Actions

Work Header

grounded

Work Text:

The successor to the mantle of Robin is a little thing. 

Jason had been small but he was sharp edges and pointed jabs rather than the wide-eyed bird that drowns in the sweater that must have been Bruce's.

No, this chick that found his way into their nest is delicate. This bird is fragile, soft, unfit for the hell that is Gotham's streets.

"Is that Bruce's?" he asks and the boy jolts, a small squeak falling from his lips.

"I-" the little one stutters, hands grasping the edge of the oversized sweater, "It looks comfortable?"

It is cute the way he blushes, ear tips red and cheeks flustered. He looks like a sad little kitten that needs hugs and cuddles.

The file says that Tim, himself, is a beta. Unpresented but undoubtedly one with how both of his parents are betas.

Dick, however, has other thoughts.


Tim is, undoubtedly, not a beta. The files say so but anyone of them has access to them. It is not hard to change just a small detail such as dynamic. 

The smell that he emits has a soft under layer, typical of unpresented omegas. Tim, himself, does not really broadcast much about his dynamic but the shower at the Cave is communal.

It does not take long for anyone to know that being a beta is just a guise. A protection of sort just like how Dick used to pose as an omega back when he was Robin.

It is good to be right.


Little Tim, Dick has found, loves the attention. He soaks up every tiny bit like a sponge, eager for approval in a way that is almost cute in his desperation.

He brightens when Dick greets him, ruffling his head and cuddles him close. His neck would always tilt back, baring the soft flesh, letting Dick scent every inch of him, nuzzling his neck and pressing little kisses next to his scent gland.

It is cute that Tim is so trusting when it comes to Dick. One could even say he trusts Dick more than he does Bruce.

Dick... does not mind. If anything, he builds up that trust, giving Tim affections and guidance and spoiling him rotten.

Sometimes, Dick thinks, it is good that Tim's parents are so neglectful of their son. That he is glad that they are not around to stop these little visits.

Omegas should be treasured by their packs rather than neglected the way the Drakes has been doing to Tim. And if the Drakes aren't going to look after Tim, Dick would gladly scoop him up and give him the affections that he lacks.


The year Tim presents is the definition of a dumpster on fire.

Bruce is gone. Their pack has a new baby alpha that bites and Jason is running around smelling more of gunpowder than he does of their pack. Cass took off somewhere and no one has found her. Dick is wrestling with the cowl and Tim keeps insisting that Bruce is still alive, somewhere.

There is nothing left of their pack, all scattered and lost. Like hell would Dick let their sole omega out of his sight.

The sight of Tim, flustered and panting, on his knees with a hand pressing against the wall to hold himself up, only serves to cement his resolve. Even at the sight of those blue eyes, dilated and dark as he comes to taste his first ever heat, stubborn and pleading cannot sway him.

"Stay at least until your heat has passed," it is an order and a sudden thrill goes down his spine at the way Tim trembles at the sound of his voice, "First heats are always the hardest."

Limbs shaking and sweating bullets, Tim still stubbornly refuses. His eyes squeeze shut, a sob tumbling out of those trembling lips as he shakes and shakes his head.

"Tim," he advances, sinking into one knee in front of the crumpled body, "Let me help you."

A high pitched whine sounds as blue eyes peeking up, wide and dark with need. Dick's hand is a loose grip under his chin and he melts, pushing into the hand.

"That's it, Timmy," Dick murmurs, keeping his voice low and gentle while his heart soars at the way Tim so easily put his trust in his hands, "Let me take care of you."

There are many ways to keep an omega grounded and bound to the pack. And with Tim's heat coming at such a convenient time, keeping Tim close might not be much of a problem.


Dick's room at the Manor is the same as he left it. His scent, however, has faded away and the omega in his arms whimpers as Dick lays him down in the middle of the bed.

But that is fine. They would rectify that soon and this room would smell only of them.

"Patience, Timmy," he laughs when Tim whines for his attention, squirming on the bed, sweating buckets like he has run a marathon, "I did promise to take care of you."

Dick captures his lips, devours it greedily like it is his last meal. Tim has always been sweet and the heat only amplifies that lovely taste, leaving Dick wanting for more and Tim panting into the kiss.

He loathes leaving the welcoming warmth but later, when Tim is sated and filled with his love then they might just discover what that mouth can do. And maybe Dick might have a chance to teach Tim how to use his lovely tongue.

It does not take much probing to get Tim on his hands and knees, to arch his back, legs spread wide, presenting his leaking hole to Dick's gaze. His cock is swelling and precum drips down onto the bed, all pretty and hard as Tim visibly fights to keep his himself still.

It is adorable that even when dazed with heat, Tim is still trying to be good. Still trying to appraise his alpha rather than grinding down onto the bed to chase his own pleasure.

"Good boy," Dick notes, with a curling sense of satisfaction, that Tim trembles at the praise, burying his face into the bed to muffle a gasp, "You're being so good to me."

The sight alone is mouthwatering. Tim, splayed out like a feast, hole glistening with his desire, cock stiff as a rock between his legs yet his hands stay fisted by his head, hips trembling as he waits for Dick to do something.

No one can really blame Dick for draping himself over the shaking body, sliding the head of his cock over the leaking hole, nuzzling into Tim's neck as the omega under him sobs, desperately rolls his hips as if doing so would give him what he needs. It does not and Tim shakes under the smooth slide of a cock against his hole, teasing at his desire like the preview of what is to come.

"Come on Timmy," he murmurs, tangling his fingers into the long strands and tugs, "Tell me what you want."

The cry that Tim sobs out is deliciously divine. All helplessness and desperation and frustration roll up in one choked sound.

"Tim," he warns, teeth skimming the skin of that delicate neck, pleased in the knowledge that by the end of his heat, Tim's neck would be sporting the proof of his claim, "Answer me."

Tim goes still underneath his weight. And it is mesmerizing the way his eyes flutter close when Dick licks a strip down the length of his neck.

"Please," Tim breathes at last, voice whispery and soft, dazed with need, "Need you..."

They will have to work on that but it will do. For now.

"Good boy," he purrs, satisfied with the way Tim melts at the mere sound of his voice, "Let's give you what you need."

Gathering thin wrists into one hand, he keeps those wrists pinned above Tim’s head with one hand, the other prying his jaws open, slipping two fingers into Tim's mouth like the mockery of a gag.

He sinks into Tim with ease, groaning as hot walls embrace him, fluttering around his cock. A quiet moan passes through trembling lips as Tim's body opens up like a newly bloomed flower.

"You're taking me so well, Timmy," he murmurs between bites, marking the pale neck with his own claim, "That's it. Just lie back and let me take care of you."

Tiny cries rush out, unfiltered and loud even amidst the sloppy wet sound of flesh hitting flesh. Tim’s hips twitching and trembling, wanting to chase his pleasure but also wanting to stay in position and being so good to his alpha.

The sobs rise in crescendo as Dick picks up the pace, thrusting in and out, carving out a place for himself inside Tim. The slide is getting harder and harder as his knot swells and swells.

It pops in on a rather hard thrust and they both groan at the feeling of their bodies locking together, powerful thrust dying down into desperate grinding, pushing one other toward the edge,

Tim falls first, inexperienced and dazed with pleasure. He sobs as he comes untouched, cum spurting out from his cock and makes a puddle underneath. His cunt clamps down like a vice, milking Dick like it is the last thing he does.

Dick follows him, coming deep inside that pulsing heat, knot keeping his cum inside as he comes and comes inside Tim.

He grinds down just a little bit to hear Tim whimper and takes delight in the fact that Tim's eyes are unfocused and clouded over with pleasure.

That's it. All nice and stuffed and their pack's omega would have no choice but to stay.

After all, how can he when he is swelling with Dick's pups?


Gotham is quiet nowadays, chaos quelled and orders maintained. Hierarchy changes and territories redivided.

The pack goes through a shift, too. Jason now lingers at the edge rather than running away from them. And Damian is calmer now, more secure in his own place, more settled in his own skin. Cass is home again, footsteps unheard in the Manor but her presence is felt.

All of that could not be achieved if not for Tim. The hormones of a pregnant omega rile up the protective instincts of their pack, drawing them closer to home.

Their pack is more tight-knitted than it had been under Bruce. And Dick makes sure that none of them would ever run around without the scent of the pack on them.

Tim is quieter now. His presence is smaller, duller than it was before but Dick would take that rather than risking the possibilities of losing him to the unknown that he sought to chase after.

“You will have to let me go, one day,” Tim murmurs, head tilting back to receive his kisses, “I need to be on the streets, Dick. I can’t help if I’m cooped up here.”

Dick hums non-committedly, nipping along his jugular. He does not try to answer but lets Tim babble on about his future plans, about the mantle he would take when he comes back on Gotham’s streets.

“Just you wait,” Tim moans under his mouth, the smell of arousal filling the room as he squirms in Dick's laps, looking up, all doe-eyed and pleading, “I’ll be fighting by your side again.”

Dick smiles indulgently and makes no promise, rubbing Tim’s stomach with one hand.

Their pups will arrive any day now. And when they do, Tim will be too occupied with them to think about returning to the vigilante’s life.

If that fails and Tim still insists on hitting the streets again, Dick would be more than willing to fill him up again and keep him fat and swelling with their next litter. What a pretty picture that would be, Tim glowing as he nurses their cubs, belly big and round with even more pups, safely tucked and away and surrounded by his pack.

And by then, hopefully, Tim would understand that all Dick wants is for him to be safe and loved, as far away from Gotham’s underbelly as possible.