#(I say this while ignoring tightly tied long-hair Dick Grayson)

[farshootergotme]

I like the idea that Dick gets a new hairstyle every year. His hair's been through all kind of looks.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober2021 - October 4th - Taken Hostage | Pushed

Gift fic to @fidothefinch <3

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Near death experience, hostage situations, implies Bruce as a shitty dad but I don't go into detail on it.

---

If there’s anything in the world that Dick hates more than being restrained, it’s being held hostage. Especially if he’s being held hostage as a threat against Bruce or Batman. One thing they don’t tell you in the foster system is that if you’re adopted by a rich and famous to the Kardashian level man, is that you’re often the target of criminals who think snatching a kid on their way home from school is a surefire way to make a million bucks. It’s no better in the vigilante business either, because often any hero in Gotham is only seen as a stepping stool to getting to Batman.

Honestly, at this point Dick’s used to it. It doesn’t mean he enjoys it, though. Not so much because of the initial kidnapping part, but because he’s worked hard to become his own person, his own man with his own life. He moved to Blüdhaven to be anything other than the son of Bruce Wayne; to be his own hero that villains learn to fear. And then the second he sets foot back in Gotham, for whatever reason, suddenly it’s all about the reclusive eldest Wayne child returning home! Suddenly, when villains see him at night, it isn’t “Oh shit, it’s Nightwing!”, it’s “Shit, it’s a Sidekick! Where’s the Bat?!”

Anyway, long story short, Dick came back to Gotham for one weekend to visit family, and now he’s dressed as Nightwing, standing on a roof with duct-tape keeping his wrists together behind his back and a knife to his throat belonging to a shady businessman who’s finally caught the attention of Gotham’s heroes.

And it’s sorta pathetic how Dick ended up in this situation. It wasn’t like this was going to be a particularly difficult mission. Just sneak into the building, grab the evidence he needed to get this bastard behind bars, and then get out. Unfortunately, someone tipped the man off without Bruce knowing about it. When he went into the main office, he was met with a very strong guard hiding behind the doors, and after a hefty blow to the head and a few concerning minutes of blacking out, Dick opened his eyes—thankfully still masked—to find himself kneeling on the rough cement of a skyscraper’s roof, completely stripped of any of his useful tools. He has a small knife in one of his gauntlets, but it’s not exactly in an easy to reach position. It would take time to grab at it, and that’s not counting the high probability he’ll be spotted by Jerome McCoy--Gotham’s latest shady businessman--or any of his goons.

Besides, Tim is already up here listening to their demands to get Batman up here or Dick dies. It shouldn’t be long before Bruce gets here and kicks his ass. That’s not even accounting for the facts that Jason, Steph, Duke, Dami, and Cass are all in town.

These idiots have no clue how close they are with dealing with close to every single bat if something bad happens to Dick tonight.

And everything was going fine until Tim suddenly stopped mid sentence in reminding McCoy that Batman was on his way and brought his hand to his communicator in his ear. When Tim paled ever so slightly, Dick knew something had gone exactly NOT according to plan.

“What is it?!” McCoy demands, pressing the knife against Dick’s neck with worrying pressure. Dick leans his head back slightly to lessen the risk of his neck being cut and meets Tim in the eyes through their masks.

Tim swallows. “Batman is being held up-”

Dick resists sighing in both disappointment and lack-of-surprise as McCoy practically explodes.

“What?!

“Only for a few hours,” Tim rushes to explain. He’s lifted his hands in a placid manner and softened his voice, which can’t be good. “He’s… met an unexpected complication along the way that he cannot ignore. Please, just tell me what you want, and I can take my partner and be out of-”

“I don’t have a few hours,” McCoy practically screeches. “Either Batman makes it his priority to get here, or Nightwing gets it!” to make a point, McCoy lifts the knife from Dick’s neck and waves it in front of him. Dick slides his eyes over to the other goons on the roof; there’s only a few. Maybe… if Dick plays his cards right… “That was the deal!”

“I understand-”

“Tell Batman to get here now, or Nightwing’s blood is on his hands!”

“He’s busy- I can’t just-”

Dick slams his body back, pointing his elbow the furthest he can with the way his arms are bound and jamming it into McCoy’s stomach. McCoy lets out a startled, breathless gasp as Dick uses his surprise to escape from his grasp and jump to his feet.

“’Wing!” Tim yells at the same time McCoy wheezes “Get that fucker!”

Dick has just a second to notice Tim’s shock at Dick’s sudden attack before Dick’s having to defend himself with his hands literally tied behind his back. Sorry, kid, Dick thinks, ducking around a pair of beefy arms, but we’re out of options.

It was going well until it wasn’t. Tim was even about to step in. However, while waking up from his lovely whack to the head, Dick failed to assess just where he was on the roof.

All it took was for the back of his heel to tough nothing but air for his heart to jump to his throat. Instinctively, he tried to wave his arms to catch his balance, but was quickly reminded of his predicament when the tape tugged against his wrists. For a moment, pure panic filled his entire body, here, wobbling backwards off the edge of a roof dozens of stories above the ground. He could feel his heart pound, hands shake, breath catch, hair rustle in the wind, but he couldn’t do a thing to stop himself from falling backwards. He’s pretty sure he hears Tim scream his codename, but he’s not totally focused on anything other than his pending doom right now-

A heavy hand wraps around his upper-bicep, stopping his almost-promised journey to pancake town. Everything is silent on the roof for a solid moment, as Dick practically hangs over the ledge of the roof with his feet just barely still on solid ground, a goon holding him juuuuuust enough to make sure he doesn’t fall. Tim looks even paler than before, looking like he really did watch Dick go over the edge. McCoy looks a constipating mixture of smug and outraged while the other goons stand nearby like useless props.

Then, McCoy speaks with anger as heavy and level as stone. “Tell Batman I want him here in ten minutes.”

Tim meets Dick’s eyes, and Dick sees everything that he needs to. Whatever is holding Bruce up, it’s more important than Dick, and Tim knows it’s useless to even try.

“Please,” Tim says, voice wobbly. He’s a detective. He knows what’s about to happen. “Just give us more time-”

McCoy snaps a finger, and that’s that.

The hand on his arm pushes Dick away and opens it’s grasp. It doesn’t matter anymore that Dick had his feet on the roof, because the rest of his body is falling.

Falling.

Dick’s completely off the roof in a blink of an eye and he’s falling.

The air is rushing past his ears and through his hair, so loud he can barely think. That’s if he’s thinking at all, as story after story passes him by. He’s falling, and for the first time in a long time, he’s afraid of falling, because this time there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He doesn’t have any tools… he doesn’t even have his hands, nor enough time to even try and get his hands free. He’s falling, rushing to the ground. He can already see in vivid detail what his body will look like when it hits the pavement.

He’s falling. He’s standing at the top of a beam, watching his mama and papa fall. He’s falling. He’s screaming as the sound of their bodies landing and snapping reaches his ears. He’s falling and he’s going to die in the most Grayson way possible.

He’s going to die the same way his parents did, a way that he’s worked hard to not be afraid of ever since he first moved in with Bruce, but was always secretly terrified.

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to watch. He’s afraid, and Tim will watch from above and blame himself and he never wanted any of his siblings to blame themselves for his death like how he blamed himself for his parent’s for decades and-

And the wind is knocked out of him, but not from his body slamming on the ground. A strong arm wraps painfully around his stomach, and suddenly the world turns sideways and his eyes shoot open in shock.

“Fuck,” Jason grunts, holding Dick with one arm and the other wrapped tightly in a grappling line. “Fucking hell.”

And Dick… doesn’t know what to do. He feels muted, like a YouTube video playing at 144p and buffering still. The adrenaline is pumping so loudly through his entire body that the fact that Jason’s caught him doesn’t register until Jason’s landing roughly on the ground and lowering Dick to the asphalt.

“Started heading over the second that bastard said he wasn’t coming,” Jason explains. Dick nods numbly, his eyes locked on the oil covered road below him, his mind still trying to process. “Said he ran into some bastard working for Two-Face holding some rich family hostage. Said we could handle it. I can’t believe I got here just in time. Fucking fuck-face fucker.”

There’s a splash of two feet landing on the permanently puddled street beside them, and Dick can hardly contain his flinching at the sound, but thankfully Jason doesn’t notice. He just stands up and faces where Tim has landed quite suddenly from where he must have grappled down from the roof. Dick continues to look at the ground, wringing his knitting together in front of him. He… hasn’t noticed Jason undid the bindings.

“What happened to McCoy?” Jason demands, and Tim takes a gasping breath and shakes his head.

“They ran into the building while I… jumped after N.”

Jason growls, taking a step forward but Tim stops him. “Orphan said she’ll handle it, she sounded pissed.”

Jason backs off, but anger still curls in his stomach like an old friend. His fists clench to his side. “Once I see B, I’m gonna punch his teeth up to his brain.”

And it must be proof of how shaken Tim is, because he doesn’t argue.

Then, like a pin hitting tile, a small sound catches Jason’s ears. He looks down to where Dick is still sitting in the grime of Gotham’s street. His heart sinks to his gut.

“N?” he asks, and Dick doesn’t respond. “Nightwing, you’re… crying.”

That directs Tim’s attention down where tears are certainly streaming down Dick’s cheeks from under his mask. His lips are wobbling, and the second Jason kneels down to put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, a wounded sound escapes his lips.

“Dick?” Jason asks, his voice sounding shocked and unsure.

Dick looks up at Tim, looking one breath of the wind from falling apart. “You jumped after me?” His voice is small and brittle. When Tim nods slowly, Dick whimpers, dropping his head into his hands and letting out a sob. “You almost watched me die,” is all he says before he finally breaks down into mournful cries.

Jason looks up from where Dick’s now shaking and gasping into his hands and meets Tim’s eyes. Neither of them… has ever seen Dick get like this before. It feels wrong, like something in the world has shattered and can never be replaced.

“Lets… get him home,” Jason says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” is all Tim can smartly bring to his lips while Jason scoops Dick into his arms and stands up.

Dick’s so out of it with his sobbing that he hardly reacts, just curls against Jason and continues to cry.

“You know,” Jason says quietly, “the scariest way to die, for me, is to overdose.”

And Tim understands.

“I… see.”

Jason nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. So let’s just call it a night, get him some Alfred cookies, and just… let him take this at his own pace, okay?”

Tim nods, knowing that after years of Dick always going out of his way to help them with their trauma, their issues, and never asking for anything in return… it’s now their turn to return the favor. Dick looks so much smaller than Tim swears he’s ever seen him, curled up in Jason’s arms, trembling and sobbing. He silently promises to himself that he will do whatever it takes to make sure Dick gets through this, just like what he’d do for them, always. And Tim’s positive the rest of Dick’s siblings will do the same.

[gaygent37]

His Mates - Robinpile

There was a plot for porn somewhere in here, but I just never made it there. This is practically a completed story, without the intended porn. Also, there is little plot for some reason, so I don’t have much of an idea where this was going, hence why it ended up here. 

4,743 words, robinpile, omegaverse, very brief underage kissing (Damian is 16 for a flashback), alpha Jason, beta Tim, omega Dick, temporarily un-presented Damian, jealousy, insecurity, not much plot, no porn, fluff, hurt/comfort

His mates were acting strangely recently.

They were constantly whispering to each other and glancing at Damian when they thought he was not looking. It had gotten to the point where Damian would walk out of the room when one of them entered solely so he did not have to suffer their intense gazes.

Damian wanted to find out what was going on, but at the same time, he was afraid of the truth, though he would never admit it.

“Morning, Dami,” Dick said, yawning as he walked into the kitchen. He stretched and gave Damian a bright smile. Damian frowned hard at him. “What?” Dick asked with that same oblivious smile.

“Nothing,” Damian muttered. He stood up to leave.

“Hey, hey,” Dick said. “What’s wrong, Little D?” he asked. “You’ve been distant recently.”

A spark of irritation flared through Damian. He ignored Dick and tried moving past him. Dick grabbed his wrist.

“Damian,” Dick said softly.

Damian stopped and looked at Dick. He was still surprised to find that Dick was now shorter than him with his recent growth spurt. “What?” he sighed, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Talk to us if something is going on, okay?” Dick said. “Jason, Tim, and I. We’re here for you. Always.”

Damian’s eyes landed on the fresh bites lining Dick’s neck. He shook his head. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “But nothing’s wrong.”

Dick let go of his wrist. “Okay,” he said dubiously. Dick leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to Damian’s cheek. “Love you, Dami.”

Damian swallowed unconsciously. He gave Dick a hard look, his dark green eyes piercing into Dick’s wider blue ones. “As I you, Grayson.”

With that, he breezed out of the kitchen, heading towards his bedroom, which was the one place he could successfully hide from his supposed mates and be left alone with his own thoughts.

Damian threw himself down onto the bed and pulled the covers over his head with a growl.

Damian had not felt this frustrated since he had been accepted into his brothers’ mating, though not officially.

When Tim had turned twenty, two years ago, Dick, Jason, and Tim decided they would mate as a group of three. And it seemingly worked out perfectly. After all, they had one alpha – Jason, one beta – Tim, and one omega – Dick.

And when Damian found out about it, he had not expected the feelings of betrayal and loneliness. At sixteen, Damian often professed that he would live alone, like his father does. His brothers laughed at him and teased him, saying they would be in the front rows at his future wedding reminding him of his words.

At the time, it had only made Damian all the more determined to live up to his promise. But when they formed their mating group, Damian was jealous. He felt left out.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he lived in a family of detectives, and it did not take long for one of them to figure it out.

Damian can still recall the burning shame he felt when they cornered him in the Cave, resorting to tying him down to keep him there. But all of them were so accepting of it, even Jason.

“Listen, baby bat,” Jason said. “When you’re eighteen, after you present, you can join us, yeah?”

“I don’t need you!” Damian spat back at him. “Any of you!”

Dick just sighed. He sat down on the training mat next to where Damian was tied up tightly. “Did you really think we’d leave you out?” He ran his hand through Damian’s hair. “You don’t have to pretend with us, Little D.”

Damian was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, “You’re just saying that because you pity me. None of you actually want me there. Well, I don’t need your pity either! I-”

“Hey, brat,” Tim snapped, slamming his bo staff down by Damian’s head. Damian’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. “Why don’t you just focus on growing the hell up, and we’ll decide for ourselves what we want?”

“Tim,” Dick sighed. “Please don’t pick a fight with him.”

“I’m not picking a fight,” Tim scoffed. He knelt down by Damian, glaring down at the teen. With a curled forefinger, he tilted Damian’s head up roughly. “Chances are, by the time you do turn eighteen and present, you’ll be over this whole thing, and you’re the one who won’t want us.”

Damian gritted his teeth. “Like hell, Drake. I thought we agreed to let ourselves decide what we want?”

Tim stared at him coldly. “Good,” he said quietly. He made a move to let Damian’s head down, but in a flash, his hand was behind Damian’s head, holding him still while he mashed their lips together.

Damian’s heart pounded so loudly he could barely hear anything aside from the blood rushing in his ears with each frenzied thump. The kiss was no more than lips on lips, but Damian was left absolutely breathless and speechless.

Somewhere in the background, Jason let out a low whistle.

When Tim pulled back, he was still glaring at Damian. “We have an understanding then,” he said. He stood, picking up his bo staff. Dick worked to untie Damian, who was still in shock.

Tim walked a few paces away before turning around again, kicking Damian’s practice staff towards him. “Now that that’s settled, care for a rematch?”

Damian groaned and buried his face further in his covers at the memory. His eighteenth birthday was two days away, and he had been waiting impatiently for that day since the day Tim kissed him.

Often, Damian wondered if they were actually serious about Damian joining their mating. They never really acted like it, so Damian had reason to doubt.

None of them had kissed him on the lips since then either. Dick would often kiss his forehead or cheek, but they really felt no different from Dick’s overly affectionate hugs. On occasion, Tim and Damian would wind up sitting next to each other on the couch, and Tim would sit close enough so that their legs touched, despite the large amount of space on the couch. Jason, on the other hand, showed no physical affection aside from an annoying ruffle of Damian’s hair.

Damian hated it because he knew Jason could be very affectionate. He had seen Jason with his arms around Dick in the kitchen or dragging Tim onto his lap despite Tim’s protests.

And in the past couple of weeks, all three of them were limiting their contact with Damian, physical or otherwise.

Just then, his phone dinged from across the room, drawing him out of his thoughts. Damian dragged himself from his cover cave and grabbed his phone, unplugging it from his charger.

Damian was mildly surprised to find a text from Tim.

Drake: will b wrkg l8. cvr ptrl 4 me?

Damian squinted at the message for a second. Despite him being an extremely skilled decoder of many different forms of secret messages, he still had a difficult time translating Tim’s texts.

When he finally did translate it, he was a bit disappointed. He was not sure what he expected, but it was not Tim asking for him to cover patrol for him.

Damian: Fine.

Damian flopped back onto the bed, going right back to his shameless self-pitying.

Patrol was a quiet affair. As far as Damian was concerned, only he and his father were on patrol that night.

Jason was across the country on a mission, Tim was working late, and Dick was helping Oracle with a quick undercover thing. Damian had swung past Wayne Enterprises towards the beginning of patrol, spying Tim through the windows.

The other man did not even notice him, typing on his laptop and occasionally frowning at the screen. Damian felt stupid for his behavior, but he could not help it. But Damian did not have time to wallow in his thoughts because Batman sent him down to the Narrows to check on some suspicious activity.

When Damian got back to the Cave in the early hours of the morning, he was exhausted. He showered quickly and just dove into bed.

Sleep did not come easily. In fact, Damian lay awake in his bed, staring at the dark ceiling for hours more. He heard Tim come home and say good-night to Alfred. He heard Dick shuffle through the dark halls half an hour later, crying out when he stubbed his toe on his door.

Damian turned over in bed, squeezing his eyes shut, for the first time, dreading going one day closer to his eighteenth birthday.

“You look like hell.”

Damian could not find the energy to dredge up an actual glare to throw in Tim’s direction.

“Wow, no snarky response,” Tim mused. He took a sip from his mug of coffee before reaching behind him and grabbing another one. He poured the rest of the coffee from the coffee pot into the mug and dropped two sugar cubes inside. Then, he slid it across the counter to Damian, miraculously spilling only one drop.

Damian took a long drink before grimacing and setting the mug back down. He stood up to make his own pot of coffee, something more akin to the aromatic drink most people consume.

“So,” Tim said, grabbing Damian’s abandoned mug and pouring its contents into his own mug. “You still haven’t said what you wanted for your birthday,” he said.

“I don’t want anything,” Damian grunted.

“Yeah, right,” Tim said. “You always want something.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, so?”

“So, if you tell us what the hell it is, we can get it for you,” Tim said, like it was obvious.

“Yeah, well, even if I did tell you, you couldn’t give it to me,” Damian said.

“You sorely underestimate us,” Tim said with a smile. “Try me.”

“A tiger.”

Tim raised his eyebrows slightly. “A tiger,” he repeated. “Those are endangered, Dami.”

Damian shrugged. “A good start for when I open my own conservation center.”

“Okay,” Tim said slowly. “In the case that I cannot procure… a tiger, in one day’s time, do you have another choice?”

Damian stared at him. “A unicorn,” he said flatly. “I will accept nothing less.”

“I see,” Tim said, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “I’ll see what I can do.” He took his coffee and left the kitchen, leaving Damian alone in the kitchen.

Damian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, something he picked up from his father. “What am I doing,” he muttered to himself. “You’re a fucking coward.”

That night, Damian and his father were standing in front of adjacent mirrors, straightening ties and jackets.

“I still don’t know why we have to throw this- this party,” Damian grumbled. “All of Gotham does not need to be there for my birthday.”

Bruce patted Damian’s shoulder. “It’s just one night, Damian. You’ve done these many times before. Just smile and say thank you for whatever gifts people give you, okay?”

Damian nodded sullenly. “Drake and Grayson are covering patrol, I’m assuming?”

Bruce nodded. “They’re just going to a couple of rounds,” he said. “They’ll be back after the party is over.”

Damian let out a small sigh. He would much rather be out on the streets than at his birthday party. Or he would like to have someone there with him. Anyone.

“Don’t look so surly, Damian,” Bruce said. “Jon is coming.”

“Jon?” Damian asked, his eyes lighting up. His best friend had moved back to Kansas a couple of months back, and they were both so busy that they had no chance to catch up or hang out.

Bruce smiled and nodded. “I had a feeling you’d like that news.”

Damian immediately frowned again. He forced his expression into something indifferent. “Whatever,” he said.

His father laughed. “Come on, Damian.”

It turned out that the party was not so bad. Sure, many people shook his hand and asked him what he thought he would present as, and Damian forced a lot of smiles. However, Jon’s snickers whenever that happened made it a bit more bearable.

Damian also snuck them two flutes of champagne, giving Alfred a smile when the butler caught them. Thankfully, Alfred just shook his head and turned a blind eye.

There were also three cakes. Damian had chosen them with his mates’ favorites in mind – Dick’s rich triple chocolate, Tim’s predictable coffee, and Jason’s lemon and vanilla. Damian himself was not one for sweets, but he still forced himself to eat a sizable piece of each one.

Jon, on the other hand, ate three slices of the chocolate cake and stole a couple of bites from Damian’s.

“You can eat without gaining weight, congrats,” Damian grumbled. “Now stop showing off.”

Jon just laughed at him. “Jealous, Damian?”

Damian scoffed. “Of course not. I have more control, unlike you.”

“Who needs control when there are no consequences?” Jon asked, licking the chocolate frosting from his fork.

Damian glowered at him, stabbing at the lemon cake, not wanting to put more sugar into his body. He still ate it though. “I hope you get sick from all that cake,” he muttered.

Jon pushed his glasses up, still grinning widely. “Nah, I won’t,” he said. “Hey, if there are any leftover chocolate cake, feel free to send it my way. And I’ll have to ask Alfred for that recipe… Dad would love it too.”

Damian glanced around. “Where is your dad?” he asked. “I’m surprised he’s not here.”

“He was going to come,” Jon said. “But then something turned up. He sends his regards and apologies.”

Damian waved his hand. “It’s fine,” he said. A lot of people did not turn up tonight, anyway.

Damian found himself mashing the rest of the lemon cake with his fork, his appetite completely gone now.

Jon was telling him about things on the farm when a girl came over and asked him for a dance. Damian encouraged him to go, settling himself down against the wall with a sigh.

He let his eyes slide shut and his head fall back against the wall.

“What’s this? Birthday boy not enjoying his own party?”

Damian’s eyes shot open, and he scrambled to his feet at the same time. His eyes landed on the person who spoke.

“Todd,” Damian choked out, almost in disbelief. He quickly cleared his throat. “I thought you were in New Mexico,” he said coolly.

Jason shrugged. “I was,” he said. He took a step forward towards Damian. “I was just passing through town. Heard there was a birthday party. Decided to crash it. There is a disappointing lack of alcohol though.”

Damian snorted. “You know where the wine cellar is. And the liquor cabinet.”

“I suppose I do,” Jason said. “And I’ll get right to raiding it. After a dance with the man of the night?” He held his hand out.

Damian blinked at it for a long time before looking up at Jason again. “You’re serious?” he blurted out.

“Of course, baby bat,” Jason chuckled. “Do I get a dance or not?”

Damian handed his hand over before he got another second to process. The entire time that Jason led him onto the dance floor, Damian was screaming internally.

Jason led, and Damian did not even argue. He found himself unfairly entranced by the tall alpha as they spun around the ballroom. Jason’s dark blue eyes and his smirk never disappeared from Damian’s gaze for more than a couple of seconds.

When the song ended and a much slower song started, Damian started pulling away, but Jason drew him in instead. They were pressed chest to chest, and Damian felt like the breath was pulled out of his chest as well.

This was the closest he had ever been to Jason when he was not trying to attack the other man.

“You said- You said one dance, and you’re going to go raid the liquor cabinet,” Damian said quietly.

“Hm,” Jason chuckled softly in Damian’s ear. “I did say that, didn’t I? Well, I changed my mind. This is better than raiding Bruce’s scotch. I can do that any day.”

“Oh, okay,” Damian said.

“Relax, baby bat,” Jason whispered to Damian. “Don’t be so tense.”

Damian gritted his teeth, and he tried his best to relax his muscles. Little by little, the tension left him, and he rested his chin on Jason’s broad shoulder as they swayed to the music.

After that song, they did break apart, and Jason led him back to the edges of the room.

Somewhere along the way, Jason had picked up a slice of the lemon cake. “Where are Tim and Dick?” he asked, shoving a large chunk in his mouth.

“Patrol,” Damian said. “Father said they’ll be back early though.”

Jason hummed. “Patrol, huh? Sounds tempting. I might join them.”

Damian could not hide the scowl that twisted across his features then. He turned away so Jason would not see.

“Go ahead,” he said instead.

“Wanna come?” Jason asked. “Ditch the party. You’re not having fun anyway.”

Damian was slightly surprised by Jason’s offer. But he shook his head. “Can’t,” he said. “I promised Father I would stay.”

“That sucks,” Jason said, finishing off the cake. “Well, I’ll be heading out then. See you tomorrow, baby bat.”

He ruffled Damian’s hair, and then he was gone. And with Jason’s departure, the crushing feelings of loneliness returned.

Damian eyed the mess that was the ballroom.

It was nearly one in the morning, and the last of the guests finally went home. Alfred was busy packing away the leftover food and drinks.

Damian picked up an empty champagne glass, eyeing the thin stem and even thinner glass itself. He had no doubt he could crush it in his hand.

“Hey, Little D!”

Damian looked up. Dick leaned against the railing of the balcony that overlooked the ballroom.

“Grayson,” Damian said with a brief nod. He set the glass down and waited for Dick to descend.

“Sorry I couldn’t make the party,” Dick said. “Jason told me you looked rather lonely.”

Damian shrugged. “Jon was there,” he said.

“I also heard you gave Jason a dance,” Dick said. “Is it too late for me to have one too?”

Damian turned around, giving Dick an incredulous look. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Dick said. “I know there’s no music, but…”

“Don’t be stupid, Grayson,” Damian said. “You don’t have to-”

“Pity you?” Dick asked, cutting Damian off. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Damian stared at him, but he did not say anything.

“Dami,” Dick said. “It’s not pity. I want a dance because I want a dance with you.”

“Why?” Damian asked accusingly.

Dick huffed. “Because after you present, you’re going to be my mate too?”

“And mine.”

Damian glanced over his shoulder to find Tim standing there, his hair still wet from his shower.

Tim yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Are you being weird again, Damian? Stop being weird, and let’s go to bed.”

“I’m not- I’m not being weird!” Damian protested indignantly.

“And I didn’t get my dance yet,” Dick pouted. “You owe me a dance, Little D.” He grabbed Damian’s hand and started pulling him towards Tim.

“Where are you taking me?” Damian asked, trying to pull his hand out of Dick without much success.

“To bed,” Tim grumbled from behind them. “Jason’s already there.”

“Wait, I don’t-”

“Your room or mine?” Dick asked.

“Mine,” Tim said. “Blackout curtains, remember?”

“Right, right,” Dick said. “We’re sleeping in tomorrow,” Dick explained. “Already notified Alfred.”

“Huh?” Damian said, utterly confused. They passed his bedroom. “But my room’s-”

“You’re with us tonight, Damian,” Tim said. “It’s past midnight. You’re eighteen now. You’re ours.”

“But I haven’t present yet,” Damian said as Dick pushed open the door to Tim’s room.

“So? We’re just sleeping. I’m exhausted,” Tim said, jumping onto his bed and crawling until he was lying on top of Jason, who complained loudly about Tim’s wet hair.

Dick shimmied out of his sweatpants and shirt. He crawled under the covers, pressing his cold feet to Jason’s legs, making the alpha grumble.

“Are you coming, baby bat?” Jason asked. “Dick needs someone to hold at night.”

Damian’s throat went dry. He slowly sat down at the edge of Tim’s bed, unable to believe this was happening. “You actually want me here,” he whispered, mostly to himself.

“Well, yeah,” Tim said. “Didn’t we make that clear, like, two years ago?”

Damian shook his head. “But you were all so… distant.”

Dick grabbed his hand. “Oh, we didn’t mean to do that, Dami! We thought we were easing you into it.”

Damian just huffed.

“Look, it’s your birthday, and you can officially be our mate now!” Dick continued.

Damian nodded slowly. “Fine,” he said. He loosened his tie, tossing it aside as he shrugged his jacket off as well. Standing there in just his shirt and pants, Damian realized he did not have anything to sleep in.

“Oh, don’t be such a prude,” Tim grumbled, his voice muffled from Jason’s shoulder. “Either borrow something of mine or do what Dick’s doing.”

Damian frowned. “I’m beginning to find that you’re rather bossy, Drake.” He pulled off the rest of his clothes save for his underwear and slid into the covers next to Dick.

Dick laughed, putting Damian’s arm around his waist. “Yeah, he is. He’s even worse during se-“

“Dick!” Tim said sharply.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dick laughed. He nuzzled Damian under his neck. He was quiet for a few moments, as Damian got used to the idea that he was in the same bed as the rest of his brothers. “Hey,” Dick whispered, so quiet that Damian almost did not hear him. “You know, we don’t care what you end up as, right? We’ll love you either way.”

Damian inhaled sharply. He had no idea how Dick managed to figure out the thing he was worried about the most. He even avoided thinking about it.

But in truth, Damian was nervous that his presence would tip the balance of his brothers’ mating. They were one of each, and no matter what Damian turned out to be, he would destroy that balance. He did not want to disappoint his brothers by turning out to be something they did not want him to be.

So Damian kept his mouth shut, not saying anything in response to Dick.

Dick pressed a kiss to the back of Damian’s neck, and a few minutes later, he was asleep.

Damian woke up to whispering and excited squealing. He groaned and cracked his eyes open.

Almost instantly, a party popper exploded in his face. He coughed away the smoke that lingered and brushed paper streamers out of his face. “What the fuck was that for?” he groaned, looking around.

He was still in Tim’s room. Tim sat cross legged at the foot of the bed, his hands already wrapped around a mug of coffee. Dick sat on Damian’s thighs, trapping him under the covers. Jason lay next to Damian, his arms tucked behind his face and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“You presented!” Dick said. “While I wish I could’ve seen it actually happen, it sure was nice to wake up and finally be able to smell you!”

Damian blinked at him. Then, he scrambled, trying to get to a mirror.

“Woah, watch the coffee!” Tim said as Damian darted past.

Damian flicked on the light. The first thing he noticed was how messy his hair was. His face flushed red at the thought of his mates seeing him in such a state. Usually, no one saw Damian before he was presentable.

Then, Damian leaned into the mirror and opened his mouth wide. Overnight, his incisors had grown slightly sharper. He flicked his tongue over them, confirming that they were indeed sharper. He leaned in even further, opening his eyes wide.

There was a tiny silver ring now around his pupils in his eyes.

“Alpha,” he murmured.

He stared at himself for a few moments longer before turning off the light and walking slowly back to the bedroom.

His mates stared back at him expectantly.

“Well?” Jason asked. “You could show some excitement, baby bat.”

“I’m an alpha,” Damian said slowly.

“Yup!” Dick said. “Now come here. We need to celebrate.” He made a kissy face at Damian.

Damian walked over cautiously, his eyes darting towards Jason more than once.

“Oh, stop that, baby bat,” Jason said. “I’m not going to fight you if you kiss Dickie or Timbo. Hell, you could kiss me too.”

Damian got a strange look in his eyes. He sat down on the edge of the bed tentatively, pausing for a second to assess the situation like he was calculating his next move in a battle.

He cast Dick a look. Then, he crawled past him and planted himself on top of Jason. Jason grinned wickedly, crooking his fingers in a come hither motion.

Damian was briefly irritated that Jason did not wear a shirt for him to grab to force Jason to come up to him. Damian put a hand on either side of Jason’s head before surging down with confidence and kissing him.

Their lips crashed together, and Jason opened his mouth, coaxing Damian to do the same. There was a brief battle for dominance between their tongues, but Damian was too inexperienced for the kiss to be very good, so he relinquished the control to Jason.

Dick whined. “That’s so hot,” he said. Tim hummed in agreement, still sipping his coffee.

Jason’s hands wound into Damian’s hair, and a few seconds later, he pulled the newly presented alpha back up. “Not bad, baby bat,” he smirked. “You’ve got potential.”

Damian frowned.

Jason laughed. “Trust me, Damian. I’m flattered I’m the first person you kissed, and I honestly don’t mind there being another alpha in our mating.” He took Damian’s hand and pressed a kiss to the younger man’s knuckles.

Damian could now understand why Dick and Tim fell for their brash, rough, rebellious, and devilishly handsome brother. He was as much a charmer as Dick, in a dark, romantic bad boy kind of way.

“Stop hogging him, Jaybird,” Tim said from around his mug. “We want in too.”

“Oh, please do,” Jason said, withdrawing his hand. “I’d love to watch this.”

Damian barely had a second to react before Dick was turning his head to one side, and meeting him in a sensual kiss. The second he was let go to breath, Tim yanked him forward and claimed his lips for his own.

Five minutes passed before Damian managed to draw a full breath.

“How’re you feeling, Dami?” Dick asked.

Damian just swallowed, unsure of what to say.

“He’s overwhelmed,” Tim laughed, taking one of Damian’s arms and draping it over himself. “Give him some time.”

“Well, then how about you open your present,” Jason said. He reached into the drawer beside Tim’s bed and pulled out a little box. He tossed it to Damian, who barely caught it.

“It’s no tiger, but we hope you still like it,” Tim said.

For a second, Damian feared it was a ring, that they would ask him to marry them. But knowing them, they would not propose so blatantly. No, if not Dick or Jason, at least Tim would dress up.

Dick opened the box and found a key inside.

“A key?” he asked. “For…?” It did not match any locks he was familiar with.

“Our place,” Jason said. “For all four of us.”

“What?”

“We’ve been prepping it these past few weeks,” Dick explained. “It’s just outside the city, about twenty minutes from the Manor. Quiet neighborhood, spacious backyard, no nosy neighbors…”

“Is that what you two have all been doing?” Damian exclaimed. “I thought-” He took a deep breath.

“Sorry if we looked suspicious,” Tim said, his lips ghosting over Damian’s neck. “But, yes, that’s what we were doing.”

“And we’re going to live there?” Damian asked incredulously. “Together?”

Dick nodded, lying down next to Jason and curling up against the shirtless man. “All four of us.”

“Does- Does Father know?” Damian asked.

“No,” Jason laughed. “But that’s the brilliance of it. It’s our place. No bats.” He looked expectantly at Damian. “So? What do you say?”

Damian stared down at the key in the box. He stared back up at his mates. “Yes,” he breathed. “Of course.”

[sarasapen]

A Man is what his Mother makes him.

“Let me love you a little more before you are not little anymore.”

“...she had loved a little boy very very much, even more than she loved herself.”

(Y/N) (L/N) was 19 when she married Bruce Wayne. She was 19 when she married the most famous man in the world. She was 19 when she married Batman.

(Y/N) was 22 when they adopted 9-year-old Richard Grayson. He was a sweet little angel that she was grateful to have, for she couldn’t have children of her own. She knew straight away that those bright blue eyes and tiny hands had already stolen her heart.

A few weeks after Dick moved in, you awoke with a strange feeling. In a sleepy daze, you threw off her covers and stumbled to Dick’s room.

You opened the door and your heart ached at what you saw. The poor thing was sobbing into his pillow, calling for his Mum and Dad. 

You sat down next to him and pulled him into your lap, rocking him and humming soothing tunes. You let him cry until he fell asleep, and even then, you continued to rock him though the night.

“No.”

“But, Mum, I’ll be safe!” Dick protested.

You faltered when he called you ‘Mum’, and bent down to squeeze him tightly. After a few minutes of hugging him, you let him go saying that, fine, he could go, as long as he stayed safe. 

And thus, Robin, the Boy Wonder was born.

Okay, children were something else altogether. 

They were at a gala when Dick wanted Bruce’s attention. So, like any other person would do, he ‘pssd’ and motioned for Bruce to bend down while you and the other adults pretended you couldn’t see him. He wanted ice-cream, and asked for extra sprinkles. 

Later, however, after his sugar rush disappeared, Bruce had to carry him as he slept on his shoulder.

A photo of Bruce carrying Dick with you petting his hair made the front cover the next morning.

You couldn’t sleep so you went downstairs to bake cookies. You don’t know what happened, but suddenly there was Dick sitting on a stool, ‘sampling’ the cookie dough. This became a weekly tradition, and every Saturday morning, you and Dick would bake something. 

Alfred was sweet enough to  lay out the main ingredients you would need, and at 6 a.m. in the morning, the smell of delicious baked goods wafted through the manor.

You walked through the same hallway you had for 12 years, and it felt so different.

With Dick now in Bludhaven, the house felt so empty and cold. You paused in front of Dick’s room, hesitating before you went in. You inspected the room, and it felt so wrong to see so many of his possessions gone. 

Tears stung at the back of yours eyes and you sighed. You felt silly for crying, he was only in the next city. 

But you would miss his cheeky grin and his silly antics and- god what was wrong with you?

You missed your boy, and it was okay to do so. You didn’t know growing up would hurt so much.

A couple of months later, (Y/N) found a 14-year-old boy tied up and gagged on the floor in the Batcave.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, bending down to untie him as he glared up at you.

“Bruce, what is this?” You exclaimed, untying the gag.

“He kidnapped me!” The child said as you stared at Bruce incredulously.

“This is the child that tried to steal the tires. Hi name is Jason Todd.” Bruce said as he took off his cowl.

“And are we keeping him?” You asked, ignoring the child’s protests. Bruce looked at the teenager, crossing his arms and then at your hopeful eyes.

“Yes.”

When someone looked at Jason Todd, they would never guess that his biggest weakness was that he was a total Mama’s boy.

Jason loved those moments his ‘Ma’ would kiss his head after returning from work, and the way you would run your hand through his hair as you watched tv, or the way you would let him cuddle you as you read a book.

So your tradition with Jason was born. You would both curl up in some blankets, some hot chocolate and cookies nearby, reading. He would sometimes ask you to read, so that he could fall asleep next to you. You adored Jason, and cherished these moments with him. When he would fall asleep, you would close the book, moving so that Jason slept at a better angle. That last night, you smiled at his sleeping form, and thanked the lord for these miracles of yours.

He was only 15.

You remembered that is was April 27.

You also remembered Bruce coming home, bloody and broken and bruised and alone.

You remembered how the world stopped spinning suddenly, and it felt as if your head was underwater. It felt as if there were 1000 tons on your chest, about to crush it.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t think and it hurt.

You vaguely remembered falling, but someone- perhaps Alfred or DIck, who had suddenly appeared- caught you.

You remembered screaming and screaming until you lost your voice, and you cried and cried until you passed out. 

He was your baby, he was your life, he was your son.

And he was gone.

After Jason’s death, you slipped into a depression. You locked yourself in his room, refusing to come out for over three days until Dick had to climb through the window to make you eat. You refused to speak to anyone, and never left the manor. Bruce never went near you.

Dick moved back into the manor to help Alfred take care of you.

Sometimes, he would see you sitting in the garden, an empty look in your eyes as you stared at nothing.

It scared him so much, that the strongest woman he knew, the most amazing mother, was destroyed. 

You were broken, you were a walking corpse wit no more purpose to live.

Thats where the scars on your wrists came from.

You went into the bathroom, a picture of Jason in your lap as you whispered to him that

“Your Ma is coming to you, baby.”

Dick found you, pale, and nearly dead, sitting in a pool of blood. He rushed you to the hospital and you were there for over a week.

You were broken, and you couldn’t be fixed. 

About a year after Jason, Bruce bought him another boy, only 13.

You screamed and screamed and Bruce because he was absolutely crazy if he thought that you would let another boy go into danger, and you’d be damned if you allowed it. You yelled at him as Alfred gave the boy some food, and you started crying, because fuck, it hurt, and you missed Jason, and, fuck, Bruce, I can't do this alone.

He hugged you as you both cried, mourning your son together. Then you wiped your tears and went upstairs to the new boy under you roof. You swore that you would protect him, and you started going on patrols from that day on.

Your tradition with Tim started straight away. That day, both of you were playing video games, and eating chips and soft drinks and being overall unhealthy. That’s what you would do on the weekends after he did his homework. 

Tim loved when you made him coffee. You and Alfred were both strongly against his high coffee intake, so he had to brew it himself. But on those very rare occasions you made coffee for him, you would make it perfectly. He loved the way you made it, and a sip from your coffee was all he needed to go along his day.

Tim wasn’t happy. 

Bruce just brought home an 11-year-old who was his son.

Which meant that Tim was no longer the baby. He didn’t really want to make friends, which was great because neither did Damian.

“I can relate.” Dick chirped as he watched Tim’s scowling form. You looked up at him, confused.

“When Bruce brought home... Jason,” he said the name slowly, and the three boys noticed you flinch.

“You didn’t like him?” You asked, blinking back tears.

“No, it wasn’t that,” Dick chuckled. “It just... he never asked, ya know? It’s like he found a replacement for me. And it kinda sucked.” Dick told you and you looked at Tim and Damian who were having a glowering contest.

“I’m sorry.” You suddenly sobbed, covering your face. Tim shot up, dashing towards you as your body shook.

Dick hugged you as you cried.

“I could never replace you, okay? Never!” You hugged Tim, crying even more. Damian was confused, watching your sobbing form. He didn’t understand why Dick and Tim were so upset by your crying. Talia had described you as a bitch, and yet, as he saw the way you held your boys, he felt that maybe Talia was wrong.

Your tradition with Damian was originally just your Sunday programme.

You would binge watch tv shows like Sherlock or Game of Thrones or Downton Abbey, and suddenly there was a little boy curled up on the opposite couch, watching with you. That’s how you spent your Sundays, watching period dramas.

Damian would crawl into your bed during a thunderstorm. He was afraid of the thunder, and would cuddle up with you or Bruce at night. He said he’d rather with Bruce, but he, like Jason, was a Mama’s boy. He secretly loved when you’d cuddle him and hug him like there was nothing that could take him away from you.

Both he and Tim had noticed, though, that your smile never quite reached you eyes, and that everyday you would disappear for hours at a time, locking yourself in Jason’s room. They knew you how much it affected you, and they tried to make sure you were always happy, and that you never missed Jason.

But how could a mother not miss her child?

You were trembling, scared to go closer, scared to speak, scared to breathe lest he disappear.

He was older, more mature, and even had a white streak in his hair. 

But you still recognised him. You’d always recognise your baby.

“Jason?” Your voice cracked and he flinched. He looked up, meeting your eyes. He noticed how much older you looked. His gaze stopped at the scars on your wrists, and he felt guilty.

“Hey, Ma.” He muttered.

You hugged him, pulling him into you as you sobbed.

And then suddenly, you felt well, you felt whole. You felt perfect, not healed, because it was as if there was never a wound to begin with.

You pulled back and gazed at him lovingly, your thumb dancing along his cheek.

“Look at you.” You whispered, kissing his forehead.

“You’re all grown up...” 

You laughed, the most genuine laugh your children had heard from you in years, hugging him tightly.  He tightened his grip on you, trying to blink back his own tears.

“Oh, Jaybird... I’ve missed you so much.” You whispered as he cried.

“Ma...” 

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, Mama’s got you.” You hummed, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you so much, baby.”

It was a few months before Jason stopped being so hostile towards the younger boys.

When Bruce came home at night, he was surprised to see you sleep on your shared bed.

With four black haired boys all curled up around you. Your arms were around Jason, and the other three had managed to slot themselves into any empty spaces they could find, which meant that Damian was on top of you.

With a smile, Bruce quietly slid into the mostly empty side near Jason, managing to wriggle his arms around you, pulling you all into his chest.

A chorus of sleepy groans were heard, which was answered by a laugh from Bruce who then kissed your forehead. Damian moved to climb onto of Bruce as Tim moved on top of you. 

You hummed a soothing tune as all five of your boys fell asleep with smiles on their faces.