they belonged in meat markets. It was almost overwhelming at how cool some of these things looked as you searched for an exit. So filled with anxiety and adrenaline as you were, you almost missed it out of the corner of your eye. It was the red shimmering of a glass bowl on your face that made you notice it, the barely-there stream of sun that caught it just right.

You wasted no time getting to work, the door just as easy as the others, passcodes, they were all passcodes. Where were the fingerprint and retina scanners? Hell, where was the facial recognition scanners? You’d come prepared for so much, so you were incredibly confused at the lax security features. But again, this wasn’t the ground floor and security clearance was stricter this far in, your badge did most of the infiltration for you.

Was your dad that paranoid that now, so were you?

-

[“The civi world is full of sub-par idiots.”]

[“You sound like Dami.]

[“Gross.”]

[“…it’s uncanny, really, he said the same thing.”]

[“Shit.”]

-

The room looked similar to the others, less windows, more wall, plenty of graphs and charts, but there were a few different things as well. A few of which you pocketed; the only expensive looking laptop was also grabbed straight off a table to the side of your quarry.

The most notable thing however was glaring you boldly in the face, all black and a giant red bat on the chest.

A batsuit.

-

[“Yeah, I’m gonna want to know why baldy even had this thing.”]

[“Tim’s going through the drives right now, Dami dropped them off…”]

[“Damn.”]

-

Why did Lex have a batsuit? Where did he get it from, or did he help develop it? Terrence was part of all this, and what about your fa… the Batman? Why was Cadmus part of all this? Why was Lex? Were there more suits? More clo— children?

Shit shit shitshitshitshi—

To say you were freaking out a bit was an understatement.

Hearing heavy footsteps, you panicked and grabbed the garment from behind it’s glass case and took a dive behind the nearest desk. They hadn’t come in yet, they hadn’t gotten to this room, there was still time, but… still time to what?

You eyed the suit in your hands, it’s size horribly different from your own body type (but you could probably still fit it) and you decided to make a really dumb decision then and there.

You were gonna get caught regardless, might as well suit up and try to fight your way out. If you were lucky, you could get out of this without ruining your father’s reputation (or Batman’s identity.)

You began stripping behind the desk, fully intent on donning the batsuit. If nothing else, these things usually came with masks, even though you hadn’t seen a single one near it.

The moment you pulled the fabric over your legs, heels sliding effortlessly into the red soles, you watched almost in amazement as the fabric melted to your skin, reshaping to fit you. There was going to be a lot of bagginess in the suit when you wore it, a lot of tightness in weird places, too, and it had looked fitted to a larger male. So you hadn’t expected the suit to fit perfectly on purpose. It even had a built-in utility belt. Suddenly you were a bit giddy.

Again, what the hell was Lex Luthor doing?

“So freaking cool.”

The material felt almost like a second skin, there was also no sensory loss from wearing it, you could feel the floor as if you were barehanded.

You’d never thought about it before, but now you couldn’t take your mind off Dick and his skintight suit. You felt almost nude in this suit, not used to something showing everything off like it was.

Did Dick enjoy this?

Your ears burned brightly as you finished suiting up, no longer able to think about a large portion of superheroes and villains.

How could you ever face some of them again?

How could you ever look Dick in the eyes again?

“Oh no…”

Perverts. All of them.

-

[Loud laughter.]

[A very red face.]

-

You had to admit though, it was so much cooler than your heavier and bulkier recon gear. It didn’t weigh you down and the sensory adaptation was something you’d never come across before. Speaking of, reaching up, you took the glasses off to get a clear view of your surroundings and immediately regretted it.

The suit seemed to come to life on it’s own as something came out of nowhere, engulfing your head in complete darkness.

A silent scream, too terrified to let out any sound.

You about died then and there.

The suit wasn’t that cool anymore.

Without missing a beat and calming your fears of being bagged or worse, the darkness faded, and you could see your surroundings. Blinking for a moment to adjust, you tried to get your bearings on what the hell just happened, your hand gingerly coming up to feel your face.

[Booting...]

Were you hearing things or did the suit just...?

Unfortunately, that was the exact moment the door to the room you were in opened, and you panicked. It was a dead-end room, you weren’t as good at fighting as your brothers, and the security here could be scary when hunting down an intruder.

Stupid Lex.

Without thinking, you grabbed your things now bundled up in the labcoat like a bag, slung it over your shoulder, and bolted towards one of the windows looking out.

You were so used to recon jobs that you hadn’t taken into consideration that you had none of your gear (but your brothers did this kind of stupid thing constantly, so you’d be okay, right?).

You were too caught up in the moment.

You hadn’t heard the sound, mind too blank, but the glass falling around you was enough indication of just what you had done.

Base jumping it was.

You were in a batsuit, after all. 

Falling seven stories was terrifying, but definitely brought you back to reality. Securing the makeshift bag on your back, tied around your neck, you began thinking as fast as you could. Claws? The suit had them, you had noticed, but you were too far from the building, having jumped a distance, then... The suit had a built-in utility belt, right? Maybe there was something useful in one of the —

[Servo-Motors engage…]

[Checking system function…]

[Loading protocol…]

…huh?

[84 feet till impact.]

…wait—

[75 feet till impact.]

“Yeah I see that.”

[71 feet till impact.]

“Thanks.” Sarcasm, “What else can you tell me other than my unfortunate demise at the hands of gravity?”

[Thrusters not online.]

[68 feet till impact.]

[Grappling gun unavailable.]

[Batarang lines unavailable.]

[67 feet till impact.]

[Retractable wings availa—]

“Yes, that one, wings, please! Wait… thrusters?” you had little time as your whole body suddenly started tumbling, a set of red wings expanding between your arms and the sides of your torso. “Shitshitsh—” and then you were gliding, your arms having spread on their own from the force of the fall. “Oh… Oh my…”

The suit was cool again, “Dang this is… nice… Like a bird or… him.” You reeeaaallllly didn’t want to chance him hearing you say his name.

You wanted to try this higher up now, in a sea of clouds… It was like floating, an almost weightless feeling taking over. The wind currents were a bit to get used to, but it wasn’t terrible, having imagined it would be worse higher up, in them dang fluffy clouds... sigh.

[23 feet till landing.]

The suit helped guide you to an area with less people, something akin to your own Gotham alleyways (to a point, Metropolis’ worst streets were like Gotham’s safest ones). The small alley that led to several businesses’ back doors was rather clean, and there weren’t many places to hide. The best you could do was a growing shadow next to an empty dumpster.

“Alright then…” you sighed aloud, hands doing their best to find any seam in the suit, and after a few minutes, your—

[Heart rate at 142bpm.]

[Heart rate rising.]

[Blood pressure at—]

“—No kidding,” you thought, mind racing, and unfortunately, there wasn’t a single seam on the suit.

Anxiety was building in your chest,

“Frick.”

-

[“Wait, the suit talks?”]

[“I think it has an OS on it? I haven’t tried the cowl since…”]

[“You should.”]

[“…Nnnn”]

-

“Why do you look like Nightwing?” All you did was take the clothes from Damian and began to dress yourself over the suit, not certain at all on what you could say to this situation. You’d called Damian the moment you lucked out and made the cowl… come off?, and in his eagerness to leave Jon behind, he showed up quickly.

“You will tell me,” he was sounding just like dad.

“Dami, I uhm…”

“…I won’t tell father.” he could deduce a few things this pertained to, including but not limited to the child you had brought home, and how you avoided Bruce.

You could only sigh and nod at him, resigned. You really hope this didn’t come back to bite you in the bottom.

“What are you two doing?”

The clothes you had couldn’t cover most of the suit, the clothes Damian had brought you were able to do just that. Strangely, you weren’t feeling overheated, even though you looked like you were ready for cold weather.

“Ah, Jon.”

“You look silly.”

“…thanks.”

[“…”]

[”...”]

-

“Nightwing? Screw that brat.”

“Please don’t speak like that…” you sighed, your head in your hands.

He just huffed in annoyance, “I wear the colors better,” he muttered, “it sounds like a lot, what's your next plan of action?”

You let yourself slump forwards as he pulled you into a side-hug, arm slung over your shoulders, “it’s this suit. I can’t get it off, and—"

BAM

You and Jason about had twin heart attacks.

Without missing another fraction of a second, the larger male was on his feet, flipping over the back of the couch ready to attack before he swore at the sight in front of him. Striding over to the table in two long steps, “What the hell, Terry.” He haphazardly picked the kid up, a red helmet falling on the table with a clang, and turned to you, “your kid just tried to kill us, you realize.”

Having slid to the ground out of need to instantly roll to the side, you stopped, staring at the smoking gun that’d been pushed off the table, lying on the floor near you. Your eyes then shifting to the hole in the safehouse’s wall, “Uhm… The safety…”

He just snorted, “I don’t always have it on.” He wasn’t great at taking care of himself, sadly. You did your best with your busy schedule and budgeted time constraints, but when he wasn’t here, he easily fell into old habits.

“Please don’t let the demon spawn near him.”

“Please keep the damned safety on your guns.”

-

Batman was straining so hard that it looked like he was in the middle of a fight, an obvious aura of unrest around him.

“Whoa, you gonna punch yourself in the face? Wait, wait a minute, I gotta…” Batman groaned, irritated as a red blur came into the room, jabbered on too quickly, then took his phone out and pointed it at the big bat.

“Okay, I’m recording now, do it!”

It took a moment as Batman thought, rubbing his temples.

“I trained my kids too well,” at that, Flash put his phone down, tilting his head in confusion, “and that’s… bad?” He looked up at the League’s computers in front of him, noting the blinking [[ALERT ALERT ALERT]] off to the side.

“Because,” Batman reasoned, “I have to deal with them,” he ground out, glaring at the sign of intrusion.

“Ooooh, your kids hacked into the system again, huh?” Flash let out a low whistle, clearly amused by Batman’s misfortunes. Batman did his best to ignore the red nerd, calling on Cyborg to assist him, even though he had already been on his way, noticing it moments prior.

“Family, amirite?”

Batman said nothing in response,

Tim almost got away with it.

-

a/n:  still no jaybird lmao I’m sorry, but I brought in mamabat duke, because he’s the best at being a mamabat without smothering you like your other siblings. Steph too because she’s your sweet bean partner in crime u v u)9 For my sanity, Metropolis is in Deleware across the bay from Jersey (tho Gotham is still north of Atlantic City).

-

He wasn’t certain if he should be proud or upset at how quickly you’d turned Tim against him, the two of you now working in unison, playing ‘keep away from big papa Bruce.’ No matter when he tried to approach you, something always seemed to happen or come up, and it was actually starting to get on his nerves. Worse was Damian seemed to be joining in, his rebellious nature being nurtured by the influence of both Tim and yourself.

He knew it would be difficult to deal with you and your ability to hide anything, just like you could hide yourself, but… Now he had to deal with more than just you, and Tim wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. Oh no, this was going to be a headache with you two. And Damian… He couldn’t trust that his son wouldn’t give away anything he did to you, his loyalties giving out to the growing childish nature he was developing. Bruce was again at a loss, should he be happy Damian was acting his age, or upset that he was more interested in working with the ‘opposition?.’ 

“It’s not a mission,” Damian had commented, so it was “fair game.”

He rested his head in his hands, fingers lightly massaging his temples as his elbows supported him, propping him up on the ornate desk in his study.  Fucking hell, he had to outsmart both the tech sleuth and the stealth agent of the family. Information was literally their game. Rather than giving into the growing frustration in his stomach, he stood up, now a bat on a mission as he quickly headed down to the cave. He thanked his moody bat heart that it was just two of his kids (he wasn’t certain of Damian yet, the wild card), and not… more…

The League computers would definitely come in handy right about now.

He was gonna go full fucking vigilante detective bat mode on his kids.

Again.

He groaned.

-

[bigR] Dad took off for the League, bet you can guess why.

Flipping your personal phone closed with a light snort, you refocused your attention on buckling the toddler into the hand-me-down car seat. You’d definitely have to get him a new one on your shopping trip, you just hoped Duke’s car could fit everything…

Damian was securing his sword between him and the kid before he crawled in, closing the door and putting on his safety belt. You grinned at him as he avoided your smile, looking away instead, “hurry up.” Shaking your head, you leaned in to rub your nose against Terrence’s own, his chubby fingers coming up to grab at your face, hair, clothes, ears, and earrings ohgodstop. Having cooed at him enough, and having been assaulted by his little nails, scratches now on your chin, you leaned back and out of his reach, closing the door softly.

“Are you sure it’s okay to shirk off for the day? You’re the one usually patrolling at this time…” you headed to the passenger side, “Big guy said it was fine, besides…” Duke smiled and nodded his head towards the car with a wink, “wouldn’t want to leave you alone with a bunch of kids.” It’s not like he was wrong, but you were skilled enough to handle your brother and… son… ah… that was going to get some getting used to. A smile and spread on your face with a light laugh as you climbed in, settling, and closed the door behind you, “ready to get going?” Damian glared at you before refocusing his attention on Terrence, ignoring your obviously dumb question, “Pennyworth mentioned Todd having finally gotten back before I left.”

Duke had started up the car and checked over everything before heading down the manor drive, now officially on the road. Meanwhile, you hummed happily, “guess I’ll have to go see him when we get back.” Damian made a face, “gross.” You rolled your eyes in amusement, “you knew what my reaction was gonna be.”

The two were ridiculous in how they treated each other, honestly.

“It’s still gross.”

The ride down the ocean side drive was calming, the windows lowered to let the cool ocean breeze in. Damian was back to his “poking the toddler’s nose” game, having gotten used to the sound of a baby, and no longer acting like it wasn’t his fault when he made the toddler laugh.

Meanwhile,

“So, who made you the baby-sitter?” Duke kept his eyes on the road, the ever-responsible budding adult that he was, “Bruce, actually.” He grinned at the way you looked at him, catching sight from the corner of his eye, “surprising, I know. Woulda thunk Tim’d have asked, huh?”

Nodding, you leaned back, “well, I mean, yeah. He’s been pretty upset since the other day, he won’t leave Terrence and I alone at the manor. He’s been staying over...” You might have felt bad for lying to Duke, but the truth was that you were lying to everyone but Tim at this point. Not that it was the first time you’d lied to them. You told the truth so often that they took you at your word, never catching on when you did fib, but you were pretty certain this would blow up in your face.

They’d catch you eventually.

This wasn’t one of those easy to digest lies either, that was the complicated part. It terrified you how they’d react once they learned the truth.

Then…

Before that happened, you made the silent determination that you’d make your… son a part of the family. They won’t be able to decide anything for him then, they’d be in too deep, you’d make certain.

Yeah, you could be a little… manipulative sometimes.

Probably something you got from your father.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, sorry, nothing. My mind was just wandering,” Duke frowned a little, flipping on his blinker while coming to a slow crawl, “not believing you.”

Turning your head to him, your grin was a bit scary, “okay, so, I was just thinking about if your car can fit everything I’m going to want to buy.” It was enough to distract him, a groan finding its way out as he pulled into the ticketing line for the ferry.

“If..??”

Now, to really drive it home, you pulled something from your purse and waved it at him, “Is… is that…” he eyed it nervously. “Yes, yes it is, dear brother.” His ears burned as he turned his eyes from you, hand now outstretched in your direction.

“You’re paying the ferry, then…” he muttered.

You put your dad’s credit card on his palm,

“Rich little daddy’s girl.”

This time the snort came from the back seat, “I have one as well, Thomas. You need only ask father.”

Duke sputtered and refused to acknowledge either of you till after having crossed the Deleware Bay.

Rich kids. Honestly.

-

Metropolis always amazed you, honestly, the bright skies overhead and the amount of people without a care in the world was enviable. Still, it just wasn’t… home. By now you’d developed some serious Stockholm for the cesspit that is Gotham. Even so, you preferred to go shopping here, their selection of high-quality stores mixed with less people recognizing you, and your family, were boons.

As you stared up at the towering high rise in front of you, Damian having disappeared inside minutes before, there was one other reason for coming to Metropolis…

“You’re always so slow! I told you to hurry up!!”

“Who’s slow?! You’re the slow one!!”

“Boys, please—”

The loud sound of twin crashes echo’d out the opened lobby door, the two boys in question bounding out with plenty of energy and two very red chins. “That… looks painful…” you smiled, walking over to check Damian’s face for actual injury.

“Tt, I’m fine.” He smacked your hand away, glaring at the super next to him, rubbing his own, already healing chin. “Hey Jon, enjoying Metropolis?” The bright-eyed boy, sans cape, grinned at you from ear to ear, “There’s so much to do here!” he almost lifted off the ground in his excitement, “but I miss the farm.” A chuckle came from the entrance to the building, deep and warm and just as kind as the child now sticking his tongue out at your youngest brother. On the man’s broad shoulder was an overnight bag, and a sheepish smile on his face as if he felt guilty. 

He probably did, the two boys were a handful.

Duke was leaning against the roof of the car with a huge dopey smile on his face, waving at the man approaching, “Hello, you must be the chaperone, Duke Thomas?” your newest brother nodded enthusiastically, almost at a loss for words, “Yup! I-I mean y-yes, it’s nice to meet you, sir!” Clark only chuckled, far too used to such formalities, “Clark is fine, our families are… close, after all.” He watched the boys pull at each other’s faces in mock battle.

“Ah, Clark! It’s been a while!” the older male smiled as he stopped a few feet from you and the car, hands resting on his hips, “Miss Wayne.” Near immediately, his eyes shifted to the backseat of the car and he leaned against the door, looking in.

“Bruce has another kid? He looks like how I always imagined him to look as a kid, suspiciously innocent,” you froze, and he would have laughed at the thought of Bruce with more secret kids, but he straightened. Looking at you in concern instead, he started, “I know he’s not… the most affectionate father, but…” you quickly shook your head, attempting damage control. “It… no, he’s not dad’s…” You laughed nervously at the look on his face, his hand raising to point at you as his mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to process.

“Yup. He’s… His name is Terrence, and he’s… my… son…” your tone turned warm and kind, and your eyes settled on the babe in the car with all the grace of a mother, just like Lois when Jon had been born, the older super nodded thoughtfully. “I’m glad it’s you, then. If anyone in that family can raise a good kid, it’ll be you.” The two of you shared an understanding smile, though yours was accompanied by a twitch or two, swearing he enjoyed his little joke, before he turned his head painfully in surprise, as if an enemy had suddenly appeared.

Following his sight, you had to laugh at the dark glare on Damian’s face directed at Clark, “well, I think it’s time I take my leave, then.” He scratched the back of his head, avoiding the kid’s gaze. He wanted to inquire more about the new addition to the family, but it would have to wait. Jon gave his dad a huge hug, getting his hair ruffled in the process as Clark waved at Duke, chucking the overnight bag into the car.

With a last good-bye to you, he turned high-tail and ran, as if he were almost eager to get away. Watching him jog slowly inside the building, you almost swore his steps were far lighter than his build, “probably prefers to float…” looking away, you missed him trip.

“Alright, c’mon you two. Get in.” when you’d opened the door, the two boys stared in horror, “I’m not sitting in the middle.” Damian ground out before Jon pushed him with more force than Damian could resist, “HE’S YOUR BROTHER!!! YOU SIT IN THE MIDDLE!”

“STUPID! HE’S MY NEPHEW!”

“Still, you sit next to him…” Jon pouted, and combined with your stare, Damian crawled in with a grumble, “Stupid super.” Jon ignored him without issue, and you’d have to ask Damian about it later, curious as to why his best friend was so used to his insults like it was a common occurrence? Then he climbed in after, shutting the door behind him.

“Nerves of steel, that one,” you mumbled, getting back in the car as Duke laughed lightly, starting the car up before heading a bit further into the city. After a few minutes and a few stop lights, Duke gave in to the side-glances you kept giving him, having caught them from the corner of his own eyes, “what now?” The growing devious grin on your face had him on edge, “speaking of nerves of steel…” a shiver hit the back of his neck, “please don’t.” His begging stopped nothing, “fanboy,” but of course you would, and he did his best to pay attention to the road, “don’t make me ignore you all day.”

“I thought it was cute though? Haha, Izzy would be jealous.”

“It’s… I mean, he was…” his ears were burning, especially at the mention of Isabella’s name, and he pouted worse than Jon had.

“I know, but still. You know you’ve met him before, right?” Duke looked like he wanted to disappear in his seat, “just… in costume…” you hummed in amusement.

It didn’t take long for Duke to pull into the parking lot at one of the high-end furniture stores, resting his head on the steering wheel for a moment after parking. The two boys were already out of the car, bickering and racing into the store, “you have no taste! It’s all dark! You can’t put a baby in a depressing room!”

“YOU WANT TO BLIND HIM WITH BRIGHT COLORS!”

“YOU WANT TO SCARE HIM WITH DOOM AND GLOOM!”

The two were practically racing at this point, shoving each other back and forth, though Jon often made Damian stumble through raw strength, and Damian often made Jon trip through dirty tricks.

“Aaaaand there they go.” You were already out of the car as you said it, heading to the driver’s backside door. Duke stepped out before stilling, his face falling at the straps in your hand, outstretched towards him, “you have got to be kidding.”

“Nope, you’re the babysitter today, Papa Duke.”

He took the child carrier from you, strapping the pack on with a depressed aura of resignation, “this so doesn’t look cool.” You snickered as you transferred Terrence over to the pack on Duke’s front, “yeah, but people won’t mess with a big guy like you. Besides, I can handle Damian better than you, can you take care of our son?” you teased him.

“Yeah, I can take care of… him…” Duke eyed the child looking around at everything he could, taking in every sight with silent baby contemplation skills, thumb in his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Izzy about us,” you thought for a moment as he ignored your comments, switching tactics. Eyeing him before patting him on the shoulder, you began heading after the two boys, “when you get back, tell Izzy you think she looks like a piece of candy.”

He had a confused look as he followed after you, catching up in a speed walk, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Not only did his ears turn red, but his entire face and neck burned hot at the suggestive smile on your face, “Oh… wait, w-why out of nowhere though?!”

“You forget, I live with nothing but men. Harper’s not around often and Steph is the only female I see on a regular basis.”

“Get some friends,” he groaned.

“That’s what family is for.”

Ugh.

-

Shopping actually went a lot better than expected, and you were able to get a new car seat at the behest of Damian, “no way you’re using a hand-me-down,” he all but threatened. There were some smaller things you could easily fit into the car, a few boxes, one for a mobile, one for a few bed sets, a giant pregnancy pillow -- regardless that you weren’t pregnant, you wanted the giant horseshoe pillow. Jon was jealous of it, now wanting one of his own, as you picked up some non-essentials.

The bigger things would have to be shipped, a crib for a few months till he was big enough, small bed with side bars so he wouldn’t fall out when ready to swap out the crib. They even had a huge rocking chair! It was probably one of the most comfortable things you had ever sat in, its ability to “rock” you back and forth on its slides without losing much momentum was heaven.

And you could curl up in it.

Somewhere in all the chaos, just as expected, you’d gone and lost both the boys. Or, well, more like they lost you. Duke was still dutiful with Terrence, and he was also really amazing at looking at details and knowing what item was better than the next. Sure, you’d been taught the same skills, but you were preoccupied with Damian and Jon (until you weren’t).

“Hum… hey, I’m gonna go check out next door, okay?” Duke turned to you from the different curtains in his hand, having taken to looking at a few general things for the room; curtains, bookshelves, a desk or two.

Unlike your father and most of your family, you had far more free time to do these small things yourself, never needing to hire an assistant to do all the work. You only needed some help with moving things, of course. It was something you’d picked up from both Alfred and the Kents, the equally uneasy and comforting feeling of being humble.

“Sure, which one?”

“The clothing store, I think there’s a dedicated kid store a bit further down the mall strip, I’ll probably make my way towards that.” Duke pouted, “leaving me alone with the kids?”

“Just one.” To emphasis your point, Terrence decided to start pulling on the same curtain as Duke, though Duke swatted his hands away quickly. A one-sided glaring contest began as the kid kept his frown on Duke, not looking away.

Duke looked around ignoring him, “that’s… true…”

“Thanks Papa Duke!” you gave him a hug, burying your face in Terrence’s and pelting him with kisses, pulling back only when his laughter echoed around the three of you. Duke refused to look at you as you cooed at the child strapped to his chest, awkward, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

He snorted and went back to picking out curtains, “and don’t you forget it.”

“You have my card still, right?” He nodded, not even bothering to ask if you needed it. He knew you didn’t carry paper notes around, having seen you use your phone to pay for things physically too often.

Taking that as your cue, you turned to leave, “text if you need anything, and keep an eye out for the boys, I’ll… look, too,” and a moment later you were outside the store, stretching in the sun with a big breath of fresh air. Dang you loved Gotham, but also? Dang you loved Metropolis, too.

-

[steph] hey, herd u like

[steph] have a baby now???!

[steph] ;)))))

The buzzing of your personal phone caught your attention,

[you] tim? also, switching over for a bit.

You switched recipients,

[you] ready.

Turning the phone off and flipping it closed, you began walking in the opposite direction that Duke had been told, popping the back of the case off and pulling out the battery.

You’d asked Tim to redirect a dummy signal for your phone, keeping it within a five-foot radius of Duke for the next forty minutes or so. He’d given you the thumbs up, your telling him everything when you got back being his payment for helping.

He was very curious as to why you were breaking in to the LexCorp building.

The rather fast-paced walk (almost a light jog) to the building wasn’t that long, you’d made certain the stores you chose were close on purpose. Taking out your business phone, you opened it to another text as you started up a rather… illegal app. Your phone’d been rooted from the moment you had it, and it was hooked up to a very specific closed network.

This outing was one of the only chances you’d get, having lucked out with the more lenient Duke, as your other siblings were far more vigilant. Damian meanwhile was distracted by Jon, the two acting more like brawling siblings than best friends. Though Damian preferred the term rivals, but Jon was just happy to have a close friend he could be himself with.

[splr] he couldn’t contain himself

[splr] was vibin’ like flash lol

There were very few people who had access to this phone, and unfortunately for Tim, it was a hazard for both of you to have any kind of connection to him on your work phone. Stephanie however was one of the very few people who got to have that privilege.

[you] remind me to thank him for stealing my thundr

The family had the Bat-computer, Batman had the League’s Womb mainframe, the Robins had their Nest, and you? You had access to something older, reborn too many times, and set up and now maintained by some genius mastermind you’d never heard of. 

It was a mostly defunct information network by this point.

You’d met some really interesting people when you used to tail your father, and through repeated encounters, you’d met even more interesting uh... “friends.” Eventually you weren’t stalking your dad, instead, you were learning to do what you did best: Spy-games and recon.

And you’d impressed the wrong people.

But you didn’t mind, you liked the constant link to “their” information hubs.

[splr] lol

[splr] coffee tmrrw?

The Society’s Networks.

You knew your dad suspected some of your activities, but he never approached you about them. Probably because Batman enjoyed your access to these networks often when they were online, having come to you on multiple occasions to see if you could help with his detective work. 

You were playing double agent, compiling what you could from the chatter picked up from specific phones hooked into the closed channels. Sure, they weren’t always active and so sometimes you had to go with information from recon, but you did what you could, your bias for your bats, and birds, too strong. For your family.

[you] the same-same

[splr] c u tmrw then ;)

[splr] don’t forget the kid lol

Not that you’d ever shown him, if Batman knew what kind of information the Society had in their databases, well… you were pretty certain the world would burn. 

He once said it was best he didn’t know, something about helping to keep a balance between the good and the bad, causing both sides to stay in check.

The database’s app held all kinds of information, and as you downloaded the LexCorp building plans (sans recent modifications), you stared at the towering complex in front of you. Before you went further, you made certain the matrix encryption program was running, after all, “no reason to let anyone know I’m here.”

“Done this tons of times, can totally do this again,” but LexCorp was terrifying, Lex Luthor was terrifying, almost as much as Wayne Enterprises. Here’s to hoping your dad’s technology and Tim’s brain were smarter than anything Lex could cook up.

Besides, wasn’t he under house arrest right now?

It did nothing to calm your nerves.

“Nerves of steel, totally.”

a/n: Terry as a baby tho with an overly protective big sis/mom reader… I can’t get this out of my head lol. Also batfam are very close with bat!sis reader in this, so lotsa fluffy sibling intimacy. Because I want the fluff haha.

(it actually turned into more plot than fluff sighs)

 idk pairings/haven’t thought of that, I just didn’t know how to tag it so i used pairing tags??? lol despite that, I don’t feel comfortable putting Damian, Bruce, nor Terry in the tags ee;;;; Jason’s not in this chapter but he’s in the tags anyway sighs, he comes in around ch3.

-

A light lit up on one of the many monitors in the cave, a box popping up not a moment later with the alert, attracting the costumed people in the room. Bruce was second to the computers, Tim immediately making certain that the alert said what he thought it said, “Good. She’s back.” He sighed heavily, relieved before trudging towards the car port. Sure he was upset, they all were, but at the moment they were just glad their sister was back and alive. She’d get quite the talking to about scaring them all like this, especially from Tim and Bruce, later.

It almost felt like an eternity as her bike came into view, skidding to a comfortable stop with minimal sound. She took a moment to adjust herself, and they didn’t miss the small form clinging to her frontside. It was aggravating how slow and careful she was being, how slowly she got up from her bike as if the young child she had with her was the most fragile treasure. She shifted so that the bundle was curled up in her arms, messy black hair hiding most features as their face buried in her shoulder, frightened. The kid had to be about a year old or so, they assumed, quiet and trembling in her hold.

Damian stood next to their father, annoyance on his face as he bit back harsh words. Of all the people in the world, like Alfred, his sister was someone he never wanted to hurt. He couldn’t even imagine such a thing. “You turned off your comms,” Bruce stated, she only nodded, not usually one for hiding what she was up to. He went to open his mouth again, but Damian’s cold tone beat him to it, “you were missing all night.” She nodded at him again, lips pursed to keep herself from saying anything.

She was struggling with her feelings right now, incredibly upset at the way her family was staring at her, as if she herself were a child. It was really hard for her right now to be the loving big sister she’s always been since coming to live at the manor. All she wanted to do was forgive them for their mistrust, or to tell them everything to take that distrust away. She hated feeling like a bad guy, and she did her best to stand firm on how she felt, but her resolve was crumbling fast in their presence.

You couldn’t help it, your family had that kind of effect on you, always weak to them and their needs.

You would always forgive them. Always.

Tim was first to rush over, quickly pulling you into a hug (careful of the boy), and a slight tremble in his tensed hands kept you from pulling back. He rested his head on the shoulder opposite the kid’s head, arms refusing to move as the other three strode over. “Stupid, where were you?” Tim mumbled into your shoulder, your response was to bury your cheek in his hair, “I was… we were so worried. You don’t just go dark on us like that, especially not on me, you know that.”

He shifted his head to look you in the face, foreheads pressing together. Reaching up, he gently took off your domino mask so your eyes could meet, him doing his best to stare you down. A silent conversation began, your somewhat desperate look of, ‘I’m sorry, I have my reasons,’ and his shoulders sagging a little, ‘I’m still not happy about this.’

It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment, the latter speaking up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” Dick tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

“Hey, uhm…” Dick coughed nervously now, stomach flipping and looked between Tim and Bruce, “has she… ever made a face like that before?” Tim frowned, shaking his head, “you actually upset her. That’s an accomplishment, Richard.” Tim went to change so he could follow you, wanting to know everything about what you had been doing and where you had been. “I… meant it to be humorous…” Damian just scowled at him, “it was in poor taste, Grayson,” he turned, wanting to change before following you and Tim, curious. Dick just sighed into his hand, knowing he’d have to make it up to you later, or the others would hold it against him.

“Babybat, too? Ugh.”

Usually you handled his joking around without much issue, what the heck?

“Good job. Whelmed yet?,” Bruce turned back towards the bat computer, intent on discovering things himself (and to alert the others, still out looking, that you were safe). After all, there was only going to be so much you’d say (call it a father’s intuition). Dick frowned at his father making fun of him, unamused, “...haha” He grumbled and went to change, following after his siblings with a yawn finding it’s escape (they’d been frantic all night, looking everywhere).

-

“You understand we’re not letting you out of our sight after this, right?” his ears perked up at Damian’s tone, uncertain if he was joking or not. Rounding the corner into a smaller sitting room, he stopped before leaning broad shoulders against the doorframe. “That’s terrifying, Dami.” Dick grinned at the glare his youngest brother sent him, eyes turning to you and the child on your lap apologetically, “Sorry, about before.”

You only waved your hand as if to dismiss the earlier conversation, a sign that Dick took to push off the wall and walk over for a better view, “So, Terrence, huh?” You only nodded, stuck in your thoughts, thinking things over. All your attention was kept on the child snuggled up against you, staring at the other’s in the room with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

Dick’s brow raised now that he got a good look.

“Okay, I know I said I was sorry, but…” Damian’s fingers strained to not curl into a fist as he gave Dick a hard, pointed stare, but he didn’t go farther as your hand patted his arm. “Black hair and blue eyes,” Tim sighed at Dick, “I’m just saying.” He shrugged, stopping himself from wondering aloud if the family was cursed.

You could only huff in exasperation as you buried your face in Terrence’s hair, the child wiggling to look up with huge blues. You smiled down at him and leaned back into the cushions, letting him rest against you at an incline, bouncing your leg lightly. His small hands readjusted to grasp onto your shirt, head using your chest as a pillow while he kept watching the men and scrunched his nose.

“So, where’d he come from?” Dick sat across form you, seeing as Damian was sitting next to you on the small couch, Tim in the chair to your other side (all your recon gear was in a pile on the floor next to you). A frown settled on your face, staring at the floor as you kept your face buried in the child’s hair, then shook your head. Stubborn. Tim frowned at you and the child, arms crossed in contemplation, and Damian was staring at the child wide-eyed in amazement (he was so inexperienced). Dick crossed his arms and leaned back, biting the inside of his cheek, “…hey,” your attitude was worrying him, you’d never been this closed off before.

Your eyes shifted from the floor to look at Dick, cycling to Damian and then to Tim, straight faced with having made your decision (even though you had already made it hours earlier). Looking to your family, you took a deep breath to brace yourself, “he’s mine.” All three of the men stiffened, Damian shaking his head, “you weren’t pregnant. Impossible.” 

When your eyes met his, he squinted slightly, your head tilting forwards, his turning away, “tt.” Dick was a bit jealous at how you had such a strong connection with Tim and Damian, wishing he could join in on the exchange of expressions (unfortunately, his innate big brother intuition with his siblings only took him so far. Living in Blüdhaven meant he wasn’t as involved in family as he wanted).

Tim was being incredibly careful as he sized you up, taking in the kid’s appearance and the way you were keeping your eyes on the men like a hawk. Damian had relaxed next to you, shifting his weight to lean against your side as he began poking and prodding at the child. In turn, Terrence just tried to grab at Damian’s fingers with his small hands, at times trying to bite him when his finger booped him on the nose (Damian noticed and started turning it into a game, as if he were playing chicken with a cat and it’s claws).

Terrence became a bit more comfortable, too focused on Damian’s antics, and he let out a small laugh, causing Damian to freeze in place. He hadn’t expected it, too absorbed in the game he had made up and instantly his ears turned red, suddenly self-conscious. The finger that had been frozen in place was hovering dangerously close to Terrence’s face and, taking the invitation, the child bit down. He would have yelped if he hadn’t been so well trained, barely able to contain himself, Damian jerked his finger out of the child’s biting range.

Dick cracked a smile and you did your best to not laugh, Tim however was studying his youngest brother, it was cute when he acted his age.

“So, he’ll be staying here then?” You nodded at Dick, “think B’s gonna be okay with this?” you shrugged, it wouldn’t matter, you’d refuse to give the kid up, “So…” Dick shifted, failing to keep his face straight, “Damian’s not the baby anymore.” As wary of the kid as he was, he couldn’t pass up the moment to tease his favorite brother.

“…Grayson,” Damian glared at Dick before reluctantly looking at the kid, silently agreeing. He wasn’t the baby anymore, “we… will need to outfit a nursery room, then.” Dick couldn’t hide his smile, letting it spread on his face at his younger brother’s quick acceptance, “guess I’m gonna hafta visit more often then if I want to be the best uncle.” Both Tim and Damian’s heads turned in unison at Dick, eyes narrowing in a way that made Dick want to step back, nervous.

“No way, I’ll be--” Tim was cut off,

“As if you could be better than me, Grayson,” he sent a pointed look at Tim, “I will be the best uncle.”

You were just glad your brothers were taking this so well.

“Sure.” Tim deflated a bit as Bruce walked into the room, looking at his boys before turning to you and the child, “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to speak with—” Just like Tim, he was cut off, “I won’t tell you anything about him.” Bruce frowned at your stubbornness, not liking that this was how you chose to respond to the situation. “You’re not getting out of this, we’re going to have a talk,” he stopped himself, correcting his remark after a moment’s thought, “…a few talks, actually.”

“No.” you frowned and he crossed his arms with a more serious ‘I’m your father, do as I say,” look about him. “It’s not up for debate.”

The brothers just looked back and forth, opting to stay quiet instead of getting involved. It did no good when the two of you got stubborn with one another.

“You can’t take him from me.” Your father’s stare softened slightly, shaking his head, “we need to discuss that, too.” Honestly, he wasn’t as interested in whether or not you kept the child, the problem was how quiet you were being about him. Something wasn’t right about the situation, and his preliminary searches came up with nothing. 

He only had a first name, it wasn’t much to go on.

Terrence was staring at Bruce, one of his chubby little hands left your top to shove his thumb in his mouth. The unwavering stare the kid was giving him… if he didn’t know any better, Bruce would think he was being challenged. It took all of Bruce’s will power not to look down at Terrence, he wasn’t great with children, let alone an infant. He was broken from his thoughts of whether or not the kid actually was challenging him, or if he just had no clue about what to do in this situation (he didn’t want to admit it though) when you finally replied.

“You won’t find out where I was.” It was a statement.

He studied and trained hard to make hiding from anyone and anything look natural, you seemed to have been born with the (suddenly annoying) skill.

“Your thoroughness is worrisome.” He sighed, feeling this was going to be a bit… difficult.

The siblings all shared an amused laugh before Dick got back to his feet, another yawn escaping, “I’ll be in my old room, need some post-mission Z’s.” He felt like a zombie walking out of the room, hoping he’d beat the sun before it got too high. “See you and the kid in the… morning…?” He had almost no interest in trying to make his brain work, already resigned to bed. 

“Then, you as well.” Bruce nodded to Damian and with a sigh, he stood up, “alright, father. Good night,” before Damian could leave the room, you were suddenly standing by his side. “Rest sounds good right now,” you avoided Bruce’s disappointed look, watching as Tim rocked forward from the chair to his feet before stretching.

Giving out a small hum, you quickly retreated into the hall with Damian, waiting for neither Tim or Bruce (mainly Bruce). As you left, Bruce turned to Tim, questioning what was going on, “Sorry, but…” he started, “I have no clue about this one…” Tim scratched the back of his head, staring at the floor sheepishly. He felt at a loss, not having been given the silent treatment by you since you were kids.

You were literally in each other’s business all the damned time.

-

Damian walked comfortably next to you, eyes drooping (even though he’d never admit it), and you dropped him off at his bedroom door.

“Night, Dami.”

“Good night,” you gave him a small hug, ruffling his hair as his ears flushed for the second time that night. “You’re lucky I’m going to sleep…” he huffed, hair now a complete mess. He entered his room, leaving you alone to the halls, “I think a quick shower would be nice…” you were walking towards your room now, intent on getting comfortable and relaxing before getting some shut eye. Dick was right, it was an exhausting night.

Hand on the door of your room, staring at the child struggling to stay awake in your arms, you shook your head.

It was worth it.

And you’d do it again. Every time.

-

Tim entered the room hesitantly, no knocking, he was certain you wouldn’t answer, anyway, but he checked to see if it was okay before closing the door behind him. Looking around to gather his bearings, as you had the light off, curtains drawn, and it was nominally darker than the halls, he spotted the top of your head over the edge of the bed. Quickly, quietly, he crept over to stand a few feet from you, but your eyes stayed on the sleeping child in your lap, refusing to look up.

He settled himself closely next to you, sliding down to sit on the floor and leaning against the side of the bed, shoulder rubbing your own. He looked to the child in your lap as well, then gave a small hum before lightly nudging you.  

He wasn’t able to see well, but after adjusting to the lack of light, it became easier to understand his surroundings. It became easier to see your features, to see the kid in your arms, and it was easier to grasp the way you frowned in anticipation when turning to look him in the face.

He wasn’t certain why, but he braced for something, suddenly uneasy.

Your lips moved to form the word, no sound coming out, too terrified the walls would listen in, ‘Cadmus.’

Tim’s eyes widened in panic, the child’s big blues flashing in his mind, and it suddenly felt like everything was coming together. It was the one piece of useful information he was missing, the one piece that you made certain they wouldn’t be able to follow when you disappeared for the night. He looked to the sleeping child in your arms, then back up at you, brain going into overload. How...?

He understood now.

His hand found yours, squeezing tightly, reassuringly.

You slumped against his side, relieved.

 -

a/n: i used to hate his specific RR suit where his cowl looked like a gimp mask to me for the longest time? idk why lol, but now I just wanna see Tim a hot blubbering mess in it??? anyway, established poly relationship and established consensual noncon relationship (haha the three of you are minxes). this is my first upload what the heck

 -

It wasn’t your fault that Tim’s Red Robin suit looked something akin to bondage, and it really wasn’t your fault when Kon suggested treating it like bondage-play upon hearing your voiced thoughts. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Tim when he was gagged and tied up, sitting on the couch of a safe house when he was taking a short rest from patrol. Except it was a surprise as Tim wasn’t in either of your heads, and it scared hi to think he’d fucked up somewhere, some villain having followed him without his knowing.

No, no, it was just Kon and yourself, visiting from the other side of the planet with no forewarning and “capturing” him. His voice came out muffled from whatever you’d shoved in his mouth (it was sweet and warm and all too familiar) as he tugged on the zip ties holding his wrists behind him. He had just gotten back from a messy fight and wanted to clean up, to wash the sweat and dirt off him before heading back out. Instead, he was given a heart attack and a whole new sheen of sweat.

It seemed like you and Kon had different plans for him though, as the two of you nuzzled either side of his neck and jaw, up to where his ears would normally be if it weren’t for his cowl. His shudder was an instant reaction, swallowing thickly in sudden anticipation, his cock almost twitching even if he wasn’t thrilled that he was still gross from patrol. 

He could feel the ministrations of your faces, he could feel your lips giving sloppy kisses, and he could feel the warmth of your breathing, though muted from the strength of his tactile fabric. He whimpered slightly at wanting to feel more, wanting skin to skin contact with the two of you, the cloth in his mouth now soaked from his own spit building up, a bit escaping to gloss his lips.

“Mmfh,” he jerked slightly as the two of you spread his legs, each straddling one, though making sure not to put too much pressure on them. Immediately, your hands were all over him in the places he didn’t care about and not in the places that mattered. Rubbing your hands on his sore legs, squeezing at his inner thighs right next to his now obvious restricting pants, with Kon and your fingers intertwining in the exploration. Eventually you trailed your fingers up and down his abdomen, getting so low only to stop above the twitching mound, then trail back up. This was not fair, and after not seeing you two for a while, it was even worse, painful.

You mewled in his ear in sync to his whimpering, riding on his leg and leaving a visible wet spot, stimulating yourself. Similarly, Kon let out slutty moans as he rubbed his cock against Tim’s other leg, a wet spot of his own forming. Then his mouth suddenly found the crook of Tim’s neck as he sucked on the fabric to muffle himself, his strength being of use. The two of you were getting off on his thighs, hot breaths fanning his face and putting him into a state of misery as his own breathing was like a battle. 

He swore he was getting off on the sight alone, the feeling of you two against him only intensifying the throb between his legs. His body jolted again, head falling back, letting out a loud strangled groan as the two of you finally ran your hands over his bulge, Kon took the top, you the base. Kon rubbed circles on the head, loving the feel through Tim’s pants, loving the way his muscles shuddered and rippled. Tim’s balls, similarly massaged by one of your hands, a bit rough due to the fabric, but mostly sweet. Your eyes darkened at seeing his clothes showing obvious wet spots, especially his pants.

Your free hand went to Kon’s mouth and eagerly, he sucked on three digits, tongue gliding over them in front of Tim’s gagged face. He couldn’t handle it anymore, it was enough that Tim came from the small frictions, making a mess inside his pants. Neither your ministrations nor Kon’s ceased, continuing to expertly rub him in ways only you two knew would drive him crazy. It wasn’t an intense orgasm, Tim hadn’t been given proper stimulation for that on purpose. Kon and you wanted to drag this out (living so far from Tim meant visiting was infrequent, and the two of you wanted to make the most of it).

There was no time to let him recoup, there was no time to let him come down from his high. No, the two lovers in front of him made him ride out his high, not allowed to come down till they had their turn.

His breathing couldn’t find the time to catch up, huge gulps of air taken through his flared nostrils, chest heaving as he fell forward, leaning against you. He moaned at the sight of you two against him, the heat already reignited in the pit of his stomach. He really wanted to fuck you, or Kon, or both. He really really wanted to ram his cock into one of you, he didn’t care which, he wouldn’t be picky.

He wasn’t even bothered by the previous sweat and dirt anymore, his body hot and sticky and lost in the pleasure and feeling of you two. All he wanted right now was to be free, to touch and rub the two of you back, to hold and kiss Kon and yourself. As he watched a trail of spit string from Kon’s tongue, sticking out from between his lips, to your reluctant fingers, he began to grow impatient. 

Tim was jealous as he watched your fingers trail down Kon’s backside, across taut, thick muscles, a line of saliva leaving a wet trail for the air to cool. “A-ah…” Kon shuddered excitedly as he leaned against Tim’s chest, pushing him back, his hand still giving light strokes to Tim’s cock, keeping it wanting.

A finger found it’s way into Kon’s ass, pumping lightly to help the spit make sliding easier. A second finger soon joined the first once there was enough lubricant (between Kon’s spit and Kon’s juices, it was easier to prep). Tim watched with dark, heated eyes as your fingers pumped in and out of Kon’s ass, now wiggling in time with each movement. 

Tim wanted to help. 

Kon was making even more sounds now, even sweeter than before as his own eyes glazed over with lust, staring at Tim. A third finger and Kon was gone, pumping into his ass, feeling around the soft warmth inside, and spreading him open with sloppy noises.

“K-kon…” you moaned in Tim’s ear, his heart skipping a beat with a heated need, “I think… I think this naughty pervert should be taught… ah…! W-what happens when you run around…” you gulped, moaning in Tim’s ear again, “in such a lewd outfit...” the heat pooled in his stomach, making him thrust his hips forwards. Kon was making little noises against Tim’s neck, “Hah… L-look at him… What a pervert… he’s all messed up in the head,” Tim’s cock was throbbing, the pants were too tight, the teasing was making his eyes tear up.

Kon and your palms stopped touching Tim’s cock to push his hips down when he thrusted, causing a strangled cry of pain. Finally, fucking finally the two of you pulled his pants down in unison, his cock springing free with an almost relieved whimper from Tim. The cool air was almost a comfort on his soaked and burning member before another shudder violently wracked his body, your tongues gliding across his shaft. He stared down at the two of you, breathing so heavily he could have hyperventilated if he tried harder.

Please--

He watched the two of you shift, Kon taking his place on Tim’s lap as you sat next to the two of them on the couch. Holding Tim’s cock, you helped guide Kon’s ass to sit down, watching Tim’s cock stretch him even further than your fingers. Kon’s face twisted as he took half of Tim, ass raising back up before falling back down with a sloppy sound. 

His ass went back down, taking more of Tim and he raised again, this time he sat down all the way to the hilt and had to keep from bouncing, wanting to feel the heat. He sat there for a moment, breathing heavily and feeling his insides stretched so wide, filled so full with Tim’s cock inside him. “T-Tim…” Kon choked out, leaning his head down against Tim’s neck, slightly elevated now, as you went to grab Kon’s own cock, now sticking out and throbbing.

He whimpered and this time when Tim bucked his hips, neither of you two stopped him, and he about came deep into Kon’s ass from the one movement. The hand not holding Kon’s cock went to the base of Tim’s under Kon’s ass, grabbing somewhat tightly earning a loud, muted yelp from Tim. Kon and yourself had been patient the last few weeks, burning with a growing desire, so you wouldn’t let Tim finish so quickly.

Kon was so tight around Tim’s hard cock, a delicious warmth sucking him in so hungrily that he briefly wondered when the last time you stuck a dildo up Kon’s ass was. The thought was lost though, Kon was already sloppy, face already flushed and messed up just from sitting there. He leaned over to pull the panties from Tim’s mouth, built up saliva falling down the front of his suit and across Kon’s dick. Tim’s heart gave a strange bump, excited, wondering which of you two had been wearing them. “F-fuck it’s so tight…” the first thing out of Tim’s mouth, “K-Kon… move…” It was somewhere between an order and begging, and Kon began moving his ass up and down in compliance.

As your head leaned down to suck on Kon’s cock, now bouncing with his ass and Tim’s additional thrusting, Kon’s hand came to rest on your head. Your lips were able to catch Kon, having done this plenty of times as his hand began guiding you with his thrusts. Tim’s cock pumping into his ass and then your lips sucking on his own had Kon a mess for words. He couldn’t even think straight as he leaned against Tim, lips smashing against the other male’s.

Their breath was hot and mixed, the strong odors of sweat and grime mixing with their lust, but they couldn’t tell over the musky smell of sex and cum.

Tim couldn’t move his wrists, but he could move his hips and his lips, both taking in Kon as greedily as Kon wanted him. The buildup wasn’t too hard for either of them, thanks to the ample preparation and foreplay (which Kon and yourself loved, though it was torture for Tim since he was always the target of your and Kon’s affections). Kon sucked on Tim’s tongue, soft and slippery before their lips melted, tongues invading each other and in almost no time at all, Kon felt himself losing control in your mouth. 

The sweet, salty taste of Kon’s precum filled your mouth and nose, an intoxicating scent that always had you going. You loved watching Kon go crazy from your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip with a sense of pride. Teeth barely ghosted the sides at times as the back of your throat sucked in tightly, squeezing with a gag as his cock thrust too far.

You could feel his cock hitting your uvula, rubbing the back of your throat as your mouth had relaxed, getting used to the size invading it. Eventually, with some difficulty, you had been able to take him a bit deeper, your moans making him shiver. Then you felt it, a slight ripple trembling from the base of his cock to the tip, his stomach shuddering. Suddenly there was a warm feeling filling the back of your throat, forced to swallow all of Kon as he came. 

Tim kept riding him out, your eyes tearing up in pain as Kon’s cock stayed deep in your throat, still holding down, not wanting to let you move. It was hard to breathe, your own arousal flaring from the intensity that the lack of oxygen brought, and Kon filling up your mouth like a delicious lollipop. You were lightheaded. Kon’s hand eventually slipped off, somewhat drained, letting you up for air as his cum dripped down your chin, breathing greedily.

Kon was wobbly on top of Tim as he slowed his hips, letting the super sag against him to rest for a moment. The three of you did your best to take in gulps of air for different reasons, Kon’s eyes finding yours with a look of apology in them. You only smiled at him, coming up to give him a kiss, his “Superboy” stamina coming back almost immediately as the two of you began heating up. Neither of you could see it, not that you were paying attention, but Tim’s brow was furrowed, eyes narrowed behind his cowl at the two of you getting hot and bothered again.

There was only so much Tim could take, his mind now somewhat clearer as his hands busied themselves behind his back, “you two…” Kon and yourself only stopped making out to side-eye Tim, not at all worried by the warning in his voice. So instead, the two of you did what you did best, leaning over to include Tim in your battle of tongues. 

It wasn’t sex, it wasn’t going to make his dick hurt, wasn’t going to make his mind go crazy, it was just passionate kissing. He couldn’t help but respond, this was one of his favorite parts, when you and Kon went from sex starved minxes to passionate lovers. The trust the three of you had in each other was overwhelming, your hearts all in sync with one another.

Kon and yourself were too absorbed in the flavor of Tim and each other, mixing your tastes up as much as you could before yelping, Tim’s hands on either side of both of your hips, squeezing. He had freed his hands, now pressing the two of you against him as much as he could, the short break helping him recover. “As much as I’d love to shower…” Tim looked between the two of you, all three of your heads resting together in a sweaty mess, “I think…” Tim’s head tilted slightly, covered eyes coming to rest on you, Kon’s own beautiful blues trailing after,

“A-ah…” you moaned, both of their lips now on your neck, pressing you up against the couch.

—general—

—I leave most descriptors blank to give people room to be comfortable

—I’m most comfortable with gender neutral or female POVs

  —will’s—

—DC-related tbh (batfam [includes 5th son Terry], superfam [includes 90s Kon, NewEarth Con, and Rebirth Jon], young justice, justice league, titans); comic or animation variants only ee;;; also other DC titles/worlds

—kinks/ NSFW (cockwarming, edging/orgasm denial, palming/clothed, body worship, public/semi-exhibition, teasing, heels, blindfolds, gagged/gagging, deepthroat, sado/maso, consensual noncon play/con-non-con, breeding +more)

    —won’ts—

—abuse/noncon as a defining characteristic of a relationship

—underaged NSFW

—real people