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and we're off to the races

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The first time Stephanie puts on the Robin costume she finally understands the meaning of the word “happiness”. Don’t get her wrong, she’s definitely felt happy even though her life before becoming Robin and meeting Batman was pretty fucking depressing and full of tears and anger, mostly at her dad; and sadness, mostly directed towards her mom who worked her ass off.

So maybe she was wrong, it wasn’t happiness she finally understood but purpose, another thing she had thought she knew well before putting on that green, red, and black costume. After all, she had Spoiler; something that gave her humdrum life meaning. Otherwise, she was just another random person on Earth, another girl in Gotham who had gotten pregnant out of wedlock—at sixteen, no less—and had a deadbeat father.

She liked being Spoiler, ruining her father’s wrongdoings and fucking things up for him because he was doing wrong and deserved it was often the highlight of her week. But being Robin was something completely different, something that only her three predecessors before her could speak on (the ones that were still alive, that is) and no other costumed hero in the entire world could compare. Not Kid Flash, not Speedy, not Wonder Girl, not even Nightwing.

Because if you’re Robin, then Batman saw something in you which means other people will too which means you’re fucking worth something and Stephanie has never been worth anything in her entire fucking life. She’s known that since she was old enough to think, courtesy of her father and all the boys she’s dated have shown exactly what they think of her too.

So yeah, maybe being Robin isn’t even just about being a hero and saving lives and fighting at the side of arguably the greatest man in modern day history, even though that is a huge part of it.

She likes being the first girl Robin ever, maybe that’s bad to admit but it’s proof that Batman must really believe in her because he’s had only had boy proteges before, not that she thinks he’s sexist or anything because he’s so definitely not. She likes the satisfaction she feels punching a thug extra hard when he makes some chauvinist comment and likes it even better when Batman hears and does it for her.

That’s another thing that’s so alluring about being Robin, not that she thinks Dick or Jason or Tim would ever admit it; but the approval of a man who’s as stoic and grounded as Batman is something all children in desperate need of a father figure crave. And on the rare occasions (and trust her, they are very rare) that he congratulates her or says that he’s proud of her are some of her most treasured memories. The first time she finally pinned him to the ground sparring and he told her she did a good job still makes her heart swell with glee thinking about it—and maybe some sort of other emotion too that’s slightly more shameful.

But there’s two sides to every coin, and while hearing the Batman say that he’s proud of her feels really fucking good, his silent fury when she does something wrong feels really fucking shitty. And Stephanie is someone who screws up a whole lot.

To some other well adjusted kid who had a loving father and didn’t really need love and affection from some man who’s more mentor than dad, his disappointment probably wouldn’t really phase them. To her, it was everything. He must’ve known that it took a bigger toll on her than expected because he eased off after the first few times, even when she knew she deliberately disobeyed a direct order and nearly got herself killed.

That doesn’t mean he didn’t get angry and scold her, just that he did it to a lesser extent. She’s not really sure what caused the shift but he’s the world’s fucking greatest detective and her red cheeks, watery eyes, and trembling form after a yelling match between them was probably enough to have him feeling guilty. He runs around as a caped vigilante beating the shit out of people at night but he still has a conscience.

She’s not stupid, she knows how this must sound. So what if she has the most intense daddy issues ever and pretty much seeks love and affection from men older than her who remind her of her father, men exactly like Batman. It’s not exactly surprising when swinging across rooftops and fighting bad guys with Batman eventually consumes her entire life, becomes the only thing she wants to do other than breathe and eat; and yes, she would even give that up to keep being Robin.

Perhaps it’s a bit of a pride thing too, that Batman needs her and wants her even though he’s the most self sufficient person ever and would be fine without anyone by his side (except Alfred, maybe).

If she were a hero in a greek tragedy, hubris would be her greatest flaw and she’d be another Icarus, falling from flying too close to the sun. And of course in her story, Batman is so obviously the sun.

There’s something else that used to confuse her. Whether or not he even really liked her, as in liking her presence and having her around. He has a hard personality to get used to and she knows pretty much everyone associated with him is a tough shell to crack. She used to think Tim was hard to get to know but Batman is a whole other story. Jokes, laughter, her playfulness and exuberance seemed to annoy him more if anything and she knew that at least in the beginning and maybe even now that he would have preferred to have any of his sons back, even Jason maybe, than her.

But even though she fancied seeing him sort of as a super fucked up but not really father figure, he definitely doesn’t see her as a daughter, which is probably for the best. Well, definitely for the best considering her really confusing feelings for him (feelings might not be the right word for the muddled emotions in her heart and sometimes even between her thighs).

Things have changed though. Stephanie’s almost confident now to say at the least that he doesn’t mind her. He’s gotten more comfortable with her, more willing to talk about cases he’s doing research on and even stuff like school and movies and boys, although that’s more of a topic she shys away from, and not just bark orders at her. They fight a lot less too, which probably to say still a decent amount; but there’s no more of her storming off after screaming back at him, coming back, and then apologizing and begging him to still let her be his partner.

And, not that she even noticed before she patrolled with him and Dick one day but he’s more affectionate too—more than he ever was with the rest of them the way that Dick said it.

She can’t lie and say that doesn’t make her feel all giddy and excited some way. The rational part of her is saying that he just trusts and cares for her now and the physical affection is bound to come with that but the other part of her thinks it’s something more. Something that she doesn’t necessarily want to come to terms with yet.

So she starts noticing, and eventually can’t help but think the irrational side of her is right, or she’s just been fighting these lunatics so long that she’s become as deranged as them.

A firm hand on her shoulder sometimes when asking if she’s okay after a particularly rough patrol that somehow makes the bruises she knows that’ll show a day after seem not so bad, or on the nape of her neck when trying to guide her to go somewhere or look at something that feels oddly intimate and sends shivers down her spine that she swears he can feel. Even catching her one day when one of Scarecrow’s goons cut her line as she’s swinging from rooftop to rooftop and she doesn’t miss the way that he shields her with his bigger body when they hit the hard ground and bears most of the blunt impact.

That’s the first time she dares to cross the oh-so-thin line that she made for herself later that night with her fingers pressing against that nub between her thighs and hand over her mouth, thinking about how hard but warm his body felt under her and how she straddled him for a second too long before getting up and helping him up and how she’d like to be in that position again but preferably wearing less clothes.

She imagined him fondling her breasts while she’s bouncing on top of him and then eventually holding her waist tightly and thrusting up when she got tired, maybe even lightly choking her or yanking her hair back to suck a love mark on neck (because yes, Batman definitely seems like the type to be into rough sex).

After she finishes she’s so ashamed that she takes a long shower that’s so hot it turns her skin bright red. She stares at herself in her foggy mirror for a few minutes, shivering in her old, torn towel before drifting off to another disgraceful dream that leaves her waking up wanting even more.

It’s hard to face him for a few days after that. She can’t meet his eyes and withhold his intense, burning eye contact and shivers every time he even brushes against her because it takes her back to that moment when he’s holding her head against his chest as they’re laying breathlessly on some dirty rooftop asking if she’s alright and it’s the closest that they’ve ever been.

After that she starts getting more ballsy. Maybe it’s confidence and maybe it’s desperation or maybe it’s just a mix of both.

She starts leaning against his arm more frequently, especially when they’re doing stake outs and lets her touches linger more on the few chances she does get to touch him.

One day when it’s raining and her cape doesn’t do as much for her as his does, she wraps herself beside him, slightly nudges his arm, and gives him a look she hopes works as well as it does without the mask where she slightly pouts her lips out and tilts her head down. He doesn’t say anything but stares at her for a few seconds and lets her lean her body against his for heat and she doesn’t think that she’s imagining the glances he gives her the rest of the night.

Things are well between them, they rarely fight now that they’re doing whatever it is that they’re doing. She still has her moments where she talks back or disobeys orders but she listens more now that he actually talks to her like an equal and not just some petulant little kid who’s tagging along to his adult work or something. He trusts her more too, so it’s a two way street and sometimes he even lets her drive the Batmobile when she begs.

She gives herself a pat on the back. Even though things haven’t been going exactly the way she wanted, at least she hasn’t embarrassed herself and they’re still getting closer.

One day, her chance presents herself with his former protege, one that he’s often compared her to whenever she fucked up in the past. Taking wanting to know what Batman’s true intentions and feelings for her were out of the equation, pursuing Red Hood was something she had always wanted to do (because she simply was not allowed to) and something she had to do anyways since he was about to intercede Black mask’s new weapons shipment.

Plus, even though she had her mind on other things recently like wanting Batman to fall into bed with her, she was still Robin.

“Batman will be here soon so leave now when you have the chance. Don’t make it harder than it has to be for him and you.” Stephanie bravely says after managing to corner Red Hood who doesn’t look at all threatened, even considering his position.

It sounds like she cares about both of them, and she does because she cares about Batman and Batman cares about Jason Todd and will never forgive himself for his death. But yeah, she mostly just cares about Batman and knows how hard it is for him everytime he has to fight his son.

“See, you don’t even call him his real name even though it’s just the two of us here. Batman this, Batman that, you must worship the fucking ground he walks on. How cute.” he responds mockingly before lunging at her.

She’s not sure what she’s exactly expecting because it’s not like Red Hood should have any sort of soft spot for her but whatever it is, it’s not this. The first punch he sends her is dizzying and she’s surprised that her nose doesn’t crack. Trained by Batman, all right. The street thugs that she usually takes on aren’t fast or skilled enough for her but he definitely is.

She gets in a few good punches and even manages to throw him up against the wall before he again has the upper hand and before she knows it, she’s facedown on the dusty ground and there’s a metal tang in her mouth. He flips her over and grips her throat, squeezing hard enough to make a point but not hard enough to do any damage.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, baby bat. We’re all disposable to him. That hero worship thing you have? And don’t try to deny it because I know you fucking have it—” He chokes her harder with every word until she’s panting and clawing at his arm and he suddenly lets up, holding her jaw while she gasps for breath.

“Just like every other Robin, including me, has until they learn better or get killed.”

“You’re wrong,” Stephanie says, barely even recognizing her own voice because of how raspy it is. “Batman cares about all of us, even you. Especially you.”

“You’re dumber than you look.” He snarls and the last thing she sees before black is his gloved fist headed straight for her face.

When she wakes up, she’s in Batman’s arms as he gracefully swings from one building to another. She would happily stay there forever but he probably knows she’s awake and she would rather get the earful of yelling and punishment over sooner than later.

“Where are we?” she asks groggily, head resting on the crook of his neck. He smells like aftershave, specifically mint and sandalwood. It’s the scent that wafts through the showers when he’s been working too long and hard in the cave and doesn’t make time to go to the manor. And obviously, not that she’d ever told him before but she likes his day old stubble and has imagined what it felt like scraping her skin if they ever kissed.

“About to go home. Are you hurt?” his voice sounds strained, almost like he’d been crying or yelling. Probably the latter because she can’t imagine him ever crying but his tone is also short and curt enough to know that he’s mad at her, he just knows that now isn’t the time to do it.

The metallic taste of blood is still in her mouth and if she didn’t care so much what he thought of her she would’ve spit it out but instead, she swallows.

“Not much. Not anything I didn’t deserve.” she admits and when he doesn’t respond, she looks up and asks, “Are you mad at me?”

He glowers at her beneath the mask and she flinches, hiding her face in the place where his neck and shoulder meets. There’s something about him that makes her feel so small, especially when she knows she’s done something wrong to upset him. He doesn’t need to respond to that for her to know that she has most definitely done something wrong.

When they get home, he takes her straight to the medbay and is silent except when he tells Alfred that Stephanie will be okay and that he’ll stitch up her wounds tonight (she’s not sure that he can stitch up the tears forming or the hurt forming in her chest for the inevitable, but that’s not the wounds he meant).

“Did Hood get his hands on the weapons?” she dares to ask when the silence gets too strong and she can feel his anger rolling off of him in waves. It’s such a contrast to his large but gentle hands as he’s stitching her up, tenderly holding the other side of her face still when she flinches.

“No, he didn’t. You held him off long enough for the cops to stop Black Mask’s thugs and for me to get to him.”

“So I’m not in trouble?” she asks, eyes wide with hope even though she knows the answer. Oh well, she had to at least try.

There’s a moment of tense silence where they look at each other and she sees the grim line of his mouth and the crows feet that have started forming, probably due to his over the top stress levels due to situations like she had just put him in. But he’s still so devastatingly handsome and although she’s never been one so shallow, she can’t help but think that if greek gods existed this is what they’d look like.

“I must’ve told you at least a dozen times by now to not pursue Red Hood alone. Actually, to not pursue him whatsoever, no matter the goddamn circumstances because he’s dangerous. He isn’t like the other ones we deal with, Stephanie. He was one of us, and now he’s against us. Do you know what that means?” Batman asks with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

She honestly thinks she does but she doesn't trust herself to speak right now so she shakes her head from side to side instead.

“It means that he can and will use what I taught him against us. The most dangerous person is the one who knows you best, you should know that by now. What makes you think that you can go toe-to-toe with Jason?”

“I don’t know.” she responds in a whisper and hangs her head. She feels his burning glare on her, rivaling even Superman’s heat vision. Most days she would argue back but tonight was different. Maybe it was the beating she had taken but all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep.

“You don’t know? You should know before you chase down someone who even I can’t always subdue. That’s your problem, Stephanie. You never think these things through, you just rush into them without a thought. You might be Robin and my sidekick but at the end of the goddamn day you’re still a little girl.” He shouts, his gruff voice bouncing through the cave and causing an echo of the last few words.

Stephanie’s not sure what sets her off more, the fact that he called her a sidekick or a little girl. Her eyes narrow and she digs her nails into her palm, a habit she started a long time ago whenever she was angry about something which was pretty often. She despises when he’s like this most. Condescending, patronizing, on a tall fucking high horse and talking to her like she was some helpless thing that needed everything to be explained to her.

There is no one in the entire fucking world she holds in higher regard than him but she’s always had an authority problem and her temper spares absolutely no one, not even Batman.

“I’m a little girl? Is that why you look at me the way you do?” She seethes and stands as tall as she possibly can, only managing to reach the top of his chest (she curses the Waynes for having such good genetics because how can one be rich, tall, and attractive?).

She regrets the question leaving her mouth as soon as she asks it and has to physically refrain from slapping a hand over that wretched thing.

He, as always, is unphased although she’s positive that he’s just had good practice at being a fucking stoic. She braces for what is to come even though she doesn’t know what it is yet; another yelling, a talk about how fucked up she must be if she thinks he’s attracted to her in that way, even him yelling at her to get the fuck out his goddamn cave and house.

She anticipates any and all of that, in whatever order it may come but the last thing she expects from him is a kiss. Actually, there isn’t really a word she knows of, at least that describes what he does to her. She sure as hell has never been kissed like that before and it only lasts a few seconds before her dumbfoundedness leaves her and she’s kissing back and by then, it’s too late.

He carefully maneuvers her back against the wall, mindful of her head injury. The new spot that they’re in causes the huge dinosaur in the cave to cast a shadow over his face, making him look more like some dashing, menacing creature of the night out to devour her than a mortal man, something that she sometimes forgot he was. The first time she saw him bleed she didn’t even register it was fucking blood (after all, who thought that the Batman could get hurt?).

“You’re right, Stephanie. You aren’t little and you aren’t a girl anymore,” he growls right next to her ear. He’s pressed against her now, so close that she feels his breath and the rumble in his chest when he speaks. It makes her knees so weak that they tremble and he uses her right hand to grab onto his shoulder and he wraps his arm around her lower back to keep her upright.

“Show me.” he commands, his keen blue eyes staring right into hers and it takes her breath away.

She’s flustered now, something that usually never happens with her and guys but then again, Batman isn’t just some fucking random guy. Unsure of what exactly to do, she gazes up at him expectantly waiting for his guidance as she’s always done in the past (although this time they’re in a very different situation and he might be teaching her to do things other than different styles of fighting).

The corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he’s amused and wants to smile but instead he brushes a stray blonde hair from her cheek, places his hand on top of her head, and then she understands what he wants her to do. So she was right. Batman really was just a man after all. The realization pleases her.

She quickly sinks down to her knees, fumbles with his utility belt which he ends up taking off for her, and then she’s face level with pretty much the only part of him she’s never seen before.

His cock is half hard and it twitches when she presses her mouth against it, working him from outside his briefs. After a few more seconds, he’s fully erect and she pulls them down and makes sure to look at him beneath her lashes as she takes him into her mouth. Not one to shy from a challenge, he holds her eye contact while playing with her hair; occasionally pulling it a little to move her head back when he wants her to focus on his tip and pushing it forward when he wants her to deepthroat.

She gags on him multiple times, he’s girthier and longer than any guy she’s had to before but he seems to like the sounds she makes. He wipes stray tears that fall from her eyes when his length hits her gag reflex and tells her that she’s a good girl (she has never been told that before and hearing it specifically from him in this fucking moment makes her feel things she’s never felt before), that she’s doing so goddamn well, and that she’ll be alright.

He tugs her off of him suddenly, his hands letting go of the makeshift ponytail he made and going to clasp her shoulders to bring her up to him. Suddenly, she’s ashamed to look at him, even though she had been so bold for prolonged minutes at a time when sucking him off.

Luckily, she doesn’t have much time to be shy since he’s undressing her now. Quickly and gracefully, like he’s had practice which she knows he hasn’t—at least not with her Robin suit—and she puts together that he must’ve been watching, observing her undress which means that he’s wanted her like she’s wanted him. The thought brings a smile to her face.

He frees her breasts from the tight sports bra and she finally finds the courage to look up at him, impatiently waiting for a kiss. Instead he goes for her neck and sucks a dark mark into it like he needs to prove something and maybe he does, that she’s his which they’ve both known the day he found her and convinced her to trade in her raggedy eggplant purple costume for a red, green, and black one he perfected.

Two of his fingers find a way into her panting mouth and she sucks on them while his other two fingers find their way towards another pair of lips she has in a much more intimate place. She’s grateful her mouth is busy, that she’s hearing small pants and sucking noises rather than loud, wanton moans when he plunges inside her heat and curls up in the right spot.

When he decides that she’s ready to take him, he hoists her up so that her legs are wrapped around his hips. She thinks this position is great in theory but it would never work out in real life and she’s about to tell him so until he swiftly enters her and she throws her head back, a sharp cry escaping her before her head collides with the wall.

He stills instantly, still deep inside of her and she’s sure that she can feel her tight walls fluttering around him, trying to get used to his girth.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” he inquires. “Stephanie? I need to know if you’re hurt or not. Answer me.” He tries again after she says nothing the first time. She hates when he gets like this too, caring and attentive and concerned. It makes him seem like more of a father than he actually is, which means what they’re doing is way more fucking wrong.

She nods, nails scratching his broadly muscled back.

“I’m okay. Keep going, please.” she whimpers and hates how needy she sounds, even though she knows he loves it.

The first few thrusts he gives her after that are still controlled and well-paced because he’s testing her limits, seeing how far he can go and how much she can handle. He’ll stop if he thinks he’s hurting her in any way so she shoves his face into his neck to muffle herself. It doesn’t seem like he likes that very much since he shrugs his right shoulder so he head lifts up and she’s looking at him.

“Like this.” he says, giving her a particularly rough thrust which forces a gasp to leave her mouth and her head hits against the wall again. This time, he places a hand behind her head, shielding it.

She hates this new angle, where he can look right into her face and see her moaning and shutting her eyes as she presses her head against his hand in ecstasy. Every single goddamn time her eyes open, she finds him staring at her. It should be a crime how fucking calm and collected he still looks, only a hair out of place as if he isn’t entirely holding her up and pounding her (quite hard) against a wall in the cave.

He swiftly moves her into another position, her hands on the wall and back bent while his hands are grabbing her hips so hard she knows there will be marks. His right hand reaches forward and dips between her thighs where he strokes her clit for a while and she lets out something between a moan and a whimper. Sliding forward and pressing her face to the wall, she spreads her legs even more. This might prove to be difficult since he’s much taller than her but then she feels him probing her entrance while his hand is still rubbing and he abruptly fills her, knocking the wind out her lungs.

He’s exactly how she imagined (and oh, how often and wildly she’s imagined) in bed. In a way, it’s not unexpected that a man so domineering and overbearing as him would be the same when they fuck. But it’s surprisingly more passionate than she thought too, eye contact and neck biting and even grabbing of the throat and all that. She does notice the absence of kissing after the first one and she’s not sure how it makes her feel.

He’s able to penetrate her more deeply now than he was before and if she wasn’t getting fucked silly by Batman right now she would be giggling because of course he likes it from the back.

It doesn’t take long for to finish with his fingers still playing with her clit and other hand pinching her nipple as he’s thrusting into her so roughly she thinks her knees are going to give out. He fucks her through her orgasm, but carefully to not hurt her as she’s quivering and trembling against him.

He finishes soon after that, burying himself to the hilt inside of her and if she weren’t so fucking wrecked she would want to orgasm again, just from feeling him pulse inside of her.

When he lets go of her to let the both of them get dressed, she swears he does it hesitantly and then scolds herself because he obviously never does anything that he isn’t sure of (but then again, he is full of surprises and tonight showed her that she might not know him as well as she thinks).

She puts her clothes on in silence. It isn’t quite awkward but it isn’t without some tension either and although it’s Stephanie’s big mouth that got her into this big fucking mess, she can’t help but ask him, “So am I trouble?”

The look on his face lets her know that she still definitely is.