GHOST🇨🇴

But you can't always have what you want. You only get what you want sometimes—and Kon was set on getting his new want. He might not have gotten the relaxing cuddled-up night he originally wanted, but he was certainly going to show you and Tim a piece of his mind.

"Kon–relax—" Tim groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

"Don't tell me to relax, Tim!" He pulled Tim's hands away from his eyes, his dark under circles on full display. "How am I supposed to relax when my partners are incapable of taking care of themselves?"

"I'm not incapable of taking care of myself!" Tim shot up from his desk chair.

Kon only responded with a pointed look as he swayed from exhaustion. Tim's hands shook slightly—the caffeine or the sleep deprivation, he had no idea which. Before more raised words could be shot at one another the front door clicked open. Kon stormed out of Tim's home office.

"Where the hell have you been?" He planted his hands on his hips.

Kon was still dressed in his suit not having time to change before he started panicking about his lovers.

"Huh?" Your smile was lopsided.

He watched unamused as you leaned against the wall. Wobbling as you took off your heels. He had to admit—you looked good. You looked really good. And that just pissed him off more.

"Where were you?" He took a few steps forward, his chest a few inches from yours. "I told you that it wasn't safe to go out!"

"Relax, I just went to Jessica's for a bit." Tim had shown security footage of you leaving at 7 pm—the drive to Jessica's was only 20 minutes—it was now something past 12 at night. "I got an Uber, no drunk driving from me, no bad mistakes were made Konny."

He couldn't tell if you were trying to say "honey" or making a new nickname in your drunken state.

"How much did you drink? Who else was there?" His large hands gripped your biceps to hold you upright.

He didn't want to be controlling or possessive—that was Tim's thing. But he did want to be aware of the dangerous situations his lovers were putting themselves into.

"Ehm—I don't know, I wasn't counting—but I think maybe," You held up your hands and started counting with your fingers.

When you counted past five Kon decided he'd had enough. He grabbed your hips and threw you over his shoulders. One of your hands pressed into his shoulder, holding yourself up so you weren't upside down.

"Kon—what the hell?!"

Tim stepped out of his office. "Kon what are you—" He didn't get to finish his question before Kon had picked him up too.

He was a man on a mission. Get his two partners to stop doing stupid, reckless shit and make sure they remember not to do it again.

"Kon put us down!" Tim argued.

He complied and tossed both of you onto your shared bed.

Tim sat up, "I've got work to finish." Kon shoved him back down.

"Not anymore. Both of you—" He panned his eyes from Tim to you, who was staring at him like he was some kind of marble statue. "Are both going to do as I say, and learn a lesson."

"Kon, I seriously need to finish—" Kon shut Tim up with an aggressive kiss.

He pulled away when he heard you giggling to yourself.

"Is she drunk?" Tim muttered as he stared.

Kon didn't miss how his eyes raked over your cleavage. Kon himself was eyeing your legs. His hands grabbed your calves and pulled you closer. You lay flat on your back as he attacked your neck with open-mouth kisses. Usually, you'd give out about leaving marks but you were too caught up giggling. Tim's hand intertwined with yours and the other moved to grope your chest.

"Both of you have been stressing me out, so you're going to do as I say," He removed himself from the crook of your neck. "And then I'll finally be able to relax like you want me to."

"Tim, take those off and sit up by the headboard." He gestured to his sweatpants. "You," He pointed at you. "C'mere."

You sat up at the edge of the bed with a dopey smile. Kon stripped his jacket off your form and you shivered from the cold. He took his own jacket off and removed his suit. He stood in his boxers, Tim was leaning against the headboard in his and you were still in your little dress. Kon pulled Tim's closed thighs apart. He then grabbed your body and flipped you over. You now lay on your stomach, head between Tim's open thighs and Kon stood between yours.

"I told you not to go out, because it was dangerous right?" Kon repeated as he pushed your dress up, exposing your ass.

"Yeah..."

"And you still went out and drank?"

"Yeah—" You gasped when his hand collided with your cheek.

His hand stayed on your ass, massaging where the handprint was forming. He started to grind against you.

"That's not good baby, could've got hurt." He pulled his hard cock out of his boxers. "What would we have done then?"

"You would've—ah!" You moaned mid-sentence as he shoved the tip into you.

"Go on."

"Y-you would've, uhm—" You tried to sink further onto his cock but he pressed your hips down preventing you from moving. "Ugh—would've had to take care of me?"

You weren't sure of what you were saying. Blame it on the alcohol or being too horny for your boyfriends.

He thrusted fully into you, causing you to let out a whine.

"Still have to take care of you, baby, look at you—" His hands slid along your thighs and ass. "Drunk, and already dumb on my cock."

He leaned down, pressing his chest to your back and whispered something Tim couldn't hear into your ear. "But Tim's worse. He stays safe from others but not himself. You've seen how attached he gets to his work and what it does to him, haven't you?"

You nodded your head. "So while I take care of you I need you to take care of him." He motioned with his eyes to Tim's growing bulge. "You can do that can't you?" You nodded again, desperate to please.

"Good," He pulled out and slammed back into you.

Your hands reached up and tugged Tim's aching cock out of his boxers. You peppered a few kisses along him before slipping it into your mouth. Tim moaned at the sight of your lipgloss smearing along him. One of his hands cradled your jaw the other was intertwined with your hand.

"Oh fuck—babe!" Tim tipped his head back and closed his eyes (probably for the first time in 48 hours).

He peered them open to watch Kon disappear inside you. His large hands held onto your waist as he rutted into you. Your moans and gasps sent vibrations through Tim. Your nails clawed at Tim's hips, leaving red lines and crescent imprints. He groaned at the sight of your ass rippling when Kon's hips snapped against them.

Kon's hand slid up your back and neck to grab a fistful of hair. He leaned down and began to kiss and suck along the nape of your neck. The slight change in angle had Kon hitting your sweet spot. You pulled off Tim's cock and he whined from the loss of warmth.

"Uh—Kon it's to much!" You cried.

Kon shoved you back onto Tim's pulsing cock. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat.

"It's not too much—it's exactly what you need." He grunted and picked up his pace. "If I don't take care of you both who else will?"

You let out muffled moans. The room filled with Tim's groans and Kon's grunts. His skin loudly slapped against yours. Tim thinks you muttered "Oh fuck!", he couldn't hear you properly while you were deep throating his cock. He was mesmerised by the smudged lip gloss and the drool dribbling down your chin. Your back arched, Kon deepened the arch by lifting your hips higher. The tip of his cock was perfectly kissing your cervix.

"Shit—I'm close!" Tim was bucking up into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back as you came. Tim followed not long after. Kon thrusted a few more times into you before cumming. He pressed as far into you as possible. You felt a sticky sensation drip down your inner thighs. Kon rested his full body weight onto you, doing his best to keep you full of him.

"Holy shit..." Your head lolled from side to side.

Tim pulled your body up and began licking up the drool and cum that clung to your skin. His tongue swiped up your neck—right over the Kon's bloomed hickeys causing a whine to escape you. Kon pulled out of you and sat up. He grabbed your hips and sat you to the side. Kon grasped one of Tim's wrists and brought him close, his other hand resting on his upper neck. He whispered something you couldn't hear.

You zoned out for a few seconds, your earlier decisions involving alcohol catching up to you. You broke out of your trance when Tim's hands wrapped around your wrists and pulled you closer. He lay on his back with Kon in between his legs. Kon wrapped Tim's legs around his waist.

"Come here, pretty." Tim's hands moved to your thighs and brought your body over his face.

You quickly removed your dress and tossed it to the floor. His hands slid up and groped your breasts. His nimble fingers toying with your hardened nipples.

"Sit down, babe, he can take it," Kon said with a sultry yet sweet tone.

You and Tim hadn't done this before. Well, now that you're thinking about it you have you were just both really drunk—and you can't remember it! Tim gave you a look that told you he could take it. So you sat down and placed your hands over his. He closed his eyes and hummed as he dragged his tongue along your folds. You slowly grinded into his face and he started to suck on your clit. He could taste both you and Kon. You were hot and wet and he had his hands on your chest. Tim was in heaven.

Kon suddenly thrust into Tim causing a loud moan to leave his lips and send a shivering vibration up you. The more Kon pounded into Tim, the more he moaned and therefore the more you moaned.

"See, I can take care of you both," Kon slapped one of Tim's trembling thighs. "You just need to comply."

"Can't take care of my babys if they're never listening to me."

You started giggling again. Your figure swaying a little.

"Turn around, baby." He sighed.

"Huh?" You joked, barely looking over your shoulder.

Kon's hand met your rear as he spanked you again. You jolted but Tim held you in place. You were still breathlessly giggling.

"Tim, turn her around." Tim groaned but pushed you off him—just enough for you to shift around.

Once you turned around you plopped back down onto Tim's face. He immediately dived his tongue back in. Kon pressed a hand onto Tim's side and grabbed your neck with the other. He pulled you in and connected your lips. His tongue slipped through your swollen lips. He licked up the traces of Tim and hummed satisfactorily.

"See the problem is," He said in between kisses. "Neither of you listens until it's too late."

He trailed down your neck—the opposite side from earlier. "Am I going to have to repeatedly teach you both lessons?"

"I hope so."

You let out another drunken laugh. Tim was too caught up in eating you out to answer Kon. He lifted his hand from Tim's side to give your ass another quick spank before resuming its position.

"Oh—shit—Tim!" You moaned into Kon's ear.

Your hips started rutting along Tim's face as his legs started spasming around Kon's waist. Kon pulled away from you and firmly held Tim's shaking legs.

"Come on baby," He murmured as he thrusted into Tim.

Tim's hands were shaking and sliding all over your body, groping at whatever they could. You noticed Tim's hard cock flushed red and leaking pre cum. You took him in your hands and started to jerk him off. He groaned into you so you kept going. Your hands sliding up in down as fast as you could—trying but failing to keep up with Kon's inhuman pace.

Tim came and his cum splashed up onto all of you. Mostly on himself, but some got onto Kon's abs and your chest and hands. You reached your climax after him and rode through it. Tim slurped up everything that dripped out of you like his life depended on it. Kon gave a few more thrusts before pulling out and finishing on Tim's abs.

"And this is what's going to happen when you both fail to take care of yourselves." Kon stared pointedly at the two of you.

"You're gonna take us to heaven?" Tim half-joked.

You bent down and started to lick up the fluids across Tim's torso.

"Okay—we really need to get you to bed." Kon lifted you off Tim and into his arms.

"Your going to bed too, stop eyeing that damn laptop!" He shouted back at Tim as he carried you to the bathroom.

"I've just got one thing to finish Kon," He reached over the edge of the bed for his laptop. "It'll only be a minute—"

Kon hoisted Tim up into his arms and carried him to the bathroom. He set Tim down beside you in the abnormally large bath (made for 3) that was filled with hot water and bubbles. You leaned on Tim's shoulder, laughing about something.

"How much did you drink?" Tim asked.

"I made her stop counting after five."

"That's not bad—" Tim cut himself off before he could expose any more of his caffeine problem.

"Tim."

Tim didn't respond.

"How many energy drinks have you had today?"

"Define today—"

"Tim!"

The Tag Teaming

Clark’s superhuman stamina means he can keep you coming until you’re trembling, while Bruce times your orgasms like he’s strategizing a mission.

One holds you down while the other ruins you. Sometimes it’s Clark pinning your wrists above your head with no effort at all, sometimes it’s Bruce tying you up with silk and growling orders.

Bruce loves whispering filthy things in your ear while Clark makes you moan loud enough to shake the walls.

Positions & Play

They love you on your knees, Bruce fucking your throat while Clark fucks you from behind, each one making you choke and whimper for different reasons.

Bruce gets off on watching Clark stretch you open, muttering “look at you taking him so well” while he strokes himself, waiting his turn.

Clark adores missionary because he can look into your eyes, but Bruce? He prefers you bent over, ass red from his handprints. With both? You’re getting flipped around until you don’t know which way is up.

DP is absolutely on the table. Clark gentle and overwhelming, Bruce rough and relentless, you’re not lasting long.

Their Favorite “Games”

Bruce makes rules (“don’t cum until I say”), and Clark loves “accidentally” breaking them by making you lose control under his mouth or cock.

Clark has a thing for holding you in his lap, bouncing you on his cock while Bruce kneels between your legs and licks you both clean.

Bruce loves toys; vibrators, plugs, restraints. While Clark prefers to use his body, tongue, and strength. Together? Overstimulation city.

Their Roles with You

Bruce is your Daddy Dom, telling you exactly what to do and punishing you if you disobey.

Clark is your sweet Dom, showering you in praise and affection while still fucking you into the mattress.

They both love hearing you call them by different names… Daddy for Bruce, Sir or Good boy Clark when you’re feeling bratty (and yes, Bruce smirks every time you top Clark just a little).

Aftercare

Clark’s the one who scoops you up, bathes you, brushes your hair, makes sure you drink water.

Bruce runs damage control, checking every mark he left, applying ointment if they broke skin, giving you medicine for soreness, quietly stroking your back while Clark cuddles you close.

You end the night sandwiched between them, completely wrecked but utterly safe.

BirdFlash

The Dynamic

Dick and Wally are best friends first, which makes the whole relationship extra natural. You’re not caught between them, they love the idea of sharing, hyping each other up, and making you the center of attention.

It’s playful competitiveness 24/7. They’ll literally argue over who makes you moan louder, who can make you laugh harder, or who you cuddled longer last night.

They’re a perfect contrast in bed, Dick is sensual, deliberate, all control and teasing, while Wally is fast, messy, and overwhelming. Together? They keep you on the edge between soft worship and overstimulation.

It’s playful competitiveness 24/7. Their competitiveness absolutely bleeds into sex. Who makes you cum harder, who gets more moans out of you, who you cling to tighter

The Tag Teaming

One of them eats you out while the other makes out with you, keeping eye contact with each other over your body. Very smug, so shameless.

They love having you in the middle. One behind, one in front, and you don’t stand a chance, every nerve ending is getting attention.

Wally is addicted to speed. Fingering you so fast you can’t breathe, or eating you out until you’re crying. Meanwhile, Dick is the one who holds you down, murmuring “take it, sweetheart.”

They love edging you together. Dick holding you in place, whispering praise while Wally pulls away at the last second with a cheeky “oops, not yet.”

Positions & Play

Double penetration? Yeah, they’re curious enough and competitive enough to make it happen. Dick’s the one careful and steady while Wally is greedy and rough. You don’t walk for days.

Dick loves having you ride him while Wally mouths at your chest, thighs, neck… anywhere he can reach.

Wally’s favorite thing? Eating you out while Dick’s fucking you, he gets off on seeing you lose control twice over.

Their Favorite “Games”

Wally’s speed means he’ll vibrate his fingers or tongue just right, and Dick smirks because “that’s cheating, man.” You don’t care, you’re screaming.

They love overstimulation, switching places without warning so you don’t know who’s inside you, who’s touching you, just that you’re theirs.

Aftercare (because they’re good boys at heart)

Wally is out of bed in seconds, bringing water, snacks, a damp cloth. Dick keeps you tucked in his arms, kissing your face while you come down.

They both spoil the hell out of you afterward. Praise, cuddles, food, a bath - whatever you need.

JayRoy

The Dynamic

Jason is rough, possessive, mine mine mine.

Roy is playful, teasing, and loves making you laugh even when you’re falling apart.

Together? They’re absolute menaces, dirty talk, bruises, bite marks, and a whole lot of reckless passion.

The Tag Teaming

Roy loves watching Jason fuck you, smirking as he says “She’s not gonna last, Jay.” Jason growls back, “She’s gonna take it, aren’t you, baby?”

One of them is always using their mouth while the other’s inside you. Jason eating you out while Roy fucks you deep, or Roy sucking bruises into your chest while Jason pounds you into the mattress.

They switch roles constantly, you’ll never know if you’re gonna be split open, pinned down, or worshipped until it happens.

Positions & Play

They love you in the middle. Jason behind, Roy in front, and you’re overwhelmed in the best way.

Roy’s favorite? Eating you out while Jason sits back and watches, giving lazy orders like “make her scream, Harper.”

Jason’s favorite? Spreading you out across his lap while Roy kneels in front of you, so he can spank you raw and still watch Roy finger you until you cry.

DP is absolutely on the table, especially when Jason’s possessive streak flares. He wants to fill you completely so no one else ever can.

Their Favorite “Games”

Roy teases, light touches, slow kisses, “oops, not yet.” Jason punishes, rough thrusts, spanking, filthy growls in your ear.

They’re so vocal. Jason groans and growls, all filthy dirty talk. Roy’s a shameless moaner and loves narrating what’s happening, “God, she’s dripping, Jay. You feel that?”

They love overstimulation. Jason holding you down by the throat while Roy eats you out until you’re crying, or Roy fingering you open fast while Jason fucks your mouth.

Their Roles with You

Jason’s the protector/dominant,he likes knowing you’re completely his.

Roy’s the wild card, sometimes sweet, sometimes bratty, sometimes making you cum just to see Jason scowl and say “I wasn’t done with her yet.”

They both mark you- hickeys, bites, scratches. You’re not going anywhere without proof you’re theirs.

Aftercare

Jason runs hot and cold, he’ll growl through the sex, but afterward he’s the one carefully cleaning you up, pressing quiet kisses to every bruise he left.

Roy is pure softness, snacks, cuddles, jokes until you’re giggling in his arms.

You always end up tangled between them, Jason’s arm heavy over your waist while Roy strokes your hair.

TimKon

The Dynamic

Tim is calculating, obsessive, strategic. He loves control and knowing exactly how to unravel you.

Conner is enthusiastic, affectionate, big puppy energy, he just wants to please you, all strength and desperation.

Together? You’re the rope in a tug of war between “I’ll ruin you carefully” and “I’ll ruin you right now.”

The Tag Teaming

Tim is the one edging you until you’re sobbing, then nodding for Conner to finally let you cum, he’s a tease, but Conner never says no to giving you what you need.

Conner loves holding you up with that Kryptonian strength while Tim does filthy things to you, tying you up, playing with toys, whispering the dirtiest shit in your ear.

They’ll both watch each other with you. Tim gets off on directing Conner, and Conner gets off on seeing how wrecked you are between the two of them.

Positions & Play

Conner’s favorite: you riding him, bouncing in his lap while he grips your hips tight, and Tim kneeling behind you, kissing your neck, whispering, slipping his fingers between your legs.

Tim’s favorite: you on your stomach, Conner holding your wrists to the mattress, while he fucks you slow and deep until you’re begging for more.

DP is definitely happening here. Tim precise and slow, Conner greedy and desperate. You’re stretched, filled, and completely undone.

Their Favorite “Games”

Tim sets rules (“Don’t cum until I say”) and Conner loves watching you squirm to follow them, whispering encouragement while Tim smirks like the bastard he is.

They’ll absolutely roleplay “good cop/bad cop” in bed, Tim threatening you with punishment if you disobey, Conner softly begging you to be good for them.

Tim LOVES toys. Vibes, plugs, cuffs. Conner LOVES using his strength, pinning you with one hand, holding you in the air while he fucks you.

Mutual obsession: they both love marking you. Hickeys, scratches, bruises. Tim neat and hidden, Conner messy and obvious.

Their Roles with You

Tim is the cold, calculating dom, the type to make you cry just from denial, then kiss your tears away.

Conner is the pleaser dom, he wants you to feel good, to cum as much as possible, to know how much he worships you.

Together, they’re devastating. Tim pushes you to the edge, Conner makes sure you fall apart in the sweetest way.

Aftercare

Tim insists on checking every mark, soothing lotion over red skin, muttering soft apologies against your hair.

Conner tucks you against his chest, feeds you snacks, kisses you all over until you’re giggling.

Sandwich cuddles are mandatory, you between Tim’s quiet heartbeat and Conner’s warm chest, their arms tangled around you.

DamiJon

The Dynamic

Damian is intense, possessive, commanding. He has that control freak streak, and in bed it shows. He wants everything just so, and he thrives on making you beg.

Jon is sweet, eager, devoted. He’s the pleaser, always wanting to touch, taste, and worship you until you can’t take it anymore.

Together? They balance each other frighteningly well, Damian pushes, Jon soothes, and you’re their battlefield.

The Tag Teaming

Damian takes his time, slow, deliberate thrusts, cruel edging. While Jon overwhelms you with his strength and eagerness, eating you out until you’re sobbing or fucking you until you see stars.

They love having you in the middle, Jon holding you up like you weigh nothing, Damian using you however he pleases, his mouth against your throat whispering filth in your ear.

Damian loves ordering Jon around in bed- “faster,” “hold her still,” “don’t let her cum until I say.” Jon lives for it, grinning like he’d follow every command.

Positions & Play

Jon’s favorite: you straddling him, bouncing on his cock while he grips your waist, his big hands guiding you, his mouth sucking marks into your chest. Damian kneels behind you, smirking, stroking you or slipping a toy in just to watch you fall apart.

Damian’s favorite: you tied down, blindfolded, Jon between your thighs worshipping you with his tongue until you’re shaking, and Damian calmly stroking your hair, making you say his name before you cum.

DP? Definitely, Damian taking control, Jon filling you up with his strength. You don’t survive it without your legs giving out.

Their Favorite “Games”

Damian thrives on denial, holding a vibrator against you until you’re crying for release, only to pull it away. Jon swoops in with praise, begging for you to cum because he can’t stand to see you in tears.

They love overstimulation. Jon’s super-speed tongue/fingers + Damian’s cock = you’re crying, screaming, trembling while they smirk at each other over your ruined body.

Damian dirty talks like it’s a weapon, sharp, filthy, degrading. Jon praises you to death, telling you how good you are, how beautiful you look falling apart. Together? You’re torn between heaven and hell.

Their Roles with You

Damian = strict dom. Expect commands, punishment, and possessiveness.

Jon = pleaser dom. He worships you, dotes on you, and makes sure you know you’re adored.

Together = Good cop/Bad cop in bed. Damian makes you cry, Jon kisses the tears off your cheeks. Damian spanks you, Jon rubs your back while you sob against him.

Aftercare

Damian pretends he’s aloof but is meticulous in checking every mark, every bruise, massaging ointment into your skin with soft mutters in Arabic.

Jon is cuddles, snacks, kisses everywhere. He’ll wrap himself around you like a big blanket, warm and unshakable.

You always fall asleep tangled between Damian’s steady heartbeat and Jon’s giant body heat.

RoyWally

The Dynamic

Roy is filthy, reckless, and playful. He loves getting you messy, marked up, and begging.

Wally is teasing, fast, and greedy. He wants you as many times as possible, as loud as possible.

Together? They egg each other on, laughing at how ruined you are and competing to see who can get you off more.

The Tag Teaming

They thrive on taking turns, Roy bending you over, spanking you raw while Wally fingers you with that impossible speed until you collapse.

One goes down on you while the other’s in your mouth, trading cocky comments like “she moaned louder for me, dude” while you can barely breathe.

They love spit-roasting you. Wally fucking your throat while Roy pounds you from behind, both groaning about how perfect you feel.

Positions & Play

Roy’s favorite: you sprawled on his lap, crying from overstimulation, while Wally kneels between your legs and makes you cum again with his tongue in seconds.

Wally’s favorite: you riding him while Roy kneels behind you, kissing your neck, tweaking your nipples, whispering filthy encouragement until you’re crying out for both of them.

DP is absolutely on the menu. They’re competitive enough to insist you can handle both, and smug enough to prove it right.

Their Favorite “Games”

Roy loves dirty talk and degradation—“Look at you, baby, fucked dumb on us”, while Wally piles on the teasing praise, “You’re so good for us, sweetheart, c’mon, give us another one.”

Wally uses his speed to absolutely wreck you, fast thrusts, vibrating fingers, quick kisses all over your body. While Roy slows it down just to edge you cruelly.

They LOVE pushing you into overstimulation. One won’t stop even after you’ve cum, because the other eggs him on: “C’mon, she can take another. Right, baby?”

Their Roles with You

Roy = filthy dom/brat tamer. He thrives on making you blush, beg, or roll your eyes before he ruins you.

Wally = playful dom/pleaser. He’s cheeky, greedy, and obsessed with making you cum as much as possible.

Together = chaos doms. They’ll laugh at how wrecked you are, but it’s all love and worship underneath.

Aftercare

Wally zips away to grab you snacks, water, maybe even a smoothie because “you need energy, babe.”

Roy is lazy but thorough, cleaning you up, pulling you into his chest, muttering soft reassurances against your hair.

They both tangle you in bed, leaving hickeys everywhere you can’t hide them, because they love when everyone knows you’re theirs.

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Conner just peeked a little between his finger. "Shit, she's not wearing any pants."

"Hey!"

"Kon! Shut. The Fuck. Up!"

"Yeah, you two better tell me what the fuck is happening right now." You crossed your arms in your chest and shit, your breast pushed together too nicely for their own good. Tim let out a long breath while Kon did a little whine.

Tim’s gloved hand curled into a fist at his side, his jaw tight. “We got hit. Ivy. It’s—” His throat worked around the word like it burned. “—some aphrodisiac.”

You froze mid-step. “…Huh. Aphrodisiac.”

Conner groaned into his palm, leaning against the wall like he was seconds away from clawing it down. “Fuck, Tim, why’d you say it out loud?”

“Because she needs to know—” Tim’s voice cracked, the flush climbing up his ears. “She can’t just— walk up to us like that.”

You blinked between them, suddenly very aware of the way your oversized shirt barely covered your thighs. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You two show up here, half-dead from… horny plant magic, and I’m the problem because I’m not wearing pants?”

Conner’s hand dragged down his face, and when his eyes met yours, there was so much heat in them you felt your knees lock. “You don’t get it. If you come closer, if you even touch me right now, I’m gonna lose it.”

Tim shoved him back against the wall, though his own fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out to you. “We’re handling it.” His voice was too sharp, which told you he was barely hanging on. “We just need to stay in our room. Cold shower. Sleep it off.”

“Yeah,” Conner muttered, though his gaze kept flicking over your legs, up the hem of your shirt. “Totally. Cold shower. Great plan. Except, uh—” He licked his lips, and the sound of it made your stomach flip. “You smell really fucking good right now.”

Tim swore under his breath, his composure cracking for a second as he dug his nails into his palm. He didn’t even look at you when he snapped, “Don’t. Don’t say that.”

Your heartbeat picked up, partly from their intensity, partly from the way you realized they were both trembling, shoulders tight, every breath ragged like they were fighting themselves.

“So you two are just gonna lock yourselves in a room all night? Sweaty, flushed, rock hard, probably—”

“Y/N!” Tim’s voice shot up an octave, scandalized. His ears were crimson now.

Conner, on the other hand, groaned like your words physically hit him. “Don’t tease right now. Please. I can’t— Fuck Tim, I can’t keep it together.”

Tim’s head thunked back against the wall. He looked wrecked already, biting down on his lip so hard you were worried it’d split.

And suddenly the living room felt about ten degrees hotter.

You tilted your head, voice dropping lower as you edged one step closer, ignoring Tim’s panicked little warning noise.

“So… are you asking for help?”

The words made both of them freeze. Conner’s breath hitched so loud you almost laughed, and Tim’s eyes went wide, lips parting like you’d just threatened him with a kryptonite blade.

“No!” Tim blurted, too fast, too sharp. He cleared his throat, fumbling. “I mean, no, we’re not asking. That’s not— this isn’t—”

Conner, meanwhile, stared at you like you’d hung the moon. His fists were clenched at his sides, chest heaving. “If you offered, though…” His voice cracked, low and desperate. “God, I don’t think I could say no.”

“Kon.” Tim’s warning was paper-thin, his hand darting out to grip Conner’s arm. But the way his jaw flexed, the way his thighs pressed together, it betrayed him.

You arched a brow, letting your gaze trail deliberately down both of them, drinking in the sight of Gotham’s best and brightest squirming like they were about to combust in your hallway. “You’re both really bad liars, you know that?”

Tim swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “This isn’t fair. You—” His eyes flicked down your bare legs and he shut them tight, hissing through his teeth. “You can’t. God, Y/N, don’t tease like this.”

But you could see it now, crystal clear: the way Conner’s body leaned toward you, every muscle taut like he was straining against a leash, and the way Tim’s breathing stuttered, his hand trembling where it still gripped Conner.

You let a slow smile curl on your lips. “So you do want my help.”

Conner groaned, head thunking against the wall. “Ivy’s a sadist. She knew what she was doing. Fuck, Y/N, please…”

Tim’s eyes snapped open, hazy and conflicted. His voice was a whisper, harsh and thin: “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say please to her.”

“Why not?” you cut in, stepping close enough now that the heat radiating off their bodies licked at your skin. “He sounds pretty sincere.”

Conner’s chest rose sharply, gaze locked on you like he was drowning and you were the air.

Tim swore again, but his grip on Conner’s arm slackened just a little. His control was slipping, and you could see how much he wanted to give in.

Your heart was hammering as you lowered your voice even further. “So… one more time. Do you want me to help?”

Conner looked a Tim almost desperate, now that you were closer you could see the line of their cocks straining against their suits.

Surprisingly, Tim was the first to answer. "Yes."

"Fuck, yes." Conner followed.

It's been, maybe, two hours? You aren't really sure. But your roommates are far from tired. You had sit in Conner's head while giving Tim a handjob, took Conner's cock in your mouth while Tim stretched you from behind, Conner had fucked you at the same time Tim was eating you out. But nothing seemed enough for them.

You were dripping, sticky with a nasty mix of cum, sweat and saliva. All of you were covered in marks and red spots, Conner was all sweaty while Tim managed his breath. Both of them were tired. But still rock hard.

Conner dragged you by the leg, hooking it in his shoulder.

"More?" you breath out, hiding your face in Tim's thigh.

"I know, baby, I know. But we can't help it," Conner said, already dragging the tip of his cock along your wetness. "One last time, I promise we'll make it up to you."

"Mmph..." you accommodated yourself against Tim's chest while Conner slid into you fast and easy.

Conner was already trembling, his thrusts sloppy, sweat dripping down his temples. He leaned his forehead against your shin where your leg was hooked over his shoulder. “Fuck, you feel unreal. I don’t even know how you’re still letting us inside you.”

You clung to Tim’s arms, shaking your head weakly. “Don’t stop.”

Tim’s voice was rough, frayed with exhaustion, but he forced a smirk as he stroked the sweat-slick hair from your face. “Look at you, baby. Falling apart on us, and still begging.”

Conner let out a ragged laugh, cut off by a moan when you clenched around him. “She’s greedy, man. Can’t get enough. Not even after, what? Five, six times?”

“Seven,” you gasped, voice breaking.

Tim chuckled hoarsely, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Seven, huh? And you still want more, mmh?”

Your head fell back with a choked sob, pleasure ricocheting through your veins.

Then Tim’s mouth brushed your ear, his whisper dark and deliberate. “You think you can take both of us at once?”

The words hit you harder than Conner’s thrusts, your whole body clenching around him in response.

“W-what?” you managed, though your voice was broken, pleading.

Tim smirked against your skin. “Both our cocks.

The words made your whole body tighten, your nails digging into his arm. “I—I don’t know if I can.”

Conner groaned, dragging his hips in one more shallow thrust. He was shaking, barely holding himself together. “You can. You’re so fucking perfect, we’ll make it fit. We’ll talk you through it.”

Tim’s lips brushed your ear, his tone wrecked but coaxing. “Yeah. You just listen to us. Breathe. Relax. Let us stretch you nice and slow.”

Conner’s hand covered your thigh, warm and unsteady. “It’s gonna be a lot, but you’ll feel so full, baby. So fucking full of us, you won’t even know where one of us ends and the other starts.”

You whimpered, hips twitching. “God, that sounds—”

Tim cut you off with a kiss, lazy but filthy, pulling back just to murmur against your lips. “C'mon. Say you want it.”

“I want it,” you whispered, wrecked. “I want both of you.”

Tim chuckled darkly, kissing your temple as his fingers pressed harder against your clit. “Good girl.”

Conner’s thrust faltered, his cock twitching inside you. “Holy shit, we’re really— are we really—”

"Yeah. Pull out of her, it'll be more comfortable with her facing me on my lap." Tim explained, practically grabbing Conner's cock to pull it out of your wet cunt. You groaned at the emptiness, but Tim hushed you, kissing your temple. “Shhh. We’re right here. Just breathe, baby.”

He guided you up a little, angling himself beneath you. “Look at me.” His eyes were dark, rimmed red from exhaustion, but his voice was low, coaxing. “You sit down on me first. Let me in, nice and slow.”

Your hands trembled on his shoulders as you sank down, inch by inch, onto his cock. Tim groaned, tilting his head back, then forced his eyes open to keep watching your face. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Taking me so good.”

By the time you were fully seated, your thighs were quivering. “S'full already,” you whispered.

Conner’s hand landed on your hip, steadying you. “Not even close,” he rasped. His eyes flicked to Tim’s, a silent exchange, before he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Gonna stretch you more, sweetheart. You ready?”

You nodded, breathless.

Tim cupped your jaw, holding you steady. “Words, baby. Tell us.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “I want both of you inside me.”

Conner swore under his breath, lining himself up behind you, his cock sliding against Tim’s where he was already buried in you. “Fuck, she’s so wet I can feel it from here.”

Tim kissed your jaw, grounding you. “It’s gonna sting at first. But just keep your eyes on me. Breathe with me.”

The first push from Conner made your whole body jolt, a sharp burn stretching you wide. You whined into Tim’s shoulder, nails digging into his skin.

“Easy, baby,” Tim murmured, stroking your cheek. “That’s just the stretch. You can take it. You’re perfect.”

Conner groaned low, his forehead pressing to your shin. “She’s so fucking tight, Tim. Holy shit.” He pushed a little deeper, teeth gritted, fighting to go slow. “You’re doing so good, babe. Just a little more.”

You sobbed against Tim’s neck, overwhelmed but desperate. “More. Please.”

Tim’s lips brushed your ear, whispering filth like a prayer. “Greedy little thing. You love it, don’t you? Being stuffed full, stretched open by both of us.”

“Yes,” you cried, hips twitching. “Fuck, yes.”

Conner bottomed out with a broken moan, the three of you pressed flush, every inch of you trembling. You felt impossibly full, every nerve sparking.

Tim’s hands framed your face, forcing you to look at him. “There you go. Look at you. Taking us both like you were made for it.”

Conner’s breath was hot on your leg, his voice shaking. “Can’t believe this is real. You’re… fuck, you’re perfect.”

"So fucking perfect," Tim agreed, kissing your earlobe. "We can stay like this a little more, or we can start moving. What do you want, baby?"

"M-move, please." You dig your nails deeper into Tim's skin, throat bobbing and full of marks

It was slow, Tim rocking up into you while Conner drew back just enough to thrust shallow. Both of them groaning, both of them whispering against your skin.

You were so full it was dizzying, their cocks dragging against each other with every motion, grinding deep against every sensitive spot inside you. The burn had long since melted into sharp pleasure, every thrust forcing little gasps and whines out of you.

“Fuck, listen to her,” Conner rasped, his voice cracking. “She’s dripping all over us. Can feel it.”

Tim kissed you messy, all teeth and desperation, his words spilling hot against your mouth. “She’s gonna come like this. Squeezed so tight around both of us.”

Your nails dug into Tim’s shoulders, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as the pressure built, unbearable, unstoppable. “I can’t— I can’t—”

“You can.” Tim’s forehead pressed to yours, his voice breaking even as he tried to ground you. “You’re perfect. Let go for us.”

Conner’s thrusts stuttered, deeper, rougher, his breath shattering against your skin. “Come on, baby. Be good for us. Cream all over our cocks. Please, fuck, please.”

That last word, wrecked and begging, tipped you over. You screamed, clenching down around both of them as your orgasm tore through you, blinding, body convulsing in their arms.

The way you squeezed them dragged them under with you.

Tim groaned your name into your mouth, hips jerking helplessly as he spilled inside you, his composure shattering completely. Conner buried his face against your neck, muffling a guttural cry as his release filled you too, the stretch and heat almost unbearable.

The three of you shook together, loud and messy and desperate, clinging to each other like you might drown otherwise.

By the time it ebbed, you were limp between them, their arms keeping you upright. Both boys were still panting, still trembling, still buried in you, but all they could do now was hold you close.

"Is... is the pollen gone?" you asked, a little scared if they dragged you to another round.

"I think so, yeah." Conner managed to say, tracing patters that made you shiver.

You three stayed silent for a long time, both of them didn't stop hugging you or caressing you. Then, you thought something.

"Why you didn't try get the pollen of each other?" You frowned a little, looking between them.

"Trust me, we tried." Tim laughed a little like it was a vague memory.

"We didn't want to drag you into this." Conner pointed out, pressing his lips together.

Armin Arlert's romantic gestures are intimate, intellectual, and deeply observant. He is not a character who relies on grand, flashy public displays of affection; instead, his love language is rooted in quiet acts of service, emotional vulnerability, and a profound attention to detail.

Pressing wild flowers: He keeps unique petals inside his books to give to you later.

Handwritten book annotations: Armin lends you his favorite books with notes in the margins about passages that remind him of you.

Sourcing rare items: Armin will track down specific teas, sweets, or trinkets you mentioned liking weeks ago.

Hand-drawn maps: Armin sketches out private, scenic spots he finds during scouting duties so you can visit them together.

Untangling and brushing hair: Armin finds the repetitive motion grounding and loves taking care of you after a long day.

Warm drinks on cold mornings: Armin always makes sure a hot mug of tea or coffee is waiting for you before early duties.

Taking over chores: If you're exhausted, Armin will quietly finish your paperwork or cleaning duties without being asked.

Creating a quiet sanctuary: He sets up cozy spaces away from the noise of the barracks where you can both decompress in silence.

Tracing patterns on your skin: Armin absentmindedly draws shapes or letters on your knuckles or back when you sit together.

Resting his head on your shoulder: Armin leans into you completely when he is tired, using your presence to feel safe.

Stargazing dates: Armin brings a blanket outside to point out constellations and talk about the world beyond the walls.

Holding hands in his pockets: He pulls your hand into his coat pocket on cold days to keep you warm.

Deep night conversations: Armin stays up late listening to your fears and sharing his own dreams without judgment.

Quiet reassurances: Armin notices when you are overwhelmed and will whisper grounding words to help calm your anxiety.

Remembering small details: He acts as your external memory, keeping track of your schedule, preferences, and small habits.

Validating your choices: Armin frequently reminds you of your strengths, especially when you are doubting your own capabilities.

Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson, bachelor of Blüdhaven, had finally settled down, and to a civvie (civilian) no less. To say the family were shocked was an understatement.

Dick Grayson is an incredible cook, thanks to Alfred no doubt. When you met he was living off pot noodles and frozen pizzas, now he was in your kitchen, humming away to your favourite song as he cooked you a 3 course meal for date night.

Dick Grayson loves to see you in his clothing, especially outside of the home. He loves people knowing you’re his - ring or no.

Dick Grayson loves taking you to family events, Galas, dinners, etc. Any excuse to show off his girl to his family and friends, even better if its an event with paparazzi, the cameras loved you almost as much as he did - you couldn’t go anywhere together without hearing a shutter click - and he loved it. Loved seeing your faces posted everywhere the next day.

Dick Grayson loves going on holidays with you, he loves taking you to hot countries, seeing you in your warm clothes, and just having peaceful time with you, away from everyone.

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Dick is a huge fan of morning sex, when you’re all groggy after having just woke up, he loves to lazily make love to his partner all slow and sensually, really savouring the moment, bonus points if you’re on holiday.

Jason Todd

You doubt anybody expected Jason Todd to one day get married, but here you were, exchanging your vows tearfully - handwritten might I add. Jason definitely put a lot of effort into his, spending weeks agonising about what he should say - even enlisting the help of Tim because, and I quote, “I don’t know enough words in the entire universe to be able to explain how deeply in love with them I am.”

Jason Todd is a sap. He’s a romantic, thpugh he’d scowl and deny it if anyone ever asked. Everyone knew he was though of course, well, with you at least.

His romantic tendencies show in the little ways, the way he always has to be touching you somehow, be it handholding, an arm around your waist, or over your shoulder. If you’re shorter than him then Jason Todd definitely loves to stand behind you with his chin atop your head, and his arms wrapped around you protectively.

Another natural chef, though he was self taught unlike Dick. Like many things with Jason, the ability to cook was just another natural talent he harboured, a fact that you both love and hate, does he really have to be so perfect at everything?! It was frustrating, really.

He likes the obvious claims, having you wear his clothes, or wear his red, even the odd hickey that’s a little harder to contain if he had a particularly jealous moment, but his favourite way to claim you as his was a simple silver chain around your neck with a red ‘JT’ hanging from the end.

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As earlier stated, he’s extremely touchy, which of course extends to other aspects of your life. Any opportunity to get his hands on you and he took it - quickies in closets? Check. Oral in the bathroom at a fancy gala? Check check. He will never miss an opportunity for sexual activity with the love of his life.

Tim Drake

Shockingly to most, Tim Drake is more reserved with his pda. He isn’t as insecure as Jason, or as… extra, as Dick, instead enjoying the smaller displays of affection, a small ‘TD’ stitched into your sleeves and collars, your pictures as eachothers lockscreens, pictures on keychains. The more… touchy displays of affection are saved for the privacy of your bedroom.

He loves spoiling you. If you glance at something for too long whilst out he notices and will immediately buy it, leaving no room for argument as he does.

He has a locked notes app note in his phone with a list of all your hobbies and interests, all your favourite things - from food to clothing style.

Tim Drake brings you everywhere with him, even patrol where he can, because whilst he may not be overly PDA-centric, he loves to have you by his side in every aspect of his life, which means he is training you and designing a vigilante suit for you so that you can come everywhere with him, so everyone knows he is spoken for (as though the ring you stitching into his costume doesn’t relay that fact as is).

He loves showing you off at Galas most of all though, helping to pick out an outfit so you guys can colour coordinate, and being at your side the entire night - he is an excellently dancer.

Unfortunately, he may be an excellent dancer but Tim Drake is not an excellent cook. He once set fire to the microwave whilst making noodles (“I didn’t know you couldn’t make pot noodles in the microwave!”) so he prefers to pay for lavish meals instead at high end restaurants, though he’ll never complain when you cook for him.

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He’s definitely one for spoiling when it comes to the bedroom too, he loves to experiment so he can find out your favourite things in the bedroom too, and once he knows them he’s definitely a giver - preferring to give head rather than receive, definitely the sort of man to get off to you getting off, so to speak.

Damian Wayne (aged up)

Damian Wayne is possessive and jealous, the sort of man to have to suppress murderous tendencies when he sees someone being too touchy, or gazing at you too long.

His solution to this is simple, you are covered in reminders that you are his. A necklace with his initials on. A bracelet and ring to match, both with the same dark green, “DW” on it. His intials are engraved into every item of clothing you own, and he’s definitely the sort to get matching tattoos on your upper thigh with one another’s initials on.

Damian Wayne is just like his Father, whether he likes that or not, which means he loves to spoil you, you never have to pay for a thing when he’s around - and he took personal offense whenever you tried when he began courting you. He pays for every meal, all your clothes, and if you do go out without him and buy something new - he’s finding out the price so he can transfer you the money - all whilst grumbling because “why didn’t you just use my card?”

Definitely a man of pet names (especially in Arabic), ‘Beloved’, ‘Habibti’ (my love), ‘Hayati’ (my life), ‘Albi’ (my heart) and ‘Ya Rohi’ (my soul) are his most commonly used ones, both in public and in private.

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From his perch of the second-floor study with a view towards the entrance, he watched you exit the car from the distance like a coward, pretending to be busy enough with work that he couldn’t afford to greet his first-born child.

He still remembered the dull eyes, your hand hanging loosely from the hand of an unimportant police officer. Even from afar, he could tell the physical similarities between you and him, features that settled onto your face like a piercing reminder of him. And most of all, he saw how much you looked like her as well.

In all honesty, Bruce had forgotten [Mother] [Last name] over the last few years. She had been another pretty flower among the many he had touched, with the exception of her brilliant mind that stood out from the rest of his garden of past lovers. [Mother] had been beautiful, yes, but that wasn’t the only thing that made her captivating. She had passion, a fire brewing beneath her skin that threatened to explode – and yet somehow only pushed her further. She was a star, blinding, breathtaking.

Somehow, even now, he recalled the conversation they’d had after bedding her, body loose with satisfaction and expensive champagne. Her eyes had been locked on the swaying leaves outside the window of one of the guestrooms, moonlight highlighting the valley of her collarbones, the dip of her lips, soft eyelashes.

“Will you ever drop the act of the unintelligent billionaire playboy?” she had asked casually, words as soft as the wind outside. He had paused, never had his lovers – at least the civilian ones – noticed his persona. He had turned to study her with sudden attentiveness that he had never aimed towards civilians, a hum on his lips.

“It gets the job done” and it did. It kept reporters off his back, gave him a large number of excuses for his prolonged absences and occasional injuries under the guise of trips and parties gone wrong. It was what people expected him to be, and if he did what they expected, they wouldn’t consider looking elsewhere.

He sometimes forgot that everyone only ever saw a mask – as Batman or Brucie Wayne. It didn’t matter how he acted or dressed, they would never see him, just a carefully crafted conglomeration of artificial characteristics that best fitted the situation. And it didn’t matter, because Bruce didn’t know who he was after all these years, which trait was his or not, which dreams were authentic or pretend. He was so deep in the water that he could no longer tell if he had made the masks or if the masks were making him – rewriting him, taking him over like a rebellious project.

Her words had been cold water on his body – frigid, shocking when she had said them, until the temperature settled into his body, and he suddenly felt the cold deep within his bones as he wondered if she could see as far as the temperature reached as well.

She had hummed back in reply, and silence fell over them for a moment, the only sound the rustling outside, their breaths mingling in the shared space despite no longer even looking at each other “I could tell you it will kill you, but maybe it already did” she had said casually, his heart had dropped. Bruce swallowed “I don’t-”

Then, eyes piercing into his, curious, knowing and most horrifyingly, pitying, his breath froze in his chest “Life is meaningless if we let it overcome us and our passions” he had finally exhaled at her words, an opening “I know that” he had retorted, words childish, even though he hadn’t been a child since he witness the life bleed out of his parents in front of him. She had arched a brow “Do you truly, though? Not just in a theoretical way, but practically – applied to real life”

And wasn’t that the question? What was the point of Bruce still fighting every night when he had nothing to live for? Sure, he had vengeance in his veins, a city on his shoulders, but why did it have to be him when he had no more left of himself to give?

After that, she had left, collecting her clothes around the room casually, uncaring of her own nudity, of the situation, of the pit that had grown in his stomach. She had simply gotten dressed, thanked him politely, and left, not even asking for an encore as many of his past conquests did, nor to stay. Bruce hadn’t even remembered to offer to call a taxi, or one of the numerous rooms in the manor due to the late hour as he did for the more polite ‘guests. He merely ruminated in his own mind, wondering why anything mattered when he only had bis butler who had remained due to obligation.

Bruce attended Haly’s circus a week later and took in a ward soon after. Life had meaning again, and [Mother]’s words and presence faded into the background, no longer haunting his mind.

She had been a bright star amongst a sky of others, brighter than others, she had been a beautiful flower that was so different than the ones in the rest of the garden. But she had still been in the mass of people who didn’t stay, faded into the depths of his mind as a distant echo of words and dread.

And then she died unexpectedly – or perhaps not, because no matter whether he compared her to a flower or a star, she had been destined to crash and burn, wither and die eventually.

The news of her death had saddened him, but it hadn’t left a lasting impact on his life like her words had. He didn’t suddenly find meaning or another will to live.

He did, however, wind up with another kid in his custody, this time biologically his, while still rebuilding his life after the death of another. Another life depending on him when he was still reeling from the grief of losing a son.

Bruce felt like his life was just a constant race in which he tried to catch up while being dragged down by grief that only grew. And you – poor, young, mourning you – were too small to let yourself be noticed by your father. Too normal. Not… strong enough.

Deep down though, he simply wanted you to stay away from their nightlife. Selfishly, he wanted to keep his only child, who had witnessed such similar tragedies, away from the cruelty of the city. He could’ve led you to vengeance and justice as he had done with Dick, to a meaning of life as he had done with Jason, but he hadn’t considered it, wouldn’t have wanted to even if he had. Bruce was no longer a real civilian, no longer normal. But he was a biological dad now as well, and wasn’t keeping one’s child safe what one was supposed to do?

He may be more Batman than Bruce Wayne, but he wanted your safety, and getting close to him would only introduce you firsthand to vigilantism.

And perhaps it was cruel, depriving you of a father when you had just lost the only parental figure you had ever had. But Bruce was a selfish man, he wouldn’t be able to bear seeing you go through what he went through every night. It would kill him. You deserved normalcy, deserved to sleep full nights and live life without constant bruises and injuries you would have to play off to keep your cover.

He held no personal attachment to you, yet he held a certain fondness for your mother, and consequently a certain fondness for you. Or maybe he just appreciated the indirect pushing of your mother towards taking in his first sidekick.

Therefore, you were kept out of the limelight for your own sake – without consulting you first – and out of his sight.

You entered the large imposing manor, Alfred welcomed you as he expected him to do for you, Bruce turned around to actually do some work before he had to go out for the night, and that was that.

And so marked the end of his first acknowledgment of you, and the last for a very, very long time. And the world kept spinning, and life moved on, and Bruce Wayne took in more children in hopes that he could guide them correctly while you faded into the background just like your mother did.

Then you asked him to work in the med bay of the Batcave, words short and concise, and he was stricken by the ghost of your mother that had made his world stop for a few seconds. You looked exactly like her, down to the knowing glint in your eye and the indifference at seeing right through him. Only this time, he wasn’t just shouldering his own secret, but his family’s as well.

Suddenly, you weren’t the oblivious child – whom he shared blood with – that he had been cohabiting for years. You were a liability, but also an opportunity. They went out every night to risk their lives for a thankless job; a family medic would be extremely useful, especially since you were already part of the family and seemed to know their secret.

The concern about you revealing said secret crossed his mind, but if what you said was true, you had already known for years. You also appeared to be mature for your age and quite clever to have been studying medicine independently. So, the decision made had been logical and inevitable, and after making a reasonable condition, your fate had been decided, the threads had been drawn.

It was only later that night after agreeing that he wondered what your mother would think of his decisions pertaining you. Fleets of Alfred coming by with growing concerns playing in the back of his mind as he gazed at a picture of you in a photo album he kept forgotten in the office. He wondered what she would say about his choice to push you away before even allowing you to get close, if she would revolt against you going down into the depths of the Batcave, closer to your tomb than ever.

Bruce hadn’t thought of [Mother] in a very long time, but deep down he hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed with him, even if he knew that he had been far from being a good father – all his other children would agree.

What did your future look like? Had he doomed you? Would his pride and negligence be his own child’s downfall? Bruce didn’t know you – a deliberate choice made to protect you – but what would it have all been for if he threw you into the deep end so easily? He had sacrificed a healthy relationship with you for your safety, yet he was beginning to realize that perhaps, he had given you up for his peace of mind. 

For weeks, he watched you work from the distance, until weeks turned to months. He initially planned for you to be slowly introduced into graver injuries, because despite him having pushed you away from vigilantism, having a family medic would be extremely beneficial with their lifestyle. Pushing you away would do them no good. And in a way, he feared it would drive you away from them and out of his supervision. How could he protect you if he wasn’t there to make sure you were alright?

But then Tim got hurt. Really hurt. And in a panic, he instructed Dick to fetch you, not even thinking about how it was your day off, nor about how you had never done an operation of this gravity on your own. No – Bruce could only see a dead boy in a too big Robin suit slowly going cold. You were simply the closest medical specialist. He was barely thinking, and breathing in those hours of surgery felt impossible.

And then Tim survived with chances of full recovery, and Bruce could breathe freely again.

The relief of his son’s survival blinded him, however.

Bruce dove back into his night work, chasing the ones who had caused such pain to his family and went as far as to dismantle their entire organization. He was ruthless, efficient, and during those weeks while Tim was bedridden, Gotham fell into restless tension, apprehensive of her protector.

His family let him, having known him long enough that his stubbornness was infamous and a running joke – as well as somehow hereditary – among them. They let him run loose on the city’s criminals, merely offering help when the weight was too heavy, and a shoulder to lean on when the sleep deprivation began to sink in.

He couldn’t face you and actively avoided your presence – not sure if he would bring up disgust and resentment in you due to his role in your operation on Tim. Yes, Tim had been the main actor along with you – patient and doctor respectively – but Bruce had been the director behind the scenes, the puppeteer pulling the strings.

Would you see his decisions the same? Alfred had long given up trying to get his attention for his concerns about you, but he could feel the disapproval in every cup of tea a bit too cold, in every small, sharp remark, in every portrait where your eyes stared back emptily. Leslie had been rightfully angry about his decision, instructing him to let you rest for a while after learning what he had made you go through, that she had half a mind to ban you from medicine until you were eighteen.

But Bruce was a coward. He couldn’t bear to see your face after witnessing you covered in blood and sweat, your softness marred by their lifestyle. He could see you the innocence drained from you in your stained pajamas, covered in gore, in your steady, latex covered hands as you repaired another one of his broken Robins.

So, he let you stumble in your trauma instead of holding you up, let you flail in the deep end to maintain an excuse of ignorance. Bruce loved you – you were his child, someone whose creation he partook in. However, he was never good at facing his issues head on. Therefore, just like when you arrived at this haunted manor, he turned around and left your care to Alfred.

He at least had the pitiful consolation that you had the butler and now Leslie – even if you may never have a parent like your mother had been. Hopefully, [Mother] wasn’t spitting down on him. Hopefully, he would be able to repent for everything eventually.

Your eyes burned, and your breath stunk of days-old coffee and hunger. Time’s passage was no longer something you concerned yourself with, especially down in the cave’s medical area. Only the distant sounds of the bats indicated whether it was nighttime or not, and Alfred’s mounting concern.

It wasn’t your intention to worry the older man. In fact, you often aimed to avoid doing so in hopes of keeping him in better health. However, it had been nearly two full months of summer break, two months of lack of routine and outside responsibilities. You had disappeared from the surface of the world and into the cave under the manor. It wasn’t as if the rest of your family would worry anyways, and if they were, they were clearly keeping it under wraps.

To be precise – you were becoming a hermit.

Alfred grumbled to himself in the secrecy of his bedroom about having raised obsessive and avoidant children – but that was neither here nor there.

So, maybe you were brooding, or maybe you were seizing the free time to had to learn more. There was no time to rest if you wanted to get into your dream program, no time to have breaks when you had done nothing to earn them.

Your siblings still passed by the medical area with varying levels of wounds and bruises, so much that you had grown fully immune to the sight of blood, flesh and bone. Some parents would be worried if their kids saw more gore than grass, but this was Gotham, and from your point of view, your two guardians consisted of an emotionally constipated vigilante and a busy, indifferent family butler.

So, you worked until your fingers were bleeding beneath latex gloves, until your eyes went hazy with exhaustion and the medical area’s unnatural lighting, until you were shivering beneath your thin doctor’s coat, goosebumps flourishing in the cave’s low temperatures. Nothing mattered except this; your mother thousands of Gothamites needed medical treatment, and since so little people were stepping up, you had to. If you had to be the laws of nature balancing out all the suffering, you couldn’t laze around.

Until you faced an unfortunate – and unnecessary – intervention.

Stephanie Brown had everything she had fought for, and yet she was still unsatisfied.

A mother who loved her, a family she had forged for herself, a best friend, an ex who stuck to her like gum to her shoe – or perhaps it was the other way around. She had a mentor who had passed down the mantle to her and taught her the ways of being a young, female vigilante, a partner on the field, a team to back her up.

She had faced hardship, still faced hardship every day and night. Life had not been generous when dealing her hand, and she had had to bear two heavy mantles as a teenager.

Emerging from these challenges had cost blood, sweat, tears and her own life, but Steph made it out with only a bit of resentment towards Bruce, Leslie and Dick. And things were good now. So, why did the manor still bring up dread and guilt?

Maybe it was the bad memories that came with the imposing structure – the determination that verged on obsessiveness, the need to prove herself as Robin, as Batgirl. Losses and grief, disappointment and shame. She had never lived up to the previous, nor latter, Robins, and somedays, she felt like she would never amount the other Batgirls.

Spoiler had been a way for her to take back control at first, a way to protest against the hand she had been dealt in life, to stand up against injustice. Afterwards, it had been a way to reclaim her identity beneath heavy labels after dying for their cause.

She took time to process it, to finally be comfortable with herself and her place in the team. Sure, she still flinched around Leslie, still held a grudge against Connor, still felt like a disappointment to Bruce and like a burden to Dick, but she was doing better.

Still… The long hallways had never been her home, no matter how much time she spent in them. They had been to her school to a student, a company to an employee – a place to learn, yes, but not somewhere she belonged. Sometimes, Steph would look back on movie marathons with Tim in the living room and hang outs with Alfred in the kitchen fondly, but that was most of her positive reminiscing.

Then, of course, there was you. [Name] Wayne.

You had been only three years younger when you had first arrived, dull-eyed and small. Tense shoulders and resignation screamed a convoluted mix of emotions brought on by grief that even a professional would struggle to untangle.

Nevertheless, despite Bruce’s lack of care, Dick’s absence and Tim’s indifference, Steph had always wanted a little sibling. So, she took on the role of your big sister.

Days passed by where she would take you out shopping, to malls, to streets that made one forget that they were still in Gotham. You bonded over rude neighbors, misguided classmates and inconsiderate morning commuters. To Steph, you were the normalcy in her life that kept her grounded, the string that kept pulling her back into the maze, even while knowing she could hang out with Tim elsewhere. Why would she go elsewhere when the manor held you?

You were quiet, shy and in mourning, but you were sweet, and polite, and direct. For a little while, everything was nice – not perfect, nothing could be perfect in this doomed city – but nice. Steph was content, and she was pretty sure you were content too.

Then Tim quit being Robin for his father’s sake, and she took up the mantle. Suddenly, she had much less time to be a big sister, and the pressure of an entire city’s crime on her shoulders. Additionally, she lacked the approval of the main city’s protector, of Superboy, and even Alfred had made his disproval known! She had less time to be a big sister, and her relationship with Tim having ended made her wary of being on the civilian side of the manor.

It was under Black Mask’s hands and Leslie’s lack of care that Stephanie realized that she should’ve said goodbye, the life bleeding from her eyes that she wished she could’ve hung out with you one last time.

When she returned, she had a fractured relationship with a lot of people, and an entire life to rebuild at the side of the woman who had denied her medical care. You were a fond memory in the back of her mind, and she had no intentions to barge back into your life, especially since you were working side by side with Leslie.

And yet she was worried about you.

Steph wondered if you felt like she had – unacknowledged and neglected, taking on a role you hadn’t been trained enough for, underqualified for the weight of the responsibilities you were taking on. She wondered if you needed someone to rant to, a shoulder to rest on, after those long nights like she had. She wondered if you also felt ashamed to claim any sort of help for yourself, if you denied yourself things because you thought it made you stronger.

Which led to the present intervention she was organizing for you in spite of maintaining little to no communication with you since before her death. Years of radio silence broken because, although she denied it, she had always wanted to be a big sister, and what kind of big sister would she be if she let you burn yourself out?

So, Steph gathered every available Bat and set up at the source during one of your rare times away from your workspace – God, you were so similar to them it was disconcerting. When you returned from your five-minute bathroom break, it was to Steph, Cass, Dick and Damian – Duke asleep in preparation for his morning patrol, Jason somewhere in Crime Alley, and Bruce and Tim patrolling – in the med bay arguing about proper intervention etiquette.

“They don’t need you to be an ass about it, Damian. What they need is a break” Steph argued, arms crossing in front of her while she sidestepped a jab from the younger boy, Cass poking around the medical supplies and Dick looking exasperate.

“Well, they’re my blood sibling, not yours, so if anything, my opinion counts more than yours” Damian retorted snappily, taking a step forward, which was too far for Dick, who chose that moment to place an arm forward to keep the boy back “Dami, come on, we’re all family-” a scoff “We’re a convoluted mixture of noncompatible people which is begging to explode. And though father is generous enough to have taken you in does not mean I have to accept you as my family” he spat back, slapping the offending arm away.

Cass turned around to blink at him “Do not be rude. We are a team. Family” was all she said, but it was enough to make his scowl soften and his gaze divert “…Fine. But don’t expect me to play along”

“Play along with what, exactly? Being obstacles in my workspace?” You asked sarcastically, and it was fortunate Bruce wasn’t there, because he would have a word – and not only – about their spatial awareness.

Dick cracked a wide smile, warm and familiar, Steph hoped the man’s charm would be enough to convince you to sleep at least six hours “Kiddo! There you are! We thought you’d be in your usual haunt” he exclaimed, moving forward to greet you, faltering slightly when you sidestepped him to go to your files “Yes, well, here I am. And unless you all have life threatening injuries right now, I don’t see why you’re at my usual haunt” a collective beat of awkwardness spread among them.

Dick made eye contact with them, grimacing as if to say, ‘This is not starting off great’, an expression Steph reciprocated because it was an accurate description of the situation. He pushed forward with an explanation “Can’t we hang out with our sibling?”.

That clearly caught your attention since your head snapped towards him, he barely held back a flinch “Sibling,” you repeated flatly “Have you finally mustered the familial need to bother me under then excuse of bonding? I thought I had escaped that after all these years” you added cynically, eyes sharper than some of the criminals they faced. This was going horribly. Goodness gracious.

This time Dick’s reaction was quite visible, and Damian intervened from his spot where he had been brooding – a family trait. “You are our sibling, no matter if you acknowledge it or not. We are all legally bound together” he commented bluntly “And we have been in the cave far longer than you have. You have no authority over it” Steph winced. Everyone was saying the wrong things. Your eyes narrowed and you scoffed loudly “Oh, forgive me, your liege. I will do my best to keep my commoner self out of your space. Even though you are in mine” you mocked, shoulders tensing, eyebrows twitching in annoyance – a sight that would have been unfamiliar had Bruce not had the same characteristic.

Damian moved closer, a show of his agility “None of this is yours. It was lent to you since father pitied how unimportant you are in this family and had to find a use for you” the words seemed to anger you, something Steph had never witnessed in all her time knowing you “Is that how you try to console yourself for being a child soldier? Another pawn in his futile game? Just because your life is pathetic doesn’t mean life is as well”

He pulled out a sword “It is an honor! Something you will never know-!” Cass appeared like a shadow, sheathing the sword once more, shaking her head at Damian. He glared but obeyed the silent command, and she took his place “You need rest” she said, words clear, the soft wind after the storm, the silence after the war. You blinked “Rest? Is that what you’re all here for?” you asked incredulously, “Is this an intervention-?” Dick smiled tentatively “You could say that. We were just worried about you since you’re working so hard, kiddo. You’re a growing teen, you need sleep-”

A roll of your eyes, a displeased from on your lips “I don’t have time to rest. I’m working” you emphasized as if they were kindergartners and you their impatient teacher. Dick gaped “W- It’s summer break! Go out and hang with your friends- To the mall, coffee, anything!” he stammered, Cass frowned at him in disproval – if you weren’t hanging out with friends, you probably didn’t have them.

A beat.

“Do you want to get rid of me that bad?” you asked, and they collectively winced, their moves so synchronized it would put ballet dancers to shame.

He gulped “N-no-” he stumbled through his thoughts like a fawn on wobbly legs, Cass spoke up again “You need rest. You work too hard” she stated, a reiteration of her previous words, Dick nodded so quickly he looked like a bobble head. Steph pinched the bridge of her nose.

You opened your mouth to keep arguing, when Damian held your hand and dragged you to one of the cots, pushing you down on it with a frown “They are right. You are useless if you are out of fuel” he said, and though his words seemed cruel, the concern was clear in his eyes. You paused, gathering your thoughts after being moved so quickly, the room spinning around you and making you glad that you were suddenly laying down.

You began carefully “I… appreciate your concern. But it is unfounded. I rest enough to stay efficient – I’m not going to begin slacking off if that’s what your worried about” the reassurance stung. Did you think they didn’t care about you?

Stephanie finally jumped into the fray “[Name], we don’t care about your efficiency – even though it’s helpful. We’re worried about you”. She couldn’t help how her heart ached and her hands clenched. Where had they all gone wrong in keeping you safe and healthy? She pushed the thoughts away – there was no time to wallow when you were still right there.

“You barely sleep, barely eat. Alfred said you haven’t even gone outside for six days! This- even Bruce sees the sun” she exclaimed, concern dripping from her tone in earnest “Are you keeping watch on me? What are you, my keepers?” you asked sassily.

“No, we’re your family. We care about you” she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, you laughed humorlessly “Are you now? Funny, since none of you have been for the past years”

They shrunk under the words. They knew they had been less than ideal family members over the years, saying the opposite would be dishonest “And we’re sorry for that” Dick said softly, taking the lead while Steph floundered “I should’ve… we should’ve been there for you. Not nagging you to take care of yourself when we haven’t really looked at you”

His acquiescence made your shoulders relax just the slightest bit, the acknowledgment enough to soothe some of your tension “Kiddo, [Name], you’re young. Burning yourself out so soon will hurt you in the long run” he added, frowning sadly at you “Trust me, I know”

The honesty was refreshing, and you couldn’t seem to look away from your oldest brother. You pursed your lips “Someone has to do it” you justified stubbornly, Steph could’ve smiled with how much like all of them it was “Yeah, well, Gotham has survived without you. It can survive a bit more while you eat and sleep for at least eight hours”.

You looked down at your lap, not able to keep the eye contact as the conversation began to take a more emotional turn “I need to do better. How am I going to become a doctor if I waste so much time?” you asked, tone the most vulnerable they had ever heard from you, Damian’s shoulders tensed “Besides, you don’t have a medic down here.  What happens if something like what happened to Tim occurs?” you added hastily.

Steph paused, a mental lightbulb suddenly illuminating you “Is that what this is about? Tim?” you scowled, eyes snapping towards her “The world doesn’t spin around you bats” you spat defensively.

“You did good” she said weakly “I know I did good. He’s still kicking, isn’t he?”.

Damian snorted, Dick glared at the boy. He shut up.

“Bruce shouldn’t have given you that case” Dick said bluntly, your hassles rose “Wait. Before you snap at me, hear me out”.

“You’re a kid,” at your glare, he corrected himself “Sorry. A teen who’s barely getting into actually acting as a doctor and treating people. Knowing and doing are totally different things. He should’ve let you get used to it before throwing Tim’s life in your hands”

You seemed to digest the information, your fingers clenching into fists “I did well” you repeated, as if that was explanation enough, he smiled, something small that held a tinge of pity “Of course you did. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong of Bruce. You know it as well, kiddo. You’re barely fourteen. You deserve to act like a kid while you can, not to deal with our issues”.

You deflated on the medical cot “…I’m sixteen”.

He froze “Huh?” he uttered dumbly. You just sighed “I said I’m sixteen. I’m pretty sure I turned sixteen two days ago. Or a week ago, I don’t know. Time’s blurry”.

The silence in the med bay was loud enough that a pin dropping would be the equivalent of an explosion going off in the cave.

Unexpectedly, Damian sat on the edge of your cot, muttering a quiet “Happy birthday” and patting your knee awkwardly, and your lack of reaction convinced Cass to sit on the other side to pat your other knee with a whispered “Happy birthday” as well.

Dick watched in what could’ve been compared to heartbreak, a feeling that echoed in Steph’s chest. What a shitty older sister she was. It was worsened due to the fact that you didn’t even seem betrayed nor shocked by the fact that they didn’t remember – in fact, you seemed resigned, as if it was something you had expected, but had hoped wouldn’t be true.

But every change started with a small action.

“Let’s go out to celebrate it” she said, though the words sounded more like a statement rather than a question, you looked at her as if she had grown a second and third head. Your silence and incredulity did nothing to deter her.

“After you rest a bit, we should go out. Celebrate your sixteenth birthday. The mall, the movies, a café – whatever you want, [Name]” Steph rephrased her statement, words holding a hint of pleading. Deep down, she knew that in two years, you’d be gone and onto greener pastures – especially since they had done nothing to keep you tethered to them. But Steph couldn’t handle losing her little sibling, even if she had done nothing in the past years to deserve you. She wanted to at least be able to maintain contact, to check up on you, be invited to your big events.

You seemed to carefully think over her words, paying no mind to Cass and Damian who had turned their attention from patting your knee awkwardly to gape at her, much less to Dick whose jaw had dropped quite obviously. The shock stung. Was it so unexpected to want to hang out with one’s sibling?

Then, like the sun peeking out from behind a cluster of wispy clouds, your smile emerged softly, a blessing of light and warmth after cold wind. It was still a bit shy and pleasantly surprised. And who would Stephanie Brown be if she didn’t smile back just as brightly?

You nodded slowly, the rays that your smile emitted fading into something calmer, a shadow of what she had just seen. She hoped she could witness such a sight again.

“Sure” you agreed, Dick made a disbelieving noise, loud in its dramaticism, “I… I think I’d like that”.

Stephanie beamed “I’ll make sure it’s good. One only turns sixteen once”.

Bit by bit, the room emptied out until it was just Dick and Steph beside you. The man shot a meaningful look at the latter before leaving as well – perhaps he’d crash the hangout with his presence, or perhaps he would be held back by the shame of leaving you behind all these years. Now, with just you and Steph, she sighed, grabbing your hand and squeezing it softly like a reminder of your presence then letting go.

“I’m sorry, [Name]. For everything” she finally said a few years too late. You hummed in response “We’re all sorry about something, you’re going to have to be more specific than that”.

She pursed her lips “About leaving you behind – neglecting you. I’m not the only one, but I was supposed to be different. I was still your older sister, even if I wasn’t exactly apart of the family. And I’m sorry” she repented at the side of your bed. Long gone were the days where you’d sit together in the kitchen talking about bad movies and questionable detective series – those days had died with the birth of the fourth Robin, buried with her consequent death. You stood from the cot, rolling your shoulders easily.

“I forgive you. Most of you, even” you began, shaking out your legs, “However, I’ll never forget. I don’t think I’ll ever fully move past the fact that I became a ghost in what was supposed to be my home”.

And Steph swallowed the tears, because they held their truth. She had stood by Cass as the girl recovered from the pain inflicted by her upbringing, by Duke in his doubt, by Tim in his mourning and complexities – but where had she been when she had to stand by you? The excuse of keeping her distance for your own safety was flimsy and overused, and she had already missed too much of you just by hiding behind it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a hug, short and sweet, not even lasting three seconds before you pulled back “I won’t forget. But I’m willing to leave my door open if you want to give being friends another chance”.

A wave of relief flowed through her and peaked with a watery smile “That would be great”.

Maybe Stephanie Brown didn’t have everything she wanted, but maybe, she could get there eventually.

With the intervention being successful – the room had sighed in collective relief – you agreed to have a small dinner – early breakfast? – then head to bed and rest for at least eight hours. And so, you emerged from your thirteen hours of sleep to see that the world preparing itself for sleep again.

Alfred’s scoldings about proper meals echoed in your head as you put some slippers on, vision blurry with slumber. Somehow, you felt both refreshed and exhausted at once – your sleep deprivation followed by a lengthy rest most likely being the source. You blinked the sleep away, allowing your feet guide you instinctually through the familiar hallways towards the kitchen.

The manor was eerily empty – an echo of a past when it had only been Bruce, Alfred, Tim and you living in the massive structure, half of which who spent most of their time in their respective studies or rooms, or in the cave beneath. It reminded you of days spent wandering these long stretches in vain in search of someone, something – anything that would distract you from the grief bubbling under your skin. Now that you think about it, you never did find anything or anyone until you took up your medicine studies.

You quickly moved past that thought.

Finally, you reached the kitchen. Its emptiness felt less cold than the hallways, with the dimming rays painting the room in warm hues, the presence of potted herbs all working together to bring forth a cozier ambiance. You ignored this in favor for the far-right upper cabinet which housed the unhealthier foods that Alfred disproved of. He would tut at the sight of your upcoming meal, but you felt that your rest warranted a reward. And it’s not as if he was here.

You prepared a bowl of sugary cereal, topped with disgustingly sweet marshmallows. No one was there – it was the perfect hour to go unnoticed by the manor’s inhabitants after all. Around dusk most of the vigilante’s were asleep to rest a bit before the nightshift, and the dayshift vigilante, Duke, was most likely resting in his own room.

It wasn’t as if you particularly enjoyed the quiet, nor the loneliness – despite you actively aiming for it for the past years. But it was easier to pretend you wanted it instead of the pitiful alternative of your family simply not caring enough to seek you out. So, with the familiarity of a hardened veteran handling a gun, you sat on a stool in the kitchen, your chosen poison placed on the marble counter in front of you. It wasn’t as if you were not used to eating alone, after all.

Then, in a turn of events, Bruce Wayne unexpectedly walked into the kitchen.

You both froze in your respective spots, the spoon in your hand dripping with sugar-stained milk, his shoulders tense enough to break the doorway if he made a wrong step.

He ceded to the tension first, “I didn’t expect you to be here” he said awkwardly. You frowned in slight annoyance – trust your father not to expect the child he took in himself to be there.

You tilted your head sarcastically “Am I not allowed to be here? Or did you expect me to still be down at the cave?” you asked pointedly, lips pursing.

A beat.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back downstairs to tend to your children in a bit” you added, tone dripping with condescension. He paused as he was taking another step, looking like a thief caught red-handed.

“I was simply surprised to see you here, [Name]. There’s no need to behave like that” he replied sternly, voice reminiscent of how he talked to misbehaving children wearing vigilante suits. Your expression quickly melted into a scowl.

“Oh, sorry, sir. I’ll return to shutting up and staying in my lane. Forgot I wasn’t supposed to act like a human being” you apologized sardonically, shoving the spoonful of soggy cereal in your mouth. You were unsure why you were so irritated just by seeing him, especially since the past times you had seen him, you couldn’t look him in the eye due to the heavy feeling of betrayal that he brought on.

He grimaced “That certainly wasn’t what I meant, [Name]. I just thought the kitchen would be empty as usual”.

Your gaze moved back to your bowl. Why did so many awkward conversations happen while you were eating cereal? Was this a sign from some upper being? Perhaps you ought to start avoiding the food. You pushed the bowl away.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve forgotten I exist” you mumbled under your breath. Your pettiness was ice water in your veins, a reminder of your own age. You never truly remembered how young you were, how small you were in this massive world until you did something you should be above.

The man grimaced “I’m sorry if I’ve let you down in the past. However, that is not the point of this conversation”. You rolled your eyes in retaliation “There is not point in this conversation. Do you need a script every time you need to speak with someone?”

His shoulders seemed to broaden, like a cornered animal attempting to seem bigger than they actually were – however, in this case, your father was the Batman facing his neglected child. The fact that he felt threatened brought you unexpected glee.

“[Name]. Behave” he scolded, you raised a brow, pointed and mockingly curious “How so? Is this making you uncomfortable?” you cooed sarcastically.

His hands clenched, “Of course it is making me uncomfortable. Your disrespect is appalling. I know you weren’t raised like this”.

And like gasoline being lit on fire, you shot up, stool clattering on the floor behind you, bowl wobbling precariously. Your heartbeat quickened in anticipation, poison bubbling on your tongue – ready to be spit out and deal damage.

“One day, you’re going to have to own up to your fears and face them. You won’t be able to hide behind a mask forever” you scoffed, eyes bright with rage and accusation. Bruce barely flinched, his eyes narrowing in return “One day, you’re going to have to learn respect for your elders” he scolded, as if he had the right to do so, as if he had ever been present. You snapped back, an elastic band stretched too far, a lifetime of loneliness grown too cold “Respect is earned. And aside from giving yourself to a city that keeps taking every night, you have done nothing to earn my respect”.

He paused “Is this about me not telling you about our vigilante personas? Because if so, you are demonstrating how you still don’t have the maturity to participate”.

And wasn’t that just the cherry on top? His self-centeredness was suffocating you “Like hell I wany to participate in your lethal circus! I’m not cocky enough to assume my presence will make a difference”. Your earlier scoff was echoed by him – like father like child, you would’ve thought if the rage in your veins hadn’t been blinding you.

The great Batman, your biological father, one of, if not the greatest detective. For years, his shadow has hidden the sun, hidden the beautiful outside world which you are still yet to see. He had kept you away from the love your mother had given so freely, away from the familial ties that should’ve been present. He looked both confused by your sudden abrasiveness and defensive. Would he defend you as much as he defended his city? As he defended his other children?

He cut your thoughts off “You were, and clearly still are a child. You have no place in this lifestyle-” a sting, though you weren’t sure if it was your heart breaking or your eyes tearing up “Well, I was and still am your child” you retorted, and the great Batman was silenced, the truth dealing a heavy blow.

Because despite it all, he was still your father. It didn’t make a difference whether he neglected you emotionally or allowed you to become a doctor’s apprentice as a teenager. None if it mattered, because he was still your reason of being if not much else.  

“I am” he confirmed, though he looked constipated.

“You haven’t acted so for four years. You don’t get to scold me, to patronize me now when you haven’t been present my whole life.” Your words were poisonous, meant to hurt. Why shouldn’t they, when all you had done was hurt since your mother was diagnosed?

Now, he looked deeply uncomfortable. You scoffed quietly – of course he’d shy away from discussions pertaining more emotional themes, even when the focus was his role in your life. It was expected, an inevitable reaction, but somehow, your heart still reacted to the betrayal in the form of an indescribable ache that had been building in you like a chronic illness, seizing your insides painfully. People said love was worth dying for, yet you couldn’t imagine even wanting love in the first place if this was how it felt when it wasn’t returned.

You wished you had been more important in your own father’s life, wished he had just once picked you over everything else. Perhaps it was selfish, but all love was, and deprivation had made you desperate before throwing you into indifference.

You began to turn around; you are too young to let yourself live like this, too smart to take this treatment. He cleared his throat unexpectedly, and the great Bruce Wayne spoke.

“I am sorry, [Name].”

The world paused around you, as if nothing was real anymore, as if time had stopped and launched you into an alternate reality where everything was different and your family actually saw and loved you. It was like stepping into your deepest, most intimate dreams. You faced your father once more; your features echoed back at you like a twisted mirror. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you, if he ever saw a child of his or just another burden.

“You are good” he paused “in spite of my less-than-ideal treatment towards you”. You looked the man straight in the eyes – the symbol, the legend, the person who held Gotham in his hands like a dying ember – incredulity etched so deeply in your expression it seemed carved into marble “Some good things are born in bad places”.

Bruce’s face fell “Are you saying this place has been bad for you?” he asked, and you would’ve been offended by his doubt had you not known the meaning and history of the manor. A sigh escaped from your parted lips “It hasn’t been good to me, that’s for sure”.

A beat, then two – the setting sun painting the room like a final whisper, dipped in watercolor and regret. In a way, you wished it had never come to this – a stand down between father and child. No child is born wanting to oppose their creator. But long gone were the years where you fought tooth and nail for his approval, for an ounce of his attention that your siblings received so freely. You were not a child anymore. And while you would always be his child, biologically at least, you had moved past the desperate need to prove it to him, and to yourself.

Under the dying rays of dusk, you ceded a relationship for your peace of mind with the knowledge of both parties. A mutual retreat, a war gone on too long – Bruce Wayne could only mourn the death of what could have been, his lack of answer sign enough that you had both reached a standstill.

Your quiet steps came closer, until you were face to face with your dad, and the deep, anguish-filled regret on his face would’ve been enough to change your mind just one year before. Now, you merely offered him a bittersweet smile instead.

“I’m grateful you took me in. If not for the luxury, at least for Alfred, for Leslie, for the medical experience, even for my siblings in a way – things I never could have had had it not been for you” you began, because your mother had raised you to be good, no matter whether the other person deserved it or not. He pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowed deeply “That is not certain. Even if I had not, you would have found a way.” he cut himself off, sighing “You’re remarkable. You would have found it all yourself, [Name]”.

The compliment stung, especially the timing. Why now, when you were abandoning the race? You pushed forward, nonetheless. You had made it too far to back down now.

“I will most likely move out as soon as I can. As soon as I finish my studies,” he seemed to grimace at the words, but he knew he hadn’t earned the right to interrupt “I don’t expect you to support me, nor am I asking for permission. This has been decided for a while, after all. I simply hope you won’t prevent me from doing so”.

Bruce looked at his firstborn in the eyes, the child he let get away, and nodded in resignation “Of course I will support you, [Name]. You are my child” he said, words heavy with bone-deep exhaustion that he had been carrying for years – but that was no longer and had never been your problem.

You finally took a step back, offering a small, parting smile “I… I still love you. If not as a dad, then as a distant father figure.”

Anguish filled eyes looked back, “I love you as well. I’m sorry I was never there. I should’ve-” you cut him off, the breath knocked out of him with an unexpected hug. The first and last for a long, long time.

Bruce could feel the wetness soaking into his shirt, a wetness mirrored in his own eyes “It’s too late for that now, father” he choked down any possible noise, bringing his arms up to hold you back tighter, cheek resting on the crown of your head “I know, chum. I know” he whispered, only the dying sun and his parting child present to witness his heart break.

It seemed to last an eternity, and he didn’t want to let go. He felt as if he could be buried like this without protest.  

But finally, you stepped back, your warmth lingering in his arms, fading slowly. A dying child, a rising adult. You no longer needed him. He sighed “I will support you in what you do. I merely ask you don’t leave permanently, and that you visit every once and again”.

You nodded slowly, looking back at your now soggy bowl of cereal. “Of course I’ll visit. I couldn’t just leave Alfred behind like that” you muttered, “Besides, you’re all still family, despite your best attempts”.

He petted your hair – touches you would’ve died for a few years back “We’ll always be here. And you still have some time left before finishing high school. We still have some time” he seemed to console himself. You didn’t protest nor approve – it wasn’t your responsibility to reassure him.

“Two years” you stated, then grabbed your bowl to place it in the sink. Emptying it and rinsing the remains. You dried your hands. “Two years, then I’m gone”.

His silence made you look at him. An expression plagued by grief, a loss he had never grown used to. Distance or death seemed not that different to him as he looked at you like you were already a ghost.

You walked towards the doorway, patting his shoulder awkwardly in passing “You were a shitty father,” you began “But… I’m not dying, and neither are you. We still have some time left,” you looked at him over your shoulder “Dad.”

And with those parting words, you left the kitchen, sun already set over the horizon of the forest beyond the manor, room coated in regret and the days lingering heat. Your father stood there, in the silence of the place he grew up in, feeling like a grieving child all over again. But then again, that was not your responsibility.

The echo of your steps while you ventured back to your room didn’t seem as loud as before – perhaps you felt lighter after finally saying what you had wanted to say for so long, or perhaps you didn’t feel like an outsider anymore. Either way, you had things to study. Though it was summer, so you could probably afford to indulge in your hobbies once more.

You had two years. Two years left to act like a kid and enjoy your teenage years. Two years to dedicate your passion to your interests and hobbies instead of drowning in medical terms. You wouldn’t abandon your studies – of course not, you have worked too hard to do so, and you still loved it.

Nevertheless, you had all the time in the world to be [Name]. Not just a Wayne, not just a doctor. Yourself. Maybe now you could start living.

Damian Wayne had always yearned for connection.

Deep down, in that secret place that he never allowed even his mother to penetrate, he yearned for someone to hold dear. Through beatings and long training sessions, torture disguised as preparation, loneliness disguised as independence – Damian dreamed of someone to hold him through the pain, the fear, the exhaustion.

His mother stopped holding him when he was so, very young, and he had been deprived of physical and emotional affection all his life.

When he arrived at the manor, his dreams of companionship had already wilted away from neglect. What was the point in wanting something unreachable? And after meeting his father and ‘siblings’, he was disappointed in learning that he was right to do so. While he was not the picture of emotional maturity, this family left a lot to be desired.

Then he met you.

You were calm, serene in the face of their chaos. At first, he had felt a rush of envy and a need to prove himself to his father to show that he was worthy of love. A child of the Bat not even trained, probably unaware of their important lifestyle. How could one expect him to even attempt to connect with you when you were so fragile?

When he first arrived, Damian had been warned that you were a civilian – even more so after he attacked Tim. So, after a few heated discussions with his father, the envy became indifference. You were just another rock on the road, another grain of sand on the beach.

For a while, you both steered clear of each other. Why would he pay attention to you – the weak one – when he did not even pay attention to the siblings he actually worked with? It was a mutual non-relationship, and either way, you both had your lives – him in proving himself worthy of his lineage, and you doing whatever it is civilians do. At least unlike him, the family probably liked you.

How wrong he was.

Weeks of mutual silence melted into curiosity. Why were you so indifferent to being ignored? If you had grown up sheltered as the others had explained, you should have at least greeted your half-brother, even if he was just another addition amongst many to this ragtag family.

Thus, as any properly trained assassin and heir of the Batman legacy and Demon titles, he investigated.

His research did not take long, just a couple of weeks, and the conclusion was as appalling as it was disappointing. His observations led him to believe that he was not the first family member to neglect you emotionally – a discovery that brought a tight feeling to his chest and a furrow between his eyebrows.

On your side, you seemed indifferent toward your father and adoptive siblings and company, and consequently, curiosity bloomed into admiration.

His older sibling, in the face of duress and suffering, had blossomed into an inspiring teenager who excelled academically and maintained a stoic face no matter the occasion. Suddenly, Damian wondered if you would have turned out better than him had you lived under his training conditions, wondered if you would not have felt the urge to cry when locked in dark rooms, or wince whenever hunger struck too harshly.

And if it had been the two of you in Nanda Parbat, would you have motivated him to do better? Would you have consoled him whenever the pressure and expectations got to heavy?

Damian had long abandoned those childish dreams for connection, but he was not shocked that it was a child of the Bat that brought that silly hope back. For the first time ever, the child soldier gave himself the right to dream – dream attaining someone who loved him and who he loved back, dream of having a sibling.

Yet things never go right in this cursed manor.

You were distant, and after witnessing the family’s treatment towards you, he understood why. And although he tried to bridge the gap, he had never learned to be soft, had never learned to be kind. He came off as haughty and harsh, sarcastic and pointed, when all he wanted to do was catch your attention.

No matter how harsh he snapped, or how kind the small gesture was, you held a blind spot to anything family shaped.

Then you joined them in the Batcave.

Secretly, he was over the moon – his sibling close by, able to watch him them in their element. If he showed off a bit more than usual, who were the others to comment on it? They did the same all the time, he was allowed to do so every once in a while. In the depths of the cave, he hung around under the guise of supervision, asked questions about your work with the excuse of investigation. And if this opened up a new possibility of a future where he could help without risking his life, he simply kept looking at you with bright eyes and a big heart.

The time after Timothy was operated was a period of darkness, so dark even your indifference could not hold you steady. Damian tried – he truly did – to console you, to help around the med bay, but you were sharper. He backed down after making you snap once, not wanting to incite more of your ire.

It was a few months later near the end of the summer after an intervention he participated in that things began to look up once more, and the hopes of becoming your little brother returned with it tenfold. You were more open – with your work, with your interests, even with your personal life.

For two years, life was the best it had ever been for Damian Wayne, with a father he was beginning to not just love, but like, siblings he tolerated, a butler he appreciated deeply, animals he cared for, and a big sibling he adored.

Then you moved out.

And just like you during the summer of your sixteenth birthday, he was inconsolable.

“What do you mean you are moving out? Is the manor not to your liking? We could move into somewhere bigger if the size or appearance are not to your liking-” Damian tried to rationalize. It did not make sense – everything was perfect.

Your smile was as serene as the first time you hung out together, calm, a bit sad, but reassuring. “Dami… It’s not the manor. I’m leaving for college,” You explained softly, flattening his hair fondly “I’ll come visit during the Christmas season, and we can still text-” You were cut off by a body slamming into yours.

Damian was bigger than you now, just a bit taller. In a way, despite it only lasting over a year, he missed being smaller than you so you could engulf him. His hold on you tightened at the thought.

"I don’t want you to go,” He mumbled, words wobbling miserably “I just got you – you can’t leave me like this.”

You paused, then sighed, pressing your head against his shoulder “I won’t be gone forever, Dami.” He whined, “Just stay in Gotham. Gotham U is a respectable university for medicine-” You squeezed him, and although you certainly were not as strong as him, it silenced him immediately.

“I can’t stay. You know that” you stated quietly, though you lacked no conviction, “I need to find myself out there outside of Gotham. Outside of this family.” You pulled back to look at him in the eyes – who would have thought the great Damian Wayne would be reduced to misery because his older sibling was moving out?

You smiled, it was bittersweet, but there was a world waiting for you – not even your baby brother could hold you back from it. “It’s not goodbye forever. Just a see you later.”

His eyes narrowed in an attempt to hide the tears even if your both knew you saw right through him. Damian loved you, had grown to look up to you. He knew he would not succeed in changing your mind, and deep down, knew you deserved to fly free from this place.

The tightness of his hold loosened. “You’ll call. Immediately once you get there. And you shall update me at least weakly – about your schedule, your classes, your classmates, professors – everything” he said sternly, rubbing his reddening nose. Your smile brightened “Of course I will. I would never keep you out of the loop.”

He nodded in approval before reluctantly letting you go. “Don’t forget me- us, okay?  Those university people most likely don’t even amount up to us. We are much better” he grumbled, your heart ached with his sweetness “I won’t. It’s just some years, not forever. And I’ll visit occasionally, you big baby” you teased softly.

Damian stepped back, and you caught the faint glimpse of his bottom lip wobbling before he looked away “Whatever. You should leave unless you want to have any tardiness.”

This time, you hugged him first, your laugh painting this soon to be memory in the childish haze of the end of the beginning “I love you. It’ll be over in no time” he nodded slowly “Yeah, it better. I won’t be able to tolerate the others alone.”

You parted with a last smile, walking toward the moving van, waving at Damian with a beam.

Your father emerged from the back of the vehicle, his concentrated frown from attempting to fit everything in fading as he looked at you “I managed to make everything fit. Try not to take everything out – it’ll mess up the organization.”

A chuckle escaped from your stretched lips “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

A moment of silence passed over the two of you, but you were no longer that sad child who let that heaviness oppress you. “I’ll visit” you repeated, this time to your father, not knowing what to say. You had said your parting words two years back.

Your creator nodded “I know. I’ll send you a schedule for your breaks so that you can fill out when you want to come over the next years.”

You sighed in exasperation “I mean I’ll miss you, dad”. He froze; a deer caught in headlights before forcibly relaxing as if this was a mission instead of his child leaving for college “I’ll miss you too. It’s not too late to stay-” he began, but you quickly shook your head “No. I’m leaving.”

Another moment of silence, but this time less tense and more resigned “I’m proud of you, chum. Of how far you’ve come. I know you’ll make it so much further” he said, holding your shoulder. You smiled again, something tentative and delighted “Thanks, dad.”

He squeezed your shoulder, looking like Damian attempting to keep you in place – or did Damian look like him? – your smile widened “For what it’s worth, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You weren’t too bad of a dad these past two years” you commented, he sighed in reply “It’s the bare minimum. I could’ve been better.”

You shrugged “We can always be better. What matters is learning from your faults and trying to do better. I won’t say you weren’t a shitty father – I’d be lying – but I’m thankful you did your best to change afterwards.”

Your dad’s eyes looked shiny, he coughed and looked away as an excuse to wipe his eyes rapidly. You softened.

“I’m proud of you as well, dad.” He brought you into a tight bear hug “I love you, kid” he said against the crown of your head, words muffled but no less true.

“Love you too.”

You pulled back first, hitching your backpack higher up your shoulder “I’ve gotta go. The world’s waiting for me” you joked – you both knew it was the truth, though.

Your father laughed, an exclusive, precious sound “Go get them, then.” He stepped back towards the manor, not breaking line of vision with the van.

You put your bag in the passenger’s seat, and waved widely at the rest of your family, a wide smile on your face as you got into the driver’s seat, igniting the car.

Life had been far from perfect at Wayne manor – a cold place that harbors loneliness and misery. But through it all, you found a passion strong enough to break the cage you were stuck in and had even managed to find a budding family along the way despite the initial obstacles.

Now, the world awaits you, the freedom ruffling your wings and guiding you to brighter horizons. It is the end of the beginning, not the beginning of the end. With the newfound support of your family and your passion, there is nowhere you can’t reach. You are [Name] Wayne, and this is only the beginning.

a/n: I can’t believe this is over!! It did unfortunately take a very long time to come to a close (blame the return of comics and webtoons in my life, it’s hard being a fan) but I’m glad I was able to enjoy it while it was happening! I hope you guys enjoyed it as well, despite all the time it took for this last chapter to pop out. Thank you for all the support and I will see you soon with possibly another story :]

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