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ciaraswritings · 5 months

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Gossip and Galas

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Alcohol, derogatory language, crowds, sexual references, comfort. 18+.

Word Count: 1.9K words

Summary: Shortly after her engagement to Bruce Wayne, fem!reader is met with the gossip that comes with it at one of his charity galas.

Author's Note: Finally made a masterlist, so go ahead and check that out for more fluffy stories like this. Comforting fics like this are just what I like for winter weather. I hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday season, and I hope you enjoy.

My bracelets clinked against each other on my wrist, sliding down my arm as I lifted my hand to brush back my hair, my focus never leaving the man whose arm I was grasping. He stood tall, the suit looking almost small on his frame, smiling politely while he escorted me into the ballroom. This year’s charity gala was quite full, very few people had sent their regrets. The champagne gown that hung over my body glittered, matching the diamond jewelry framing my face.

One diamond I kept hidden in my fiance's arm, dodging the prying eyes full of curiosity. Everyone wanted to see the size of the rock he had placed on my finger, desperate to be the first to share the flaming news. He had only proposed a week before, and it had hit the news almost overnight. Now, it was a free-for-all to see who could get the inside scoop first.

Breaking through my thoughts, he tilted his head downwards to hum, “Did I tell you that you look stunning tonight?”

His comment pulled a smile out of my peach-tinted lips. “You’ve said that six times.”

“Then let me say it a seventh time, you look absolutely stunning.” With the gentlest touch, he placed his hand over my arm in a comforting gesture. The affection made me forget everything for a moment, before the inevitable began.

Guests from all directions began to approach us, important names from all over Gotham, curious voices disguised with polite words. His smile opened ten different conversations at once, and I contented myself with the image of a silent trophy wife. Naturally, I had plenty to say, many words I wanted to make heard, but this was neither the time nor the place.

As I moved my left hand away from Bruce’s arm to brush away a strand of hair from my face, someone caught it in a tight grip.

“What a beautiful ring this is! What a size! Your finger is going to get tired of wearing that…” My hand was immediately surrounded by a group of five or six women, all peering down at the newly acquired engagement ring. My natural reaction was to jerk my hand back, but as I did, I was met with disapproving and disheartening looks from the curious viewers. I slowly let my hand slide back into place, allowing them to inspect with judgemental astonishment.

I turned my head back to Bruce in a silent plea for rescue, but he was occupied with a champagne glass in his hand and several well-dressed gentlemen holding his attention. Now a small crowd was gathered around my hand, many pairs of eyes leering. Using my sweetest smile, I was slowly able to pry free from the spectators and rejoin my fiance in the moment. The moment didn’t last very long.

As more and more people moved past, my lips became a straighter and straighter line. When Bruce noticed that my grip on his arm was becoming a little too tight for comfort, he turned to me with a whisper. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, can we… start walking?” I turned my head in the direction of the bar.

“Of course.” He gently guided me in the alluring direction of sparkling wine glasses, leaving a small trail of party-goers behind us.

Several exchanged words later between the bartender, and he placed a glass of wine in my hand, which I began to sip instantly. “Sorry I’m getting so uptight, I always think I’m going to handle parties better than I do.”

“It’s okay. Don’t think twice about it.” He placed a kiss on my cheek before eyeing another group of guests walking towards us with conversation topics written all over their faces. “Do you mind?”

“No, no, of course not. Go on, have fun.” My smile was fake, but my love was real. I watched him move off into the crowd, entertaining the many who were trying to catch his eye. He was going to have a good time, socialize, and later tonight I’d get all his attention.

I moved into a corner, next to a large, decorative ivory pillar where I could ease my tension and finish my glass of wine. I watched another party of women moving past me, their stares nearly piercing my left hand. Quickly, I shifted my glass into my right hand and put my left behind my back. Not only did I feel judged, I felt ridiculous. Tonight I was supposed to be the princess on the arm of my prince, ravishing in the glory of the spotlight.

It didn’t feel like glory, and I didn’t feel glorious. I didn’t want to be on his arm right now. As exciting as it was to be nearly royal for a night, after all the comments, whispers, and questions, I felt used, almost dirty. Tonight I’d been called many things in overheard conversation. So far I could mark gold-digger, leech, and other appealing titles off the list.

As I took a rather embarrassing gulp of my wine, I could hear feminine voices moving closer on the other side of the pillar. I turned my head, ready to move to a more secluded spot, before I caught a snippet of their conversation. When I heard my name, I sucked in my stomach, trying to disappear behind the stone to eavesdrop.

“Did you see how vain she looked on his arm? I can’t believe how proud she is.”

“Especially after he probably pulled her out of the gutter. Who knows how many rich, brainless guys she’s played around with.”

“You know she’s just waiting to sink her teeth into that divorce settlement.”

“Can you believe he’s so dense that he’d buy her such a huge ring? Somebody’s gotta tell him before she runs away with the next moneybag that smiles at her.”

“He’ll definitely be single in a few months. Don’t worry, Liv, you’ll get your shot with him.”

“Where’d she even come from?”

“Streets, no doubt.”

“You know, that’s probably why he’s with her! He hired her and then…”

“He fell for her the first time she gave him head.”

“Girls like her…”

“I know. What a slut.”

Gold-digger I could handle. Leech hurt, but it was fine. Slut was a cut I couldn’t manage right now. Maybe if my social energy wasn't gone, I might’ve appeared from behind the pillar looking like a goddess and given them a smart remark that would leave their glossed mouths gaping and their confidence rattled.

But that wasn’t where I was at right now.

Instead I was back at the bar, fleeing their snickers and giggles, asking the bartender to hand over another bottle of Cabernet and to not ask questions. With the bottle tucked safely under my arm and the stem of a wine glass between my fingers, I fled to the safety of the private quarters of the manor. Before I ascended the first flight of stairs, I kicked off my heels, letting them lay where they landed on the floor. My feet immediately felt relief even while climbing flight after flight of stairs till I reached the master bedroom Bruce and I had come to share.

Realizing I had no corkscrew with me, I glared down at the bottle, calculating the quickest way to open it. I don’t need all my teeth, I thought to myself. Before I could get a chance to pry out the cork, the bedroom door opened behind me, startling me. I whipped around, my heart racing, feeling guilty for abandoning the gala and running away to drink alcohol.

“Thought you might need this.” Bruce stood in the doorway with a corkscrew, his face riddled with concern and a bit of amusement.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” I ordered, marching to him and taking it from his hand. “And don’t act like you don’t have a thousand people downstairs asking for you. Duty calls.” I tried to shoo him away with my hand before he caught my wrist and pressed a kiss to my palm.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I saw your face when you left.”

“Go away, I have a date with a wine glass. I’ll tell you later.”

“(Y/N).” He calmly ushered me away from the door and sat me on the foot of the bed.

“I heard some… people… saying… things… about me.” I managed to get out.

“Which people? I’ll have them removed right now. What did they say?” His fingers brushed away loose hair that hung in front of my face.

“Nothing. I don’t want to think about it. Let me just…” I looked at him and then at the waiting bottle of Cabernet.

“Absolutely, want some company?”

Yes. “No, it’s okay. You need to get back.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do! The gala has two more hours to run!”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll go next year.”

“Right. I’m serious, you’re going to be missed.”

“I’d rather be missed by them than by you.” His eyes glared into mine with stubborn insistence. I sighed.

“I’m not getting rid of you, am I?”

“Not at all.”

“...Okay.”

Bruce grinned triumphantly before making his way to the cabinet in the corner of the room and retrieving another wine glass. When he returned, his arm automatically wrapped around my waist. “Tell me what they said about you.”

“It’s not worth it,” I replied, finally managing to open the bottle of wine.

“Allow me,” Bruce took the bottle from my hand to pour both our glasses and pressed a kiss behind my ear. “You’re going to tell me after you finish this glass anyway, might as well tell me now.”

My glare wasn’t enough to deter him from his quest for an answer. “They said you pulled me from the streets, and that I was a slut, and I was going to divorce you and run away with somebody else…”

“But that’s not true, is it?” He caught my chin with his fingers and tilted it upwards, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I didn’t find you on the streets, I found you doing what you’re best at, working hard and making a career for yourself. I can’t think of a more admirable thing you could be doing.”

I smiled at the flashback to when we had crossed paths in a business meeting. “Mhm.”

“If anything, I don’t deserve you. Not only are you beautiful, you complete me. You make me better.”

My eyes closed as he pressed a very passionate, loving kiss to my lips. His hand rested on my waist, stroking with his thumb, sending tingles up my spine. When my eyes opened again, he was smiling. I couldn’t help but do the same. “Okay. Thank you for… all of this. Leaving the party for me.”

“You will always come first. What else did they say?”

“They said you fell in love with me the first time I gave you head.”

He tilted his head, pretending to ponder the statement. “Well…”

Laughing, I gently shoved his shoulder. “Bruce!”

“Okay, okay.”

Below, the party-goers searched for us, but we didn’t return. The feeling was transforming, suddenly I felt like the most important and beautiful woman in the world. His world. There, with him, I started to feel myself not care what they said about me or what names they came up with. Here, I was just his. And that was enough.

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ciaraswritings · 5 months

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Masterlist.

Batman/Bruce Wayne x Reader

Galas and Gossip (Bruce Wayne x fem!reader fluff)

Batprank Pt. 1 (Batman x Batmom!reader fluff)

Batprank Pt. 2 (Batman x Batmom!reader fluff)

Apocalypse (Batman x fem!reader angst)

The Pink Pool (Bruce Wayne x reader fluff)

Three Minutes to Twelve (Batmanx reader fluff)

Unexpected (Batman x Batmom!reader fluff)

Other

No Going Back (Natasha x fem!reader fluff)

Anxiety (Barbara Gordon x fem!reader fluff)

Notes.

My name is Ciara, thank you for supporting the blog.

I write fluff, angst, and general feels.

Requests are open. It may take me a moment to get around to writing them, but I see each one.

Please do not repost my work. You are welcome to reblog.

Please remain respectful in your requests and comments.

Sending love to everyone who follows, reblogs, comments, and likes my posts. Your support is incredible and I never thought so many people would like what I write. <3

"I want to still have a sharp pen and a thin skin and an open heart." - Taylor Swift

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ciaraswritings · 8 months

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No Going Back

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Slight angst, fluff, cursing, unhappy relationship, bride leaving wedding, fem x fem relationship. 18+.

Word Count: 2K words

Summary: (fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff) fem!Reader is about to be married to a man she doesn't love, but her crush and best friend, Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), rescues her just in time.

Author's Note: Okay, let's maybe not run away from our weddings in real life, that's pretty traumatic to the person waiting at the altar. Still, it's romantic to fantasize about, especially when it's the confident Black Widow whisking you away. Thank you for all your support. I hope you enjoy.

What do you do when the moment you've thought about your entire life happens? How do you manage it? How do you stay calm? What if it's something you don't even want?

My mind was racing, my hands were shaking. I accidentally smeared my lip stain and nearly dropped the open tube on the white dress. The itchy heirloom dress that I didn't want to wear. It was my mother's, grandmother's, aunt's, cousin's. It was stiff, the sleeves puffed out, and pearls had been beaded across most of the seams. The poor dress had been tweaked and pinned and let out many times and looked seconds away from falling into pieces on the floor. And yet there I was, sitting in front of the church's vanity with the chipped paint, getting ready to marry the perfect man.

The perfect man. To be fair, he was perfect. His eyes were kind and his hands were gentle. I'd never heard him utter a sharp word. He was the kind of man that made women melt in the street. The kind of man my mother would practically force upon me.

I thought of all the people in my life I'd ever loved, my mind reviewing them like flipping through a catalog. Men with shiny smiles and sweet words, it was nothing new. And yet, there was someone that stood out. Someone who was drastically different from the others.

My mind settled on her. The person who knew my deepest, darkest secrets and my most painful scars. We'd met when she started coming to the café I used to work at a few years ago, collecting data on a barista there, yes, but after the case was closed she kept coming back, asking me to make me my own favorite drink every time. She hated the drink, I could tell, because she never finished it. She would linger at the counter for a few minutes, and if there wasn't a line I'd chat with her. Then she'd leave in a rush, "forgetting" the drink she had ordered.

Now, we were closer than "beers in a six pack", as she would say. She knew my favorite ways to be touched, that spot on my neck that made me tremble when she "accidentally" brushed her fingers against it. I didn't remember when I fell in love with her, or when the flirty remarks or brushes of hands against thighs began. All I remembered is how I wished it was her I was walking down the aisle to.

I let my imagination float away, I didn't notice my hands stopped shaking. I closed my eyes and imagined I was marrying Natasha in a few minutes instead of the man my mother introduced me to. I envisioned myself in a dress that I picked out myself, made of lace and tulle, floating down the aisle to her, taking her hands in mine and telling her how much I wanted to love her for the rest of my life. I wanted to tell her that from the first time I saw her, I knew that she was the person I'd fall in love with deeper than the universe's depths. Maybe in ten years we'd curl up together and thumb through a dusty album full of our wedding pictures, and read our vows to each other again in gentle whispers in between kisses.

And yet, there was barely any chance of that happening. We had never admitted any kinds of feelings to each other, though our body language displayed romantic tension to anyone who looked hard enough. To everyone who wasn't looking, she was my best friend who I spent more time with than anyone. To me, she was so much more than that. But then a man came into my life. A whirlwind romance later, he had popped the question in front of both our families. And now Nat was my maid of honor instead of my bride. Or was. She had called me last night, telling me she'd been called in for an attack in Manhattan. That she couldn't come. Maybe it was for the best, it was so painful seeing her now. Her beautiful face, her glowing hair, that smirk that made my stomach flutter.

Suddenly, all my thoughts were snapped away from me. I turned my head as the door slowly opened. It was my groom. I looked up, my eyes still hazy from daydreams and realities. "You're not supposed to see me, it's bad luck."

"I'll see you in a minute anyways," he answered, fully stepping into the church's bridal room, his black suit looking out of place among the pink and white surrounding us.

I tried to give him the best smile I could. I had only finished applying lip stain to my top lip, making my grimace look slightly disturbing. Quickly, I turned back to the mirror to finish. "I suppose so."

His hands ran up my back from behind me. The unwelcome touch made my back straighten. He stroked my shoulders before extending his hand to grasp mine, which I hesitantly accepted. "I'm so excited to marry you."

"Mhmm, I'm… I'm sure."

He didn't seem to catch onto the strain in my tone, but instead pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'd better go before one of our mothers catches me in here."

"Yeah, you'd better." Watching him exit, I rubbed at the spot he had kissed me, trying to brush away the feeling.

As wonderful of a man he was, his touch made my stomach coil. I felt... dirty after his displays of affection. Every time I had tried to tell my mother, or my friends, or anyone else, I got the exact same response. "He's perfect for you, what are you talking about? I'm so jealous of you, you're so lucky!"

"Then why don't you marry him," I'd mutter under my breath whenever I heard the comment. Yes, he was perfect. Just… perfect for someone who loved him. He deserved someone who loved him. That person wasn't me. I wished I could tell him.

But still, here I was, under my family's watchful eye, about to swear away my life to him in a single day. How is that possible? How is someone able to pledge themself to someone they don't even love in a matter of minutes? Just because everyone else likes the way they look together?

Someone else knocked, scaring away tears that threatened to spill over my mascara-lined eyes. It was probably my new maid of honor, bringing me my bouquet of lilies. "Come in, I'm… I'm almost ready."

But it wasn't the bridesmaid I had expected. It was Nat, the woman I wished I had gotten the opportunity to love, just for a little while. She didn't have flowers, and she didn't look happy. She was wearing the Black Widow suit, and I could see the dark circles under her eyes clearly.

"(Y/N), why are you doing this? You can't be serious." Long strides brought her to my side in a matter of moments.

"Why wouldn't I be doing this? I'm getting married to a great guy, it's not rocket science." I turned back to the mirror to keep the lump in my throat from rising.

"You're right, it's not rocket science. It's deeper than that." She grabbed my arm and I looked up at her. Her eyes shot right into mine like piercing bullets. "You're marrying someone you don't even love and you know it."

"What makes you an expert on who I love?" I didn't mean to snap, but my voice was cross. "You're not even supposed to be here, what happened to Manhattan?"

"I didn't go, okay?!" Her voice rose, and she hadn't stopped looking into my eyes in that violent way. "I had to come here and tell you what a mistake you're making! I was praying for months that you were going to call me one day and say 'just kidding, it was a prank', but you never did. And now I have to see you marry that… that… that!"

"That is going to be my husband, and I don't see why you hate him so much all of a sudden! I thought you supported my decisions."

"I do… when it's not a stupid decision."

I rolled my eyes at her. "So what the hell makes this a stupid decision? You're not a love expert, so stay out of it. You're ruining my wedding day."

"It was ruined from the start. You shouldn't be marrying someone you don't love."

Returning the statement with a glare, I rose to my feet. "And who do I love, Natasha?"

Before I could process what was happening, she suddenly pulled me closer, her lips crashing against mine in the most passionate kiss I'd ever felt in my life. Her hands grabbed my hips to pull my body to hers as I returned the kiss. It wasn't lustful, it wasn't sexual, it just said everything her words couldn't. When she pulled away from me and looked into my eyes again, I could see… relief. Gone were the angry arrows aiming at me.

She reached up to stroke my neck, her thumb running against that one spot. "Get out of that fucking hideous dress and meet me in the car outside. Let me… just let me give you what you deserve."

Natasha disappeared out of the bridal room before I could even register what she had said or done. The colors of the walls and dresses surrounding me melted into a pool of watery color as I pressed my fingertips to my lips. My heart was in my throat, my stomach was in a knot… but… I liked it. I didn't want this feeling to end.

"(Y/N)? Here are your flowers, it's time." A bridesmaid, one of my mother's friends, poked her head into the room and set my bouquet on the vanity in front of me. "Aren't you excited?"

"Oh… yeah… excited." I picked up the flowers cautiously, as if they were a snake about to lash out.

"Gosh, you look like you're about to bawl. I know you're happy but don't ruin your makeup, you have to look fresh for your husband. No going back now!" She too disappeared out of the room before returning with a funny look on her face. "I think I just saw an Avenger in the hall, maybe I had too much punch."

"You probably did have too much punch." I pressed my fingers to my lips again as the bridesmaid bustled out of the room. I could hear the organ music begin to play, I knew the wedding ceremony was about to begin. And I knew what I had to do, for everyone's sake.

…

Sunlight kissed my shoulders and nose as I slipped out the church kitchen's back door. I was wearing the same jeans and shirt I had shown up in. My hair was down, flowing, free of the pins and pearly headpiece that had been twisted into it earlier. I carried two things, the bouquet of lilies tucked under my arm, and in my hands, a large box that contained a lemon-vanilla bean cake that had been meant for the reception. They were mine, I paid for them, and now I was going to share them with someone I actually cared about.

I didn't hesitate to slide into the passenger seat of the black Corvette, next to my new adventure in life. I placed the box next to my feet before turning to her, unable to keep the smile off my face. "Sorry about that, I couldn't unbutton the last buttons."

"I should've stuck around to help you, but I didn't really want anyone to see me." Nat started the car before turning her head and leaning in for a kiss as deep and meaningful as the one we had shared inside. She pulled away, but only just, our noses brushing against each other and our lips inches apart. I opened my eyes to stare into hers before she spoke again. "You really should marry someone you love, (Y/N)."

"Did you just propose to me or…?" The smile I couldn't hide grew when she laughed and put the car into reverse. As we drove out of the parking lot, I lifted the bouquet to my nose and nuzzled one of the roses. No going back.

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ciaraswritings · 8 months

Note

I feel like AT the restaurant they go to, Batmom goes into labor. She feels her first contraction, then spills her water on herself from the shock of it. Bruce does not believe her and they bicker about it with Y/N going “would I REALLY lie about this!?” And her husband gives her a look. Then she starts debating if it was gas or a contraction, or what have you.

It isn’t till Alfred comes back from the bathroom that the rush would start.

Batprank (Pt. 2)

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Very light argument, pregnancy, pranking, contractions, labor, delivery, newborn, parents holding newborn. 18+. If these are sensitive topics for you, go ahead and skip this one.

Word Count: 2K words

Summary: Batmom!reader goes into labor at her favorite restaurant and gives birth to her baby with her husband close by in Wayne Manor.

Author's Note: You guys crack me up, great part two idea, anon. It's pretty light-hearted at first, but towards the end of the story, I included a birth scene. I've never gotten to have a home birth, so I apologize if there were inaccuracies. Let me know if you want a part three. Thank you for all the incredible support, and I hope you enjoy.

Part One

Warm August sun tickled my nose as I stepped out of the car, taking a little more time than I was comfortable admitting, caused by nearly nine months of pregnancy's effect on my stomach. Not that I was complaining. I was thrilled to be having Bruce's baby. It fulfilled the desire to be a mother that I'd had for years, and to be having a child with the love of my life? A fairytale come true. Even if we couldn't agree on baby names, even when I pulled labor pranks on my husband, even when I was being bombarded with concern by all our family members, especially our children. Earlier in the afternoon I had played a tremendous joke on all our family members, except for the all-knowing Alfred, pretending to have gone into labor. It was very convincing, and somehow we wound up at my favorite diner in the process of driving to the hospital.

I joined my husband in the empty restaurant. It was three o'clock, the last customers of the lunch rush were slowly shuffling out the door, and it looked like the dinner rush had not yet made an appearance. I smiled at him as I intertwined my fingers with his, sliding into the booth next to him where he waited for the takeout order he had just put in.

"You could've waited in the car, it'll be ready soon," he pressed a kiss to my cheek and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I smiled, practically melting into his embrace, laying my hand on my stomach.

"That's okay, I kinda wanted water while we wait for it." I gave my husband a quick look.

"Heh, and I'm guessing you need me to get that for you?"

"Obviously, you got me pregnant, now you get to take care of me." I slid out of the booth to allow him access to the soda fountain, tapping my foot in mock impatience.

"You scared me to death with that prank of yours earlier, don't push it," he chuckled, rising and pressing a kiss to my cheek before going to retrieve my water.

I rolled my eyes at him, sitting back down in the booth, still with a playful smile on my face. "I love you, Bruce."

"Uh-huh." He set the cup of water on the table in front of me before leaning down to place a loving kiss on my lips. As I returned the kiss, our order number was called from the front counter. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," I smiled and turned to the water cup in front of me, sipping from it and relaxing against the faux leather seat. I drummed my fingers against my stomach and thought about our unborn daughter, just as I had every day for the last six months. How happy Bruce would look when he held her for the first time. How her little fingers and toes would look. How excited Alfred and the kids would be to hear that she was finally born. It'd been a long and interesting journey for all of us, and it would soon come to its end.

The realization that the kids were still at home in a state of panic hit me harder than a cold pool on a hot summer day. "Shit," I muttered, pulling out my phone and quickly dialing Stephanie's number. She was the most likely to answer, I knew, and I was right.

"Hello?!" The excited squeal made me pull the phone away from my ear for a moment.

"Hello, Stephanie, I just wanted to let you all know... could you put the call on speaker, please?"

“Yeah! Okay, there you go, tell us what’s happening!” Stephanie’s excitement was pouring through the speaker of my phone like water.

“Mom? Mom, what’s going on?!” I could hear Jason’s voice, much more awake than when we had left the manor to rush to the hospital.

“I figured I needed to let you guys all know that my going into labor was a-” at that very moment I felt it, a long, drawn-out and yet sharp pain moving through my lower abdomen. It stunned me nearly into silence, accidentally spilling half of the contents of my water cup onto my lap. It almost felt like the horrible menstrual cramps that I hadn’t felt for such a long time.

“Mom? It was a what?” Tim’s voice broke through the pause.

“Oh, not a prank, not a prank, not a prank!” I groaned as the pain rippled through my lower stomach. Not that it was unmanageable, it was just so surprising and… a tiny bit terrifying. No, it was very terrifying. The due date wasn’t for two more weeks, I didn’t expect this, I hadn’t mentally prepared, this was truly scary.

“Not a prank?” It was Tim again. “What do you mean, we know that.”

“I didn’t mean anything!” I took two deep breaths as the sharp pain faded into a dull throb, then almost disappeared. “Just… forget I said anything! We’ll give you an update soon, love you lots, bye,” I ended the call before the curious group on the other end could get another word in.

As I set down the phone on the table with a thud, my husband arrived by my side with a plastic bag. “Are you ready to… what’s wrong?” He set it down, kneeling to inspect my tense face.

“I… I think I just got a contraction,” I whispered, looking over to him.

Bruce looked from my face, to the spilled water in my lap, then back to my face before standing. “Nice try, honey, let’s get going.”

“No! No, I mean it!” I looked up at him, grabbing his hand with mine in a death grip. “I’m not kidding this time. I’m not. You have to believe me.”

My husband looked at me for a moment before kneeling next to me again. “(Y/N), are you being serious? You know the story of the boy who cried wolf, don’t you?”

“Would I really lie about this, Bruce?!” I looked down at my stomach and pressed my fingers to the underside. “I swear, I felt it, I felt a contraction!”

My statement was met with a look of doubt. “(Y/N), we’re two weeks away from the due date, I’m sure it was just… gas or discomfort, it couldn’t have been a contraction.”

I returned his look with a withering glance. “Bruce Wayne, I swear, that was not gas. I think I’d know the difference.”

“Honey, you can’t be having contractions yet…” Bruce’s confidence was starting to crack. He gave my stomach a worried look.

“Oh yes I can, you know that babies can come anytime they choose.”

“Was that the only one?”

“Yeah, that was the only one.”

“Then… it was probably just…”

“Master Bruce, Madam (Y/N), we had better start moving if we want to miss the rush hour,” Alfred’s calm voice broke through Bruce’s thought. He had stepped into the restaurant in search of us, given that we were ordering takeout, not dining in.

“Alfred! Alfred, I think I got a contraction, we have to call the midwife right now.” I stood, using the table for support. My husband handed off the plastic bag of food to Alfred, catching my arm to assist me.

“Will we be heading home or to the hospital, sir?” Alfred quirked an eyebrow towards Bruce, just as skeptical as he was.

“We’ll… let’s call the midwife in the car and go from there.” Bruce looked at me, starting to believe my words.

“Yes, let’s… just get her on the phone, please.”

...

A few minutes later, we were heading back to the manor. The midwife had advised me to remain in a comfortable space to monitor my contractions on my own, to see if it was really gas, false labor, or the real thing. The original plan was to give birth in the manor, unless something unexpected (such as my water breaking before my due date) occurred. The midwife and her birth team assured me that they were just a phone call away, and with that in mind, we started driving back towards the manor.

Bruce did everything to make sure I was comfortable, in the car and back in our bedroom once we had arrived home. The kids crowded around me at first, until a growl and firm command from Bruce sent them all back to their rooms. I was resting in our large, plush bed, my hand resting on my stomach, when the next contraction made its way through my body, then the next, then the next, still minutes apart, but becoming more and more consistent. Now that Bruce was convinced that I was actually going into labor, he was the most attentive husband on earth, holding me close with one arm and keeping his other hand on my stomach.

“I knew this was going to happen, but… I didn’t think that it’d happen so soon,” I looked up at him, trying to relax after a contraction had passed.

“I didn’t think so either,” he replied, massaging the side of my tummy. “But, you are the strongest person I know. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

The pain was alleviated through his massages and gentle words. “Thank you, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Labor was long and longer. Since it was my first baby, the risk was higher, but we wanted to prevent any danger of kidnapping or switched babies, especially since Bruce was in such a spotlight. I found myself in different positions as the night dragged on, the midwife’s reassuring words and Bruce’s concerned yet comforting presence carrying me through the delivery of our baby. Even when I felt for a moment that I couldn’t go on, my husband’s kisses to my shoulder and forehead kept me from giving up. Not that I really had a choice, of course. And yet that one moment was worth it all.

I’ll never forget the moment the tiny, crying baby was put on my chest, as the midwife maneuvered me from my birthing position to lay on my back. I was so exhausted, I didn’t even register for a moment what was happening, until I was sprawling against the pillows and my newborn daughter was on my skin, her whimpering, suckling noises were music to my ears. Holding her close, I closed my eyes in relief, nearly unaware of what was going on around me. After a moment, I opened my eyes and looked up at the man who had supported me from beginning to end. “Bruce, we did it.”

“Yes, you did it, I knew you could.” He was looking at the tiny human in my arms with a sort of awe.

I smiled, my thumbs stroking her back, though she was still covered in fluids. I was half mindful of the midwife asking Bruce to cut the umbilical cord, most of my focus was spent on examining my daughter’s tiny fingers that moved so slowly, as if they were trying to figure out this new environment.

Seeing the love of my life hold our child for the first time was as perfect and pure as I knew it would be. Once she was wiped clean and wrapped in a cloth, Bruce was able to hold her to his own chest, staring down at her with the same awe that hadn’t left his face. I could see her eyes were open, and she was staring up at him. In this wonderful moment, I knew that it had all been worth it, and that she would never have to be alone, that he was always going to be right there for her.

Bruce finally placed her back in my arms, and I held the little bundle of moving arms and legs close again, looking up at him with a smile and a quirked eyebrow. “I told you it wasn’t a prank.”

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ciaraswritings · 9 months

Note

Hello can I ask a work from you? :) Maybe Batmom pranks Bruce and the boys (plus steph and cassie) where she goes in labor. By like just putting water on the floor. It’s super chaotic and they all end up slipping on it. She doesn’t tell them it’s a prank until their halfway to the hospital and it’s just super chaotic and funny. Tysm!

Batprank

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Pregnancy, water breaking, pranking, mentions of sexual intercourse, romantic scenes between a married couple. This is not suitable for younger readers. 18+.

Word Count: 2.5K words

Summary: Batmom!reader decides to try out a prank that she found on social media.

Author's Note: Great story idea, anon. Posting this ten minutes before leaving for work, I'm not even dressed yet. So if there are typos or mistakes I'll come back later and edit them out. Don't have bad time management, kids. I hope everyone reading is safe and well, and I hope you all enjoy.

Part Two

Sunday afternoons could only be described one way in this household. Long and lazy, sometimes excruciatingly so. I was scrolling on my favorite social media app again, watching short videos. If Bruce were laying with me, he'd say I was doom scrolling. He often discouraged the kids and I from this practice of scrolling through short videos for hours on end, but there was hardly anything else to do on an afternoon like this.

I cradled my swollen stomach, one hand resting over my navel, the other propping my phone on the bed. Inside my womb, I could feel flutters of movement, vibrations moving through my stomach. Pausing the video I was watching, I looked down at my stomach. The baby I was carrying had woken and was pushing against the front of my tummy. "Ouch. I know you're just stretching, but you have to wait to come out, little one." I returned my attention to the video of directions on how to fold towels to look like birds.

My thumb swiped mindlessly over the screen for several more minutes. My brain wasn't really processing anything of what I was seeing. I was mainly focused on the baby's movements, feeling her stretch and kick, thinking about the cradle that Dick and Jason had put together for their little sister several weeks before and how it would soon have a newborn in it. Thinking about the songs I was going to sing to her at night. Thinking about seeing Bruce hold her for the first time.

After about ten recommended videos that didn't interest me, I got ready to close the app. I might as well do something more useful with my time. As I swiped to view one last video, the picture of a pregnant woman caught my eye. I watched with interest as she emptied a bottle of water onto the floor next to a flight of stairs, before keeling over clutching her stomach and calling a man's name, along with the news that her water had broken. Much to my amusement, her partner came rushing down the stairs, slipping on the water and sliding across the floor on his backside. I couldn't help but chuckle. It was a good prank, though probably staged, as most pranks on this app tend to be at some level. Would this actually work? I wondered to myself. I closed the app on my phone before pressing the power button to darken the screen. Standing up wasn't my favorite, but I wanted to go see what my husband was up to.

I moved down the stairs cautiously, using the handrail. Falling could damage the organs that kept the baby safe, which is why Bruce had suggested moving to a bedroom on the first floor until she arrived. We hadn't done that yet, but it wasn't the worst idea. Anything to keep little Ava safe. Or Emma. Or something. Over the last seven months, Bruce and I had both been advocating for our own choice of name for the baby. Not that it would matter once we were finally able to hold her in our arms.

Once I had descended down the first flight of stairs, I happened to look back at the steps behind me. It reminded me of the short video I had watched a couple minutes before. I wondered again if the prank actually worked, or if it was staged. What the family's reactions would be if I pulled that sort-of-cruel prank on them. Chuckling at the thought, I started moving towards the entrance to the Batcave.

I followed the stairs down to the dark, cold cave that I had learned to love. After all, this was home to my husband's greatest passion, and I would never try to get in between him and what made him feel fulfilled. I smiled upon seeing my dearest at the Batcomputer. Bruce was fixated on the screen, hardly noticing when I ran my hands over his shoulders from behind, my arms wrapping around his neck. "Hi there."

He looked up, not startled, but he hadn't expected my presence. "You're supposed to be resting."

I pressed a kiss to his bristly cheek. "I got tired of resting."

He turned the chair to face me. His large hands ran over my stomach, trying to feel the movement of his child, but she had already gone back to sleep, it seemed. "Can you wake her up so I can feel her?"

I looked down at him, laughing. "How exactly do you propose I do that?"

He glared at me, but I could see the smile in his eyes. "I don't know how you do that, I've never been pregnant before."

Chuckling, I pecked his lips. "I'd want to know if you had been." Turning my attention to the screen, I noticed the faces of several inmates that had escaped the nearby asylum recently. "Getting anywhere on the case?"

Bruce stood before turning me so my back was to the computer before kissing my lips sweetly. "You're not allowed to think about anything stressful right now, do you understand?"

I chuckled, looking up into his pretty blue eyes. "My poor baby, are you stressed?"

"Maybe. Lots of things going on at the moment." My husband knelt in front of me, pressing gentle kisses to my stomach. "Thinking about the case, the pregnancy, the company, the kids, all of it all at once."

My fingers ran through his uncombed hair. "Don't worry, the baby will be here soon, and you can scratch pregnancy off your worry list."

His eyes met mine again as he gently kissed my stomach. "I'll have a baby to worry about then. You'll tell me right away when your water breaks, won't you?"

Smiling, I took his face in my hands. "You'll be the first to know. After Ava and I, of course."

Bruce's eyes narrowed playfully, and he stood up once again. "You mean Emma?"

I chuckled and pulled him down slightly to brush my nose against his, our lips not quite meeting. "I mean Ava."

"You mean Emma," Bruce grinned, kissing me passionately, stroking my stomach with his thumbs. A giggle escaped my throat, but I didn't break the kiss. He moved his hands to my hips, his caresses moving to my sides.

"I thought you guys promised not to have sex in the cave anymore?" Stephanie's voice cut through our kiss, causing me to jump and Bruce to turn his head to glare at her.

"We are not having sex, though we still can at eight months," Bruce gave me a side glance.

I returned the glance. "You try having sex with a nearly full-grown baby in your tummy. Give it a try, let's see how you like it."

"Fair enough," he muttered before pecking my lips.

Stephanie rolled her eyes as she passed us. "Disgusting, don't talk about it in the cave anymore either."

I chuckled, giving the girl's shoulder a squeeze and my husband's cheek a kiss. "I'm heading back upstairs, sex talk averted."

Feeling Bruce grab my hand, I turned my head back towards him. "You will tell me when you go into labor?"

Reassuringly squeezing his hand, I smiled. "I promise I will. But I'm pretty sure we have some time before that happens."

I made my way up the stairs, leaving Bruce to grump about our moment being interrupted. When I reached the landing, I was greeted by Alfred, who offered me a tall glass of water. "You'll remember what the doctor said about water consumption, madam," he held it out to me, and I almost reluctantly accepted it.

"I do remember, but I don't think I can consume much else after that wonderful lunch you prepared for us, Alfred."

"Flattery gets you nowhere, miss. Drink it all." He stood there so expectantly, his gaze piercing me like a sharp knife. Hesitantly, I sipped from the glass. My words had been the honest truth, I was still full from lunch. At least finishing a small amount got Alfred to turn and head back towards the kitchen.

I looked at the glass in my hand that was still nearly full. Finishing it completely would be too impossible a feat at the moment, but I didn't feel like pouring it down the drain. I thought once again of that short video, of the woman with her own bottle of water, and suddenly, I knew exactly what to do with the remaining water.

...

I had successfully emptied the glass of water onto the floor, a puddle beneath my feet. I made sure to splash some on my clothes before stuffing the glass inside an indoor potted bush. Someone would find it later, I was sure. The prank had been set perfectly next to the staircase on the marble flooring. Observing the scene, I grinned. If this actually were to work...

"Damian, go tell your father that my water broke!" I yelled up the stairs for the person I knew to be in his room.

I saw his head pop around the corner, observing with narrowed eyes, already suspicious. He was always suspicious. But my staged scene was convincing enough. Holding back mirth, I watched as his eyes widened and he made four bounds down the thirty stairs before disappearing into the Batcave's entrance.

Before I could get my laughter out of my system, Bruce, Stephanie, Damian, and Tim were tripping over each other in their haste to be by my side. I clutched my stomach and groaned in mock agony.

"Mom!" I watched with amusement as Tim rushed to my side before falling victim to the puddle of water and slipping, falling and sliding across the floor on his backside. Stephanie, ignoring Tim's accident, was the first to arrive at my side, her enthusiasm clear.

"Is Emma coming?!" She put her hand on my stomach, trying to feel the movement of the baby. I couldn't help but chuckle slightly while acting like I was in pain.

"You mean Ava is coming!" Bruce was about to scoop me into his arms, but instead, slipped in the puddle and landed next to Tim on the marble floor. I ignored my husband's groaning and decided to fight for the victory, while still clutching my stomach.

"Ava? You really mean it?"

"Yes!" Bruce hastily picked himself up, but I could see his bruised ego underneath his concern and panic. Before I could ensure that my battle for my daughter's name was won, I was picked up and nearly dropped again as Bruce clumsily fought with the closet door that stored the delivery bag we had packed a month or two before. "Timothy, get the bag out of the closet!"

I covered my mouth to keep my laughter inside. Tim had been watching the scene with interest from the floor, but he snapped to attention to retrieve the bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jason rounding the corner, looking like he had just woken from a long slumber.

"Wha's goin on?" His sleepy eyes weren't registering the display before him.

"Your mother is about to give birth in our hallway!" My poor husband growled before marching with me to the entryway of the mansion.

"Oh, congratu... huh?" Jason blinked at me.

"Alfred! Where's the damn car!" Bruce was sweating at this point, but I was thoroughly amused. This prank actually worked.

"In the garage, sir, would you like me to fetch it for you?" Alfred, the only calm soul in the vicinity, called from the kitchen.

"Yes! Right now!"

Seconds later, I was being half carried, half hauled out the front door. A small crowd of our family members had gathered, trying to be as helpful as they could, but in reality it was simply Cassandra and Stephanie badgering Bruce with questions about when they could come see the baby, Tim slipping once again in the puddle, and Jason trying to get through to Dick's cell phone. It was when I was stuck in the back seat of the car like a bag full of golf clubs that I decided it was time to come clean. "Guys, I'm just kid-"

I was cut off when Damian slid into the seat next to me with his beloved sword drawn. "Come on, Pennyworth, drive!" His words were intensified as he waved the sword in the air.

"Damian, no, it was just a-"

"Damian, you put that away this instant!" Bruce cut me off once again. "You'll kill your sister before she's even born!" I could see Alfred giving us a side eye from the driver's seat.

"Bruce, Bruce, my water didn't even-"

"Don't worry, one of the kids will clean it up, let's go!" He pushed Damian out of the seat and took his place before slamming the car door shut.

Alfred glanced at us from the rearview mirror. "Yes sir, is the madam comfortable?"

"No I'm not comfortable!" I grabbed Bruce's hand, trying to get his focus as the car pulled out of the gates. I noticed that the car was turning the opposite direction of the hospital. "Darling, I was-"

"I know it hurts, just hang on," he pressed a kiss to my cheek before proceeding to dial Dick's number on his cell phone. "Why isn't he picking up?!"

"It was a prank!" Laughing, I grabbed his face in my hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Darling, darling, I was just kidding. It was a prank."

His eyes were blank for a moment before the realization hit. "Are you ser... (Y/N)!"

Chuckling, I pressed my lips to his forehead. "She's not coming yet, I just wanted to see if you'd fall for it."

"But of course I would... did... fall for it..." He grabbed my hand in mine before sighing and kissing the back of it. "Alfred, she pranked us."

"Yes, sir, she certainly did." I could see the butler's half amused glare from the mirror before the car came to a stop at a red light.

My husband pressed a kiss to my lips before giving me an unamused look. "We're naming her Emma, you've lost your naming rights."

I burst into laughter, returning the glare. "I am her mother, I have naming rights!"

He chuckled, shaking his head at me. "Not after that stunt. Don't you agree, Alfred?"

Alfred didn't respond to the question, but instead nodded at the shopping center next to the stoplight. "How convenient, we happen to be right next to the madam's favorite restaurant, shall we make a stop?"

"Yes, that's perfect." Bruce pressed a kiss to my cheek as the car pulled into the parking lot. "I'll get your usual and we can bring it home?"

"Perfect indeed," I chuckled, still in shock that my prank had worked so well. I rested my hand on my stomach while my husband stepped out of the car. Watching him disappear into the doors of the restaurant, I looked over at Alfred. "This restaurant is nowhere near the hospital."

"I do know that, madam."

"And we were supposed to be going to the hospital."

"Were we?"

"You knew?"

Alfred turned in the driver's seat, holding up the empty water glass I had stored in the bush just minutes before, giving me a displeased glance. "I'd bury it a bit deeper next time, Miss (Y/N)."

Part Two

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ciaraswritings · 10 months

Text

Apocalypse

Disclaimer: I do not own DC, Disney, their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Scenes including blood, hallucinations, apocalyptic world, abandonment, insanity. 18+.

Word Count: 894 words

Summary: I guess Batman x fem!reader, angst, lots of angst. Batman is forced to leave his psychotic lover behind in the remains of Arkham after an apocalypse.

Author's Note: Felt like writing something depressing today. If your gut tells you not to read this after the warnings listed, then please skip this one and go read one of my fluffs. I hope you enjoy.

My blue pointe shoes twirl over the field of clover and daisies. My hair flowed out behind me, rippling like a flag in the wind. Spinning like a ballerina over this perfect, dreamy meadow, my heart ached with unending joy. Never before had I ever felt like this… like a princess. Fairy-like.

I paused my pirouettes to watch my lover approach. Closer, ever closer he came, clothed in purest white that complimented my own pale garments. His fingers brushed against my soft cheek, and I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed.

His fingertips lifted my chin, and my eyes opened to stare into his. “Is this heaven?” I whispered.

He didn’t reply with words, but instead a kiss, his lips covering my own. When I opened my eyes from the show of affection, we were surrounded by a swarm of blue and white butterflies, fluttering around us in a cyclone.

When the delicate insects had vanished, my lover took my hand, pulled me close. He still didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. His eyes told me everything. He was mine, always, forever.

…

Batman watched her from a distance. The strands of her torn, broken straightjacket fluttered around her legs like a skirt, her soft feet were bruised and bleeding from the fractured glass she was dancing on. She still had form, she could’ve gone to Broadway if… if only.

He watched her twirl over the debris and ruins of Arkham Asylum, the result of the apocalyptic world they were all trying to survive in. Her eyes were cast upwards, as if she were looking into the eyes of a duet partner. Soft laughter escaped her chapped, cracked lips as she dipped and rose again, ever dancing in a dream.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t bring her with us.”

“I know.” Batman turned to Wonder Woman, to the aircraft that would take them far away from the ruins and rubble of Gotham.

Her hand still rested on his shoulder. “She can’t hurt anyone here if the city is deserted. She’ll be alright.”

“She can’t fend for herself out here, she won’t survive,” Batman responded as they both watched the dancer rise in a relevé. “I don’t think she would even try. She’s too far gone.”

“I’m sorry,” was all his friend could say, before she turned to the vessel.

“I know,” was all that he could manage to reply, as he watched his lost lover dance for the last time.

He approached the woman cautiously, knowing the risks he was taking. She slowly stopped spinning as he reached out a hand to touch her skin. It wasn’t peach-soft anymore, her cheeks were covered in the dirt and ash that had buried the other inmates of Arkham. What a chance that she had made it out, that she had been saved. But for what purpose? Batman stared into her empty eyes. Her mind had drifted far away, lost in itself. He swallowed against the lump in his throat as he remembered her. Her eyes didn’t used to be this lifeless. He remembered a woman with dreams, with hope. A woman that he used to know.

Now, this stranger occupied the shell of a body, a body he had used to caress and worship in the fallen hours of the night. Staring into the eyes of this woman he no longer knew, Batman felt a chill run down his spine. She stood before him, still as a statue, his touch only pausing the dream of a world that she danced in.

“I have to leave you here,” he whispered, brushing back strands of her short, dull hair. He remembered when it was long, when it had splayed across his pillows. She didn’t understand, what was the use? He slowly withdrew from the dancer he had once called his lover, pulling back his hands, leaving behind the one he loved.

Avoiding the sympathetic gazes of his teammates, he took his place in the airship, looking back at the woman one last time as the door closed. She had begun to dance again, over a pile of boulders and shattered glass, forgetting his touch that had haunted her just seconds before.

…

My world had disappeared for only a moment, but now it had come back to me. My green meadows, my swarms of butterflies and honeybees, my paradise! It was mine, and mine forever. I danced over the clover beneath my feet, my prince, Bruce, following close behind.

The soft tulle brushed against my legs as I twirled for him, making sure he noticed me. Horses in the pasture lifted their heads, squirrels stopped their gathering in the woods, a bear paused his berry-picking in a bush to watch me dance. The birds sang a song that I could dance to, a sweet, melodic tune.

I was Snow White, I was Cinderella, I was a Beauty that drew the gaze of all the creatures around me. My prince caught my hand, pulled me to him, his adoring gaze melting me. Oh, I could remain in this heavenly land forever. There was no pain or sadness here, I was numb to anything but tender happiness and gentle touches. The sun never set, the rainbow in the sky never faded, the music never stopped.

I was deaf to the roar of engines in the distance. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing would ever matter again.

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ciaraswritings · 10 months

Text

The Pink Pool

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon. Also, putting dye and bubble bath in a pool sounds like a bad idea in real life and you probably should not do it. Indulge in this fictional work instead.

Warnings & Topics: Suggestive themes. 18+.

Word Count: 812 words.

Summary: A short Bruce Wayne x gender neutral!reader fluff, a birthday present to remember, and a pink pool with bubbles.

Author’s Note: It is not my birthday yet, nor would I like a vacation home for a present in real life, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing this piece. I’m going to try to publish many more summer stories in the near future. I hope you enjoy.

It was honestly a ridiculous idea. Childish. Unrealistic. But I’d been dreaming of this opportunity my entire life.

The boxes were all unpacked, and we had finished constructing the new bed frame. New white sheets were fitted over the new mattress, new plates had been placed carefully in the new cabinets, the new house was completely ready for new adventures and new love.

He had bought this new vacation home for my birthday and taken the next two weeks off work, just to spend it with me in the new villa. If I recall his exact words, he had given me the green light to “do whatever you want with the place, it’s yours now,” as he had carried me across the threshold. It really was an incredible home, a luxurious four bedrooms and three bathrooms, rose vines wrapping around the arches, white flowers decorating the shrubbery. Though it was nothing compared to Wayne Manor, I had been just a tad bit hesitant to accept the overwhelming birthday present, considering we had only been together for a few months. And yet…well, even if we didn’t last, at least I had gotten the glorious opportunity to live in such a fairytale house for a little while.

As I made my way to the French doors that opened to the spacious backyard, I smiled at the recent memory of him revealing my birthday surprise and the shock I had felt.

“You want to spend how many weeks here?”

“Just two. You don’t want to?”

“I do, but… come on, Bruce, work will never let me have the days off. Not so soon.”

“Quit your job.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

I will never forget the smile he gave me with his reply.

“Maybe I am being ridiculous, but it feels too good to stop.”

I had not resigned after all, but he had called my workplace, much to my embarrassment. Either way, I was on an unexpected vacation for my birthday, and life couldn’t be better. Bruce had to go back to the office for a few hours to wrap up some unfinished work, but then he would be back, ready to kick off the next two weeks of paradise he had promised me. I was anxiously looking forward to tonight, to spending our first night here together in that lavish bed. But first, I had something else on my mind.

Stepping out into the fading light of dusk, I drummed my fingers against the bottle I was holding. My boyfriend’s go-ahead to do whatever I wanted with the place was fulfilling a dream I had been entertaining since I was thirteen years old. Of course, that was years and years ago, but the thought had always stayed in the back of my mind every time I went swimming in a pool. I just had never had the chance to do it.

My freshly pedicured feet strode towards the rectangular pool, the shimmering blue water accentuated by underwater lights. I picked up the bucket that lay beside the edge of the pool, dipping it into the water to collect the amount I needed, my mind calculating the best way to carry out my plan. Pouring some of the bottle’s product into the bucket, I began to mix the liquid with the pool water. Once combined, I stood, my eyes searching for the location of the jets inside the pool. Locating one, I picked up the bucket and dumped the contents into the pool over the jet.

…

An hour had passed since sunset. I had heard the car door slam shut, as well as his dress shoes making their way to where I was relaxing in the pool. My freshly dyed pink pool with bubbly foam floating on portions of the surface.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the surprise on his face. Raising myself out of the pool, brushing the bubbles off of my swimwear, I wrapped my foamy arms around his neck, pressing myself against him, completely soaking the front of his suit. “Hey, missed you.”

He was chuckling and shaking his head at me. “I missed you too… and I also missed the memo about a pink bubble bath in our pool. I didn’t really wear the right outfit to this party.”

I laughed, kissing him before pulling away. “Then go change, I’ll be here.”

“I know you will,” he winked, before disappearing into the house again. I stepped back into the foamy water, relaxing in the water that lapped against my shoulders and splashed gently on my neck.

When he returned, appropriately dressed in his own swimming attire, I nearly pulled him headfirst into the pool in my excitement. Finally with my lover, in the pool of my teenage dreams, I was happier than I had been in a long time. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. The kiss we then shared was incredibly blissful, just like I knew this night would be.

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ciaraswritings · 1 year

Text

Three Minutes To Twelve

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Suggestive themes. 18+.

Word Count: 463 words

Summary: Batman x gender neutral!reader, laying in bed, literally doing nothing but being fluffy lovebirds. Just a short fluff.

Author's note: This is my first time writing a gender neutral fic. I reread it several times in different gender perspectives, and it was steamy in each read. *cries in romance addict* I hope you enjoy.

Lying undressed in bed with someone you love is one of the most satisfying parts of life. Lying in the softest and richest bed in Gotham? Even better in my book. Warm, cozy comforters (yes, plural) were tucked around my body, pillows upon pillows were scattered all over the bed.

Pale, eerie moonlight shone gently over our bodies, the dreamy glow revealing the scars that decorated his body and the flickering of my exploring eyes. I studied the deepest of the scars, what used to be a long gash along his torso. His rough, calloused hands ran over my body, down my gently shaped waist, landing on my back. He pulled me closer. "Stop worrying."

"No," I replied, my fingertips dancing along the raised mark. I couldn't help but press my lips to it.

I could hear my lover's smile in the darkness. "You have to. It healed long ago."

Looking up into his captivating eyes, I rested my hand on his shoulder, nestling against his body. "I love you too much. I'm not going to stop."

He replied to this statement with a hungry, but somehow gentle, kiss. He was such a wonderful kisser. Hesitantly, I broke it to look over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. "Wasn't Batman planning on being out in the city by twelve?"

"Yes," his voice grumbled, his arms pulling me even tighter.

I chuckled, trying to wiggle from his grasp. "Heh, Batman's got three minutes to get ready, then."

The twinkle in his eye told me more than his words did. "Even Batman has things come up sometimes." He rested his forehead on mine, soaking in the warmth of my body.

"He could go out for a bit… come back, resume what he was doing," I press another kiss to this alluring man's lips.

He deepens the kiss I initiated, moving our bodies, pressing me into the bed, his large hands holding down my waist. When he breaks it, his lips move to my jawline, leaving the gentlest of kisses. "That takes time he would rather put towards something else."

A soft, content sigh leaves my lips as my eyes flutter close. This man's touch feels like warm honey, dripping and running over my body, his heat tingling through my core. No, Gotham was probably not going to be seeing Batman tonight, not unless something truly horrible arrived on stage. Not that I was complaining.

I stared up into the eyes of the one I loved the most. All I could feel at that moment was equally returned love. Shivers of affection coursed through my nerves as the gentle tapping of rain began to land on the roof above and the clock announced the arrival of midnight. Ah, good. Rainy, romantic nights were our favorite. And we were going to savor every second of this one.

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ciaraswritings · 1 year

Text

Anxiety

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Social anxiety disorder. 18+, if you please.

Word Count: 1.7K words

Summary: fem!Reader is struggling with social anxiety while attending Bruce Wayne's birthday party, but then she meets a woman named Barbara who helps her escape. Very happy ending. Just fluff & stuff.

Author's note: Thank you all so much for reading. I hope you enjoy.

How the hell did I end up here, I asked myself.

I pressed my back to the mahogany wall as colors and watched the pastel colors swirl past me. I should have never come to this event, this celebration. I'm not even sure how I got invited to this. I had barely ever crossed paths with Bruce Wayne. Sure, I'd edited news stories covering his spotlight before sending them off to be published on the internet, but I could never bring myself to meet with him face to face. I'd talked with him over the phone, fact checking a wild take that a journalist had submitted, but in the two minutes and five seconds that we had chatted, he had obviously decided I was suitable to be invited to his birthday reception.

That's what I absolutely love about my job. I can sit in a dark office all day, I don't have to see anyone face to face, all submissions and communications are sent via email. I'm trying to make arrangements to work from home, so the stress of being so close to the other offices won't be on my mind. My job only requires a computer and phone, after all.

My boss was overjoyed when he heard I had been invited to the big event. Any more excitement, and he would have started a fire with how fast words were spilling out of his mouth. His thrill, however, did not match my own by a long shot. I thought back to when I was sitting in my comfy, swiveling office chair, staring up at the balding, sprightly man who was positively demanding I accept the invitation and attend the event. I don't think I even verbally responded to him at the time. My plagued mind overtook my body, and still had ahold of it even then as I tried to blend into Bruce Wayne's wall.

Social anxiety disorder, my constant companion. My nemesis, my excuse, my greatest hurdle. The only reason I stood there in my old prom dress is because my boss has been on such edge lately, and like my coworkers, I wasn't ready to risk the consequences of saying no to him right then. My anxiety was to blame for that too, coincidentally enough.

As the sea of long dresses and black suits moved past, I tried my hardest to remember my therapist's favorite phrases. Be aware of your body. Be aware of your surroundings. How is your body reacting to this situation? I could answer the last question easily enough. My heart was beating out of my chest, my stomach was churning, sweat was appearing on my trembling hands. Fear was wrapped around my throat, my breathing labored. An older gentleman in a very nice suit gave me a concerned look before his glamorous college-student wife pulled him towards the dance floor. Yes, please go, stop looking at me. I wonder how many people are looking at me right now.

Be aware of your surroundings. I tried, I really tried. I tried to take in the luxury of the room. The velvet curtains, the gold trim, the expensive art, the... was that a tapestry? Be aware of your body. I attempted to become aware of my physical senses. Deep breaths, eyes closed, trying to relax my tense muscles.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

My eyes flew open. A young waiter with a tray was quizzically observing me from a couple feet away.

I can't do this anymore. "Yes! Yes, yes, I'm alright." Fight or flight mode had been activated. Not bothering to thank him, I slipped past the waiter and made a not-so-graceful getaway to the hall. Lush ivy and large chairs decorated the long room, along with a huge mirror that I planted myself in front of, my entire brain trying to retake control. But no, the sickening, uninvited fear had ahold of my entire body.

Looking up into the mirror, I was not exactly pleased by what I saw. My eyes were full of adrenaline and my mascara was running slightly. My dress was wrinkled by where I clutched it at the hip. My hair was the only thing that didn't look frazzled (thanks to an hour of straightening before I had left for the party). Using the tip of my finger, I tried to clean up the mascara around my eyes.

"Did you get bored too?"

My finger nearly went into my eye, startled by the unexpected and unwelcome voice. I wanted to run like a deer being threatened by a panther. I turned nervously to the owner of the voice, and my fear alleviated if only for a moment by the spectacularism of the person I saw. A red haired young woman in a black velvet dress had approached me, a single party-goer from the roar of festivities behind her. I could see the door swinging closed from when she had entered. My anxiety lurched and I could feel liquid coming up in my throat. A hard swallow later, and I assumed my most casual pose. "You could say that."

The redhaired woman turned, pulled her lipstick from her clutch, and repainted her red lips in the mirror. "I'm not even sure why I'm here, my father is the one who actually knows Mr. Wayne."

"I don't know him at all. Bruce, I mean. Not your father." Oh, that sounded so rude. "Sorry... about that."

She turned back around and gave me a shiny smile. "Are you okay?"

Hell no, I'm not okay. "Yes, of course." My hands were still trembling and my cheeks were flushed. Breathing hurt. The radiant woman in front of me could obviously see through the lie. Her head cocked, her beautiful, wavy red hair swayed.

"You don't seem okay," her concern was evident, but I wasn't in the mood for people being concerned and trying to make me talk about it.

"I'm okay, I just haven't eaten today. So... I should probably go do that," that wasn't even a lie. I had only had coffee today so I wouldn't throw up from nervousness tonight.

"What's your name?" asked the woman who was freshening her eyeliner in the mirror.

"(Y/N) (L/N)."

"I'm Barbara Gordon. It's good to meet you. And funny enough, I'm hungry too," the stranger straightened and shook my still shaking hand. "Want to go get something? I can't fill up on shrimp and caviar."

"Neither can I, seafood isn't my favorite." I was shocked at my own boldness. My fear had released its painful grip slightly, but it was far from gone.

"Me neither. I could go for Chinese," Barbara smiled at me. "Want to join? My treat."

Now this was an unexpected decision. She seems nice enough... I want to so badly. It'd definitely be a way out of here, and with a nice person. But what if she's not nice? What if she's not who she seems? What if I mess up in front of her? What if she invites more people? "I'm not sure..."

"Hey, it's okay. I'm chill, I need a way out of this place too. I mostly came for my dad, he loves Bruce. I'm just... not in the right place to party like this."

How about this, my brain bargained with itself. If it turns out bad, we never have to see her again. If it goes good, then we... still never have to see her again. "What the heck. Got a place in mind?"

"Of course, come on! I can't think of a better time than two well dressed girls getting the best Chinese in town. We can take my dad's car."

My hands had slowly stopped trembling. I think it's going to be okay.

...

My escape with Barbara was a needed lifesaver. She made the car ride pleasant, complimenting my dress, asking me about my job, commenting on my hair. I think she sensed that I wasn't as comfortable talking about myself, so she told me about her own life. She was a college student, she was multilingual, she lived with her dad at the moment, but was looking into getting her own place. Listening to her talk was relaxing, knowing I didn't have to talk about myself, no risks of stumbling over my words like I did earlier.

We arrived at what looked to be a family-owned place, it wasn't a chain restaurant, which I sort of admired Barbara for. The best Chinese food came from small restaurants, and she seemed to acknowledge that. The woman assured me she knew exactly what I would like, telling me she'd order then come join me.

I slid into one of the empty booths. Actually, all of them were empty. Too late at night for most people to get takeout, but Barbara and I were evidently not the same as those people. She joined me at the table with trays that smelled much tastier than the takeout Chinese that my boss had delivered at the office every day for lunch. "This looks amazing, thank you so much."

"No, thank you for coming with. It's nice that I found a friend to do this with." Barbara smiled before picking up one of the cartons.

Friend. The word felt so new. "It's been a really long time since I've had a friend." Anxiety brewed and steamed in my throat, but I forgot all about it when she slid her phone across the table to me, a new contact form ready to fill out on the screen.

"Well, now you have one," the redhaired woman said with a smile, before taking another bite of the food.

...

That was four years ago to this day. It's Bruce Wayne's birthday again, but neither of us are on the guest list. That's perfectly okay, we have our own party going on for us. Empty Chinese takeout cartons lay on the coffee table, an actress on the television screen dramatically screams in fear, and I am laying on Barbara's chest, my finger becoming accustomed to the new diamond ring.

I look up at her, admiring how her fiery hair glows in the pale light of the television screen. Anxiety? Hah, not around Barbara, not anymore. Finally finding a person I can experience only joy around... that feels good. Her hand rests on my head, holding me close. Her eyes are focused on the television, but by her smile, I know her mind is somewhere else. She notices I'm no longer interested in the film, turns off the TV, and smiles down at me. Butterflies, not anxiety, fill my stomach.

"Did you get bored too?"

"You could say that."

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ciaraswritings · 1 year

Text

Unexpected.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Suggestive themes, emotional distress, physical exhaustion, pregnancy. 18+.

Word Count: 3.9K words

Summary: Batmom! reader finds out she is pregnant a short time after marrying Bruce Wayne, not in the most pleasant of ways. Telling him won't be easy, but Alfred gives her some encouragement.

Author's note: After four hours of work, I deem my first fanfiction suitable for posting. Thank you for all the support. I hope you enjoy.

It'd been two months since that beautiful, blissful, romantic day. Actually, two months, two weeks, and one day. But who was counting, right?

The newspapers were. Headlines of gossip news, huge block letters in bold, depicted that I had been spotted at the gym alone again, also describing their support for my "weight loss journey" since I had been "losing my figure". I had been reading this article over and over for about an hour. Damn. I inspected the black and white photo of myself in leggings and a tank top. The worst part about, well, everything, is that they were right. I was losing my figure, noticeably.

I didn't even notice Alfred behind me until he spoke. "No matter how many times you read them, the words are not going to change, ma'am."

I jumped slightly. I hadn't been sleeping or eating well at all, my back and chest ached too much to relax, and heartburn hit me like a batarang after meals. I think I had gotten thirty hours of sleep in the last week, and maybe one meal a day. "Thank you, Alfred. Do you know when dinner will be ready?"

"In a half hour, ma'am." The butler moved to the other end of the kitchen table to face me. "Those words in the paper are words that all who love you disagree with."

Alfred's words touched me if only a little, and I set down the paper. "Thank you, I think I'm going to take a walk."

He looked concerned, but just for a moment. "Alright, ma'am. Try not to be late, the chicken may be devoured."

Chuckling, I stepped out into the early evening light. I would not be late for dinner, living with five hungry men teaches you a lot. The sunlight embraced me, bathing me in its gentle rays, glimmering over my face. I felt positively glorious. Closing my eyes, I soaked it in. My husband would soon be home to kiss me and keep an arm around my waist. The simple thought of his touch made my mouth stretch into a smile. Five more minutes, and I'll go in.

Five minutes turned into twenty. Being amongst the blooming flowers and the busy insects kept me occupied. Not only that, but a sudden headache had overtaken me. I sat in the grass, unladylike, watching the bees collect their last supply of nectar from the flowers for the day. Grass stains never bothered me anyway. I knew time was getting away from me, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to focus on anything. I didn't want to go inside because I didn't want bedtime to arrive. It was too painful to even think about. My head and back reminded me of that even now.

My vision blurred slightly, I could only focus on a single flower on the bushes before me, bees continuing to fly around it. This was nice. I couldn't focus on a single thing, or think about anything, or worry.

I felt myself fall, sort of, to the ground. Fall was the best word I know to describe it. I was already sitting on the ground, but my muscles suddenly felt like pudding. My head bumped to the grass and laid to rest. Terror gripped my heart and throat for a single second before everything just... relaxed. My vision went next, but I was okay with that. This was so relaxing. I wanted to stay.

...

"Madam. Madam (Y/N)!" The voice came from... maybe a mile away. Maybe. Maybe ten miles. Maybe a hundred.

"(Y/N), madam (Y/N)!" Something cold was on my face. Ugh. I don't like that. The wind bit and stung at where the cold wetness was on my cheek. Ouch.

"Wake up, madam!" No. I don't want to. Go away. But the voice sounds scared.

I slowly, slowly, with great effort, opened my eyes. Instantly they closed again. My friend the butler was hovering over me. What was his name again?

"Mom!" New voice. Go the hell away. I open my eyes again.

"I'm here, I'm fine." Sitting up took much more strength than opening my eyes, but I managed to do so. Dick and Alfred worriedly stare at me. "I was just taking a nap."

"That wasn't a nap, it looked like you passed out." Dick was the one with the cold wet cloth. He put it to my head again. I gave him a withering glare, and he pulled it away again, looking apologetic.

"It was a nap, of course I didn't pass out. Now let me return to it," I waved my hand in no particular direction, trying to shoo them away like mice.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to sleep on the cold ground in nothing but your loungewear, ma'am." Alfred took the cloth from Dick and put it to my forehead.

Lord, they were being so annoying, I just wanted to go back to sleep. My eyelids drooped and my words slurred. "Bed hurts too much right now... just come back later..." my head finally dropped forward as vision began to diminish again.

I couldn't really tell what they said next. What I could remember was, "Inside now... call the... when they can see her..." and "...got her... go and tell him... I've got it..."

The sensation of being lifted did not startle my dozing. Neither did the shouting, nor the feeling of hands on my face. I had earned this sleep, and I was going to... enjoy... it...

...

I was awake, but I didn't want to open my eyes. It wasn't time. Please don't let it be time. I peeked a glance at my watch. Eight in the morning on a Sunday? Yeah, back to sleep we go.

Before I could return to my dreamless sleep, I became aware of unidentified breathing beside me. Was that Titus? Or maybe Alfred. Maybe I had been kidnapped. Did I care? Hell to the no. All I cared about at this present moment was slumber. If I was kidnapped, I could sleep all I wanted while I waited for them to rescue me.

Then, like a train, uninvited and on its own, the back pain hit my lower body. I couldn't help the moan of discomfort that tore from my throat.

Instantly, a hand went to my forehead. It felt so cold against my warm head. I'd better see who this person with the cold hands is and tell them to go stick their fingers in a campfire before touching me again.

When I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn't even in the garden anymore. Alfred, I told you I wanted to stay on the ground. But it wasn't Alfred who had put freezing digits on my forehead. It was my husband, my dearest Bruce, my wonderful partner in... crime didn't seem like a good choice of words. His worried blue eyes bored into my sleep-deprived (Y/C) eyes. Ouch, that gaze made my headache come back.

"Hello. Go warm your hands up," I told the love of my life before closing my eyes again. The light from the window seemed to be penetrating my very brain.

"My hands are warm," replied the bearer of freezing fingers.

"Please, feels like your hands went to the Artic circle for winter vacation." My stubborn retort took a lot out of me, but I could practically hear his small smile.

"There's my girl," he murmured. I opened my eyes again to smile at my wonderful... freezing... man.

"Yeahhh, your girl's going back to dreamland. Night night." I grunted at the pain stabbing me in the back, the throbbing in my head, and the emptiness in my stomach.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Stay right here. The doctor's going to be here at ten, you should freshen up a bit."

I opened one eye to glare unhappily at him. "Don't need a doctor. Need a nap."

His chuckle annoyed me to the very core, almost scaring away the shooting pains in my back. "I'm sorry, but this needs to happen. Do you know how worried we all were when we heard you had fainted in the garden? The boys hardly wanted to go on patrol, they wanted to look after you."

"The boys didn't want to go on patrol? You didn't want to look after me?" I glared playfully at my handsome knight. "And I didn't faint... just took a nap."

"On the cold hard ground?" His questioning gaze made me open both my eyes.

"Yes, it felt nice on my back."

"Does your back still hurt, sweetheart?"

"Yes, it still hurts."

"And you didn't feel like sleeping in the bed?"

"The hell is this, an interrogation?"

"Maybe," he grinned.

"Go away," I retorted, closing my eyes. "I have to go to work, no time for doctors."

"I called and told them you can't come in this week."

"This... this is why I married you."

It didn't take long to fall back into blissful, painless paradise. Bruce left me alone, but I knew he was close by, watching over me. The mansion was so quiet and peaceful, I knew the boys were fast asleep.

Much too soon, I was being kissed awake.

"Darling, Doctor Thompkin's here. It's time to wake up." Bruce's forehead kisses were, for the very first time in our relationship, annoying.

"Ugh." I rolled over to escape, my back cracking.

"Upsy daisy." He stroked my back, gently massaging my painfully aching muscles.

Sitting up took all the strength I had, and yet I had to find more to answer the questionnaire the doctor was springing upon me. Bruce stepped out mid-examination to answer a phone call, leaving the woman to observe my body and take into consideration my answers to her questions. Her questions seemed endless. "Have you been out of the country in the last month?"

"No."

"Have you been feeling depressed or hopeless?"

"No."

"Are you on any medications?"

"No."

"Do you or any family members have history of scoliosis?"

"No."

"History of heartburn?"

"No."

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

"It's marked on the calendar, couple pages back."

"Do you know what year it is?"

I gave her a funny look. "Of course I do, what's wrong with you?" Now I feel bad for saying that, but I certainly didn't in the moment.

The doctor chuckled, her friendly eyes had laughter lines around them. "Just wanted to make sure you're still with me. Are you on birth control?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been on birth control?"

"Couple months. I went on it during our honeymoon."

"During?"

"Yes, we realized condoms and plan B weren't as convenient as the pill."

"I'm going to need a blood sample and then we're done here. I'll be in touch with the results. You don't seem to be suffering from scoliosis, but I'll contact you about x-rays to confirm. I haven't made a house call in a long time, or practiced family medicine, but I'll do everything I can to make sure we get to the root of this."

"Okay."

The blood draw seemed to take longer than I remembered blood draws taking. The prick of the needle didn't disturb the haze of sleepiness that still surrounded me. The woman's departure signaled another wave of sleepiness to wash over me. Bruce and Alfred were showing the doctor out as my head hit the pillow. Pain shot up my back, but sleep had already captured me.

Tomorrow turned into today, and then today became yesterday. It felt like I slept the whole Monday, skipping work and family dinner. Tuesday morning came with sunshine and kisses from my darling husband as I slowly opened my eyes.

"Hi," I smiled at him. One of Bruce's arms was holding me almost loosely as he lay next to me in the white sheets. He looked worn and tired from a long night of patrol. I sniffed him. Good, he had showered.

"Hello." His tired kiss on my lips was slowly waking me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I told him. My smile was getting bigger and my world was waking up. I traced the shape of his exhausted eyes. "Close your eyes. Sleep."

"Mmph." His eyes closed and his body relaxed under my touch. Normally, Bruce was the one to hold me tight and kiss me to sleep, to caress my body and keep me safe. Looking over his body, I realized that he had been through a difficult night of patrol. A stitched gash across his back, an unhappy bruise on his jaw, scratches on his forearms. Worrying about my "condition" probably hadn't helped him stay alert out there in the dangerous night of Gotham. Guilt washed over me. My arms protectively wrapped around my dearest husband, my lips pressing to his forehead. Today, I was going to keep him safe, I was going to comfort him through his slumber.

...

Bruce's snoring wasn't exactly a lullaby, so I was up and about after a few hours. The boys were crashed in their rooms and Alfred was busy baking something that smelled like chocolatey deliciousness. I was looking over the morning paper, again, skimming for any mention of my family or I. Unhealthy habit, you could say. I was curled up in an armchair next to the bed, keeping the rustling of the newspaper pages to a minimum.

Vibrations of Bruce's cell phone made me look up. As silently as I could, I leaped up and grabbed the phone from the bedside table on Bruce's side. My husband's sleep was important to me, and if I had it my way, nothing at all would disturb it, not even nightmares.

I carried the cell phone out of the bedroom and glanced at the caller ID. Doctor Thompkins. Results. Yes. This wasn't the first time I had answered my husband's phone, so I wasn't going to feel guilt over finding out my own test results. "Hello?"

"(Y/N), hello. I'm calling with your results."

"Tim's been telling everyone in the family it's yellow fever, please prove him wrong."

"Hah, no, it is not yellow fever... I'd say it's something a little more... serious."

I stiffened. My aching back didn't like that. "What's up?"

"We spoke about your history with birth control, but we need to talk about it again. It would seem that there was some window of time where you and Bruce were not using protection."

My backache must've hit my brain, because looking back, I can't believe I didn't catch on. "Bruce gave me a disease?"

"Not a disease. You're pregnant, (Y/N). I can't make an estimate on how many weeks you are, but I'm going to give you the contact information for an OBGYN. Make an appointment as soon as you can. Congratulations, Mrs. Wayne."

...

When Bruce woke up, I had to apologize to him for his cracked cell phone screen. I told him the truth, that I'd dropped it, but I didn't explain that it was from shock. He told me it was alright, that he'd pick up a new one, but he wasn't quite sure why I looked so very upset over dropping his phone. That would explain itself in time.

I didn't eat a thing at dinner that night, despite my full plate and coaxing from my family. Even the finest cut of steak is unappealing when something like that is on one's mind.

Who wouldn't overthink a thing like this? Pregnant, after a literal two months of marriage? Pregnant, while caring for four boys that you saw as your sons? Pregnant, after your husband had told you he didn't want anymore children? Pregnant, after you had both tried to be careful? Pregnant, to one of the greatest vigilantes and most successful businessmen in the world? Pregnant. I am pregnant. I might have my husband's baby.

"Mom!"

My head jerked up and I was greeted by five concerned faces.

"Ma, you look like you're in another world," Jason forked a piece of potato.

"Maybe I am in another world, Jay-Jay." I smiled slightly before standing. Ten eyes observed my every move.

"Ummi, where are you going?" Damian, the one who I expected would be the least concerned, watched me with huge, worried eyes.

"I think I need to sleep more. I will see you all tomorrow morning." I kissed every head at the table, my lips lingering on my husband's forehead. He rested his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down for a gentle kiss. I think he noticed my hesitance, but I didn't stop to think about it or explain. My back only permitted me to walk up the stairs, but if I could've run, I would've.

Once Bruce and the boys had left for their night of patrol, I breathed again. Laying on the bed, clutching my pillow to my chest, trying to rehearse how I would address the situation to Bruce, it took a lot out of me. "Bruce, I need to tell you something," I mumbled. "No... Bruce, we need to talk."

"Madam, I am not sure if you have noticed, but Master Bruce is not here." Alfred's voice startled me for the second time this week.

"I wish he was. I'm sorry, I'm... practicing." I tried to give my friend a reassuring smile but it came out as a grimace.

"Good luck, madam," Alfred set down a cup of tea on my bedside table and gave me a genuine Alfred smile. Before he was out of the room, he turned back and looked me dead in the eye. "Master Bruce loves you very much, Madam (Y/N). He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink."

I looked straight back into this wonderful gentleman's eyes. "Thank you."

...

I tried to sleep through the night, I really did. When dawn and my boys arrived, I was still wide awake, not having slept a wink. I trotted down the stairs to the batcave, taking extra care not to trip. Once on the floor, we went through our post-patrol routine of inspecting each one of my boys. First Damian, who shrugged me off several times before allowing me to look over him, then Tim, who accepted my worrying for what it was, then Jason, who pretended to be annoyed for show, then Dick, who looked over me as carefully as I looked over him, then finally Bruce, who would not stop kissing me, barely giving me a chance to check him for injuries.

No one was truly hurt, but all but one were tired as they pulled off their suits. The boys trudged upstairs to their rooms, but my husband carried me valiantly up the stairs to our place in the master bedroom, like a knight carrying his princess.

Once the bedroom door was shut and he had set me down, I was instantly on my back laying on the bed, Bruce's lips showing affection to my neck and collarbone. A soft, throaty moan left my mouth as my husband kissed me, his hands working their way over my body. I was clothed in my favorite outfit of a tank top and leggings, and I knew they were at risk of being torn from my torso and limbs if I allowed this to continue. Besides... I had to tell Bruce.

"Darling..." the word I said was half-moaned. "Darling, please, you need to shower."

"I thought you liked my scent?" Bruce chuckled, looking up at me, his hands working their way up my shirt.

"Mmm, I do, but you are going to dirty our sheets that Alfred worked so hard to wash."

"You have a valid point, but I don't like it." Bruce grinned and pulled off the little clothing he wore. I chuckled and rolled my eyes, watching him make his way to the shower. If I hadn't had such a burden on my mind, I would've joined him. I could hear him muttering insults at the slippery bar of soap that his large fingers always seemed to have trouble grasping, and it made me smile. My hand absentmindedly rested on my stomach and I wondered if his child would have the same troubles as their father.

Bruce's shower was shorter than usual. Much shorter than if I had been in there with him. Chuckling, I made room for my knight in the bed. He hadn't bothered to put on clothes, or dry his hair. Bruce climbed on top of me, drops of water falling from his hair to my chest. His lips reattached to mine, devouring the kiss like a wild man. I knew what he had on his mind from the way he caressed my body, and I had to put a stop to it.

"Bruce... Bruce, wait."

Concerned eyes met mine. "(Y/N)?"

Alfred's words replayed in my mind. He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. I stared into the beautiful blue eyes I had grown to take comfort in. "Bruce, Doctor Thompkins diagnosed me."

Instantly, his desire was forgotten. Bruce sat back on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. "Tell me, darling, what is it?"

His arms made me feel so safe. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink. "I... you need to expect the unexpected."

"So I'm guessing it's not yellow fever, since that's what Tim expects," Bruce smiled. The gentle attempt at humor didn't lift the worry in his eyes.

"Heh, no... not exactly. It's... it's a baby." The last three words were much quieter than the others.

Bruce looked at me quizzically. "I don't think I heard you correctly."

"A baby," I honestly voiced my diagnosis, somewhat fearfully looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Bruce's glare pierced mine. He gently slid me off his lap and set me on the bed before standing and walking to the window to silently stare out of it. His breathing had changed, his body was stiff, everything about him seemed cold and hardened.

My worst fears bit and tore at my heart, anxiety gripping my throat like a murderer. Oh Lord, he doesn't want me anymore. I didn't know whether to go to him, or leave the mansion, or stay in the bed, or cry, or speak. So I just waited, for a full two minutes, staring at my husband's scarred back. After waiting that long, tears began to prick at my eyes. I finally laid down and curled into the cold sheets. "I'm sorry."

I heard him turn. "What are you sorry for?"

"Not paying attention to my birth control. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," my tears left wet spots on the pillowcase. I closed my eyes tightly.

Then I felt his weight on his side of the bed, he was laying beside me. Bruce collected me into his arms, tilting my chin up, asking me silently to look at him. I opened my wet eyes.

"I'm not angry with you. I'm thinking about it. Just let me think." Bruce's rough, calloused fingers brushed against my peach soft cheek.

"Okay." I closed my eyes to fight back angry, hot tears. He pulled me to his chest, holding me to himself. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

He must've held me like that for an hour before he finally, finally spoke. "Well, this isn't what I thought two months into our marriage would look like."

My tears had left stains on his chest. Only a surge of bravery made me look up at him. "Yeah."

He looked down at me, smiled, kissed my lips, and I felt my husband's love course through my body. He may have turned me away physically, but he had never turned me away emotionally. I sat up on his lap, straddling him, my forehead resting on his, my hands on his cheeks. "I love you."

"And I love you," Bruce's fingers brushed against my waist. He seemed hesitant, and his eyes met mine. "May I?"

I was confused for a moment, but then I realized and nodded, beaming. "Yes."

His large hand rested on my stomach. The wheels in his head were still turning, but they had calmed, and they were only turning in the name of love.

"Expect the unexpected."

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