abbbbyyy

[abbbbyyy]

Between The Raindrops

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne/Batman (husband)

Summery: You and Bruce got in a fight, so while on patrol you two don't talk. And as it starts raining, Bruce still shows he cares when he hold his cape over you.

(I do NOT own any DC charachters)

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You and Bruce got in fight, not a big one, but one that left a sting in the air. So while you and Bruce where on patrol, you and Bruce don't speak a word to each other. A top the Gotham skyscraper, the cool evening breeze dancing around the two of you, the silence is deafening. You stand there, the wind playing with your hair as you look out into the night, Batman's cape fluttering stoically beside you. The tension is thick, a silent dance of unspoken words that hang in the air like a dark fog over the city.

Then it starts to rain.

The first droplet hits the cold steel of the gargoyle on which you're perched, echoing through the silence like a solitary tear. The sound is so sudden and stark it feels almost like an intrusion into your private thoughts. You watch as the raindrop rolls down the contorted face of the stone creature, mimicking the emotions you're trying so hard to hold back. The rain is a gentle reminder that even the toughest exteriors are not immune to the softest of touches.

You sign in annoyance as the rain starts to fall in earnest, soaking through your tight-fitting suit and plastering your hair to your forehead. This was not what you needed right now. The fight with Bruce had left you feeling raw, and the rain seems to be washing away any semblance of calm you had managed to cling to. You crouch down further, trying to shield yourself from the increasing downpour, your eyes scanning the streets below for any signs of trouble, any distraction from the tension that lingers between you.

And then, suddenly, the rain stops. You feel a warmth envelop you, and when you look up, you see that Bruce has moved closer, his cape spread out like a protective wing, shielding you from the relentless drops. It's a silent gesture, but it speaks louder than any words could. His eyes, peeking over the mask, continuous to survey the city, but you know he's aware of you, of the moment. It's a peace offering, one that doesn't need to be acknowledged with words.

You stay like that for a moment, feeling the warmth of his body so close to yours, the tension between you slowly dissipating like the rain clouds. You realize that even when he's mad, even when he's brooding, Bruce has this way of showing he cares, of reminding you that you're not alone in this fight. It's the little things, the quiet moments of understanding that keep you together, even in the chaos of Gotham.

"I'm trying to be mad at you," you finally say, breaking the silence. Your voice is barely a whisper, but it carries in the night, reaching his ears. Bruce turns his head slightly, his gaze still focused on the city.

"I know," he responds, his voice a low rumble. It's not an apology, but it's an acknowledgment. He knows you're upset, and he knows he's upset you. It's a start.

You gesture to the cloak, a symbol of his protective nature that you both know so well. "This is helping me be mad," you say with a smirk of your own, trying to lighten the mood. It's a playful jab, a way to ease the tension without letting go of your feelings entirely.

Bruce's lips twitch under the mask, a hint of a smile that you know so well. "I can move if you wish" he asks, his tone teasing despite the situation.

"No, no," you reply quickly, enjoying the warmth and closeness. "I think I'm just going to hold onto this grudge a little longer," you tease, poking fun at the seriousness of your earlier words. The tension between you breaks like a dam, the pressure giving way to a shared chuckle that echoes faintly off the rooftops.

Bruce shakes his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Suit yourself," he says, his voice a blend of amusement and resignation. You can't help but appreciate the way he handles your mood swings, the way he lets you process. It's a dance you've done countless times before, but it never gets old.

As the rain lightens to a drizzle, the two of you stand there, side by side, watching over the city that never sleeps. You can feel the weight of his arm over you, the warmth of his cape wrapping you in a cocoon of security.

"The rain stopped," you murmur, your voice a soft whisper against the backdrop of the city's symphony of sounds. You expect him to move away, to resume his usual stance as the stoic Dark Knight. But instead, his arm stays, his cape a comforting embrace around your shoulders.

"It has," Bruce repeats, his voice a low rumble that resonates through the quiet night. His eyes never leave the horizon, searching for the next threat, the next injustice to conquer. But you know his mind is also on you, on the words left unsaid between you.

You take a deep breath, feeling the chilly air fill your lungs. "You can move your arm," you say, your voice steady.

Bruce looks back at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief second before turning back to the city. "Could rain again," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than you hear. The words hang in the air, a subtle reminder that he's still there, still watching out for you, even if he's not ready to talk.

You smile, a small upturn of your lips that he can't see behind your mask. "Your arm will get tired," you say, your voice light, the tension from earlier dissipating like the rain clouds.

He shifts slightly, the movement almost imperceptible under the heavy cape. "I'll be fine," he says, the arm tightening.

You shake your head, a silent chuckle escaping. "Come on, big guy," you say, reaching up to gently tug on the fabric of his cape. "I don't need you losing blood circulation in your arm because of rain."

Without a word, Bruce allows his arm to lower, the cape falling away from you. You stand there, feeling the coolness of the air once more, missing the warmth of his embrace. But you know he's still there, still watching over you, even as he maintains his vigilant stance. The rain has stopped, but the night is still young, and Gotham is ever in need of its guardians.

[abbbbyyy]

Beneath the Cowl

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: Bruce finds out that you aren't afraid of the scary Batman. So he tries to scare you.

Note: It does get a little dark at one point, it's Bruce trying to scare reader as to why you should be afraid of him.

(I do NOT own any DC characters)

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"Mom, are you ever scared of dad?" Tim Drake, the youngest of the bunch, looked up at you from under his thick lashes as he sat in your office, surrounded by the organized chaos that was your paperwork.

You paused, your pen hovering over the contract you were reviewing. You studied Tim, curious as to why he asked such a question. "Why would I be scared of him?" you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

Tim fidgeted in his chair. "Well, you know, because he's Batman."

You couldn't help the slight smirk that tugged at the corners of your mouth. You leaned back, your gaze softening. "Bruce is many things, Tim. But when he's with us, he's not Batman. He's your father, and he's my husband." You set your pen down and folded your hands in your lap. "But to answer your question, no, I'm not scared of him. Not in the way you're thinking."

Tim's eyes grew wide. "But he's so… intense. And he fights all those bad guys."

You nodded thoughtfully, rising from your sit and stepping around your desk. "That's true. But he does that to protect us. To protect Gotham." You reached over and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "And when he's with us, he's just Bruce. He's the man who reads bedtime stories and makes terrible dad jokes."

Tim looked skeptical. "But when he's Batman, he's… like, super intimidating. Doesn't it scare you?"

"Nope, not one bit," you said, your voice firm and steady, a knowing smile playing across your lips. "You see, when you know someone as well as I know Bruce, you understand that the Batman persona is just a mask."

Tim tilted his head, intrigued by his mother's perspective. "But what if he forgets to take it off? What if he's too in the zone, you know?"

You chuckled, your eyes sparkling. "Oh, honey, let me tell you a little secret." You leaned closer, as if sharing a treasure trove of knowledge. "When Bruce tries to be all intimidating around me, I just think he's adorable."

Tim's jaw dropped. "You think Batman is adorable?"

You nodded, your laughter subsiding into a warm smile. "Yes, I do. Sometimes, when he's trying to be all brooding and mysterious, I just want to pinch his cheeks and tell him to lighten up."

Tim stared at you, his mind racing with the implications. "Does he know that?"

"Know what?" You asked, feigning innocence.

"That you think he's adorable when he's trying to be intimidating," Tim said, his voice filled with a mix of awe and bewilderment.

"Well, it's not exactly something I announce at the dinner table," you said with a wink.

Later that evening, Tim found himself stepping down the secret stair case leading to the Batcave, his heart racing. He had to see this for himself. As he approached the cave's entrance, he could hear the distant sound of Bruce working on some new gadget.

Tim took a deep breath and pushed the door open, only to find Bruce in his Bruce Wayne attire, not the Batsuit. He was bent over a worktable, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked on a tiny, complex mechanism.

"Tim," Bruce said, not looking up from his work. "What brings you down here?"

Tim swallowed hard, his earlier bravado gone. "I… uh… I was just wondering around," he mumbled.

Bruce glanced up, his eyes sharp but not unkind. "Is there something you needed?"

Tim hesitated, unsure of how to phrase his question. "Dad… I heard something about mom finding Batman… you know, cute?"

Bruce's hand paused mid-turn on a tiny screwdriver, his eyes meeting Tim's with surprise. "What do you mean, 'cute'?"

Tim shuffled his feet, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Well, she said that when you're trying to be all serious and scary, she thinks you're adorable."

Bruce's hand paused mid-air, and his head snapped up. "Adorable?" he echoed, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

Tim nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips despite his nervousness. "Yeah, she said she wants to pitch your cheeks and tell you to lighten up."

Bruce stared at him for a long moment, the gears in his mind clearly working overtime. Then, to Tim's shock, he burst out laughing. It was a full, belly laugh that echoed through the cavernous space of the Batcave. "Adorable?" he said again, shaking his head.

Tim couldn't help but laugh too, the tension in his shoulders easing. "I know, right? It's kind of hard to picture."

Wiping a tear from his eye, Bruce stood up and ruffled Tim's hair. "You're telling me," he chuckled. "But your mother has always had a way of seeing through the tough exterior."

Tim's curiosity was piqued. "Does she ever tell you that?"

Bruce's laughter subsided, and he gave Tim a look that was a mix of affection and amusement. "Not in so many words, no. But I suspect she enjoys watching me try."

Tim's smile grew wider, and he nodded in understanding. "So, she's not really scared of Batman at all?"

Bruce leaned against the worktable, his arms folded over his chest. "Scared? No. Worried for my safety, yes. But not scared of me." He paused, considering Tim's words. "Well, I never really tried to be intimidating in front of her. I wonder…" His voice trailed off, and his eyes took on a distant look.

Tim watched him, the wheels turning in his head. He'd never seen this side of his dad—Bruce Wayne contemplating something so… so human. It was like catching a glimpse behind the mask, seeing the man beneath the legend.

"Well, that's all I wanted," Tim said, his voice light. He took a step back, the weight of his curiosity lifted.

Bruce's expression grew thoughtful as he watched his son retreat. He knew Tim had come looking for reassurance, but he hadn't expected his mother's secret to be so… illuminating. He watched as Tim's footsteps grew fainter until they disappeared up the staircase. The sound of the door closing echoed through the Batcave, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He couldn't help but wonder if you truly wasn't intimidated by the Dark Knight. It was something he'd never considered before—his wife seeing through the mask to find something endearing in the creature he became at night. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he set his tools aside and strode towards the Batsuit. It was time to find out just how 'cute' he could be.

In the master bed room, you sitting at your desk, going through more paper work. The room was shrouded in darkness, with only the warm glow of the lamp and your computer piercing through the shadows. The soft light cast a cozy ambiance, illuminating your focused face and the pile of files before you. The rest of the vast, opulent space remained hidden, giving the illusion that you were in a small, intimate study rather than the sprawling bedroom of Wayne Manor.

Without a sound, Bruce slipped in, his footsteps as silent as the night he prowled. He paused at the doorway, watching his wife with a fondness that filled his chest. You was so absorbed in your work that you didn't notice his presence—his cape blending with the shadows like a living part of the room. He approached you from behind, his movements deliberate and slow, savoring the moment of stealth.

As he reached your desk, he leaned over your shoulder, his chest plate brushing against your soft hair. Your eyes widened in the reflection of the computer screen, and you gasped, spinning around in your chair. You stared up at him, the surprise quickly replaced by a playful smile as you took in the sight of Bruce in the Batsuit, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You're supposed to be scared," he murmured, his voice low and intimidating, the same tone he used to strike fear into the hearts of Gotham's criminals.

You looked up at him, your smile growing wider. "And why's that?" you teased, your eyes dancing.

Bruce leaned closer, his cape billowing around him like a dark cloud. His gaze was intense, a look that could make the bravest of men quake in their boots. "Because I'm the Dark Knight," he whispered, his voice a threatening rumble.

But instead of the reaction he was expecting, you just tilted your head to the side, your smile never wavering. "Oh, Bruce," you said, your tone light and teasing. "You know that doesn't work on me."

Bruce felt a twinge of disappointment, but he couldn't help the amusement bubbling up inside him. "Doesn't it?" he challenged, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of the game.

Your smile grew, your eyes lighting up with affection. "Not when you're so cute."

Bruce's raised an eyebrow, "Cute?" he echoed, his deep voice rumbling with indignation.

You nodded, your eyes sparkling with mirth. "Adorable, even," you said, leaning back in your chair. "I mean, come on. That brooding, intense look of yours. It's like you're trying so hard to be intimidating, but all it does is make me want to pinch your cheeks and say 'aww'."

Bruce felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the suit's power core. He hadn't anticipated this reaction, and he found himself both bemused and a bit… deflated. He straightened up, his arms falling to his sides. "So, I'm not scary?"

Your eyes twinkled with affection. "Not to me, you're not," you said. "You're more like a big, fluffy teddy bear that roars to scare off the monsters under the bed."

Bruce's jaw tightened, his pride slightly bruised. He knew he was more than just a 'fluffy teddy bear'—he was the protector of Gotham, the symbol that struck fear in the hearts of the wicked. But he couldn't deny the warmth your words brought him, and the way your eyes softened when you looked at him like that.

"Fine," he said, his voice still deep but with a hint of playfulness. "If I'm not scary enough, I'll give you a reason to be intimidated."

Your smile didn't waver as you watched him pull out the chair in front of you and sit down. You knew him well enough to recognize that look in his eyes—it was the same one he got when he was about to try a new tactic. You waited, your curiosity piqued, as he leaned closer.

"What are you planning?" you asked, your voice low and playful.

Without warning, Bruce suddenly grabbed the arm rest of your chair and pulled you towards him, his eyes narrowing into a more menacing gaze. For a brief second, your heart skipped a beat, your eyes going wide with genuine surprise. You couldn't help the nervous laugh that bubbled out, a sound that was equal parts amusement and actual fear.

"Oh, you think this is funny?" Bruce growled, his voice deepening in the best impression of a villain he could muster.

Your laughter grew as you leaned back in your chair, the wheels squeaking slightly as you put distance between them. "Bruce, you're not fooling me," you said, your eyes sparkling.

But Bruce was already in the zone. He took your chin gently between his gloved thumb and forefinger, his eyes now a deadly serious contrast to the playfulness from moments before. He brought your face down close to his, his gaze boring into yours, the mask's eye slits narrowing dangerously. "I am the night," he intoned, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips, your hand flying to your mouth to cover it.

"You're the night?" You repeated, your voice a delighted squeak. "Oh, Bruce, you're adorable when you try so hard."

"You should be scare of me," Bruce continued, his voice a gruff rumble that seemed to shake the very air around them.

"And why's that?" your asked, your curiosity piqued despite the playfulness of the situation.

Bruce paused, his grip on your chin tightening slightly as he searched for the right words. "Because," he said finally, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, Bruce went on, "I know more than fifty ways to take down a man with a paperclip, so you should be afraid of me. I could quickly and horribly take anyone's life. You should be terrified of me since I've lived with suffering my entire life and know how to deal with it, and hid it. If I ever so dared, I know the trick to letting all of my pain out and forcing it on you. Not just you, but all the people of Gotham. Finally, if I did let my pain take control, who could stop me? I know all the shortcomings of each superhero you can think of. They're all just a bunch of clowns to me, juggling justice with their fear of crossing the line. Like me. I know if I crossed the line, to be a god of everyone's life and death, I'd be feared. With the first death you would fear me. The second death, you would hate me. And by the time the third body hits the floor, you'd realize that you never knew who I was, what I could do. So, my dearly beloved, should you be afraid?"

Your smile slowly faded as you took in the sudden seriousness in his voice. Your eyes searched his, looking for the Bruce you knew beyond the mask. The room grew quiet, the air thick with the tension of his words. For a moment, you felt a true chill run down your spine, not from fear but from the gravity of his words. He was right; the man you loved had seen and experienced things that would break most people. But you knew he was also speaking the truth when he said he had control over his pain.

"Bruce," you said softly, your hand coming to rest on his forearm, the Kevlar beneath the suit's fabric feeling surprisingly warm and human. "We're not just talking about Batman anymore... are we?"

Bruce's grip on your chin loosened, and he looked away, his gaze drifting to the floor, with his hand falling beside him. "No," he admitted, his voice gruff. "I guess we're not."

You wrapped your arms around him, your embrace warm and unyielding. Bruce remained still for a moment, his body stiff and unyielding in the face of the unexpected affection. But then, ever so slowly, he leaned into you, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

"You're not just Batman, Bruce," you whispered, your breath tickling the skin beneath his ear. "You're a father, a husband, a man with a heart so big it's a wonder it fits in that chest of yours." your felt his come under your arm and land on the your higher back, his grip firm but gentle.

"I know," he murmured, his voice muffled by the material of your shirt. "But sometimes, it's easier to hide behind the mask."

You pulled back to look into his eyes, your own filled with understanding and warmth. "I know it is, love," you said, your thumb brushing the edge of the mask. "But you don't have to hide from me. I see you, all of you. The good, the bad, and yes, even the 'cute'."

Bruce's gaze searched yours for any trace of doubt, finding only sincerity. He took a deep breath and reached up to remove the cowl, revealing his weary but handsome face. The mask came off with a soft whoosh, and for a moment, the room felt lighter, as if a burden had been lifted. Your eyes never left his, your smile gentle and accepting.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice filled with a warmth that seemed to envelop him. "With my whole heart."

Bruce felt something shift inside of him, a weight he didn't even realize he'd been carrying lifted. He leaned in and kissed you, the kiss soft and lingering, filled with a depth of feeling that the Batman persona could never convey. When he pulled back, he was smiling, a real smile that reached his eyes.

"Thank you," he said, his voice rough with emotion, "for not being scared of me."

You leaned into him, your forehead pressing against his, "I could never be scared of you, Bruce," you whispered. "No matter how hard you try."

[abbbbyyy]

Not Just A Mother

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: You married Bruce Wayne, not out of love, but because Bruce wanted a mother figure for his sons. But what happens when Bruce starts showing a more caring side?

(I do NOT own any DC characters)

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"Tim, did you finish your homework?" You called out, your footsteps echoing through the grand hallways of Wayne Manor as you made your way to your non biological son's room.

"I'll get it later," Tim's voice drifted back, a hint of procrastination in his tone.

"Not a chance, young man," you responded firmly, your heels clicking against the marble floor. "You know the rules. No gadgets or superhero shenanigans until your schoolwork is done. So get off the computer."

Tim sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving his computer. "Ten more minutes," he protested, his fingers typing away at lightning speed.

You signed but said nothing more upon stopping at the open door of Tim's room. You knew Bruce didn't appreciate you interference in nightly heroics, but you had your own way of managing the boys. Just as you was about to remind Tim of the consequences, a deep voice resonated from behind you.

"Listen to your mother, Tim."

You spun around to face Bruce, who had emerged from the shadows of the hallway. His gaze was stern but not unkind, the same look he often gave when you discussed the boys' schooling. You felt a small twinge of relief that he wasn't upset with your intervention.

Tim looked up from his computer, his eyes wide with surprise. He had never heard Bruce call you "mother" before. It was always Mrs. Wayne or by your name. The change in tone was subtle but significant, hinting at a shift in their relationship that none of them had anticipated.

Your cheeks flush under Bruce's eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You noticed the warmth in his smile and the way he held your gaze for a beat too long. You felt a strange mix of comfort and discomfort, the kind that comes with the sudden realization that the ground beneath you is not as solid as it once seemed.

Bruce gave a curt nod before turning to leave. His footsteps grew quieter as he moved away, the sound of his retreating figure leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of his behavior. Was it the stress of their sham marriage finally getting to him? Or perhaps a genuine affection that had been buried beneath layers of duty and obligation?

Over the next few days, Bruce continued to act more affectionate towards you, slipping in gentle touches and kind words where there had once been a stoic distance. You felt torn between acknowledging the change and fearing it was just a temporary shift in mood. After all, their marriage was built on a foundation of convenience, not love. You're there to provide a stable home life for his sons, not to be the object of his affection.

One evening, as Bruce sat in his study, you gathered your courage and approached him, clutching a set of documents in your hands. "I need to talk to you about something," you began, your voice tentative. "It's about a new deal that's been offered to the company."

Bruce looked up from his paperwork, his eyes reflecting the glow of the computer screens. "What is it?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"It's about a new acquisition," you said, looking down at the papers. "The board thinks it's a good opportunity."

Bruce took the papers from you, his hands brushing against yours for a moment longer than necessary. You felt a spark of electricity, and you quickly withdrew your hand, hoping he hadn't noticed. You watched as he skimmed through the pages, his brow furrowing slightly as he digested the information.

"What's your take on it?" he asked, his gaze still on the contract.

"I...I don't know if it's my...my place to say, Mr. Wayne" You stuttered, your heart racing. You had never been one to voice your opinions in matters like this.

Bruce's gaze lifted from the documents, his eyes locking with your. "Your opinion is important to me," he said firmly. "We're partners in this, remember?"

The words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken promise. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Well," you began, your voice stronger now, "I think it's....sketchy. There's something about the terms that doesn't sit right with me."

Bruce's eyes never left yours as he listened intently. His thumb traced the edge of the paper, the only sign of his contemplation. "Then tell them I'm not interested," he said abruptly, handing the contract back to you.

Your eyes widened in shock. You had expected him to disagree, to argue the merits of the deal and the importance of the board's suggestions. Instead, he had deferred to your judgment, something he had never done before. "Are you sure?" you asked.

"Absolutely," Bruce said, his voice firm. "If it doesn't feel right, then it's not worth pursuing."

You took the contract, your hand trembling slightly. "But the board…" your trailed off, unsure how to voice your concerns without overstepping your boundaries.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "The board's job is to make suggestions," he said. "My job is to make decisions. And if my… wife," he emphasized the word, "thinks something's off, then I trust her judgment."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. It was the first time he had ever called you his wife without it sounding like a mere formality. You held the contract, your mind racing. "Thank you," you murmured. "I'll handle it."

Bruce nodded, his gaze lingering on yours. "You're welcome."

You retreated from the study, your thoughts in a whirlwind. The weight of the contract in your hands felt heavier than ever before. As you walked, the echoes of their conversation seemed to follow you, whispering of a newfound partnership and trust. You paused outside your study, taking a moment to collect yourself before returning to work. The manor felt different, as if the very air had shifted to accommodate a burgeoning emotion you hadn't anticipated.

Over the next few weeks, Bruce's affection grew more pronounced. He would join you for dinner, engaging in conversations that delved beyond the superficial. They discussed books, art, and the future of Gotham, sharing smiles and laughter that felt genuine and unforced. You found yourself looking forward to these moments, the tension in the air charged with something you dared not name.

One evening, after the boys had retired to their rooms, Bruce found you in the dimly lit Batcave, your eyes reflecting the glow of the monitors as you reviewed the night's intel. He approached you slowly, his footsteps muffled by the rubber soles of his boots. "I thought I was the night owl around here," he said with a teasing smile.

You startled, spinning around in the chair. "Mr. Wayne," you gasped, hand flying to your chest. "I didn't hear you come in."

Bruce chuckled, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. "It's Bruce," he corrected gently. "And I can see you've got everything under control."

Your cheeks colored as you nodded. "Just keeping an eye on things," you said, your voice quieter than usual. You felt self-conscious under his scrutiny, unsure how to react to his sudden interest in your nightly routine.

"Mind if I join you?" Bruce asked, his tone casual, yet it held a hint of something more.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. You watched as he made his way over to you, his movements fluid and silent. He leaned against the console, his eyes on the screens, but you knew he was really watching you.

"You know, this isn't where I expected to find you on our anniversary," he said, his voice low and warm.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had almost forgotten about the date, lost in the whirlwind of their new dynamic. Your swiveled the chair to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Anniversary?" you echoed, trying to keep your voice even.

Bruce nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, it's been a year since we made this… arrangement." He paused, searching for the right word, and you felt the weight of the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

"I… I had no idea at how quickly the year went by," you murmured, your eyes flicking to the floor before meeting his gaze again. "So much has happened."

"Yes, it has," Bruce agreed, his expression softening. "But I think we've made it work, don't you?"

You nodded slowly, your eyes moving to the side of the floor. "We have," you conceded. "For the boys."

"For the boys," Bruce echoed, but there was a hint of something more in his voice. He reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt through you. "Dance with me."

You looked at him, bewildered. The Batcave was the last place you'd would have ever imagined sharing a dance with your husband, especially considering their relationship had been more of a business transaction than a romantic union.

"What?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and doubt. The cold metal and concrete walls of the Batcave didn't exactly scream romance.

But Bruce didn't seem to notice the oddness of his request. He held out his other hand, his eyes earnest. "Just one dance."

Your heart racing, placing your hand in his, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He led you to the center of the Batcave, the place where so much strategy and planning took place. But now, it was just them, standing in the shadow of the Dark Knight's armor, the only music the hum of the computers and the distant echo of the city above.

He pulled you closer, his hand on your back while the other held your other hand. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, a stark contrast to the cool air of the underground lair. He was close enough that you could make out the scent of his cologne, the faint metallic scent of his suit mingling with it.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Let's pretend, just for a moment, that we're not Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne, but a couple who met under different circumstances."

Your pulse quickened. You knew the rules of your arrangement, knew that love had never been a part of the deal. Yet here you were, in the most unlikely of settings, with the potential for something you had never allowed yourself to imagine. Hesitating for only a moment, you stepped into the embrace, your body fitting against his as if it had always belonged there.

He began to sway gently, guiding you in a slow, rhythmic dance that seemed to defy the gravity of their situation. His hand rested on the small of your back, his other hand holding hers firmly, yet gently. You felt the muscles beneath the fabric of his suit, the strength and power of the man you had only ever known as your husband in name.

The sound of his deep, rich hum filled the cavernous space, a tune you didn't recognize but found oddly soothing. It was a moment of vulnerability you had never seen from him before, a side of Bruce Wayne that was as unguarded as the batcave was protected. As they danced, your head leaned into his chest, the steady beat of his heart echoing in your ears, mimicking the tempo of your own.

The tension between them grew palpable, a silent crescendo that seemed to vibrate in every atom of the room. You felt yout resolve wavering, the walls you had meticulously built to maintain the façade of your marriage threatening to crumble. You knew the truth – that you had developed feelings for him, feelings that had grown from a seed of respect and duty into a full-blown bouquet of love and longing.

"Bruce," you murmured, your voice shaky. "What are we doing?"

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "I'm just… trying to be a better husband to you."

The admission sent a tremor through you, and you pulled away slightly to look up at him. His eyes searched yours, a question and a plea melded into one. Your chest tightened as you read the hope and uncertainty in his gaze.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What changed?"

Bruce's expression grew serious, his eyes holding yours captive. "I've realized that life is too short to ignore what's right in front of us," he replied, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand. "I've watched you care for my sons, for this city, and for me. You've become more than just a part of this arrangement. You've become a part…of me."

The words hung in the air, a confession that resonated through the very foundation of the Batcave. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that he was just playing a part. But what you found was a vulnerability you had never seen before, a crack in the armor of the man who was both Bruce Wayne and Batman. You were speechless, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Leaning closer, his cheek brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered near your ear, the heat of his breath sending a rush of emotion through yours. "Please," he whispered, "give me a chance."

Your heart was a tumult of emotions – hope, fear, confusion. But you knew that you couldn't ignore the feelings that had been growing within you for so long. You nodded, the barest of movements, but it was enough.

Bruce's hand slid to your cheek, cupping it gently as he leaned in and kissed you. It was a soft kiss, filled with a year's worth of unspoken emotions. You melted into it, your arms slipping around his neck as you gave in to the warmth that had been building between them. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and you could feel the tension in his body, the years of holding back finally released.

You broke apart, breathing in quite pants, your eyes locked. Your heart raced, your mind reeling with the implications of what was happening. "Bruce," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"My wife," Bruce said, the words sounding unfamiliar, yet right. He searched your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. "You are my wife. I want to act like the husband I know you truly deserve."

"What about the boys?" You asked, your voice a soft murmur.

"They're our priority," Bruce assured you, his hand sliding from your cheek to your hand again. "We just now have… some extra perks to our partnership." He offered you a tentative smile, and you couldn't help but return it, feeling the weight of your situation lighten just a little.

For a moment, you two just stood there, holding onto each other, the reality of your feelings finally out in the open. The silence was comfortable, filled with the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling together.

[abbbbyyy]

Nightmare Refuge

Reader(mom) X little Richard(Dick) Grayson (son)

Summery: Reader finds Dick hiding under his bed after a nightmare.

(I do not own any DC charaters)

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She stirred restlessly in the quiet of the moonlit night. The soft murmurs of Gotham City, muffled by the thick curtains, were a stark contrast to the peacefulness of the Wayne Manor. The digital clock on the bedside table glowed a silent 2:43 AM. She had been trying to find sleep for hours, but it remained elusive, slipping away like shadows in the light.

With a gentle sigh, she carefully turned over to avoid disturbing the sleeping figure next to her. Bruce Wayne's chest rose and fell rhythmically, his face relaxed in a way she hadn't seen in months. The dark circles under his eyes, a constant reminder of his double life, had faded slightly, giving him an almost youthful appearance.

She slipped out of bed, her bare feet cold against the marble floor. She pulled a silk robe around her, cinching it tight to keep out the chill. The corridor was dimly lit by night lights, casting just enough of a glow to guide her way to Dick's room. He was already a reflection of the man she had married. Strong, determined, and with a sense of responsibility that belied his young age.

The bed was empty.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she called out in a whisper, "Dick?" The silence was thick, almost palpable. The room looked undisturbed, as if he had never been there.

But then, she heard it. A faint sniff.

She dropped to her knees and peered under the bed. Dick was there, curled into a tight ball, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He looked up at her, his expression a mix of fear and relief.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" she whispered, her voice a soothing balm in the stark silence.

Dick's lower lip quivered. "I had a nightmare," he admitted in a hushed tone.

Her heart broke a little. She knew the nightmares plagued him often. They were all too real in their line of work. But she had hoped that with her presence and love, she could shield him from the darkest of his fears. She reached out, "Come on, come out."

Dick shakes his head, clutching a pillow tightly to his chest. "I don't want to."

Her eyes searched his, filled with concern. "Is it about your parents?"

Dick nodded, his voice muffled by the pillow. "They were in trouble, and I couldn't save them," he choked out.

Her heart ached for him. She knew that even though she wasn't his biological mother, she was the one who tucked him in every night and soothed his fears.

"Okay, you don't have to come out," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Dick nodded slightly, and she squeezed herself under the bed, her robe brushing against the cool floor. She wrapped her arms around him, the pillow between them now wet with his tears.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth and understanding.

Dick took a shuddering breath, his shoulders rising and falling. "We were back… at the cirrus," he whispered. "The acrobat ropes… they… they fell off."

She tightened her hold on him, her eyes misting over with unshed tears. She had heard the story of his parents' tragic death many times, but it never failed to affect her. She knew he was reliving that night, his young mind struggling to process the grief that came in waves, especially when he was vulnerable in sleep.

"It's okay," she murmured, stroking his hair. "You're safe here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you."

Dick nodded into the pillow, his body still tense with fear. She waited patiently, her heart beating in time with his, until his breathing began to even out. She knew that words couldn't erase the pain of his past, but she hoped her presence could offer some comfort.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" she asked, changing the subject gently. "What did you think of Bruce?"

"Scary," Dick mumbled. "But he.. was nice."

"He was, wasn't he?" she said with a gentle smile. "He's had a rough life too, you know. Just like you." She paused, giving him a moment to digest this. "But he's always had a heart of gold, even when he tries to hide it behind that tough exterior."

Dick looked up at her, his eyes searching hers. "Why did he take me in?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Because he saw a bit of himself in you," she replied softly. "Lost, scared, but full of potential."

Dick sniffled, and she could feel him trying to hold back more tears. "But what if I mess up? What if I'm not good enough?"

"You're more than good enough," she assured him, her voice firm and loving. "You're strong, brave, and you have a family that loves you. That's all that matters."

Dick nodded, his breaths coming slower now, the fear receding slightly. She stayed with him, her warmth a comforting blanket against the cold floor.

"Will you come out?" she repeated, her voice still soft.

"I…I don't want to go back to sleep," Dick murmured, his eyes wide with fear.

She nodded, understanding. "That's okay," she said. "You don't have to. We can go to the library, read a book, or maybe watch the stars. Whatever you want."

They crawled out from under the bed together, and she picked him up, holding him close. His head rested on her shoulder, and she could feel the weight of his fear begin to lift. She carried him down the corridor, past the portraits of generations of Wayne's, to the library that had become a sanctuary for their nighttime conversations. The room was vast, filled with books that whispered of adventures and wisdom. The moonlight spilled in through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor.

"How about a story?" she suggested, setting him down gently in one of the oversized armchairs. Dick nodded, and she took a seat beside him, pulling a book from the shelf. It was one of Bruce's favorites from when he was a child—a tale of knights and dragons. She began to read, her voice low and soothing, weaving a spell of words that took them to a faraway land filled with valor and hope.

As the story unfolded, Dick's grip on the armrests loosened, and his breathing grew steady. His eyes began to droop, but he fought the urge to sleep, not yet ready to face the darkness that lurked in his dreams. She knew that he needed this escape, a temporary reprieve from the shadows of Gotham.

Her one hand brushed through his hair in a comforting rhythm, as if smoothing away the wrinkles of his fear. Each stroke was tender and deliberate, a silent promise that she would always be there for him. The other hand held the book open, her thumb keeping their place as she spoke of knights and dragons with a passion that brought the tale to life.

The crackling fireplace cast a warm glow on the leather-bound books surrounding them. The flames danced in the reflection of Dick's eyes, which grew heavy with sleep. The story grew quieter, matching the dwindling fire, until finally, his eyelids closed, and his breathing grew deep and even. She watched him for a few more moments, her own heart swelling with love for this child she had come to call her son.

Gently, she picked him up, her arms cradling him as if he were still a baby. His slight weight was no burden; instead, it filled her with a sense of purpose, of belonging. She knew that Bruce had taken him in out of a sense of duty and guilt, but she had come to love him purely for who he was. The quiet strength that lay beneath his fear, the unshakeable loyalty that was already becoming a part of him.

She carried him back to her room, her footsteps silent on the plush carpet. The moon had moved in the sky, casting shadows in new places, but the path was as familiar to her as the layout of her own heart. The door to their suite was ajar, and she pushed it open with her foot, careful not to let it creak.

Bruce stirred in the bed, his eyes opening to the sight of them. He sat up, the concern etched on his face replaced by a soft smile as he watched her tuck Dick into the bed beside her. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Nightmare," she whispered, sliding in next to Dick. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open briefly before he nestled into her side.

Bruce nodded, his gaze lingering on the boy. He knew all too well the demons that could haunt the night. "Is he okay?"

"For now," she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Dick's forehead. "He just needs some time."

Bruce nodded, understanding in his eyes as he slid over to wrap his arm over both Dick and her. His warmth was a reassuring presence, a symbol of protection and love. Dick sighed and snuggled closer, his small frame fitting perfectly between them.

For a moment, they all just lay there, the only sound in the room the soft crackle of the fireplace. She felt the tension in her chest ease, the weight of the night's fears slowly lifting. This was what family was supposed to be, she thought—a place where you could find comfort in the darkest of hours.

[abbbbyyy]

Big Brother

Reader(mom) X Jason (son)

Summery: Even against Bruce's wishes, reader goes to see Jason. Because, she wants him to meet his baby sister.

Note: I have written a few other posts with Jason, Dick, Tim, and Damian being apart reader's pregnancy, but this is has no part in them.

(I do not own any DC character)

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With a soft sigh, she cradled the baby girl in her arms, her heart swelling with a fierce love that surprised even her. She knew that Bruce had his reasons for keeping her away from Jason, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Jason needed to see this little piece of hope that had entered their lives. Dick had been her confidant, the one who understood her yearning to bridge the gap between the lost son and the new life they had created together.

The night was cool and quiet as she slipped out of the manor, the baby bundled in a warm blanket against her chest. She could feel the gentle weight of her daughter's breathing, a gentle reminder of the fragility of the world she had brought her into.

Dick waited for her in the shadows, the Robin cycle humming quietly beneath him. He was dressed in his Nightwing gear, a silent sentinel ready to help. She climbed on behind him, the leather of the seat cool against her skin. She held the baby tight, whispering comforting words into the soft down of her ear. The engine roared to life, and they sped off into the night, the wind whipping around them as the city's lights streaked by in a blur.

They arrived at the abandoned warehouse that served as a makeshift base for the Red Hood. Dick knew the location from his patrols, and the tension between him and Jason was palpable every time he had to report back to Bruce. Her heart raced as they approached, the baby's eyes wide with curiosity at the new sounds and sensations of Gotham's underbelly. The building loomed before them, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the dark.

Dick cut the engine and they both dismounted, the silence of the night wrapping around them like a cloak. He turned to her, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "He's here?" she murmured, her eyes searching his for reassurance.

Dick nodded. "I've been tracking his signal."

They moved cautiously through the shadows, the baby's eyes now drooping with sleep. She felt a surge of adrenaline as they approached the warehouse door, the metal cold and unyielding under her hand. Dick pushed it open a crack, peering inside before giving her the all-clear. The space was dimly lit, the only sound the distant echo of footsteps on concrete. They stepped inside, the smell of damp earth and metal filling their nostrils.

"Well, well, well," a voice called out, a sardonic tone that sent chills down her spine. "What do we have here? Come back for round two?"

Jason Todd was atop the rail of a catwalk high above, the red of his hood stark against the dark backdrop. Dick stepped in front, a protective shield between Avilasa and the Red Hood.

"Jason," she called softly, her voice echoing in the vast space.

He leaned over the railing, the red lenses of his mask glinting in the sparse light. "What is this, a new tactic from the Dark Knight?" He smirked, his tone laced with skepticism. "Using my own mother to distract me? Did he think I wouldn't see through this?"

Ignoring his jab, she calls out. "Jason, please, come down. I have… someone, I want you to meet."

Jason's smirk faltered for a moment, his curiosity piqued despite his suspicion. He dropped from the railing in a graceful arc, landing lightly on the floor below. Dick took a step back, allowing her to come forward. She gently unwrapped the baby from her blanket, revealing her tiny, peaceful face.

"This is your sister," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Jason's eyes widened, the sarcasm draining from his voice. He stared at the baby, his gloved hands clenching into fists. The room was still except for the soft, rhythmic cooing that filled the space.

"Leave," he said to Dick, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dick hesitated, glancing back at her. She gave him a small nod, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's okay," she mouthed. He reluctantly backed away, retreating into the door.

Jason approached slowly, his boots echoing on the cold ground. His gaze remained fixed on the baby as he stopped in front of her, his posture tense. "How long?"

"A few weeks," she replied, her voice a soft whisper. "We named her… Melilla."

Jason's gaze flickered to her, before returning to the baby. He reached out a gloved hand, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. His fingertip brushed against Melilla's cheek, and she responded with a tiny yawn, stretching her minuscule hand out towards him. The sight was so innocent, so human, that it seemed to disarm him for a moment.

But then, as if sensing the tension or the presence of the masked man before her, Melilla's eyes fluttered open and she began to wail, her cries piercing the stillness of the warehouse. Her heart sank as Jason's hand retreated, his posture stiffening again. The whites of his mask remained fixed on the baby, his jaw clenched.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her own eyes brimming with tears. "I just wanted you to see her."

"See me," Jason corrected, his voice gruff as he reached up the helmet that covered his face. "You want her to see me."

With trembling hands, he pulled the mask away, revealing a face that was a mirror to Dick's, yet etched with pain and anger that no one could miss. The room grew quieter as the baby's cries subsided into sniffles, seemingly aware of the shift in the air. She felt a knot form in her stomach as she stared at the face she had not seen in years, the face of the boy she had once known as her son, now a man cloaked in a life of vengeance.

Jason's eyes searched the baby's face, looking for some semblance of the family he had lost, the warmth he had once known. The baby looked back at him, her eyes wide with curiosity, and for a brief moment, she saw something in Jason's gaze that she hadn't seen in years: vulnerability. He leaned closer, his breath misting in the cold air as he studied Melilla, the soft curve of her nose, the tiny hands that clutched at the air.

"She's… beautiful," he murmured, his voice raw with emotion.

Avilasa felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Yes, she is," she said, her own voice thick with unshed tears.

Jason leaned closer, his eyes never leaving the baby's face. "She's got Bruce's stupid blue eyes," he murmured, a hint of affection in his tone despite the gruffness. A small, genuine chuckle escaped his lips, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the boy he once was.

His hand hovering over the baby's head as if unsure of what to do next. She took a deep breath and offered Melilla to him. "Hold her," she whispered.

Jason looked up, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since she had revealed her true identity. There was a flicker of something in those green eyes, a question, a plea. "Me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

She nodded, her own eyes shimmering with hope. "Please, Jason."

He took another step, his hands moving as if in a dream, and carefully took the baby from her arms. Her tiny body fitting perfectly into the cradle of his broad chest. The sight was surreal, the infamous Red Hood holding a newborn with such tenderness.

"Hey, hey there," he murmured, his voice soft and unrecognizable. "It's alright, it's okay, your big brother's got you."

As Melilla quieted in his arms, Jason's rough exterior melted away, revealing the gentle soul he had buried deep beneath the anger and the mask. He cradled her, his large, scarred hands surprisingly gentle as they supported her tiny frame. The baby blinked up at him, her eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

The baby girl's tiny hand reached out, her fingers grabbing at the air before finding purchase on the soft fabric of his shirt. Jason stilled, his heart racing as he felt her warmth and the weight of her trust. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. He looked up at his mother, searching her eyes for some clue as to what he should do next.

"You're… you're good at this," she said, her voice filled with a mix of wonder and hope.

Jason grunted in response, his eyes looking back to Melilla's face. He had held many things in his life, weapons of all shapes and sizes, but nothing had ever felt so fragile and so precious. His thumb brushed against her cheek, and she gurgled, her tiny hand gripping his shirt even tighter.

"I would love to spoil you rotten, you little squirt," he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that seemed to melt the ice around his heart.

She watched as Jason held Melilla, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Bruce is already given her more toys than either of us know what to do with," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. The thought of Bruce Wayne, the stoic and brooding Dark Knight, playing the role of a doting father was a sight she had not yet seen, but she knew it was true.

Jason scoffed. "Well, that's his way, I guess." He paused, looking down at the baby in his arms. "Can't wait for the day she brings home boyfriends," he said with a wry smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he imagined the look on Bruce's face.

She couldn't help but laugh, a warm sound that filled the cold, empty space. "Oh, trust me," she said, shaking her head. "You're not the only one he'll have to worry about."

Jason looked at her, a hint of surprise in his eyes. It had been so long since he had heard her laugh, and it was like a balm to the ragged edges of his soul. The sound was soothing, reminding him of happier times, of a home that had been ripped away from him.

"I guess we're all in this together, then," he said, his voice a little less gruff. He studied Melilla, her eyes blinking slowly as she stared up at him. He had killed for vengeance, destroyed lives for justice, but never before had he felt so responsible for one so small and pure. It was a feeling that shook him to the core.

"Thank you," he murmured, looking at her. "For showing her to me."

The words hung in the air, filled with a weight that neither of them could fully comprehend. It was the first real acknowledgment of their shared past, of the love that had once bound them together as a family. Her eyes searched Jason's, seeing the turmoil behind the mask, the struggle to reconcile the man he had become with the boy he once was.

"Thank you for not pushing us away," she repeated, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart.

Without a word, Jason pulled her into a tight embrace, the Melilla nestled between them. His arms, usually so firm and unyielding, wrapped around them with surprising gentleness. She felt his warmth seep through the layers of their costumes, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he held them. Melilla cooed, a tiny sound that seemed to mend the years of silence and anger between them.

"I love you, Mom," Jason whispered into her hair, his voice cracking with the weight of his unspoken regrets.

She eyes filled with tears, and she hugged him back with all the strength she had. "I love you too, Jason," she murmured, feeling the warmth of his embrace. The baby squirmed in their tight embrace, a tiny reminder of the life that connected them all.

They stood like that for a long moment, a silent apology and acceptance passing between them. Then, with a heavy sigh, Jason pulled away. He gently handed Melilla back to her, his eyes lingering on her tiny face. "I can't stay," he said, his voice gruff. "But I won't forget this… Or her."

She nodded, her own eyes filled with understanding. "We'll come again," she promised, her voice firm. "This doesn't have to be the last time."

Jason gave a small nod, the light in his eyes fading slightly. "Just… keep her safe," he said, his gaze lingering on Melilla. "Promise me."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "With all my heart," she vowed, her voice strong despite the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

Jason leaned in and kissed her forehead, the gesture so unexpected and tender that she almost flinched. But she held her ground, feeling the warmth of his lips against her skin, the briefest of moments that spoke volumes. Then he turned to Melilla, his movements deliberate and almost reverent as he bent to press a soft kiss to her forehead as well. The baby's eyes widened in surprise, and then she giggled, a sound that seemed to echo in the cavernous warehouse, a symbol of the joy she had brought to their lives.

"Stay out of trouble," he murmured to Melilla, his voice filled with a tenderness that was as surprising as it was heartbreaking. It was a promise he knew he could not keep, a hope he could not guarantee, but one that hung in the air between them, a silent pact.

She watched as Jason retreated into the shadows, disappearing into the night. She felt a pang of sadness, but also a spark of hope. Dick emerged from the door, his eyes filled with questions and concern. She gave him a small, brave smile. "It's okay," she assured him, her voice stronger than she felt.

Looking back at Melilla, she felt a warmth spread through her, chasing away the shadows of doubt. Her daughter's eyes were wide and curious, as if she knew that she had just played a part in something momentous. Her cradled her closer, feeling the steady beat of her heart against her chest.

[abbbbyyy]

Bat boys seeing their baby sister that is like 13 being in love for the first time/living her first romance and feeling a bit over protective

Gonna say, I was never one to like to writing about first time crushes, but there you go.

Guardians of Heart

Reader(mom) X Richard(Dick) Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.

Summery: The boys spy on their sister, Meillia, at the park. While they do, they get caught by their mother.

(I do not own any DC characters)

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"Do you see her?" Dick Grayson, known to the world as the first Robin, leaned over to whisper to his brothers, Jason Todd and Tim Drake, they pear through their binoculars.

"Yeah, she's at the swings," Tim replied, his voice tight.

"Is she with… him?" Dick's voice was low and strained, his grip on the binoculars tightening.

Jason squinted before confirming, "Yeah, it's that kid from her math class."

The three brothers watched from the shadows of an oak tree of a park as Meillia chatted with the object of her affection. The playground was alive with the chatter of young voices, but to them, it was just background noise. All that mattered was their baby sister's heart fluttering with its first crush.

"What does she even see in…him?" Jason made the same dramatic distasteful sound that seemed to echo their collective thoughts. The boy was no taller than Meillia, with a mop of unruly hair that danced in the breeze. He had a crooked smile that seemed to be perpetually plastered on his face, and he talked with his hands, which made the boys suspicious of his sincerity.

Dick's eyes narrowed as he observed the interaction. "Maybe he has her under some hypnosis," he suggested.

Tim snorted. "Or maybe he's not even boy. Maybe he's an alien, sent here to infiltrate our family." His voice was laden with sarcasm, but there was a tinge of doubt in his tone. They had faced enough strange adversaries in their crime-fighting careers to know that anything was possible in Gotham.

"I'm just saying, we can't be too sure," Dick insisted, his gaze never leaving the couple on the swings. "We need to do some reconnaissance."

Jason nodded solemnly, "Roger that, N1."

Tim rolled his eyes but couldn't help but agree. "Okay, so what's the plan?"

"Simple," Dick said, his voice firm. "R3, you're on recon. Find out everything you can about this kid. School records, friends, any suspicious activities. We need to know who we're dealing with."

Tim nodded, pocketing the binoculars. "On it," he said, slipping away to start his mission.

Dick turned to Jason, who was still watching Meillia and the boy. "R2, never take your eyes off them, especially him."

Jason nodded, his expression serious. "Got it," he murmured, his eyes scanning the playground like a hawk.

"I'm going to get closer and find out what they're talking about," Dick decided, his heart thudding in his chest.

"Keep your distance," Jason cautioned, his eyes still glued to the scene before them. "We don't want to spook her."

"Relax, I know what I'm doing," Dick whispered back, a smirk playing on his lips. He had a knack for blending into the background, a skill honed from years of fighting crime beside their father, Batman. He moved with the grace of a cat burglar, sticking to the shadows as he approached the swings.

The boy, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, was talking animatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands. Meillia was giggling, her cheeks flushed pink. Dick's heart clenched at the sight. She was their little sister, and he didn't want her to get hurt. They had all lost so much in their lives, especially when it came to family and relationships.

He crouched behind a particularly lush bush, its leaves whispering secrets to him in the gentle breeze. The earth was damp beneath his knees, but he ignored the discomfort, focusing solely on the conversation that floated over to him like a butterfly's wings.

"…and then, Mr. Jenkins said I could join the mathletes team!" Meillia's voice was filled with excitement.

The boy with the unruly hair beamed at her. "That's amazing, Mel! You're going to kill it!"

Dick's ears perked up at the phrase. 'Kill it' wasn't something you said to a 13-year-old about a mathletes competition unless you had something to hide. The phrase echoed in his mind as he dissected it, searching for hidden meaning. It was almost as if he could hear the cogs of his detective brain whirring into gear.

"Whatcha doin' Dick?" The voice was soft but unmistakable. He swiveled his head, keeping his body low to the ground.

This non-biological mother stood there, her eyes gleaming with amusement. She had a knowing smile, and Dick felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. She was the mother they had all grown to love and respect, even if she wasn't the one who had given them birth. She had taken them in, given them a home, and had become the glue that held their patchwork family together.

"Oh, hi Mom," Dick greets, his eyes darting to the swings where Meillia and her crush were now playing a game of tag. "I was just… looking for my…uh…binoculars?"

She raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Your binoculars?"

Dick nodded vigorously. "Yeah, they're…uh, really good for bird watching."

Her eyes twinkled with mirth as she stepped closer. "I see," she said, her gaze dropping to the binoculars that indeed hung around his neck. "And what type of bird are you observing today?"

Dick's cheeks burned hotter than a Gotham summer night. "Just… the usual," he said, trying to play it cool. "Robins."

Her smile grew even wider as she leaned down and whispered, "Why don't you tell me the truth, Dick?"

Her knowing gaze made him squirm. Dick sighed and sat back on his heels. "Okay, we're just… keeping an eye on Meillia."

"Keeping an eye on her or spying on her?" She corrected him gently, her smile never wavering.

"Well, uh… it was Jason's idea." Dick quickly pointed to the tree Jason was hiding behind.

Jason's head popped out, his eyes widening in shock. "What the hell, man?" he exclaimed, catching many parents' attain at the language.

"Keep it down, R2," Dick hissed, jabbing a finger at his lips.

Jason's eyes narrowed, but he clamped his mouth shut, glaring at Dick. Her smile didn't fade as she sat down beside him. "So, what's going on with Mel?"

"She's got a crush," Dick confessed. "And we just… we want to make sure he's good enough for her."

Her smile softened into something more understanding. "Ah, I see," she said, her eyes drifting to the playful scene on the swings. "Well, she's a smart girl. I'm sure she'll figure it out herself."

"But what if he breaks her heart?" Dick blurted out, his eyes reflecting his fear. "Or, worse, what if he's dangerous?"

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "He's 13," she said simply, her voice soothing.

"So were we when we started fighting crime," Dick reminded her, his eyes still fixed on the couple.

She chuckled softly. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation," she said, shaking her head. "alright, Tim, Jason, come out," she called, her voice carrying over the playground without raising an alarm. "I'm too old to be dragging you two out of trees like you're still in shorts and capes."

The two brothers emerged from their hiding spots, trying to look casual. Meillia and her friend glanced over, and the boy waved awkwardly, his cheeks reddening. Dick felt a strange mix of pride and protectiveness swell within him.

"Mom?" Meillia's voice was sweet and curious as she approached them. The boy at her side looked up at the trio of older brothers with a mix of awe and trepidation.

"Hi, Meillia," she said, her voice a blend of affection and amusement. "Having fun?"

Meillia's eyes darted between the three of them, and she nodded, a hint of suspicion in her gaze. "Yeah, just hanging out."

Dick forced a casual smile, his heart racing. "That's great, Mel."

"Yeah, just great," Jason murmured under his breath, still glaring at the boy.

"Who's this?" she asked, her eyes on the boy, who was now fidgeting under their collective stare.

"This is Billy," Meillia said, her voice a touch defensive. "He's in my math class."

She eyes never left the boy as she nodded. "Hi, Billy. It's nice to meet you."

Billy stuttered a greeting, clearly intimidated by the sudden appearance of the three older Wayne brothers. Dick took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. They couldn't scare off every boy who looked at Meillia. That was a surefire way to push her away from them, and that was the last thing they wanted.

"Billy," Meillia said, turning to her friend with a look of horror on her face. "These are…my brothers. Dick, Jay, and Tim." She paused, then added, "Where's Dame?"

"One second." she voice was firm yet gentle as she moved with the grace of a panther around the oak tree, reaching up and plucking a squirming figure out of the branches above. Damian Wayne, the youngest of the brothers and the current Robin, landed with a thump on the ground beside them, leaves fluttering down around him.

"What the—?" Damian began, his eyes flashing with annoyance at the interruption, but they softened when he saw Meillia standing there with a boy he hadn't met before. He straightened up, brushing himself off.

"And Dame," Meillia said again, her voice filled with a hint of exasperation. "This is Billy."

Damian looked at Billy with a scrutinizing gaze that could make even the most hardened criminals sweat. "The one you have a crush on," he said, his tone devoid of any emotion.

Meillia's eyes widened, "Dame!"

"What? It's true, isn't it?" Damian said, his voice as innocent as a saint's. Dick had to hand it to him; the kid had nerve.

"Damian!" Meillia's cheeks were now a deep shade of red. "You're not supposed to tell people that!" Damian shrugged, his eyes never leaving Billy.

Their mother swung a hand the back Damian's head, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and warning. "Let's not scare him away, Dame," she said, her voice firm but loving.

Damian's eyes remained on Billy, but he nodded, his expression unreadable. "As you wish, Mother."

"Well, now that's it in the open," Jason said, stepping forward with a forced casualness that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Bill, right?"

Billy nodded, his eyes darting between the four imposing figures before him. "It's actually Billy-"

"Bill," Jason interrupted, his eyes never leaving the boy's face. "What do you want with our sister?"

Billy's eyes grew wide, his cheeks a matching shade of Meillia. "N-noth… I mean, I just… I like her, okay?" He stuttered, his hands shaking slightly.

"That's enough, guys," Meillia said firmly, stepping in front of Billy, her hands on her hips. "You're all being so weird."

Jason's gaze didn't waver from Billy's face. "You know who else is acting weird, little squirt?" he asked, a sly smile playing on his lips, "This little man right here."

"Jason," their mother warned, her tone low but firm.

Jason shrugged, his smirk never leaving Billy's face. "What? He needs to know she's not just some girl."

"Jason, that's enough," She said, her tone brooking no argument. She turned to Billy, who was now visibly trembling. "Billy, Meillia, why don't you two go grab an ice cream?" She pulled out a few bills from her pocket and handed them to her daughter. "My treat."

Meillia took the money, casting a grateful look at her mother before dragging Billy away by the hand. As they retreated, the brothers could hear her whispering fiercely to him, likely explaining who they were.

She turned to the four of them, her eyes stern. "Alright, what's really going on?"

Dick cleared his throat. "Well, it's just that Mel's never had a crush before, and we want to make sure she's okay."

Tim nodded. "And that this Billy kid doesn't have any… issues," he added, his voice trailing off.

Jason's expression was unreadable as he stared at the retreating figures of Meilliaand Billy. "He's not good enough for her," he murmured, his eyes dark.

"You know how embarrassed you could have made Meillia?" She said, her voice a mix of amusement and reprimand as she watched the retreating backs of Meillia and Billy. The four older brothers winced, feeling like they had just been caught in the act of something they knew they probably shouldn't have been doing.

"It's just that lilla is our sister" Tim mumbled, his eyes on the ground.

"I know," she said, her tone gentle. "And I appreciate that you all care so much for her. But Meillia is growing up, and she's going to have her own experiences—good and bad. It's a part of life, and she needs to navigate it on her own terms."

The boys exchanged glances, each one wearing a look of discomfort and reluctance. They had all faced their own battles in the harsh reality of Gotham, but watching their little sister go through the same was something entirely different.

"We're just worried," Dick finally spoke up. "We've seen a lot, Mom. And we don't want her to get hurt."

She expression softened as she looked at her sons. "I know," she said, her voice filled with understanding. "But the truth is, you can't protect her from everything. Sometimes, you just have to be there to help her make the right choices. Not make them for her."

The brothers nodded, though the tension didn't completely leave their bodies. They had been raised in the shadow of the Bat, and the instinct to protect was baked into their very bones.

"I'll watch over her from here," She said, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "You boys go home."

With a final nod, the brothers retreated, still keeping a discreet eye on Meillia and Billy. They didn't know how to handle this situation, but they knew they couldn't hover like overbearing guardians.

[abbbbyyy]

Bat Baby: Part 5

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Reader(mother) X Richard(Dick) Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

Summery: The bat bois finnally meet their baby sister.

Note: Thanks for the name

(I do not own any DC characters)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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She stirs awake in a quite hospital room morning, the soft hum of medical machinery the only sound to greet her. The sun has barely started to peek through the blinds, casting a faint, comforting glow across the stark white sheets. Her eyes blink open slowly, adjusting to the brightness that seems too harsh for such an early hour.

Her gaze lands on the sleeping form of Bruce Wayne, slumped in the chair beside her bed, his strong jawline slack with fatigue and his chest rising and falling in the rhythmic pattern of deep slumber. He had been there for hours, ever since she had been wheeled into the delivery room, his hand clutching hers as she had gritted her teeth and pushed through the pain.

With a gentle smile, she turns her head to the side, her eyes seeking the tiny, swaddled figure in the clear-sided bassinet next to her. There she is, their baby girl, her little cherub, with a shock of dark hair standing up in soft peaks and a button nose that looked as if it had been pinched from a doll. Her heart swells in her chest at the sight of her. She reaches out a hand, her fingers trembling slightly, to touch the soft, velvety skin of the newborn's cheek. The baby's eyes flutter open, revealing a pair of piercing blue orbs that stare back at her with curiosity and a hint of recognition.

"Good morning, my little love," she whispers, her voice hoarse from the exertion of the previous night. The baby's eyes widen, and a tiny, perfect hand emerges from the fold of blankets to grasp at her mother's thumb. She feels a rush of warmth, a bond stronger than any she has ever known. This is her daughter, her flesh and blood, the culmination of a love that has weathered many storms.

Bruce stirs awake with a deep inhale, his eyes blinking rapidly to focus on the scene before him. He sees his wife, the mother of his children, and his heart fills with a tenderness he never knew existed. Her face is etched with exhaustion but glows with the kind of joy that only a new mother can understand. He stands up, careful not to disturb the fragile moment, and leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.

She looks up at him, her smile widening. "Tired, but... happy." she looks back to the little baby, "Look at her, Bruce. She's beautiful."

Bruce nods in agreement, his gaze never leaving the baby's face. "Just like her mother," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek.

Suddenly, she expression shifts, a shadow of regret passing over her features. "I'm sorry again for lashing out last night," she says softly, her voice thick with emotion. "And for... threatening to... kill you." she smiles awkwardly.

Bruce chuckles, the tension in the room easing. "It's all forgotten, honey," he says, "You were in a lot of pain. And I love you, but I don't think you could take me on, especially in your current state." His eyes dance with humor, the corners crinkling with affection.

She laughs softly, the sound music to Bruce's ears. "Well, maybe not," she concedes, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Bruce carefully lifts the baby from the bassinet, his strong arms cradling her with a tenderness that belies his usual stoic demeanor. She nuzzles into his chest, making a contented little sigh as she's held by her father for the first time.

With the baby now in Bruce's arms, she shifts slightly in the hospital bed, making room for him to sit beside her. He lowers himself onto the edge, his one arm coming around her shoulders to pull her close. The warmth of his body and the solidity of his presence provide a comfort she hadn't realized she needed until this moment. The three of them form a small, perfect circle, a new family unit that feels both foreign and incredibly right.

As Bruce holds their daughter, he presses a gentle kiss to the top of his wife's head, his lips lingering there for a brief moment. She closes her eyes, savoring the touch, feeling the weight of the past few hours lifting from her shoulders. The love that flows between them in this moment is palpable, a force that seems to fill the room and push out any remaining shadows of doubt or fear.

"Thank you," Bruce says, his voice a warm, rumbling baritone that resonates in her chest. He doesn't have to elaborate; she knows he's thanking her for the baby, for their family, for choosing him despite his dual life. her eyes well up with tears, and she nods, her voice too choked to form words. She's thankful too, for his unwavering support and love.

The quiet of the moment is broken by the soft knock on the door, and a nurse peeks her head in. "You have visitors," she says with a knowing smile that reaches her eyes, which are kind and gentle. Her heart skips a beat, her sons have finally come. Bruce had called they late last night that they should come over in the morning, guess they couldn't wait very long.

Dick Grayson, the oldest of the bunch, is the first to enter, his eyes immediately darting to the small bundle in Bruce's arms. He's followed by Jason Todd, his face a mask of curiosity and wariness. Tim Drake brings up the rear, his gaze flicking between Bruce, their mother, and their baby sister, his expression a mix of excitement and uncertainty. And Damian, who had been in on the secret, stands slightly apart, his arms crossed over his chest as if bracing for the reaction of his brothers.

The room is filled with a tension that only families can create, a thick silence that stretches out for a few heartbeats before Tim breaks it with a nervous chuckle. "We're calm, we promise," he says, his voice a little too high.

She can't help but laugh at the sight of them all, so serious and unsure. She holds out her free hand to beckon them closer. "Come and meet your little sister," she says, her voice filled with warmth.

They quickly shuffle closer, their movements tentative, as if afraid they might shatter the delicate scene before them. Dick's eyes are wide with wonder, Jason's with a smile, and Tim's with a cautious excitement. Damian, ever the stoic one, watches with a hint of a smirk, enjoying the rare moment of unity.

Bruce carefully passes the baby to Dick, who takes her with the same gentle care he uses when handling the most fragile of gymnastics equipment. Dick's eyes light up as he looks down at her, and the room seems to hold its breath as he whispers, "Hi, sis." The baby's tiny hand opens and closes, reaching for his face, and Dick's heart melts.

Jason, standing beside Dick, watches with a soft smile, his hand reaching out to gently brush the top of her head. The gesture is almost imperceptible, but it speaks volumes about the bond he shares with the child he had no part in creating, yet feels protective of. Her heart swells as she sees the tenderness in Jason's eyes, knowing that despite their tumultuous past, he has a place in their family. "She's so tiny," he says, his voice filled with awe.

Tim's hands are clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with the effort to contain his excitement. "Can I hold her?" he asks, his eyes wide and hopeful. She nods, and Bruce carefully passes the baby to him. Tim holds her with a mix of reverence and fear, as if she might break. His movements are stiff at first, but as the baby snuggles into his chest, his body relaxes and he beams with pride. "Wow," he murmurs, looking down at her. "She's perfect."

Damian, who had been watching from the sidelines, steps forward. He's the youngest, but often the most serious and guarded. He's been looking forward to this moment, to see if the bond he felt for his brothers would extend to this new member of their unconventional family. He holds out his pinky finger, watching as the baby's tiny hand wraps around it, her grip surprisingly strong. He can feel the warmth of her skin, the rapid beat of her pulse, and something within him shifts. The fiery protectiveness that fuels his nighttime escapades as Robin flares to life in his chest, and he knows that he would do anything to keep her safe.

Bruce, sitting back down with his arm around his wife's shoulder, watches his sons interact with their new sister. He's proud of them, each in their own way. Dick, the eldest, who has stepped into the role of a leader, guiding them through their training and life outside of the Manor. Jason, who has come so far from his rough beginnings, now a strong and capable ally. Tim, the youngest of the three, who has proven to be a quick learner and a vital part of the team. And Damian, his own biological son, who is learning to navigate the complexities of his identity and heritage.

"We're sorry that we sneaked out," she says to the boys, her voice tinged with a hint of apology. "We didn't want you to worry."

"We're also sorry," Dick says, his voice thick with a mix of affection and understanding, "for being overly protective."

"Yeah, I guess we went overboard," Jason admits. They've always been a tight-knit group, but with her pregnancy, they had all felt the weight of their responsibilities even more acutely.

Tim nods, still cradling the baby with awe. "But she's worth it," he says, his voice filled with pure happiness. "Look at her, she's a miracle."

"We promise to be more supportive next time," Dick says, a hint of humor in his voice, looking between Bruce and their mother.

Jason nods in agreement. "Yeah, no more jumping to conclusions or freaking out," he adds. She laughs, the sound light and airy.

"I'm glad you boys aren't mad." she says, looking to her eldest sons.

"Mad?" Tim repeats with a smile, "Are you kidding me? We're pissed." His words hang in the air for a beat, the humor in his voice unmistakable. Dick and Jason laugh, the tension in the room dissipating like a popped bubble.

"But we think we can find some way in our hearts to forgive you," Dick says, his grin widening as he glances at Tim, who nods solemnly, still holding the baby as if she were a fragile treasure. she laughs, her eyes shining with love for her sons.

"Okay, my turn," Jason says, his voice a mix of excitement and nerves as he steps closer to the bed. Tim carefully transfers the baby into Jason's arms, who holds her with surprising gentleness, his eyes never leaving hers. The baby stares back at him, seemingly unfazed by the exchange, and Jason's heart skips a beat. It's a moment he never thought he'd experience, being a big brother to a little girl, and he's overwhelmed with emotions.

"Hey there, you're just a cute little baby aren't you?" he says, his voice taking on a high-pitched, playful tone that seems to resonate with the baby. She responds with a gurgle and a kick of her tiny legs, making them all laugh.

Alfred, the Wayne's loyal butler, steps into the room with a tray of breakfast, his eyes immediately going to the newest addition to the family. "Ah, Mrs. Wayne, Mr. Wayne, and... the newest little Wayne," he says, a warm smile spreading across his face as he sets the tray down on the bedside table.

"Still working, Pennywise?" she jokes, the nickname, a playful jab at Alfred's uncanny ability to appear whenever needed, brings a chuckle from the normally stoic man.

"Just ensuring that everyone's well taken care of, madam," he responds, his eyes flicking to the baby before he retreats to give the family their space.

"Alfred, come join us," Bruce calls out, his arm still around her shoulders. "You're a part of this family, too."

Alfred nods and approaches, his smile growing wider as he looks down at the baby. "Congratulations," he says sincerely, his British accent a comforting presence in the room. Hesitating for just a moment, he reaches out a gnarled hand to stroke her cheek. The baby's eyes follow his movements, and she coos contentedly.

Damian, who had been standing back, his arms still crossed over his chest, finally unclasps them and takes a tentative step forward. "May I hold her?" he asks, his voice softer than her has ever heard it. Bruce nods, and Tim carefully hands the baby over to Damian, who holds her with a mix of awe and trepidation. The baby seems to sense his uncertainty and reaches out a tiny hand to grasp his finger, holding on tight.

Damian's face relaxes into a smile, and she can see the love in his eyes, despite his usual stern demeanor. "Hello, little one," he whispers, his accent lilting slightly. "You've got quite the family to keep you safe." The baby looks up at him, seemingly responding to the strength in his voice, and Damian's smile widens.

As the boys continue to coo over their sister, her mind drifts to the future. The thought of raising a daughter in a household filled with so much testosterone, with Bruce's demanding schedule and the constant shadow of the Batman looming over them, fills her with a mix of excitement and trepidation. But she knows that with the love and protection of her sons, she has nothing to fear.

"What's her name?" Damian finally asks, breaking the comfortable silence that had descended over the room. She looks up at Bruce, who nods at her to go ahead. She takes a deep breath, savoring the moment. "Her name," she says, her voice strong and proud, "is Meillia," She glances to Alfred with a smirk, "Penny Wayne."

Alfred's eyes widen in shock, and his cheeks color slightly, a rare sight that brings another round of laughter from the room. She had always had a cheeky side, and it was moments like these that made her feel like she truly belonged in this strange world of masks and heroics. "Well, Miss Meillia Penny Wayne," he says, his voice filled with affection, "you certainly have an interesting family tree."

The laughter fades into a comfortable silence as the boys take turns holding Meillia, each one whispering promises and secrets into her ear. She watches them with a mix of pride and awe. They were her guardians, her protectors, and now, her brothers. Her heart swells at the thought of the adventures they would all share together, the love and chaos that would no doubt come with raising a daughter in the shadow of the Batcave.

[abbbbyyy]

BAT MOM POST LIST

Bat Bois

-Sick Bat Bois (Fluff)

- Theatrical Trio (less of Damian)(Fluff)

-Sparring Hearts (No Jason)(Fluff)

-Little Fever(Fluff)

-Guardians of Heart(Fluff)

-Bat Baby Series (Fluff)

Bat Baby Part 1(Fluff)

Bat Baby Part 2(Fluff)

Bat Baby Part 3(Fluff)

Bat Baby Part 4(Slight angst)(Fluff)

Bat Baby Part 5 (Fluff)

Bruce Wayne

-My Son (This one could be seen as Jason's) (Slight angst)(Sad)

-Not Just A Mother(Fluff)

-Beneath the Cowl(Sad) (Fluff)

-Between the Raindrops(Fluff)

Richard(Dick) Grayson

-Hair Neglecting Nightwing(Fluff)

-How Was School? (Sad) (Fluff)

-Nightmare Refuge (Sad) (Fluff)

Jason Todd

-Not a Monster(Sad)

-Death Bed(Sad)

-Big Brother (Fluff)

Tim Drake

Nothing sorry.

Damian Wayne

-Picture This... (This one could be seen as a bat bois' but with no Jason)(Fluff)

-Facing Fears(Fluff)

[abbbbyyy]

My Son

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: Reader comes down to the Batcave to find out that her dead son of five years, Jason Todd, is actually alive.

Note: this could be a Part 1 of Not a Monster

(I do not own any DC characters)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alfrid, the aging butler with a penchant for dramatics, straightened his bow tie in the dimly lit hallway as he heard her heels tap-tap-tap on the polished oak floor. "Madam," he greeted, his voice as smooth as the whiskey he'd poured for Mr. Wayne earlier, "you're up rather late."

"Couldn't sleep," she replied with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Bruce is downstairs, isn't he?"

"Yes, madam," Alfred said, his gaze dropping to the floor. "He's...dealing with something rather troubling."

Her curiosity piqued, her smile grew a touch more genuine. "Oh? What is it this time?" She knew all too well that "dealing with something" was code for Bruce's alter ego facing off against the latest menace to Gotham City. It had become a familiar tune in their life together, a nocturnal symphony of vigilantism and secrets.

"It's the Red Hood, madam," Alfred said gravely. "A new criminal mastermind causing quite a stir. He's been particularly...persistent."

"Ah, another one," she sighed, her eyes reflecting a hint of concern. She knew Gotham had a penchant for producing monsters, but this one had managed to capture Bruce's full attention. "Well I think I might go down and check on him," she said decisively, starting down the grand staircase.

"Madam," Alfred called out, a tinge of urgency in his voice, "perhaps it's best if you don't. This is...different." But his words were lost to the echo of her footsteps. He watched her descend into the abyss of the mansion, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows as she approached the hidden entrance to the Batcave.

The Batcave's heavy doors parted, revealing Bruce standing in the middle of the cavernous room, surrounded by the gleaming arsenal of his alter ego. His cowl pulled down but his eyes remained shadowed, reflecting the myriad screens and flashing lights around him. She felt a pang of guilt for intruding on his solitude, but she'd never been one to shy away from the darker corners of her husband's life.

"Bruce," she called out, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Bruce spun around, his cape swirling dramatically. "You shouldn't be here," he said, his tone a mix of surprise and concern.

"Alfred said it's serious," she said, stepping into the flickering lights of the cave. "What's going on with this Red Hood?"

Bruce's gaze darted to the screens, then back to her. He sighed heavily. "It's...complicated. Just go back to bed, I'll handle it."

But she was already moving closer, her eyes drawn to a particular image. "Is that...?" she breathed, pointing at a photo of a young man with a red hood.

Bruce stepped in front of the screen, his hand hovering over the keyboard to change the image. "It's nothing," he said quickly.

"Let me see," she demanded gently, her voice laced with a hint of steel. She could sense the tension in the air, thick as the dust that clung to the ancient relics lining the walls.

With a reluctant sigh, Bruce stepped aside, allowing her to approach the screen. The image was frozen on a young man wearing a crimson hood, with a picture beside it of their deceased son. The words 'DNA MATCH' scrolled in bold across the bottom, leaving no room for doubt.

"Jason," she whispered, her hand trembling as it reached out to touch the screen. The cold glass did nothing to alleviate the warmth of the hope burning in her chest. "You're...sure?"

Bruce's jaw clenched, his eyes dark as he nodded. "As sure as science can be." He turned away, unable to look at her. "I didn't want you to find out like this."

She felt the floor tilt beneath her, the room spinning with the revelation. "But he's dead," she murmured, her voice a mere wisp of sound. "We buried him."

Bruce's shoulders slumped. "Apparently not," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. "Or at least, not the way we thought."

She stared at the image, the color draining from her face. "We buried him," she said again, her voice firm with the conviction of a mother's grief. "I was there. I watched them lower the casket into the ground. I threw the first handful of dirt."

Bruce approached her, his hand reaching out to cover hers on the screen. "I know," he said softly. "But somehow... he's alive."

She yanked her hand away, stepping backward as if the mere touch had burned her. "No," she said, the word a sharp exhale that seemed to echo through the cavernous space. "No, no, no." She couldn't believe it. Her mind was a tornado of memories and denial, whipping through the moments of her son's life and death, refusing to accept this twisted reality.

Bruce watched her, his own pain reflected in the harsh lines of his face. "I know this is hard to take in," he said, his voice tight. "But we can't ignore it. He's out there, and he's dangerous."

"My son!"  her voice broke, the words ripping from her chest like shrapnel. "Died in that explosion!" The memory was a raw wound, a grenade thrown into her heart all over again. She remembered the sirens wailing, the flaming wreckage of the car, the way Bruce had held her as she'd screamed, the world spinning around them in a sickening blur of chaos and despair.

Bruce's hand tightened on her shoulder. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Look at me." She raised her eyes to meet his, the blue of them piercing through the gloom like the Bat Signal in a moonless sky. "Jason is alive, I don't know how, I don't know why, but he is. And he's not the boy we knew."

Her eyes searched his, desperation and confusion warring within her. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice a tremor on the precipice of breaking.

Bruce took a deep breath, steeling himself for the revelation that would shatter the last semblance of their peace. "The Red Hood...he's not just a copycat. His DNA matches Jason's," he said, the words heavy with the gravity of their implication. "The Joker killed him.. But somehow, someone brought him back. And they turned him into this...monster."

Her eyes widened in horror. "No," she breathed, shaking her head vigorously. She shrugged off Bruce's grip, her body stiff with denial. "My son isn't a monster."

Bruce said says her name, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and urgency, "we have to face the truth."

Her eyes snapped to the screen, her mind racing. The boy she'd held and loved was gone, replaced by this...this...monster? "But why?" she choked out, her voice thick with tears. "Why would they do this to him?"

Bruce stepped closer, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice cracking. "But we can't change what's happened. All we can do is deal with the reality of what he's become."

The world around she grew fuzzy as the gravity of the situation crashed down upon her. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold, concrete floor of the Batcave. The echo of her fall seemed to resonate through the cavernous space, a stark contrast to the silent sobs that racked her body.

Bruce rushed to her side, his heart heavy with the burden of his secret. He had hoped to protect her from this twisted reality, but the truth had a way of revealing itself, no matter how deeply it was buried. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she wept.

"We're going to find him," he murmured into her hair. "And we're going to fix this."

But her sobs only grew louder. "My son," she repeated, the words a mournful mantra. "My sweet boy, " Her hand clutched at Bruce's armor, her nails digging into his flesh.

[abbbbyyy]

Bat Baby: Part 4

Pregnant Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake, find their pregnant non-biological mother missing, how would they react?

(I do not own any DC characters)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

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"Hey, mom, I got your ice cream," Dick called out as he pushed open the bedroom door, the ice cream in his hand. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, the curtains fluttering gently in the cool night breeze. He paused, the sight before him not at all what he had expected. The bed was empty, the covers thrown haphazardly aside, and the room was eerily still.

His heart skipped a beat as he scanned the room, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "Mom?" he whispered into the quiet, his voice tentative. The only answer was the muffled sound of the television from the living room.

With a frown, he stepped into the hallway, calling out for her again. The house felt too still, the silence a stark contrast to the usual hum of activity that filled the Wayne Manor. He made his way through the corridors, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls. He checked the bathroom, the nursery, the kitchen, the study, the library, and even the fucking batcave, but she was nowhere to be found. His heart was racing now, fear blooming in his chest. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his bones.

The ice cream slipped from his grip, the containers of mint chocolate chip ice cream spilling out onto the floor. They landed with a soft thud, the lid popping off one of them, the cool sweetness immediately making a spill on the floor. Dick barely registered the mess as he sprinted down the hallway, the urgency in his steps echoing off the high ceilings.

Entering the living room, he found Tim and Jason still engrossed in their show, their backs to the door. "Guys," he said, his voice tight with anxiety. "Where's mom?"

They both swiveled around, their expressions mirroring his own concern. "What do you mean?" Tim asked, his eyes looking to Jason, and back to Dick.

Jason leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Didn't she go to bed?"

"Yes! But then Bruce sent me to get ice cream and when I come back she was gone!" Dick exclaimed, his voice laced with panic.

"Did you look anywhere else?" Tim asked, his brow furrowed.

"Everywhere!" Dick said, frantically. "The whole house! She's not here!"

"She's a fucking pregnant woman, she couldn't have gotten far," Jason murmured, his voice a mix of annoyance and concern. "Maybe she just went for a walk or something."

"At one in the morning?" Tim echoed. "It's not like her to just wander off, especially in her condition."

Jason stood up, his posture rigid. "Bruce should know where she is," he said, his voice laced with accusation. "Where is he?"

Dick's mind raced as he thought back. "He said he had to check something in the garage," he recalled, the memory feeling distant and fuzzy. "That was when I came into the house the ice cream."

"Go find him, Dick!" Jason barked, his eyes flashing with urgency. "Tim and I will look outside."

"Don't bother," Damian said, his voice cutting through the tension as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes heavy with a knowing that didn’t quite suit his age. "They're already gone."

The words hit Dick like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind from his lungs. "What?" he choked out, his eyes wide with shock.

"They left," Damian confirmed, his voice eerily calm. "I saw them drive off."

"What the hell?" Dick says, his mind racing. "Why wouldn't they tell us?"

"Is she okay?" Tim's voice was strained with worry as he stared at Damian.

Damian's expression doesn't waver. "They're on their way to the hospital," he says, his voice as calm as a lake on a still night. "Her water broke."

The words hit the others like a sucker punch. Tim's eyes widen, and he takes a stumbling step back. "What?" he gasps, his hand flying to his mouth. "We need to get to the hospital."

"Father told me to not let you go until he calls," he says, his voice devoid of its usual smugness.

The realization hits Dick like a truck. "Wait, you know the whole time?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Spill the beans you little shit," Jason grabs Damian by his shirt and pulls him up, his eyes blazing with a mix of fear and anger.

Damian shrugs, his eyes meeting Jason's. "They didn't want to alarm us," he says, his voice a little too calm for the situation. "They thought we'd make a scene."

"Make a scene?!" Jason's voice rises, his grip on Damian's shirt tightening. "Make a fucking scene?! I'll show you a scene!" He shoves Damian away from him, the force enough to send the younger boy stumbling backward.

Dick moves quickly, pulling Jason back before he can do any more damage. "Jason, stop!" he snaps, his voice filled with a command that he rarely uses. "We need to focus on finding them, not fighting with each other."

Tim nods, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear. "He's right," he says, his voice shaking slightly.

Jason's eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. "I don't care what this little boy says, I'm going," he says, his voice a low growl.

Dick grabs his arm, his eyes pleading. "Jason, please," he begs. "It's what mom wanted."

Jason's gaze darts to Damian, then back to Dick, his anger slowly morphing into understanding. "Fine," he says, his voice gruff.

"Good," Dick says, letting out a sigh of relief. "We'll wait for Bruce's call. And when he does, we're going to be calm. No panicking, no shoving," He glances from Damian and Jason. "We need to be there for her, not cause more stress."

They all nod, and sit on the couch, the leather cool against their skin. The room feels suffocatingly quiet, the air thick with unspoken anxiety. The only sounds are the distant wail of a siren and the occasional beep from the security monitors. Each one of them stares straight ahead, lost in their own thoughts.

Hours later, the Dick's phone rang.

Next

Writer's note: Gonna be honest I see a lot of other wristers naming the daughter of Reader X Bruce, Martha, and I'm sorry, but I don't really love the name. Can I PLEASE have some other girl names idea? Then I'll make a Part 5.

[abbbbyyy]

Little Fever

Reader(mom) x bat boys (Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne)

Summery: You catch a fever one night, all of your sons want to stay by your side.

(I don't own any DC characters)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was making herself coffee, the quiet hum of the machine a loud background noise in the otherwise silent penthouse. The digital clock on the microwave blinked 3:14 AM, a time that was both too late for insomnia and too early for the beginnings of a new day. The moon cast a soft, pale glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the gleaming chrome surfaces with a cool, blue light. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, the heat seeping through her skin and into her bones, a stark contrast to the chill of the room. Her eyes felt heavy, but she blinked away the fatigue, knowing sleep would be elusive tonight.

The first signs of the fever had appeared just hours earlier, a sudden warmth that spread through her body like a wildfire. She had tried to ignore it, chalking it up to the heat of the city outside, but when the chills began, she knew she couldn't hide from it anymore. The boys, her makeshift family, were all tucked in their beds, oblivious to the battle she was fighting. She took a sip of the steaming drink, letting the caffeine and warmth wash over her, hoping it would be enough to clear the fog in her head.

The door to the kitchen slid open and Dick, the eldest, stepped in, his eyes immediately finding hers. He was dressed in his nightclothes, his hair a mess from sleep. "Oh, it's you," he said with a sigh of relief, probably expecting to find Bruce in his usual nighttime patrol. "What are you doing up so early? And making coffee?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, her voice a whisper, not wanting to disturb the silence of the night.

"I bet you couldn't, with the racket this thing makes," he says, gesturing to the coffeemaker with a smirk as he crosses the room to join her. His bare feet make almost no sound on the cool marble floor, a testament to his years of stealth training. He takes the mug from her hand and sets it aside gently. "You know, caffeine isn't exactly the best cure for what ails you." His tone is light, teasing, but there's a thread of concern in his eyes that she can't miss.

"I know," she says, managing a weak smile. "But sometimes a girl needs her vices."

Dick's smile fades as he feels her forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up," he says, his voice suddenly serious. "You should be in bed."

"I'm fine," she insists, though her words are met with a skeptical look from Dick. "It's just a little fever."

Dick's eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms. "A little fever can turn into a big problem if you don't take care of yourself. You know Bruce would have a fit if he knew you were up making coffee at this hour."

"Well, let's not tell him, then," she jokes weakly, though she knows he's right. "But really, I'll be okay."

Dick shakes his head, a stubborn set to his jaw that mirrors his father's. "I'll be the judge of that," he says, already turning to a drawer and pulling out a thermometer. The plastic stick reflects the moonlight as he snaps it open. "Open up."

With a sigh, she complies, allowing him to slide the cool tip under her tongue. The digital numbers on the display flicker to life as it reads her temperature. Dick's expression tightens as he looks at the results. "101 degrees," he murmurs. "That's not 'just a little fever'."

"Okay, okay," she concedes, leaning against the counter for support. "Maybe I'll go lie down for a bit."

Dick nods firmly. "That's more like it. You need to rest." He takes her by the elbow and gently guides her towards the staircase that leads to the upper level of the penthouse. "Come on, I'll help you to bed."

As they ascend the stairs, she can feel the heat radiating off her body, each step a small victory against the wave of dizziness that threatens to overwhelm her. She's grateful for Dick's steady presence beside her, his grip tight but reassuring. When they reach the bedroom, he helps her into the cool, crisp sheets, the fabric a heavenly balm against her feverish skin. He pulls the comforter up to her chin, yhe room spins slightly, but she squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on the comfort he's providing.

Jason, the second oldest, appeared in the doorway, his eyes bleary with sleep. "What's going on?" he asked, his gaze immediately finding her.

"Just a little fever," Dick said, his hand on her forehead, checking the temperature once more. "I'll get you some Tylenol and water."

"Thanks," she mumbled, her eyelids drooping as she settled into the pillows.

With a nod, Dick returned out of the room, leaving Jason with a silent promise to return soon. She felt the mattress shift as he flopped down beside her, his body heat adding to the warmth of the bed. He buried his face into the pillow and muttered, "It is too bloody early."

Her smile was faint. "It's okay. Just go back to sleep."

"And leave you in the hands of the nurse?" Jason quipped. He sat up, his gaze never leaving hers. "Not on my watch."

The room was quiet for a moment, filled only with the sound of her shallow breathing. She could feel the warmth from his body and the gentle pressure of his hand on her forehead. "All I'm saying is, did you have to get a fever at three in the morning?"

A faint chuckle escaped her lips, the sound foreign to the stillness. "I'll try to schedule it better next time," she murmured.

Tim, the third oldest, slipped into the room, his eyes scanning the scene. He was dressed in his usual attire, a simple t-shirt and shorts. "Why are you all up so early?" he asked, his voice groggy with sleep as he rubbed his eyes.

Dick passes Tim at the door, a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol in hand. "Mom's got a fever," he says quietly. Tim's eyes widen with concern, and he quickly moves to the bedside. "How bad is it?"

"It's not too high," Dick reassures him. "But she needs to rest and stay hydrated." He opens the bottle and shakes out two pills, holding the water to her mouth as she swallows them. The cool liquid is a relief to her parched throat. "I've got it," he says to Tim. "You go back to bed."

Tim nods, but instead of leaving, he pulls out the chair from the vanity and sits down, crossing his legs under him. "I'm good," he says, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'll stay."

The concern in Tim's gaze is unmistakable, and she feels a warmth in her chest that has nothing to do with the fever. She tries to protest, but the words die in her throat. These boys, her makeshift sons, had grown into such capable, caring young men. They had all suffered their fair share of pain and loss, yet here they were, in the early hours of the morning, worried about her.

"Jason, we're trying to keep her temperature down, out of the bed," Dick says firmly, his tone a mix of affectionate exasperation.

"Fine," Jason groaned loudly, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation. He reluctantly climbed off the bed, allowing the cool air to wash over her. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the loss of his warmth, but she knew it was for the best.

Without another word, Jason had plopped himself down on Tim's lap in the chair, a cheeky grin on his face. "If I can't keep mom warm, "then I'll just warm Tim up instead."

Tim's eyes widened in surprise, and he tried to push Jason off, his legs flailing. "Get off me! Your butt is crushing me!"

Jason just chuckled and tightened his grip. "Feel the warmth young Timmy, let it envelop you like a feverish embrace."

"I can't breathe," he gasped out with a grin.

"Good, then I'm doing my job," Jason said, his voice mischievous. Despite his playfulness, she could see the genuine worry in his eyes as he looked at her.

The door creaked open once more, and Damian, the youngest, peered in, his dark hair sticking up in all directions. "What's with all the noises?" he grumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "It's the middle of the night."

Dick looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in a silent gesture of comfort. "Mom's not feeling well," he said softly.

Damian's eyes grew round with concern, and he padded over to the bed "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice quieter than she'd ever heard it.

"Just a bit of a fever," she said, trying to keep the weariness from her voice.

Damian looked at Jason and Tim, his expression unreadable. "And those two?" he asked, nodding at the chair.

"Brotherly love," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite her fever, she couldn't help the fondness that filled her chest.

Tim's face grew red, his efforts to push Jason off him doubling in intensity. "It doesn't fell like it," he gasped. Dick couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his brothers.

"Okay, okay," Dick said, standing up and pulling Jason to his feet with ease. "Up you go, you're not exactly the warm compress type."

Jason shot him a look but allowed himself to be removed, stretching dramatically before settling on the edge of the bed. "Fine, but I'm not going anywhere," he said, his eyes still on her.

Tim took a deep, exaggerated breath and let it out with a dramatic sigh. "Ah, the sweet taste of oxygen,"

The room filled with chuckles, the tension easing slightly. Dick handed her the water, and she took a grateful sip, the coolness spreading down her throat.

"Thanks, guys," she said, her voice still weak but filled with affection. "But really, you all should get back to sleep."

"You're right, we should go to sleep." Jason said, his voice filled with mock defeat. But instead of leaving, he flopped back on the bed, his body sprawling out in a way that was both endearing and alarmingly similar to Bruce's when he was trying to be comfortable.

"Jason," she warned, but it was too late. He had already pulled the blankets up to his chin, his eyes closing with feigned innocence. The room was filled with the sound of her own laughter and the boys' smothered giggles.

"Well, if he's staying, so am I," Tim said, his voice a mix of amusement and stubbornness. He lays down at her feet, his body curling up into a ball, his head resting on the edge of the bed. Damian, not to be outdone, slid in beside Jason, .

"Fine," Dick sighed, a small smile playing on his lips despite the early hour and the seriousness of the situation. "But if her fever doesn't break soon, we're all gotta leave, okay?"

Jason mumbled an agreement, his eyes already half-closed, while Tim nodded solemnly. Damian perfectly squeezed between Jason and Dick. For a moment, she felt a pang of sadness that Bruce wasn't here to share in this odd, yet comforting moment, but she quickly pushed it aside. This was their own brand of family, their own way of supporting each other.

[abbbbyyy]

Bat Baby: Part 3

Reader(pregnant wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Note: this is a longer one, but thank god we have 'read more'. ;)

Summery: You're water broke. But the first you think is to NOT tell your other sons, because the time you told them you were pregnant, they panicked! So now you and Bruce sneak out and rush to the hospital.

(I do not own any DC charaters)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

"Bruce."

The voice was faint, a mere murmur that pierced the quiet of the moonlit garden. Her hand trembled as it reached out to gently shake the man lying beside her.

"Bruce," she whispered urgently, her heart racing.

He stirred, his eyes slowly opening to meet hers. "Mmm? What is it?" he mumbled, the sleep still clinging to his voice.

"My water just broke," she said, her voice shaking more than she would have liked.

Bruce bolted upright, instantly alert. "Now?" he exclaimed, his sleepiness vanishing like mist in the morning sun.

“Shh!” Her pointer finger lands on her lips, “Not so loud. I don’t want to alarm the boys.”

Bruce frowned, concern etching lines on his face. "Why? It's their brother or sister on the way."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. "You remember when we told them I was pregnant?" she began, her voice low.

"Of course," Bruce replied, his hand moving to cover hers. "They were overjoyed. Overwhelmed, but so happy."

"They panicked!" Her voice grew a tad louder, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand. "I can't deal with that right now," she continued, her eyes wide with fear. "You know how overprotective they are. They'll go into superhero mode, and the chaos will be unbearable. Please," she begged, "let's tell them after the baby is born."

Bruce nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Alright," he said, his voice calm. "We'll handle this ourselves." He gently helped her feet.

"Okay, go get dressed," he instructed, his voice a soothing balm. "I’ll get our stuff.”

She nodded, her mind racing. She didn't want the baby's arrival to turn into a circus, not with the three of them - Dick, Jason, and Tim - turning the manor upside down.

"Where's the hospital bag?" Bruce asked, his voice tight.

She paused, her hand hovering over her round belly. "It's by the front door," she said, her voice a barely audible whisper. "But if we go out the front door, they'll see us!" she exclaimed in a hushed tone.

"Okay, that's fine," he said, his voice firm. He thinks for a moment, "We'll send Alfred to bring them when we arrive at the hospital."

Shenodded, gritting her teeth as another contraction began to build. She took a deep breath and held it in, trying to keep the pain from spilling out into the quiet night.

Bruce looked around the room, his gaze finally landing on the intercom system. "Alfred," he called into it, "could you come to the master bedroom, please?"

There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of footsteps echoed through the house. The door opened, and instead of Alfred's calm, collected face, it was Dick who walked in, "Is everything okay?" he asked, taking in the scene.

"Dick!" she gasped, her eyes wide. "We're fine," she managed to say, her breath hitching as another contraction started.

Dick looked from her to Bruce, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "What's going on?"

"She just had a… a craving," Bruce said smoothly, improvising. "It's nothing to worry about. Could you go get her some ice cream?"

Dick's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Sure," he said, turning to leave. "What kind?"

She blurted out, "Chocolate, the mint kind," hoping to buy them some time.

"Chocolate mint it is," Dick said, the tension in his voice palpable. "I believe we are out, so I'll have to go to the store real quick." he added, his eyes flickering between her and Bruce.

She nodded, her smile forced but earnest. "Thank you," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as another wave of pain washed over her. She watched him disappear into the hallway before turning to Bruce with a look of panic.

"They're everywhere," she hissed. "How are we going to sneak out?"

Bruce's gaze darted around the room, his mind racing. "We'll have to make it up as we go along," he murmured. He helped her into the bathroom and closed the door behind them. "Get dressed," he said, his voice low.

With swift, silent movements, Bruce grabbed a small bag from the closet and began to fill it with essentials: a change of clothes, her phone, and some toiletries.

The boys would be suspicious if they saw them disappear into the night without notice, so he had to be quick and precise. He tossed in a pair of comfortable shoes, her favorite blanket, and a few snacks she had been craving lately.

In the bathroom, she changed into a loose dress, the soft fabric caressing her skin as she tried to ignore the growing tightness in her belly. She looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes lingering on her reflection. Her hair was a mess of tangles from the night's rest, and her eyes were lined with shadows of fear and pain. But she knew that soon, she would be holding their child in her arms, and that thought gave her strength.

Leaning heavily on the counter, she took deep, slow breaths as the contractions grew stronger. She watched as her belly tightened, the baby moving restlessly inside her. The marble counter was cool against her palms, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from her body. She focused on Bruce's instructions, counting each contraction under her breath.

Bruce emerged from the closet, the bag in his hand. He approached her, his eyes full of reassurance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

She nodded, biting her lower lip to keep the whimper from escaping.

Bruce took her hand firmly in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a comforting gesture. "We're going to do this," he murmured, his eyes holding hers. "We're going to get to the hospital and have our baby without the boys turning the whole thing into a superhero operation."

With a nod, she allowed him to guide her out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. The contractions were getting closer together now, and she had to lean on Bruce to stay upright. "I'll drive," he said, his voice low and calm. "You just focus on breathing."

They made their way downstairs, each step an eternity for her. She gripped Bruce's arm, the pain in her abdomen growing more intense with every passing moment. The house was eerily silent, the only sounds the echoes of their footsteps and her soft gasps for air. The darkness of the manor seemed to close in around them, a stark contrast to the brightness of the night outside.

As they approached the living room, Bruce's grip tightened. She knew the layout of the house like the back of her hand, but the fear of being caught was a new and disconcerting sensation. They paused at the edge of the doorway, the soft glow of the television flickering across the room.

Tim and Jason sat on the couch, their eyes glued to the screen, with their backs turned. They were both dressed in their pajamas, a rare sight for the two young men who often patrolled the city as Robin and Red Hood.

"You get to the back door, I'll distract them," Bruce whispered, his voice a comforting rumble in her ear.

Her eyes searched his, finding the determination and love she needed. Bruce stepped into the living room, his eyes locking onto Tim and Jason as he steps before them, grabbing their attention. "Jason, Tim," he said casually, his tone a masterful blend of calm and authority.

With one final nod, she took a deep breath and made a break for it. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she hurried down the hallway, each step a silent prayer that she wouldn't be heard.

She quickly goes, her heart hammering against her ribs like a caged bird desperate for freedom. Her feet whisper against the cold marble floor, each step a silent dance of pain and urgency. The contractions are getting closer, a relentless rhythm that demands her full attention. The air in the hallway feels thick and heavy, as if it's trying to hold her back, to keep her from her destination.

Leaning heavily against the wall, she gasps for breath, her hand splayed out over the smooth surface. It's cool against her flushed skin, a tiny bastion of relief in the storm of sensations. The wallpaper's delicate pattern blurs as she squeezes her eyes shut, focusing on the simple mantra that Bruce had taught her during their prenatal classes: inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth.

As the contraction subsides, She opens her eyes to find herself staring into the piercing gaze of Damian Wayne. He's standing a few feet away, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Where are you going?" he asks, his voice a sharp demand.

Her heart skips a beat. "Just… to get some air," she lies, her voice strained. "I'll be right back."

Damian's eyes narrow, the shadows playing across his face as he assesses her. He's too smart to be fooled so easily, and she can see the cogs turning in his mind. "You're in pain," he states, his voice softer than she's ever heard it.

"It's nothing," she insists, trying to smile, but her face feels tight, the muscles refusing to cooperate. "Just… a cramp."

Damian doesn't budge. "You're lying," he says, his tone unyielding. "Your water broke, didn't it?"

She eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to protest, but no words come out. She's caught.

"Damian, please," she whispers, her hand moving to her belly. "You can't tell them. If they know, they'll panic, and then I'll panic, and that's the last thing I need right now. Please."

Damian's expression softens, and for a moment, the hardened exterior of the young boy who had seen too much of Gotham's darkness cracks to reveal the concerned child beneath. "I won't say anything," he promises, his voice low. "Let’s get you to the car."

Her eyes fill with tears of gratitude as she nods, leaning heavily on the youngest Wayne as he leads her to the back door. The night air is cool and damp, a stark contrast to the warmth of the manor, but it feels like a breath of fresh air after being trapped in the oppressive silence of her impending labor.

The car, Bruce's sleek black, sits waiting in the shadow of the garage. Damian opens the door with a quiet click, and she slides into the passenger seat, her movements slow and deliberate as the contractions continue to build. He carefully fastens her seatbelt, his movements gentle and surprisingly tender.

"Thank you," she whispers, her eyes closing as she leans back into the leather seat. The pain is more intense now, each contraction a crescendo that seems to shake her very soul.

"Damian, what are you doing out here?"

Dick's voice sliced through the night, and her eyes shot open. She hadn't even heard his approach, so focused was she on the growing discomfort in her belly. The mint chocolate chip ice cream he held was a stark reminder of the ruse they had concocted to keep their secret.

Damian ever so calmly closed the car door and strode over to Dick, his movements fluid and silent as a cat. "I wanted to check the car," he called out, his voice steady despite the turmoil he had just witnessed. "Make sure it had enough gas for when mother suddenly goes into labor."

He couldn't see the panic in her eyes through the tinted windows, the contractions grew more intense, each one stealing her breath and tightening her grip on the seat. She watched as Dick, his eyes searching the night as if he could sense the urgency in the very air. "Sudden labor? What makes you think she'll just sudden be ready to drop?"

Damian's eyes flicked over to the passager side, for a brief moment, a silent promise of solidarity. "Just a feeling," he replied, his voice a practiced lie. "You know how unpredictable it can be."

Dick frowned, his gaze lingering on his younger brother before turning back to the house. "I'll be right back," he called out, his footsteps retreating into the manor. She watched him go, her chest heaving with each labored breath.

Damian wasted no time. He quickly opened the garage door, the sound of the electric motor a jarring intrusion in the quiet night. The moon cast a silver glow across the gleaming bonnet of the car, the light reflecting off the chrome in a ghostly dance. She felt a fresh wave of contractions, gripping the armrest with white knuckles as she fought the urge to scream.

Damaian rushed back to the passenger side and opened her door, his eyes searching hers with a rare concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

"I'm fine," she managed to gasp, panting heavily. "Where's Bruce? We need to go. Now."

Damian nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "I'll go get him," he said, his voice firm. "You stay here."

Before he could move, however, Bruce's footsteps echoed through the garage, his shadow stretching across the floor. "I'm here," he said, his voice calm and steady. "I had to give Dick an excuse. Damian, what are you doing here?"

Her hand tightened on the armrest as another contraction hit, stealing her breath. "Bruce!" she managed to choke out. "We have to go!"

"Shit, coming," he murmured under his breath, a hint of panic in his voice. He quickly jogs to the driver seat. "Damian, tell Alfred to meet us at the hospital with our hospital bag," he instructed, his voice low but firm. "And don't let the boys come until we give the okay, alright?"

Damian nodded, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "Understood," he said, his voice calm and composed.

Bruce quickly started the engine, the low purr of the powerful machine a comforting sound in the tense silence. Her gripped the door handle, her knuckles white as another contraction hit her like a freight train. "Bruce!" she moaned painfully, her eyes squeezed shut.

He glanced over at her, his jaw set in determination. "Hold on," he murmured, shifting the car into gear. The tires squealed softly as they pulled out of the garage, the night swallowing them up as they sped towards the hospital.

The car's headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the twisting road ahead. Her eyes remained shut, her breathing ragged and shallow as she tried to manage the pain. Each contraction was more intense than the last, her body a symphony of agony and anticipation. Bruce's hand found hers, his grip firm and reassuring as he navigated the familiar path to the hospital.

"You're doing great," he murmured, his eyes never leaving the road. "Just keep breathing."

She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut. The pain was unbearable now, a relentless wave that crashed over her again and again. Bruce's hand was the only anchor in the storm, a warm, steady presence that kept her from being swept away.

"Fucking hell!" she groaned, the words ripping from her chest as the contraction peaked. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her body taut as a bowstring. She felt as though she was being torn apart from the inside out, the baby's impending arrival a furious symphony of agony.

Bruce's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his eyes never leaving the road ahead. "Almost there," he whispered, his voice tight with concern. "Just hold on."

"What the fucking hell do you want me to hold onto?" She spat out through gritted teeth, her anger a stark contrast to the serene night outside the car windows. She was already tired of the pain, tired of the secrets, and tired of the fear that her labor would turn into a full-blown Gotham crisis.

He didn't respond to her outburst. He knew better than to argue with a woman in labor. "The hospital's up ahead," he said instead, his eyes darting to the GPS for confirmation. "We're almost there."

The car's tires skidded slightly as they took a sharp turn, and she felt the baby kick hard, as if in protest to the chaotic journey. She let out a low moan, "Oh, when this baby is born, you better pray I don't fucking kill you, Bruce. Because right now, I'm seriously considering it."

Bruce's jaw clenched, but he kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice tight with tension. "We're almost there. Just keep breathing."

The hospital emerged from the darkness like a beacon of hope, its lights piercing the night like a thousand tiny stars. Bruce's heart hammered in his chest as he pulled the car into the emergency bay, the tires screeching to a halt. He threw the car into park and jumped out, rushing around to her side to help her out.

"I can do it," she grunted, her face contorted in pain as she pushed herself upright. Another contraction washed over her, and she leaned heavily against the car, panting. "Just get a fucking wheelchair."

Bruce didn't argue. He dashed into the hospital, the doors swinging open with a whoosh that seemed to echo the urgency of the situation. The cool air inside was a stark contrast to the stifling tension of the car.

In moments, a nurse in blue scrubs emerged, her face a mask of calm professionalism. She took in the scene with a quick glance, then moved with purpose towards her. "Ma'am," she said, her voice soothing, "let's get you inside."

The contraction passing, and she straightened up with a wince. "Well, no shit, I'm not having a baby out here," she quipped through gritted teeth, trying to keep the panic at bay. The nurse's eyes widened slightly at the profanity, but she remained unflappable, pushing the wheelchair closer.

Bruce helped her into the chair, his touch gentle despite his urgency. "Honey, I know you're in a lot of pain," he began, his voice tight with concern. "But just keep the profanity pointing at me, okay?" He shot a quick, apologetic look at the nurse. "The nice nurse is just doing her job to help you."

"Fine," She bit out, the pain in her voice a stark contrast to the coldness of her words. "Fuck you,"

"Yes, my love," Bruce said, his voice a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves.

The nurse wheeled her through the automatic doors, the cool air of the hospital's emergency room wrapping around them like a sterile embrace. The bright lights and the smell of antiseptic were jolting after the dark, quiet journey from the manor. Her eyes snapped open, and she took in the scene with a sense of urgency that seemed to fuel her every movement.

"Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne," she said, pushing the wheelchair with an efficiency born of experience. She gripped the armrests, her knuckles white as Bruce jogged alongside her, his hand hovering protectively over her shoulder.

The hallways were a blur of white and blue as they sped towards the labor ward. The clack of the nurse's shoes echoed through the corridor, punctuated by her labored breaths. Each contraction was a battle, her body fighting against the relentless tide of pain that threatened to drown her.

Finally, the nurse stopped in front of a closed door, her expression calm and reassuring. "Here we are," she said, her voice a gentle whisper. "Let's get you prepped for delivery."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving Bruce's as the nurse wheeled her into the room. It was a stark, medical space, but the sight of the hospital bed and the monitoring equipment brought a sense of relief.

The nurse began to ask questions, but her attention was on Bruce. His eyes were filled with a mix of fear and determination, his jaw set as he nodded to each of the nurse's instructions. She could see the wheels turning in his head, planning for every possible scenario. It was a look she had seen countless times when he was Batman, but now it was for her, for their baby.

"Mrs., can you tell me how far apart your contractions are?" the nurse asked, her voice calm and soothing.

"Fuck if I know," she snapped, the pain making her irritable. "They're close. Too close."

Bruce stepped forward, his hand reaching for hers. "They're about two minutes apart," he said, his voice firm. "They've been getting stronger and closer since we left."

The nurse nodded, her gaze flicking to the monitors that had begun to beep in response to her contractions. She checked her watch and made a note before turning back to them with a gentle smile. "We'll get you into a room and start monitoring you properly," the nurse assured. "We're going to take good care of you."

"I fucking hope so," she gasped as another contraction hit, the intensity of the pain making her dizzy. The nurse's expression remained calm, but Bruce could see the concern in her eyes. She knew this wasn't the first time she'd seen a mother in such distress, but the urgency was palpable.

With a gentle touch, the nurse began to check she vitals, her movements swift and efficient. She spoke calmly, explaining each step as she went along. He eyes remained on Bruce, seeking comfort in his presence, as the nurse checked the baby's heart rate and the progression of her labor.

"You're already five centimeters dilated," the nurse announced, her voice a balm to their frazzled nerves. "Looks like baby Wayne is eager to make an entrance."

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle, his hand tightening around her. "The Wayne family trait," he murmured, his eyes shining with a hint of pride. "Always dramatic."

She glared at him, the pain momentarily forgotten. "You better not be calling me fucking dramatic," she hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes flashing. "Remember what I said back in the car Bruce."

Bruce's smile grew wider, but it was tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Of course, my love," he said, his voice a gentle tease. "I know how much you'd love to kill me, but right now let's focus on the baby."

The nurse gave them both a knowing look before focusing back on her. "Everything looks good," she said, her voice calm and soothing. "But we need to get you into a delivery room right away."

The words had barely left her mouth when a sharp pain lanced through her, "What was that?" she panted, her eyes wide with fear.

The nurse's expression grew serious. "That, Mrs. Wayne, was your baby deciding it's time to join us," she said, her voice calm. "You're in transition."

Her eyes widened with a mix of fear and excitement as the nurse called for a doctor over the intercom. The room was suddenly a flurry of activity, with medical staff rushing in and out, whispering urgently to one another. The chaos was a stark contrast to the quiet calm she had been trying to maintain throughout her labor, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of panic rising in her chest.

"Bruce," she choked out, her voice trembling. "Please don't leave me."

Her husband squeezed her hand reassuringly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice a steady promise. "I'll be right here with you."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as the contractions grew more intense. The pain was like nothing she had ever experienced, a burning, crushing force that seemed to consume her whole being. But she knew she couldn't let it control her, not now. Not when their baby was so close.

"Bruce," she panted, her eyes squeezed shut. "I'm sorry for snapping. This just hurts like hell, and I'm so tired of hiding it."

He squeezed her hand back, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing rhythm. "You don't have to apologize," he said, his voice a warm reassurance in the cold hospital room. "You're doing amazing."

The doctor rushed in, a stern look on her face that spoke of urgency. "We need to get you to the delivery room," she said, her voice firm but kind. "Your baby's ready to come out."

She nodded, gripping Bruce's hand so tightly he could feel her bones, but he didn't flinch. He was her rock, her protector, her love. The nurse wheeled her down the hallway, the lights flashing by like a strobe in a nightclub. Each bump in the floor sent a fresh wave of pain through her body, but she bit her lip, focusing on the end goal: holding her child.

The delivery room was a blur of activity, with nurses and doctors moving quickly and confidently. The cold, sterile smell washed over her, but it didn't matter. All she cared about was the warmth of Bruce's hand and the promise of their baby's arrival.

"Bruce," She whispered, her voice a raw, desperate plea as the contractions grew closer together.

He leaned in, his eyes full of love and determination. "You can do this," he murmured, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped her tightly closed eyes. "Our baby is almost here."

The doctor's voice was firm but gentle as she instructed her to begin pushing. "When you feel the next contraction," she said, "push down with everything you have. Don't hold back."

She took a deep breath, the room around her a cacophony of beeping machines and worried whispers. The only thing that grounded her was Bruce's hand in hers, his eyes never leaving hers. She nodded, steeling herself for the next onslaught of pain.

The contraction hit like a sledgehammer, and she gritted her teeth, pushing with every ounce of strength she had. Bruce's hand squeezed hers in encouragement, his eyes never leaving her face. "Good," he murmured, his voice steady. "Keep going."

Her body felt like it was being torn in two, but she pushed with everything she had, the sound of her own grunts filling her ears. The doctor's voice grew more insistent, counting down the seconds with a calm urgency.

"You're doing it," Bruce said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're almost there."

The room grew quieter, the only sounds the rhythmic beeping of the machines and the doctor's encouraging murmurs. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her entire world focused on the effort of bringing their child into the world.

"One more big push," the doctor coached, her voice filled with excitement. "You're doing it."

She took one final, deep breath, and pushed with a roar that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. The pain was unbearable, but it was dwarfed by the overwhelming love and determination that fueled her.

Suddenly, there was a change in the room. The air grew thick with anticipation, and then, amidst a symphony of relief and joy, the doctor announced, "It's a girl!"

The cry of their daughter pierced the silence, a sound so beautiful it brought tears to their eyes. She collapsed back against the pillows, exhaustion and euphoria warring on her face. Bruce leaned over her, kissing her forehead as the doctor placed their tiny, squalling newborn into her arms. The baby's tiny fists waved in the air, her face red and wrinkled from her battle to be born.

"Hello, little one," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming. She looked up at Bruce, her eyes shining with love and disbelief. "We have a daughter."

"Yes, we do," Bruce said, his voice thick with emotion as he stared down at their baby. "She's beautiful,"

The room was suddenly filled with the soft cries of their newborn daughter, her tiny voice a stark contrast to the sterile silence that had reigned moments before. Her heart swelled with love and relief, the pain of labor already fading into the background. She looked into Bruce's eyes, seeing the same love and wonder reflected there.

"What's her name?" the nurse asked, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

She and Bruce exchanged glances, the weight of their decision settling heavily on their hearts. They had discussed names endlessly, but in this moment, it felt like the most important choice they would ever make.

Next

Writers note: I have no idea what to name her. What should her name be?

Tell me what you think it should be.

And I'll make a Part 4. But only if you people give me ideas for baby girl name.

[abbbbyyy]

Sparring Hearts

Summary: a fun evening with your sons and husband.

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne

Reader(mom) X Bat boys(Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Come on, old man," Dick teased, as they spared in the well-equipped underground gym of the Wayne Manor, "Is that all you've got?" His youthful exuberance bled through his words, a stark contrast to the calculated precision of his movements.

"Dick," Bruce's voice was firm, yet a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, "respect your elders."

The gym's lights flickered briefly, casting long shadows across the mat. It was a stark reminder of the tireless vigil they kept over Gotham, even in the safety of their own home. Tim watched from the sidelines, his eyes darting between the two combatants, noting every move, every feint, filing the information away for later use.

Damian, the youngest, standing beside Tim, arms folded. Despite his young age, he was the most serious of the bunch, his eyes burning with intensity as he studied his father and brother. "I can do better," he murmured under his breath.

The sound of bar feet echoing down the stone corridor interrupted their training. All heads turned as Bruce's wife entered. She was a picture of grace in her casual attire, her smile widening when she saw them all. "Gentlemen, it's time for dinner."

The trio of young men ceased their playful banter and took a collective breath, the air thick with sweat and determination. "We'll be there in a minute," Bruce assured her, wiping the perspiration from his brow. He knew the value of a well-timed break, and the sight of his wife brought a sense of peace to the otherwise intense environment.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she stepped closer to Damian, sliding her arms around his shoulders from behind. Damian, caught off guard, stiffened for a moment before relaxing into her embrace. It was rare for him to allow such affection, especially in front of his brothers. But tonight was different; something in the air suggested that this was a moment to be cherished.

Meanwhile, Dick and Bruce continued their spar, their movements more fluid and graceful as the tension ebbed. The banter between them grew more playful, their laughs bouncing off the gym walls. Their camaraderie was palpable, a testament to the bond that had formed over the years. The rhythmic clang of their weapons filled the room, each strike and parry a silent conversation that spoke of trust and respect.

Tim looked over at Damian, who was still nestled in she embrace, his eyes watching the other two with a hint of longing. He knew that his younger brother had grown up without a mother's warmth, and it filled Tim's heart with joy to see the change in him.

Tim decided to join the moment, running and leaping onto her back, his arms wrapping around her neck from behind. "You can't leave me out!" he exclaimed, laughter bubbling in his voice. She staggered playfully under the sudden weight, but her smile never wavered as she hugged them both, one hand on Tim’s shoulder and the other on Damian's.

"You're right," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm that didn’t quite mask the warmth, "How terrible of me to not invite you to a family hug." She playfully ruffled Tim’s hair, and even Damian's stern expression cracked a little as he rolled his eyes at their antics.

In the final moments of their spar, Bruce had managed to outmaneuver Dick. He caught the younger man's staff, twisted it out of his grip, and had him pinned to the floor. Dick grinned up at him, not a trace of defeat in his eyes, only the bright spark of competition. "Not bad for an old man," he quipped, earning a chuckle from Tim and a raised eyebrow from Damian.

Bruce offered a hand to help Dick up. "Age is but a number," he said, clapping him on the back, "It's wisdom and experience that truly count." He looked at each of his sons, pride shining through the stoic mask he often wore.

She approached Dick with Tim still clinging to her back, his legs wrapped around her waist. "Oh my poor baby," she cooed, inspect an imaginary bruise on Dick's cheek. Tim giggled, feeling like a child again, free from the burdens of his nightly patrols. Dick, ever the showman, played along, dramatically wincing and nuzzling into her touch.

"Did daddy hurt you?" she asked, her voice full of feigned concern. Dick took the opportunity to make an exaggerated sound of pain, "Ow, ow, ow," his voice rising in pitch with each syllable, making Tim laugh even harder. Damian rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips. It was a rare sight to see his usually stoic father interacting so playfully with his siblings.

Bruce stepped back, his own smile growing. "Wise guy," he said, shaking his head at Dick, "You know you had that coming." The room was filled with the sound of good-natured ribbing, a stark contrast to the solemnity of their typical training sessions.

"Bruce, how could you?" her voice was light, teasing. "Hurting your own son like that," she playfully scolded, her eyes dancing with mirth.

Dick took full advantage of the moment, allowing his head to loll back into she embrace as he made a dramatic show of wiping a tear from his eye. The sound of his fake sobs was anything but convincing, coming out more as a series of stifled giggles. Tim's laughter grew louder, his grip on her tightening as he bobbed up and down with each burst of mirth.

"And right in front of your other sons," she said, her voice lightly chiding, though her eyes sparkled with affection as she reached up to pat Tim's head, smoothing his messy hair.

Bruce chuckled, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. It was a sound they didn't often hear, but when it did surface, it was like a warm embrace, wrapping around the room and the hearts of the people in it. "It's all part of the job," he said, his smile genuine as he stepped closer to the group, his arms open.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed playfully, her eyes widening as she saw Bruce approaching. She playfully swung Tim around, setting him on his feet. "Bruce is going in for another attack! Run, my precious little birdies!"

Her words snapped them out of their moment of light-hearted banter. Dick and Tim took off, their laughter echoing through the gym as they sprinted towards the exit, their footsteps pounding against the cold concrete floor. Damian, ever the stoic, took a more dignified approach, sauntering away with a smug look on his face, as if the mere suggestion of running was beneath him.

Bruce watched them go, his eyes lingering on Damian before turning back to his wife. "Thank you, darlin," he said, the warmth in his voice genuine. "They need moments like this."

She stepped closer to him, her hands coming to rest gently on his arms. "And so do you, love," she replied, her gaze searching his. "You carry so much of this world's burden on your shoulders. "

Her words resonated deeply within him. As Bruce, he often found himself lost in the shadow of the Bat, the weight of his crusade against injustice ever present. But as a father and a husband, he knew that moments of levity were essential for their sanity. He leaned down to kiss her, feeling the warmth of her lips against his. It was a simple gesture, but it recharged him, reminding him that there was more to life than the never-ending fight.

"You're right," he murmured against her cheek, "I'll join you in the dining room."

As the boys disappeared up the stairs, their laughter echoing in the corridor, she stepped back, her hands on Bruce's shoulders. "Yeah, and then you need a shower," she said, her voice teasing.

Bruce sighed, a hint of exhaustion seeping into his smile. "Always bossy," he murmured, bending down to kiss her again, this time lingering a moment longer, savoring the feeling of her in his arms.

"Someone's got to keep you in check," she replied, her hands moving from his shoulders to cup his cheeks, her thumbs gently brushing the stubble that had formed during their training. The moment was tender, a brief respite from the chaos they all faced each night.

[abbbbyyy]

Dick: (showing his new costume) What do you think? Bruce: Damian: Jason: Tim: Bruce: That is not safe to wear for fighting crime, Dick. Damian: I agree with father. Jason: (mocking female voice) Yess! Slay queen! Tim: (Mimicking from TikTok) Why are you gay?

[abbbbyyy]

Dick:(Putting on lip bomb) Me(mom): Dick: Dick: What-? Me: Are you gay? Dick: Mama, it's lip bomb!

[abbbbyyy]

Bat Baby: Part 2

Reader(Mother Pregnant) X bat boys(Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne)

Summery: You go to shopping and your overlyprotective sons go with you and bring walkie talkies. Is this a cute idea or an embarrassing one?

(I do not own any DC charaters)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

"You're going to be the death of me," She chuckled, her hand resting lightly on her swollen belly, watching as her stepsons hovered over her like hawks.

"R2, this is N1, mother is feeling cranky again. Requesting backup, over." Dick Grayson murmured into his wrist-mounted walkie-talkie, not breaking eye contact with the grocery aisle. He could see his own reflection in the gleaming tins of baby food, his blue eyes filled with mischief.

Jason Todd, responded with a curt, "10-4, N1. ETA two minutes. Over."

Tim Drake, the youngest, took his role as R3 seriously, already scanning the shelves for anything that might catch her fancy. "N1, I've got eyes on a fresh shipment of those ginger snaps she craves. Permission to engage. Over."

"Affirmative, R3," came the response from Dick. "Secure the snacks and meet us at the rendezvous point, aisle six. Over."

"I just wanted to go shopping, did you have to bring the walkie talkies?" she said with a playful smile, swiping a loose strand of hair off her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed from both exertion and the warmth of their collective concern.

"Standard protocol, Mrs. Wayne," Dick replied, his voice serious but his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We can't risk any potential threats to the mission… or your cravings."

Tim emerged from the shadows, a pack of ginger snaps in hand. "Snacks secured," he announced, his usual brooding demeanor replaced with a rare smile. "Let's move out."

"R2, where are you?" Dick's voice crackled through the walkie-talkie. "I ordered for backup, over."

Jason's voice responded, "Still on approach, N1. Had to deal with a suspicious character. Nothing to worry about. Over."

She couldn't help but chuckle at their antics, though she appreciated their vigilance. Being married to Bruce Wayne, she knew all too well the dangers that could lurk in even the most mundane places. These boys were her makeshift Bat-family, her own knights in shining armor, and they were taking their roles very seriously. She felt a wave of love and warmth wash over her, and it had nothing to do with the pregnancy.

She sighs, a gentle sigh of resignation escaping her lips, and immediately the boys' heads whip around. "Mother bird," they chorused in unison, their eyes wide with concern.

"No, no, it's okay," She reassured them, waving a hand to calm the sudden storm of worry. "Just whatever you do, do not freak out-"

But it was too late. The walkie-talkie erupted into a cacophony of static and concerned male voices. "Mother bird has sighed! I repeat, mother bird has sighed! Status update, R2! Over!" Tim's voice was high-pitched and frantic.

"Copy that, R3," Jason's voice responded, sounding much closer now. "I'm on it."

Within moments, he rounded the corner, his eyes scanning the area for threats before finally landing on she . He strode over, his face a mask of concern. "Mother bird, report your status."

She laughed, the sound echoing through the aisles. "I'm fine, really. I just need to sit down for a second."

"N1, mother bird in need of emergency chair, over," Jason said into his walkie-talkie, standing right beside Dick.

Dick's eyes darted around the area before he nodded to Tim. "R3, deploy the foldable chair. Code blue."

Tim, ever the prepared one, reached into his utility belt and pulled out a compact chair. With a flick of his wrist, it unfolded with a satisfying snap, and she gratefully sank into it. The chair was surprisingly sturdy, designed to hold her weight even in her current condition. She watched as the boys exchanged a look of pride, having successfully executed their plan.

The three of them, Dick, Jason, and Tim, stood around her in a semi-circle, their eyes scanning the surrounding area with the intensity of seasoned soldiers. They looked ridiculous in the middle of the baby aisle, but she knew they were just trying to make her feel safe.

"You three are ridiculous," She said, her voice a mix of amusement and affection. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so protected, so cared for. It was a stark contrast to her previous life, one filled with shadows and secrets.

"Three?" The sudden silence that followed was so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Dick's grip tightened on his walkie-talkie as he glanced at the others. Jason and Tim's eyes widened in surprise, both looking at him expectantly.

"R4, do you read me? Over." Dick repeated into the device, his voice tight.

"I'm not doing this," a young, yet firm voice responded through the static.

The boys looked at each other, puzzled expressions on their faces. Her smile grew as she realized it was Damian, their youngest sibling. "R4, come in. Over," Dick said with a hint of exasperation.

"Damian, don't be a party pooper," Tim chided playfully. "We're just trying to keep mom safe."

"R4, this is N1," Dick's voice was firm but had a hint of a smile. "Your presence is requested at the rendezvous point immediately. Over."

"Fine," Damian's voice grumbled through the walkie-talkie. "But only because it's for Mom."

Her heart swelled with affection for her unconventional family. Despite their unique circumstances, they had formed a bond that was as unshakable as it was unorthodox. She watched as Dick and Tim exchanged a knowing look, their eyes filled with the same mix of fondness and exasperation that often accompanied their interactions with the youngest Wayne.

They headed to the check out, the clank of their gear and the squelch of their boots on the linoleum floor drawing curious glances from other shoppers. Dick took the lead, his eyes darting back and forth, ensuring their path was clear. Tim hovered protectively beside the shopping cart, ready to leap into action at the first sign of trouble, while Jason brought up the rear, his gaze sharp and assessing.

As they approached the checkout lanes, they spotted a figure that could only be Damian. He leaned against the candy rack, arms crossed, a look of boredom etched on his face.Upon seeing Avilasa, he rolled his eyes but straightened up, walking towards them with a begrudging gait.

"Mother, why are we using these… devices?" he asked, holding up his own walkie-talkie with a look of distaste.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Because your brothers are overzealous with their protectiveness," she replied, "And because it's fun."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "It is not fun," he said, his tone a clear challenge.

"R4, maintain your cover," Dick whispered into his walkie-talkie, a smirk playing on his lips. "We don't need any unnecessary attention."

She watched as Damian's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, tucking the device into his pocket with a huff. The checkout line was longer than they'd anticipated, filled with weekend shoppers and families with carts piled high. The boys took turns scanning the crowd, each of them hyper-aware of any potential threats. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride in their diligence, even if it was a bit overkill for a trip to the grocery store.

"Alright, Mother Bird," Dick announced, his voice low and serious, "We're approaching the extraction point."

She couldn't hold back her laughter as the three of them formed a human shield around her, guiding her through the line like she was a VIP at a high-security event. The cashier looked at them with a mix of confusion and amusement as they approached.

"No sudden movements now," Dick whispered dramatically, his eyes darting to the cashier. The woman looked up at him, blinking slowly, and he gave her a tight-lipped smile that was meant to be reassuring but came off more like a warning.

Jason stepped in, playing along. "We're all clear," he murmured, his voice low enough that only the boys could hear. "Proceed with the checkout protocol."

Tim nodded, his eyes still sweeping the area as he began to unload the cart. "Roger that, N1."

The cashier, a young woman with a name tag that read 'Ashley', couldn't help but chuckle at their seriousness. "Looks like you guys are prepared for anything," she said, her voice lilted with humor.

She looked up at her with a wry smile. "You have no idea," she said, her voice filled with a hint of awe at the lengths her stepsons would go to.

"R2, this is N1," Dick spoke into the walkie-talkie, his voice dropping into a dramatic whisper, "We've made contact with a friendly civilian. Proceed with caution. Over."

Jason snickered, shaking his head slightly. "Roger that, N1," he replied, his own voice echoing the playful sarcasm. "We'll keep the situation under control."

The checkout process went smoothly, with the occasional whispered code word and the dramatic scanning of their surroundings. She couldn't help but feel a bit like a celebrity with her entourage of guardians. The customers around them were either bemused or bewildered by the display, but the boys remained steadfast in their roles.

Once outside the store, the tension eased slightly. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the parking lot. The air was filled with the scent of grilling meat and distant laughter from nearby families enjoying the weekend BBQs. she took a deep breath, feeling the tension in her shoulders relax.

"Alright, knights," she said, patting her belly, "time to get this baby home before he decides to make an early appearance."

The trio nodded in unison, Damian follow at a casual distance, and they began their march to the car, each of them carrying bags filled with her precious cargo. The walkie-talkies remained at the ready, though the tension had lightened. She felt the weight of their care and the absurdity of the situation, but she knew that this was their way of showing her love.

Next

[abbbbyyy]

How Was School?

Reader(Mom) X little Richard (Dick) Grayson(Son)

Summry: Bruce brings home Dick Grayson, and he isn't really happy being here. What will it take for him to start opening up? For you to get an accident of course! Enjoy!

Note: This could be Part 1 of Nightmare Refuge

(I do not own any DC characters)

She sat in the armchair beside the bedroom window, her eyes scanning the pages of a book she had picked up from the library that afternoon. The words danced before her eyes, but her thoughts kept drifting to the day's events. The sun had painted the sky with strokes of orange and pink, giving way to a gentle dusk that wrapped the city in a soft embrace. She heard the distant hum of the city, the occasional honk of a car, and the chirping of birds settling in for the night.

The quiet was shattered by the sound of tires screeching against the pavement, and her heart skipped a beat. She knew that sound all too well—it was the unmistakable growl of the black limousine that Bruce used when he was in his other life. She set the book down, her heart racing as she hurried to the front door. This couldn't be a social call. Bruce had been gone for hours, and the urgency of the situation was clear in the way the car had pulled up.

As she reached the door, it swung open to reveal Bruce's shadowy figure, his jaw tight and eyes focused. And beside him, dressed in a simple orphanage uniform with a backpack slung over his shoulder, was a small, trembling boy.

"You must be Richard," she said, her voice gentle as she crouched down to the boy's level. He looked up at her with wide, haunted eyes, and she could see the fear and uncertainty in them. "I'm Bruce's wife, it's a pleasure to meet you."

The boy nodded stiffly but said nothing, his hands clutching the straps of his backpack as if it was his only source of comfort. She could sense his wariness, the tension coiled in his small frame. He didn't know her, didn't trust her, and she couldn't blame him. Being ripped from the only life he had ever known and brought into a mansion filled with strangers was bound to be overwhelming.

"Alfred, would you be so kind and show Richard his room?" Her eyes searched for Alfred, their long-time butler and confidant He stepped forward, a gentle smile on his lips. "Of course, Ms.," he said, his voice as comforting as a warm blanket. "Welcome to your new home, young master Grayson. I'll make sure you're well settled."

With Alfred's comforting arm around him, Dick followed, his gaze darting around the grand foyer, taking in the opulence of the mansion that was now, somehow, his home. She watched them ascend the staircase, her mind racing with thoughts of how she would help him adjust to this new life.

Turning to Bruce, who was still standing in the doorway, she could see the exhaustion etched on his face. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were filled with a mix of determination and sadness. He had made this choice to bring Dick into their lives, and she knew it was not a decision made lightly. She approached him and placed a hand on his arm.

"I'm sure he'll warm up to us." she offered, her voice soft and understanding.

Bruce nodded, his eyes never leaving the spot where Dick had disappeared upstairs. "I hope so," he said, his voice gruff. "I can't bear to think of him going through what I did."

Several weeks go by, and Dick started in school again. She made it a point to always be there when he came home. She'd have a snack ready for him, something simple and comforting like apple slices with peanut butter, or a warm plate of cookies and milk. She'd ask him about his day, trying to coax him out of his silence, but he'd just shrug and mumble something non-committal before retreating to his room. She understood his reticence; he was grieving for his old life, and she and Bruce were the embodiment of everything that had changed.

"I just don't know what to do, Bruce." she said into the phone, her voice tight with worry. "He's so quiet, so closed off. It's like he's just…existing." the engine of her car purring softly in the background as she drove home from her afternoon shopping trip.

"Give it time," Bruce's voice was measured, his patience a testament to his own tumultuous past. "He's been through a lot, and he needs to learn to trust us."

"I know," she replied, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. "But I can't help but feel like I failing him."

Bruce sighed heavily into the phone. "You're not failing him. You're giving him a home, a safe place. That's more than I had."

She nodded, her eyes misting up as she swiped at an errant tear. "I just wish he knew that."

"He will," Bruce assured her. "But we can't force it. He'll come around when he's ready."

The conversation with Bruce lingered in her mind as she navigated the city streets, her thoughts swirling like the leaves caught in the autumn breeze. She knew he was right, but the weight of their new responsibility felt heavier than ever. Dick's silence was a constant reminder of the gap that lay between them, and she yearned to bridge it.

Suddenly, without warning, a blur of headlights and the screech of tires pierced the night. Her heart jumped to her throat as she saw a car barreling towards her. She slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The world spun into chaos as metal crunched against metal, and the airbag exploded in her face with a deafening bang. The car skidded to a halt, the force of the impact jolting her body and leaving her ears ringing.

A few hours later, at Wayne Manor, Dick stepped out the black car that had brought him home from school, his school bag slung over one shoulder. The house loomed before him, a stark contrast to the warm, welcoming sight he had hoped for. The grandiose architecture felt more like a fortress than a home, and he couldn't shake the feeling of being a stranger in his own life.

He approached the front door, the same one he had first stepped through weeks ago, and paused. The usual warm glow of lights was absent from the windows, and a quiet had settled over the property that seemed unnaturally thick. Dick's stomach churned with unease as he reached for the handle, expecting to be greeted her gentle voice.

But when he stepped inside, the foyer was eerily empty.

"Hello?" Dick called out tentatively, his voice echoing off the marble floors and high ceilings. No response.

He set his school bag down and made his way to the kitchen, where he knew she often liked to spend her afternoons, baking cookies or preparing dinner. Only Alfred was in there, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a taut expression that told Dick something was wrong.

"Oh, master Dick," Alfred said, turning from the stove with a forced smile. "Welcome home. Is there anything I can get you?"

Dick's eyes searched the room, avoiding Alfred's gaze. "Uh, no, Alfred I'm fine," he mumbled, his voice cracking slightly. "I just happened to notice that she wasn't at the door when I come in."

Alfred's smile wavered, and he set down the spatula he'd been holding. "I'm afraid there's been an accident, young master." The words hit Dick like a punch to the gut. "Mrs. Wayne was involved in a car crash earlier today."

Dick's eyes widened in shock, and the room seemed to tilt around him. "Is she okay?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"She's quite alright," Alfred assured him, his eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to defy the gravity of the situation. "Mr. Wayne is with her at the hospital now. They're both shaken, but no serious injuries."

The relief washed over Dick like a wave, but it was quickly followed by a swirl of guilt. She had been trying so hard to be there for him, and he had barely said a word to her.

"Alright," he managed to croak out, his throat tight. "Alfred, might you drive me to the hospital?"

"Of course, young master." Alfred's expression remained composed, but Dick could see the concern in his eyes. They hurried to the garage, where Alfred helped him into the backseat of the car. As they sped through the streets of Gotham, Dick couldn't shake the image of her lying in a hospital bed.

The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity. The neon lights of the city blurred past the tinted windows, casting an eerie glow over the leather interior. Dick's stomach churned with a mix of fear and regret. He hadn't had the chance to tell her how much he appreciated her efforts, or how much he had grown to rely on her quiet, steadfast presence in his life.

When they arrived, the hospital was a maze of white corridors and the sterile scent of antiseptic. Alfred led Dick to the right wing, where she had been taken. His heart hammered in his chest with each step closer to her room, and he couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that maybe he had pushed her away too much.

They entered to find her sitting up in bed, a bandage wrapped around her forehead and a bruise already forming on her cheek. Despite the injuries, she looked beautiful to Dick, her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

"Dick, sweetie, you're here," she said, her voice weak but filled with love.

Dick's eyes searched hers, looking for any hint of pain or distress. "How are you?" He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch hers, but he pulled back at the last second, not wanting to cause her any more discomfort.

"I'm okay," she replied, her voice stronger than Dick expected. "Just a little bump on the head." She managed a weak smile, but the shadows under her eyes revealed her ordeal.

Dick felt his own eyes sting with unshed tears. He hadn't realized until this moment just how much she meant to him. She had become his anchor in a world that still felt like it was spinning out of control.

"I'll go and find you some food," Bruce said, arising from his chair. "Alfred, would you come with me?"

Alone with her, Dick felt his throat tighten. He wanted to say so much, but the words remained stubbornly lodged in his chest. He hovered by the bedside, unsure of what to do next. she patted the space beside her, and he sat down gingerly, his hands in his lap.

"How was school?" she asked, her voice a gentle probe into his silent world. Dick felt the sting of unshed tears at the back of his eyes. Despite her own pain and fear, she was still concerned about his day. He nodded, not trusting his voice.

"It…uh… it was good," he finally choked out. "Thanks for…for always asking." The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken emotion.

Her smile grew, the corners of her eyes crinkling with warmth. Sliding her hand into Dick's, she says, "Always," gently squeezing his hand.