After thirty-six years of life, nearly twenty years of marriage, seven kids, and several years of crime fighting, you like to think you’ve learned some things. For instance, if you let one kid fight crime, eventually the others are going to want to as well. And if you set a bedtime for one, you have to set a bedtime for all of them. And if one of you gets sick, you’re ALL going to get sick.
It starts with Damian and Helena. You try to quarantine it right off the bat; after the first sniffle. You barricade them in their room, and you keep everyone in the family away from them. You’re the only one allowed in and out.
The rest of the family takes up residence in the batcave. The family motto becomes ‘distance is your friend.’ You see the rest of your family very little over the next few days, until Bruce sends you a text asking you to come down.
More than a bit tired from taking care of two sick kids, you trudge downstairs to find four more. Tim looks absolutely miserable, slumped over the computer in his Robin uniform, Dick is shivering, Jason is groaning, and Cass is curled up on the gurney in a little ball.
You and Bruce share a look, he removes the cowl and picks up Tim and Cass, and makes his way upstairs while you guide Jason and Dick. You and Bruce call out of work for the rest of the week and spend your days taking care of your kids. The only ones you were able to save were Alfred and Terry.
The butler had been kind enough to take the four year old to a hotel when the first symptoms had made themselves known. With Terry being so young, and Alfred being older, you hadn’t wanted either of them catching the flu. So you had sent them packing.
For a week you dealt with upset stomachs, fevers, chills, congestion, and sore throats. By the end of the tenth day, you and Bruce were ready to die yourselves, but you both keep going. Because that’s what parents do.
“I want to die,” you murmur, face down into your pillow.
Bruce rests his head on your back, “If you go, I’m going with you. You’re not leaving me here alone.”
You turn over, so that his head is resting against your belly. You run your fingers through his hair, “Not an option.”
“You said it, buddy. But in the grand scheme of things, we were kind of due. We haven’t had an outbreak since before Terry was born.”
“Still, I hate to see them suffer.”
“A parent’s worst nightmare is to see their kid in pain.”
“And yet, we let our kids run around as masked vigilantes.”
You laugh, “They take after their father.”
Bruce smiles, “They keep evolving and changing too. Dick’s almost as tall as me now, and Jason is getting there. Tim is a string bean if I’ve ever seen one, and have you seen how long Cass’ hair has gotten?”
You smile. In the four years since the doppelgangers had vanished you’d watched as your sons evolved. Dick had become Nightwing, Jason had become the Red Hood, Cass was BlackBat, and Tim was the latest Robin.
You nudge Bruce, “Helena told me yesterday that she wants to be the next Robin, and then Damian started arguing saying that he was going to be the next Robin. It would have been cute had they both not had fevers.”
Bruce just sighs, “Are we doing the right thing?”
Your hand stills in his hair for a second before starting again, “I think the time to have asked that question has long passed Bruce. Our family is made up of crime fighters, I find that it’s better not to question it.”
Bruce just nods, before sitting up, then he’s leaning over you and kissing you. His fingers tangle in your hair and you clutch him close. He whispers in your ear, “I love you so much.” He peppers your face with kisses, “Thank you for loving me, and marrying me, giving me seven beautiful children, and for putting up with Batman. Thank your for existing.”
You pull him in and kiss him again, “I love you Bruce Wayne. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Robin’s Nest Treehouse Hotels. A secluded getaway cozily settled up on a forested mountain. It offers a nice and quet stay in one of three rustic treehouses. Storytelling by the bonfire and fresh bread every morning - all included! Located in Hesse, Germany.
AN: This was the very first thing I ever wrote for Damian. Since the next part of Robin’s Nest isn’t coming out until tomorrow, enjoy this!
It’s a fight with your mother that spurs you out of the house, not your brightest idea considering the fact that you live in one of Gotham’s not so great neighborhoods, but you’re not really thinking straight. That continues to be your motto as you get on the bus, and stay on it until the last stop. You then make the two mile hike all the way up to Wayne manor.
You let yourself in, after all, you’ve been doing it for years. That’s why you don’t even pause to think as you shimmy up the tree, across a limb, and onto the balcony. A series of taps let’s him know that it’s you.
There’s barely a pause between your last knock and the door opening. You can’t help but smile at Damian Wayne’s annoyed face, and brush right past him and into his room. “No patrol tonight?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
“School night,” he grunts.
Then of course you knew that, there’s no patrol for those under eighteen on school nights, unless there’s a state of emergency. This means that Damian, even at sixteen years of age, is always left behind Sunday through Thursday.
Falling onto his bed, you wait for him to come and sit down, he does, lying his head in your lap. You run your fingers through his hair. Your mind goes to how you first met the Wayne heir.
He was new to Gotham Academy, you’d been there for a year, on a full academic scholarship. You were both ten. That was also around the time that it was announced that he was in fact Bruce Wayne’s biological child. The vultures had been all over him, each clamoring to climb the social ladder and befriend the ‘Prince of Gotham’ as the paper had dubbed him.
From his first insult you could tell that he was only there because he had to be. He finished all his school work well before it was due, and made sure to keep to himself. Most of the time he simply spent class on his phone. Everyone kept trying to befriend him.
You kept to yourself, you didn’t want to make friends with your classmates. You were invisible and you knew exactly what they were truly like. They were all kind to each others’ faces, but the minute a back was turned, the gossip and insults begin.
Yet, somehow you and Damian found each other through a history project of all things. You found that your minds tended to think the same way, and that when it came to the arts, mainly books, you had the same tastes.
The friendship came easily, and quickly. Often times you’d look up and Damian would simply be sitting beside you. Over the next two years you’d become inseparable at school, and you’d spend most of your nights texting each other. Your friendship is one of acceptance. You accept him as a socially inept, spoiled, rich boy, and he accepts you as loner with way too many mommy issues, who likes to put up walls. Damian likes to break down those walls.
You’d put together the Robin thing about a year and a half in. You’d see a news cast of Robin fighting, and then getting stabbed. When Damian didn’t show up to school after the weekend, your mind began to turn.
That would lead to the first time you’d “sneak” into Wayne Manor. You’d get lucky getting by the fence, and the grids. You’d then see the open window, and for the first time simply shimmy up the tree. The fact that it happened to be Damian’s window was pure luck.
His eyes had gone wide when they saw you but you ignored them in favor of the gauze covering his abdomen. When you asked if he was Robin, he didn’t even try to deny it.
You simply grinned, plopped down beside him, declared you were staying the night, and pulled out a book. Damian just read over your shoulder. You were gone before he woke up, leaving only his missed school work behind.
You then shimmied back down the tree only to be greeted by a man in a black suit, with a slightly balding head. He introduced himself as Alfred, and assured you that you were more than welcome to use the door next time.
You never do.
In the four and a half years since that night, you’ve never met Damian’s family, although you do in fact see Alfred on nearly every visit. You suspect it’s him who let you through Wayne Manor’s intense security that first night, and every night since.
You also have a feeling that it’s him who lets Damian out of the Manor on those nights where your mom has been drinking more than too much. Because it’s always him, accompanied by Damian, who comes and picks you up off a random street on those rare nights that your father actually comes home.
They’re the two people in the world that know about your home life. The only two people you truly trust. You’re the only one Damian has ever told the entire story of his childhood to. You know about every cruel thing he has endured, and what he was forced to do.
You assure him that he’s good, that he has a soul, and that a young boy can never be held responsible for what he had to do. He assures you that you’re worth something, that you’re better than your situation, and that he is damn well going to make sure you’re going to get out.
That’s probably why several drawers of Damian’s dresser have some of your clothes and personal items in them. Drawers that are never disturbed. It’s why you always carry extra of his weapons in you school bag, just in case he needs them. That’s why you and Damian sleep in the same bed, because you trust the other to rescue each other from the nightmares that plague you.
With that last thought you allow yourself to fall asleep, your fingers tangled in Damian’s hair, his head resting on your stomach, and his soft breathing assuring you that it’s okay to let go for just a little bit.
For the first time ever you don’t wake before Damian in the morning. Instead you wake up to several young men, and a man you know to be Bruce Wayne staring down at you.
You stare back, for only a minute before bringing your knee up and disturbing his sleep. “What’s wrong Y/N?”
You don’t respond, simply wait for him to notice the four men staring at the two of you. When he does he’s off the bed and chasing, who you know are his brothers, down the hallways of Wayne Manor.
That leaves Bruce. For a moment you expect some sort of bad comment, or confrontation. Instead, all he says is, “It’s nice to finally meet you Y/N. You know you’re allowed to use the door, right?”
You’ve had countless conversations over the past week. You’ve done your best to give the boys, who look so much like your own, some sort of closure or help. At the very least they’ve talked to you, that’s about all you can ask for, but him; he’s different.
He’s very different from the man you know. There’s very little softness left, and all that seems to remain is a bitter old man, who’s been left behind too many times to count, and is ready to die. You imagine you would be too, if everyone you had ever loved had left you.
You had managed to hold a conversation with every single one of your sons’ doppelgängers. You’d even manage to hold a conversation with your husband’s, going as far as to mistake them for him. Not that they had seemed to mind a kiss or two. Your Bruce however, was not as thrilled.
And out of all of them, this man had managed to evade you. Whenever you entered a room, he left. When you tried to speak to him, he would start talking to one of the boys. His younger self didn’t avoid you this much and you couldn’t help but wonder; why did he seem to hate you?
The nagging little question had led you here. While your boys, in their many forms, held a water fight upstairs, you were down here in the cave, trying to figure out what to say to the man as you stared at him from the bottom of the steps.
“I may be old, but I still know when I’m being watched.” You visibly pout as he turns to stare at you. His eyes are narrowed, and he’s scowling. “Well, what do you want? You’ve been trying to pin me down for days.”
You cross your arms against your chest, “Why have you been avoiding me for days?”
The old many shrugs and turns back around to face the screen, “Didn’t feel like a heart to heart.”
You pucker your lips for a moment before walking forward, “And who says I want a heart to heart?”
“That glint in your eye. Every woman who ever tried to fix me had it. The one that said ‘I can make the entire world better if you’ll just let me in’.”
His answer takes you by surprise, and then you start to laugh. It’s a long and hard laugh, the kind that leaves you gasping for air while your sides hurt. You have just a hint of tears in your eyes when it finally dies down. You swipe them away before taking a seat on the floor.
He’s staring at you, and you’re sure he must think you’re nuts. Taking a deep breath, you look up at him, “Thanks for that. I needed the laugh.”
“Glad I could provide some entertainment.”
You shake your head, “For the world’s greatest detective, you sure are dumb.”
His neck turns so quick to face you, you’re surprised he doesn’t snap his neck, “Excuse me?”
“You can’t fix somebody. You can help and assist, but you can’t do it for somebody. They have to want to get better, have to be willing to admit something’s wrong, that they need the help. And to be honest, that’s one of the hardest things a person can do. I mean look at the numbers, there’s like five of you here, and one of you grew up to have a somewhat normal life.”
“I love my husband dearly, but I’m not delusional. Leaving civilization behind to master martial arts, only to return, don a bat costume, and dish out vigilante justice is not society’s definition of normal.”
You shrug, “For us it’s normal. Hell, my boys are starting to get into it now. Making sure there are boundaries and rules in place, makes it just a tad bit more sane. But I’ve got to tell you the truth; I never wanted them to know, but it would have been too difficult to hide it.”
“Even you admit it runs your family.”
“Nope. Like I said, there are rules in place. The kids take part in after-school activities, sleep overs, and all that normal stuff. We make sure to have family game nights, and Bruce doesn’t leave until the younger ones have gone to bed. He and I have a date night at least once a week, and if a mission is going to take longer than a week, we talk about the pros and cons before he agrees to go.”
You stand up and brush your pants off, “In the end Mr. Wayne, it’s all about balance.”
“So, what is that look in your eye then?”
You stare at him for a moment before finally admitting, “Pity, Mr. Wayne. It’s pity, because it is a damn shame that you wouldn’t let those boys in because you were so scared of getting hurt. Even now, you push Terry away.”
He growls at you, “And the others? Where’s their pity stare?”
“I think they’re slowly realizing what they could have, Mr. Wayne. In the past week, I’ve watched Richard cry over his lost Wally, Damian cry over his lost mother, Jason come to terms with the fact that his past does not define his future, and the younger version of you in your dimension realize that maybe he could be happy, and I think maybe that will change it, maybe not. But as I look at you, down here and alone, while those who care about you run around and laugh upstairs, I can’t help but feel that if you don’t find your balance soon, you never will.”
Without another word you make your way towards the stairs. His voice stops you when you’re about halfway up. “I met a woman with your name once. She was a tech on the Justice League’s space station. Looked just like you. She was very kind. Married, with two kids, and always said hello, even when no one else would. She was a good woman. I think it might be a universal thing.”
You smile to yourself and keep climbing. You’re just stepping out of the clock when Terry nearly knocks you down. He catches you, steadies you with a grin, and simply says, “Sorry, the old man called, said he needs to talk.”
You smile as you watch him go, dripping water as he goes. You smile and go to grab a towel. When you go back the water is gone, and your kids come running. They’re all talking over one another, before you make eye contact with Bruce, and he simply says, “They’re gone.”
Summary: The Robins as Bruce and Batmom’s biological kids.
AN: Thank you to my wonderful new team of Beta’s who edited this and are working diligently on everything else.
Despite getting married at a very young age, you never had a deep desire for a big family. In fact, you’re not even sure you want children. You’re fairly certain that parenting books caution against raising children in a home where crime fighting is more of the family business than running Wayne Enterprises. You spend a lot of late nights monitoring the computer in the Batcave while Bruce fights crime.
When you’re not fighting crime you and Bruce tend to either be working or at some sort of function. You know Bruce wants a child someday, but for the moment you’re both content with your lives. In fact, the only one who isn’t is Alfred. He’s worse than the press when it comes to babies.
He hints about them all the time, usually when he has you alone in the Batcave. On the flip side, he tends to corner Bruce in his office.
You’ve been married three years when Bruce comes home early from a business trip. You haven’t taken your birth control in a while, and both you and Bruce are feeling a bit forgetful when you fall into bed that night. You honestly don’t think of it again, until Mother Nature skips you two months in a row.
You’ve always been regular, so you have a pretty good feeling as to what is going on, but you want to make sure. You know it’ll be nearly impossible to go buy the pregnancy test yourself without being noticed, so you’re forced to ask Alfred to pick one up when he goes to the store that day.
He agrees, with this huge smile on his face, and you’re almost certain that he actually skips to the car. When Bruce asks you what’s going on, you tell him. Plus, you figure it’s not a particularly good idea to keep a possible father out of the loop.
“Remember that night, two months ago, when you came home early from that trip?” You ask.
“We didn’t use any protection.”
“Possibly. Alfred is picking up a test at the store.”
Bruce just nods, “That explains the skipping.”
You just nod. You wait together in the den, in complete silence. The humming is the first thing that alerts you to Alfred’s return. You go to meet him together. He has three different bags, all filled with pregnancy tests. You ask about groceries, and he simply tells you that he’ll go back out for those later. When you question him about the twenty different pregnancy tests, he says he wants to make absolutely sure.
You’re suddenly really glad that you drank all that water today, and that it’s Saturday. You go through all twenty tests, and the three of you all wait together. When the timer goes off, it’s Bruce who goes into check the tests. He’s already memorized all the different symbols for positive and negative.
He comes out five minutes later looking a bit pale. “Positive, all twenty are positive.”
Your stomach heaves at the weight of that statement as Alfred cheers. Both you and Bruce are scared out of your minds over the next several weeks. You both devour pregnancy books in anticipation of your first prenatal appointment.
You’re still worried out of your mind at the idea of being responsible for another life, but then you hear the heartbeat and every worry you have melts away. One look at Bruce tells you that he’s feeling the exact same amazement as you are.
You have to deal with morning sickness for several months, and you’re oh-so-grateful when it finally goes away. Of course, cravings set in the next day, and Bruce seems to kind of regret living so far from town when he’s forced to go constantly into town for your latest cravings.
Bruce is all about baby-proofing, but he doesn’t hire a company to do it—he does it himself. There’s covers on all the outlets, locks on cabinets, and soft things on the corners of all the antique coffee tables. You think it’s very sweet.
You go into labor at work, in the middle of a board meeting. Your water breaks while you’re giving your presentation. Bruce is at your side in thirty seconds flat, and then you’re surrounded by men, being ushered towards a company car. You’re rushed to the hospital where Gotham PD is attempting to keep photographers back. You’re whisked into a plush, private room. Fifteen hours later, you give birth to a little boy. He favors Bruce, but at the same time he’s his own person. Although he does have your eyes.
Running a finger down the side of his cheek, you marvel at the softness of his skin, and the way his mouth opens and closes. You hand him over to Bruce, who holds him with a little bit of hesitancy, but he’s supporting the head and doing everything lamaze classes taught him. As the baby falls asleep in his arms he looks at you with all of this love, wonder and amazement and says, “Thank you for making me a daddy.”
You just smile and say, “Thank you for making me a mommy.”
You’re kept in the hospital for three days. They want to make sure the new prince of Gotham and his mother are one hundred percent okay before they let you go home. Bruce sleeps in one of those uncomfortable hospital chair, refusing to leave your side. It takes you and Bruce about a day to decide on a name. Finally, you decided on Richard Thomas Wayne, after Bruce’s grandfather and father. “Dick” for short.
The day you take Dick home, Bruce is the one to carry him. He’s locked safely in his carry car seat, and you make sure a blanket is fully covering him, protecting your baby from the vultures outside.
You’re ready to hiss when you find out that a full police squad is already out there attempting to keep the photographers back and that you actually have to wait for more men before going out.
You keep your back straight as Commissioner Gordon personally escorts you to the car. You get in first, accepting the carrier from Bruce and locking it into place, before Bruce gets in. The next several nights are rather busy. Bruce has to go out as Batman to keep people from speculating. He typically waits until Dick is asleep before going and is usually back as you’re finishing his feeding.
The next several months are filled with sleepless nights and spit-up. When Richard is four months old, you set up a bassinet in the Batcave so that you can go back to monitoring the computer. Bruce slowly gets back into the groove of batman but is typically home a lot earlier than before. At six months, Richard is sleeping through the night without any problems, but you and Bruce still like watching him sleep for a bit before going to bed yourselves.
One night as you’re watching him sleep, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you, you admit it, “I love being a mom.”
Bruce just smiles and kisses you before saying, “I love being a dad.” Together, you both smile and go back to watching your son sleep.
Beautiful quote, “ If I could but lift one Robin into its nest again, I shall not have lived in vain.” From a book a dear friend loaned me. I stopped to aid my friend dealing with food poisoning; yet I am blessed. How beautiful the timing.
(If anyone wants YOI and Voltron recs I have those too)
43 : Do you tend to write protagonists like yourself or unlike yourself?
I try to stay away from writing characters like myself but I recognize that I have a tendency to inject my humor into stories. I do try to keep my character personalities diverse because I’m not overly all that interesting as a character and it’s fun to see how different types of people react to different situations.