Hella

The Witch // Princess of the Underworld Aries•Slytherin•Cabin 13 // I love music, books, writting and drawing // pjo, thg, batfam, etc (tortured writter and showgirl) theater kid! 📖🔮🫀

[sillyhelena]

HEATED RIVALRY WITH POPSTARS (original story written by me):

When you enter the world of fame, you want what everyone wants: recognition, money, and success. But to get it, you have to pay by losing parts of yourself.

Anything that doesn't fit the narrative they want to create around you will be discarded and rewritten to make you more marketable.

But what's left of you when your whole life you've been nothing more than an actor on a stage? What becomes of your life when your family, your friends, and your partners are nothing more than part of a performance bearing your name?.

Aurora and Selene know this better than most of the people. After so many years since their debuts at the age of seventeen, little remained of the girls they were.

Once friends, now public enemies, divided between the fans of Hollywood's golden girl and the fans of the bad girl everyone loves to hate.

—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—

I hope this works as an introduction. Anyway, I'm writing this story. So I'll be sharing information about the story and the main characters, Aurora and Selene.

If you have any questions, feel free to write to me and I'll be happy to answer. If you'd like to support me, you can like, comment on, or reblog this post, or follow me.

—Love, Helena. 🎸

[bornindarkparadise]

support please💕🌷

[sillyhelena]

Well, hello everyone!

My name is Helena and my dream is to be a writer. I'm currently writing my first independent story, which I'll publish here, on Wattpad, and maybe also on AO3.

I'm writing a lesbian story inspired by Heated Rivalry (this crap was necessary) but with female popstars who were pitted against each other by the industry but who never felt hatred for the another (if you like HR, please support me).

I just want to clarify that I am from a country where our language is not english. If anyone wants to help me translate the chapters when I finally have them or if anyone wants to be a beta reader for my story, you can message me privately, and I'll give you credit and thank you for your help.

If anyone wants to make fanarts/fanfics/edits I'd be really excited and would post it here. Also, if you want to ask anything about the story, you can send me a message through my requests, which are always open and I would answer you with enthusiasm.

I'll be updating my story, sharing edits, headcanons, and more. If you want to support me, please follow me, like, comment, or reblog this post; anything helps me a lot.

—Love, Helena.💌

[bornindarkparadise]

Please support❤️‍🩹

[bornindarkparadise]

Purple Rain...

—Bruce Wayne x Reader

(english is not my first language, requests are open)

This shit is so tortured poet coded. So I recommend listening to any song from the album while reading.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

You'd always thought you were going to marry Bruce Wayne.

Well, you and everyone else. But now, seeing him dance with Selina, a genuine smile on his lips, you felt as if you'd wasted your whole life being with the man you loved, but who didn't seem to love you back.

You and Bruce had been friends since before tragedy struck his family name, perhaps that's why it hurt so much to see that ring on Selina's finger. Because one thing was the pearl necklace, but quite another was Bruce giving her his mother's wedding ring.

The ring Thomas had given Martha... Martha, who would comment with a knowing smile on her face about how close you and Bruce were, and how you were like a daughter to her and Thomas, who, despite his wealth, always treated you with complete kindness when you went to Wayne Manor to play.

You weren't from the same social class as the wealthiest family in the city, but you'd always had an excellent education and been smart enough to get scholarships to schools that many people in your situation could only dream of attending.

Rich kids were cruel. The only one who was never mean to you was that dark-haired, blue-eyed boy. When grief and loss began to reign in Bruce's life, and he shut himself off from the rest of the world, you and he did nothing but cling to each other.

Today, so many years later, it seemed rather foolish that your life had revolved around this man, so captivated by that woman.

Selina Kyle, the woman who had captivated him from the first moment he saw her, the woman he had pursued from the very beginning, and the woman who was the object of all your envy.

Thinking about everything, it was foolish of you to have waited for him in the first place. After all, he fled Gotham for years, going to God knows where, without even sending a letter.

And even if you told yourself that you weren't expecting him, you were just lying to yourself, and it was ridiculously obvious, because the moment he returned, you were standing again at the gates of Wayne Manor with open arms, letting him back into your life, letting him break your heart again, and the pain in your chest as you drank a glass of champagne only proved that, in fact, he had broken your heart again, maybe this time forever.

You felt pathetic, but you couldn't miss your best friend's engagement party. No matter how much your heart ached or how humiliated you felt.

Because you actually believed he would ultimately choose you; you believed it, and so did every newspaper in Gotham.

Because even though many women passed through his life, you were the only one who stayed through the years, his faithful companion, always there for him, with soft hands, sweet words, and a kind smile.

Now you had to watch as another woman, in just a few years, took everything you had ever longed for. So now the Gotham newspapers had to change your name to hers, and you had to throw all your dreams in the trash.

And of course, not only that, because after all, you also had to give her your place. Because you had stupidly taken a place that never belonged to you, not really.

The role of his wife, after all, you had lived your entire life with him since the Prince of Gotham decided to return to his city to protect it in a bat suit.

You were the one who stayed up until dawn waiting for him, heart pounding, praying he would return to you alive. You were the one who tended to his wounds and the person he talked to about his nightmares. You are the woman his children call Mom.

But she will be Mrs. Wayne.

And no, of course it wasn't fair to you.

You had endured so much these past years, not just the sleepless nights and the madmen of Gotham.

You had survived the pain of losing your second son to the clown Bruce never had the guts to kill. You had watched your eldest son leave for another city, trying to escape his past. And you even stayed when Thalia came one day and casually announced that she had a child with him.

You didn't just stay with him despite all that; you raised that kid.

And now watching her dress sway to the music and seeing his eyes sparkle as they gazed at her, as if nothing else mattered in the room, brought back memories.

The school dance, when no one had asked you out and he, the boy every girl wanted to be with, approached you and asked you to dance.

He, your eternal dance partner, the man who always invited you as his date to the charity galas he attended and asked if you would do him the favor of dancing with him for a song, as if you weren't capable of giving him your whole life without expecting anything in return, as if you hadn't, in fact, given him your whole life, even though he never wanted it.

But now it seems you won't even be his dance partner anymore, and even that didn't matter at this point because he had never looked at you the way he looks at her now.

And maybe that was a good thing.

Maybe this was a sign from the universe that you should give up once and for all, that you shouldn't keep forcing it.

If after more than two decades he hasn't told you he loves you, what's the point of trying? Maybe it would have been better if you had accepted it sooner, before wasting your whole life and before he told you he was marrying "his greatest love".

And even though you'd had a few relationships over the years, none had been very long or very important. No man had ever been able to make you feel half the things Bruce did; you could never have such a deep connection with anyone else, but maybe he could.

After all, he was getting married, and what did you have? A house that would now belong to another woman, children who would legally be someone else's stepchildren, and a man for whom your heart had bled for years, who was now giving his heart to a woman who was your complete opposite.

It's time to have some dignity, if that's even possible, after spending so much time surrounded by people who have looked at you with disgust your whole life for a man who never even told you he loved you.

It's time to let go, time to accept that no matter how hopelessly in love you are with Bruce Wayne, he will never love you, much less the way you have loved him.

Would it be too cruel to leave without telling him where you're going? After all, maybe he wouldn't even notice you were gone. It's not like he was going to marry you, after all. You weren't needed at that wedding, which seemed designed solely to finally break your heart and kill all your hope.

Perhaps it's time to start something new and let go of everything once and for all, to stop trying and allow things to be the way they were always meant to be.

Him going his way, and you going yours.

Just friends. Best friends.

But for now, you would finish your drink and continue hiding in a corner of the grand ballroom while you, like everyone else in the room, watched the couple dancing in the middle of the room, oblivious to the rest of the world.

Perhaps in a few minutes, you would go out to get some fresh air and feel the rain on your skin as it mingled with your tears. This probably wouldn't be the last night you cried for Bruce Wayne, but it would be the last night you begged for his love.

Because after all, you are just a woman who loved him too much and was never noticed by him.

The woman behind the Dark Knight and the Prince of Gotham, the woman behind him, never beside him.

And that is the story of your life.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Fuck smut, give me emotional angst over a situationship that ends with a broken heart. Because yearning for someone feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest. (I really NEED to stop having a crush with my friends).

Anyway, I came back after about two months because I was bored and missed my husband (Bruce) and I love writing angst. It's six am and I still haven't slept (I'm falling asleep).

Kisses from Lena babes🌷

—Helena the witch!💜🔮🦇

[bornindarkparadise]

Hi! I loved your clingy!Ilya headcanons. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for Ilya being submissive to reader for the first time and what kind of sub he would be.

Hii, this might not be exactly what you asked for, but honestly, this is the first time I've written anything smutt, so sorry about that. I hope you like it anyway.

English is not my native language and Heated Rivalry requests are open!

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Submissive Ilya Rozanov Headcanons!

Ilya Rozanov x reader (gender neutral i think)

—This man doesn't know the meaning of shame, so he's loud, very loud. Heavy breathing, a broken voice with a more pronounced accent, high gasps, and desperate moans.

—He'll cling to you as if his life depended on it, but his touch is gentle while you do the work. He rests his forehead against yours and runs his hands over every curve of your body, his fingertips raising goosebumps on your skin.

—He'll curse reluctantly and then moan your name aloud as if it were a prayer.

—As you move on top of him, he won't be able to tear his gaze away from you, watching you with adoration and that gleam in his eyes that is pure devotion, as if he can't comprehend why this divine being who could belong to Olympus is with him.

—He'd be so turned on by the idea of you dominating him that he'd beg you to just throw him on the bed and use him to please you, because there's nothing he likes more than knowing how much pleasure his body can give you.

—He's the type to leave kisses everywhere; he just likes kissing you and forgetting all his problems.

—He's accommodating; he'll do anything you ask if you speak to him in a soft, breathless, slightly teasing tone with a smile on your lips. He could do anything for you in that moment because you look so beautiful that he's simply mesmerized.

—His whole body trembles, just like yours; your bodies are pressed together, connected, skin to skin, hearts racing and beating in unison, a symphony of sounds of pleasure from both of you.

—After all, he'd crave some gentleness. He would lie on top of you, leaving soft kisses on your neck, your chest, and your shoulders while stroking your hair and tracing invisible patterns on your hips with his fingers.

—I feel like you would fall asleep first, and he would simply watch you sleep peacefully, wondering how something so perfect could be his, something that brought peace to his noisy and demanding world, the only thing that manages to calm him, the person who finally made him feel loved.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

I know this man is wild, but to me he's so gentle and devoted. I don't know, but the fact that he repeatedly asks Shane if he's okay and wants to continue in episode 2 is so sweet to me.

My boy Ilya just want to be loved.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Kisses from Lena, sweethearts.

—Helena the witch🔮📖💜

[bornindarkparadise]

—Clingy Ilya Rozanov headcanons!

Ilza Rozanov x Reader!(gender neutral)

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

•Clingy Ilya, who whenever you're lying in bed reading a book, lies on top of you and rests his head on your thighs.

•Clingy Ilya, who whenever you're cooking or doing literally anything, gets behind you, rests his head on your shoulder, and wraps his strong arms around you.

•Clingy Ilya, who won't let you leave without giving him a goodbye kiss. No matter how rushed you are, he'll grab your wrist and pull you close.

"You have to give me my kiss, любовь." (love)

•Clingy Ilya, who calls you the most cloying nicknames in Russian so you don't understand what he's saying.

•Clingy Ilya, who after a game, regardless of whether he won or lost, just wants to go home and hug you.

•Clingy Ilya's favorite part of the day is when you sleep together; nothing feels safer or more satisfying to him than sleeping by your side.

•Clingy Ilya is completely starved for affection and devours every bit of love you give him. Kisses all over his face, gentle caresses, safe hugs, loving glances, or even just a radiant smile from you is the closest he'll ever get to perfect paradise.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

This show literally brought me out of my grave.

I'm accepting requests of Heated Rivalry!

English is not my native language. Comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated.

Kisses Helena.

—Helena The Witch🔮📚💜

[bornindarkparadise]

Steve Harrington headcanon!: If you were pregnant during the final battle.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

•We all know Steve is a protective man; it's obvious from how he always takes care of the kids. So, if you, his girlfriend, were expecting his child while everyone else was risking their lives to kill Vecna, his desire to protect you and prevent anything from happening to you would only intensify.

•The two of you would have a conversation in which he would look at you with his beautiful brown eyes, taking your hands while telling you that he doesn't want you to be at risk, that you should stay away from danger now more than ever.

Because even though he understands your desire to fight, since this horrifying monster also affected you, he couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you and the baby.

And you wouldn't be able to do anything but give in, give in to his bright eyes, his concerned tone, and the gentle kisses he placed on your hands. After that, you would take charge of forming the plans, marking maps, and gathering information on locations while managing communication between each of the groups using radios and walkie-talkies.

•Most of the time, while Steve waited in the car for his moment to act, his thoughts revolved around you.

He would communicate with you using a walkie-talkie, and if you complained about him using the line at such a crucial moment, he would interrupt you, murmuring in a low, vulnerable tone to ask if you were alright. Just hearing your tired, sincere tone as you assured him you were safe, that you were fine, made him sigh and run his hands through his hair before saying goodbye with a gentle, "Take care, sweetheart, please."

•He would be stressed, and you tense, because this wasn't part of the plan. You had planned to get married and start a family when they could finally put all this "Upside Down" business behind but you found out you were pregnant in the middle of it all, in the middle of this war, still fighting to destroy Vecna.

But there are times when the tension cracks, allowing you to have small moments of peace amidst the apocalypse.

You and him, sitting on the green grass swaying in the breeze, in front of the radio, the sun setting just hours before the next mission, your head resting on his chest, his arm around you, simply enjoying each other's company, watching the clouds drift by and the sky turn pink and orange.

Those were his favorite moments.

•When everyone else was loading the cars or setting a trap, he'd see you with something heavy in your hands, shake his head, take it from you, and carry it himself effortlessly, flexing his arms as he turned to give you a cocky smile and wink. Because why would you carry something heavy while pregnant when you had your strong man who just wanted to make things easier for you?

•Steve Harrington would be the best father in the world, yes, but above all he would be the best at supporting you during pregnancy because despite his clumsiness and bad jokes he always tries to lighten your load, he wants you to know that he is always there, by your side, as your partner even at the end of the world.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

English is not my native language, so there are bound to be grammatical errors. Requests are open!.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Kisses Lena🌷

—Helena the witch💜🔮🕰️

[bornindarkparadise]

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Okay, I've had this idea in my head for a long time, so imagine this: Steve Harrington in 1984 meets Dustin Henderson's older sister when the boy asks him for help hunting down his monster pet that ate his cat.

She'd always been someone who didn't draw attention to herself; she was smart but didn't like to speak up in class, and although she was pretty, she didn't like going to parties, spending most of her time with her younger brother and his thirteen-year-old friends.

Steve had never noticed her, but he couldn't help feeling foolish about it, because when they were planning a trap to catch a monster dog from another dimension, she confessed, with a soft laugh, that she'd been in love with him for several years in high school, but he'd never known she existed. And so as not to make him feel too bad about himself, she'd added that it was all okay because nothing would have happened anyway, even if the king of the school knew her name.

According to her, she was just another girl from Hawkins with a crush on Steve Harrington, nothing serious, but now with her standing right in front of him, he couldn't help but feel like an idiot. Because she was pretty, kind, smart, and incredibly brave. After all, Steve had seen her fight a Demogorgon with just an axe without even flinching because "nobody messed with her kids."

So basically, after that, they got really close and became best friends, and even though she'd gotten over her crush, now he was the one sighing whenever she was around. He was the one longing for a glance from her. He was the one replaying every single interaction they'd had that day before going to sleep. I think it would be hilarious to watch Steve yearn so much for something he could have had so easily before if he hadn't been such a complete loser.

She might be an artist, and he'd let her scribble on his arms with her paints, enjoying the warmth of her touch, the feel of the brush against his skin, and above all, having her undivided attention. Steve would surely drive her everywhere, and they'd talk about any old nonsense. Maybe he'd even have to pretend his chest didn't ache when she mentioned a cute boy who'd smiled at her in art class.

Everyone would know Steve was completely and utterly in love with the girl with the curly hair and bright smile who was his best friend, but she wouldn't notice. Perhaps she wouldn't even consider the possibility that he felt anything for her, because after all, why would King Steve Harrington ever be interested in her, just the weird girl in class? That was simply impossible.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

English isn't my first language. This is a mess, but I wanted to write something about my beloved husband, Steve. I'm itching to write about Harrington and stranger things, but I'm out of ideas, so requests are open.

Kisses, Lena🌷.

—Helena the witch🔮💜🕰️

[bornindarkparadise]

i absolutely love your writing! i’ve been thinking about an bruce wayne x reader where she is a lead in shows like phantom of the opera, etc. how would he support her & react to her lifestyle?

Thank you for the request! I'm a musical theater nerd, so this really made me happy.

—Bruce Wayne x Theater!Girl (musicals)

Mesmerizing.

That's the first word that comes to mind when he thinks of you.

He's definitely your number one fan, always in the most expensive section of the theater, the one with the best view of the stage.

For him, there's something about you singing with such ease the most beautiful melodies he's ever heard that completely captivates him.

Every movement you make, the way your skirt sways with your body, your loose hair framing your face as your voice tells a story full of devotion, tragedy, and pain, and your beautiful, sparkling eyes that occasionally meet his blue eyes with dilated pupils.

Yes, he's completely smitten.

He makes several donations to the theaters where you work, and at every damn gala, when someone mentions the beautiful woman next to him, he always puts on that smug smile that tells you he's about to start talking about your work. And he doesn't just talk about your work; he analyzes it, reflects on it, and adores it.

He always says there's something wonderful about the theater, about looking so ethereal on stage with the spotlights on you as you lose yourself in the scene, the song, and your character.

He admires your discipline and the passion with which you do your work.

I know he would be speechless to see how you can laugh, scream, and cry in the same play, and at the same time transmit this rollercoaster of emotions to your audience, who watch you with rapt attention.

Bruce is the kind of man who will always applaud you louder than anyone else. And even if the theater is packed, his eyes will always be fixed on you, and despite all the people applauding and complimenting you, the most genuine smile on your face that night will be dedicated only to him.

At the end of each show, he will come to your dressing room, hug you, and congratulate you, giving you the ever-present bouquet of flowers that he gives you every night during the weeks the play is running.

Extra!:

I really think he could relate to you because, to hide his identity, he always puts on an act in front of everyone.

Almost no one knows the real Bruce Wayne. Most people only see the part he chooses to show them: the act of the rich, wild kid who gets drunk at galas and always has a model by his side.

But that's not him.

So I feel like he might see himself reflected in the fact that when you're on stage, you only show people one face, regardless of who you really are, because it's all a scene, a performance.

He understands that, and that's why he appreciates so much being one of the privileged few who get to see the real woman behind the actress.

And most importantly, he's grateful that you actually get to see who he really is.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—🎭—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Hi, I'm still alive.

English isn't my first language (this hasn't been proofread and I'm sleepy, so sorry).

Requests are open!.

Anyway, all likes, comments, and reposts are greatly appreciated.

Kisses, Lena.

—Helena the witch🔮🦇📖

[bornindarkparadise]

damian wayne x fem!reader

—·—·—·—·——·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

I only think of Damian Wayne, who achieved what none of his brothers had: finding peace.

Renouncing the legacy of Robin, the legacy of the League that had been imposed upon him since birth.

Now he has a normal, quiet life. He's a good doctor; his patients find him pleasant, though he remains strictly professional—after all, lives depend on him.

But unlike his mother, who could never escape the shadow of her father, or the Batman who would surely die alone because of the complexities of having a life partner while being a vigilante in a city ruled by criminals, Damian had been able to flee his destiny.

When he returned from the hospital, he arrived at a warm, familiar home.

There was food on the table as his beloved wife approached him with a smile on her lips. He kissed her, and on her lips, he could taste freedom, while the cold of her diamond ring against his cheek sent a shiver down his spine.

As she took his hand and led him to the table where a plate of hot food awaited him, making him feel even more at home, he knew he was the luckiest member of the family, regardless of the fact that he didn't turn out to be what everyone expected him to be.

—·—·—·—·——·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Damian's character arc and the idea of him being a doctor like his grandfather Thomas is so dear to me, and I feel like we don't talk about it enough.

English is not my native language!, Requests are open.

·kisses from Lena!💌

—Helena the witch🔮🦇💜

[bornindarkparadise]

your writing is a blessing on earth and I mean it fully, it’s so gorgeous and full of character!!! please never stop 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Oh my god, this is so sweet and tender, thank you so much for the love. I'm genuinely surprised that anyone likes it when I feel like most of my writing doesn't even have any structure; it's just random ideas I try to string together. And basically, everything I write is me being cheesy or nostalgic as hell. Anyway, I really appreciate the compliments; they truly make my heart flutter.

Here's a draft of my dear and traumatized Jason Petter Todd.

(English is not my native language. Requests are open.)

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—🥀—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

When Jason Todd was on the brink of death, he could only think of you.

He was bleeding, tied to a chair, being tortured by the Joker. That damned crowbar hammered relentlessly at his body. Over and over again, while Robin's groans of pain mingled with the clown's hysterical laughter.

And Jason could only think of the memory of your touch, of how it felt like the golden rays of the sun finally bathing his face after centuries in the darkness of the underworld's depths.

He thought he knew sweetness his whole life, but after tasting your lips, nothing had ever been as sweet as you. Your lipstick tasted like the sweetest spring cherries, and your tongue dancing with his was like the purest honey.

That had been his last thought when he saw the red numbers on the bomb's countdown.

The sparkle in your eyes, your blushing cheeks when he complimented you, your melodious laughter that he was certain would be the sound at the entrance to paradise.

You were his last memory.

And you were the reason he returned to life, the reason he had risen from his grave for you, crawling with his hands tearing at the rain-soaked earth, the cold making his skin crawl in the darkness of the night.

Neither heaven, nor hell, nor death could ever keep him away from you. Nothing, no one could, not even the grave that bore his name.

He proved it by crawling home to you, by simply falling to his knees at your feet, taking your hands and kissing them repeatedly, like a devotee before his adored Goddess. His face buried in your lap as he wept, clinging to your body, his arms entwined around your waist.

"I'm back, my love."

He said it so naturally, as if he hadn't returned from the dead just to feel the warmth of your arms again.

He didn't care if his family or the gods didn't forgive his crimes because he would always have you, and only you had him on his knees before you, begging you to forgive his sins and stay by his side.

In the darkness of the night, with his ghosts torturing him and liquor intoxicating his mind, trembling in your arms, he didn't care how much time he had left as long as he was with you in your room, illuminated only by the warm light of your nightstand.

You were his only true love, the only person who had ever judged him, you who were never afraid of his hands touching your body, even though you knew the strength he possessed and that he could kill with them.

He was sure he could endure the cold of desert nights if he could be consumed by the scorching heat of your skin.

You, the woman of all his dreams, you who had satisfied his years of starving for love, for attention, for affection.

So, basically, your relationship with Jason Todd was based on loyalty and, above all, a devotion he could never feel for anyone but you.

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—🥀—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

I became obsessed with the Orpheus and Eurydice (Hadestown) edits with "Work Song" (Hozier) and this is proof of that.

I also want to say that there's no word that has more meaning and emotion for me than the word "devotion." It seems so romantic and pure that I simply can't fully express it.

kisses from lena!🌹

—Helena the witch🔮💜🦇

[bornindarkparadise]

I'm glad you blessed my comment with that like so that I was redirected to your blog to witness the most stupendous, scrumptious food.

Hi, darling! Thanks for the compliment, I'm very flattered. It makes me happy that you enjoyed some of my blog. I leave here a new publication that I hope you like.

(English is not my native language. Requests are open!)

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—•Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

“I thought my house was haunted,

I used to live with ghosts”

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Bruce had always had relationships based on uncertainty.

Push and pull. Tonight yes, tomorrow who knows.

He'd always thought maybe it would be better this way; no woman wanted to be with a man whose life was ruled by ghosts, regrets, and unhealed wounds that only grew deeper with the years.

Sometimes he believed his past was more present in his life than the present itself.

So he'd grown accustomed to appreciating the fleeting moments, the gentle touches, the lingering glances and short kisses. He told himself he was fine with that, that it was enough, not as if he were starved for affection, but there were nights when the loneliness and coldness of the city took hold of him, and perhaps it would be more bearable with someone to hug.

He remembered that when he talked about love with his friends, they always said vague things like "when you know, you know" or "if you doubt, you already know she's not the one". For Clark, with his perfect marriage, it's easy to say that.

He never believed in those insipid phrases.

Not until he met you and you just fit perfectly into his life without even trying.

The first time you hugged, your body wrapped in his arms, it just felt like you belonged there, with him.

Nothing about your relationship was tortuous or tumultuous; you both liked each other and had a chemistry that was impossible to miss, so when he asked you out, you smiled and said yes. Just like that, no robbery, no villains, no league of assassins involved. Just the two of you in a restaurant with glasses of wine, light laughter, the occasional compliment received with a smile from you, intense gazes, and a genuine curiosity in each other.

It all came so naturally. So of course, he just knew.

When he told you the truth about Batman, he was nervous. You stayed silent and let him talk, paying attention to every word that came out of his mouth. After a few seconds of silence, his heart beating wildly and his nervous gaze fixed on you, you just sighed and placed your hands on his, which were holding the Batman mask.

You looked at him and didn't say a word, you just kissed him, and no words you could have said would have been more perfect than that soft kiss and the feeling of your warm hands on his.

After that, the relationship continued smoothly. Since he no longer had anything to hide from you, he asked you to move in with him.

And everything was surprisingly simple, not in a boring or bad way, but in a way that brought him peace, something he would never have thought of having before you came into his life, unwilling to attract attention but still changing his world forever.

At night, you walked fearlessly through the halls of the haunted house where he had grown up. You went down to the Batcave and, by simply placing your hands on his shoulders and murmuring in his ear, you convinced him to go to bed, something no one but you could do, making the most stubborn man in the universe give in.

There was nothing he loved more than quiet mornings with you, the rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains while he listened to the constant beat of your heart, feeling your fingers play with his hair.

He had fantasized about this for many years, dreamed of the stability of a relationship, of gentleness and real love, of the peace you brought to his tired and tortured soul.

You were the light that guided him back home after being lost for so many years, wandering alone in dark alleys on cold nights with blood on his hands.

You were his dream come true. You had calmed the hunger he'd always had for something real.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and he wasn't ashamed of that, not when he could come home, burdened by the dark world he fought, hoping to make a difference. He could simply fall to his knees, wrap his arms around your waist, and rest his head in your lap.

You filled that emptiness he'd always felt inside him and showed him he was never incomplete.

This city had hurt both of you; broken and lost in the darkness, you lit up each other's skies and healed your wounds together.

And that was what was worth it, that you were together, that you are together and always will be because he would never want any other woman but you.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

It's amazing how all my posts start with an idea and end with me babbling and being cheesy as hell. I'm a hopeless romantic, forgive me.

Anyway, no one loves the tired, needy version of Bruce, who's just a little kid who wants a hug just as much as I do. He's so pathetic, and I love him for it.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Kisses from Lena.🌹

—Helena the witch!🔮📖🦇

[bornindarkparadise]

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Bruce Wayne would never call you his wife before you were truly his wife.

He's not one to say "look at my wife" or "this is my wife" when you're just dating.

No. To him, that title is important, too important.

He remembers his father putting a beautiful pearl necklace on Martha's neck, remembers how his fingers would brush the skin of her neck while his mother's gaze was fixed on the mirror in front of them.

Thomas would only look at her, and when he fastened the necklace and she turned to look at him, he remembers how their eyes would meet and his father would always smile and say "my beautiful wife" in the softest tone he'd ever heard.

So no, Bruce doesn't take the title lightly, because marriage means you choose him forever, with all his virtues and despite all his hundreds of flaws, despite his stubbornness and his difficulty showing emotion.

Having Martha Wayne's ring on your finger means to him that you'll wake up next to him every day, that you'll kiss his scars and be there to hold his hand in his worst moments.

It's devotion, it's giving your all, it's loyalty.

Eternal love.

Because no matter how complicated it gets, when he's standing in front of you looking into your eyes, when he says "I do," he says it forever.

He won't even say those words at the wedding reception.

He'll call you "the love of my life" or "the queen of my heart," but not "my wife." Not yet.

He only says it after the confetti has already fallen, the champagne glasses are empty, your shoes are on the floor, and his tie is lying somewhere.

He says it when no one else is around, when it's just the two of you with happy smiles on your faces despite the tiredness from hours of dancing, laughing, and drinking with your closest friends. He takes your hand, caresses your knuckles, and brings it to his lips.

Lingering longer than necessary as he softly kisses your skin, which to him is more valuable than diamonds and more delicate than porcelain.

He looks into your eyes and smiles with such truth on his face, a twinkle in his eyes.

"My wife."

He tucks one of your wild strands of hair behind your ear even though his hair is a complete mess.

He brings his face close to yours, so close that your noses touch and you can feel his warm breath on your lips as he looks at you as if your eyes contained stars.

"My dear wife" his husky voice, so cold and intimidating to others, was now, to you, the definition of love, of affection, and warmth.

So no, Bruce Wayne is not the kind of man who would call you his wife before you are officially his.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

My dear husband, how much I love you.

English is not my native language. Requests are open. Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated.

Kisses from Lena.

—Helena the witch📖🔮🦇

[bornindarkparadise]

•Bruce Wayne x ChildhoodBestFriend!Reader

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Selina had always boasted that she was the only woman who truly understood the Bat, but now that she saw them both together, seeing how she bandaged his wounds so naturally and how his shoulders didn't tense under her touch, a pang struck Catwoman, because she finally realized something.

She was the only one who had deciphered a being more complicated than Batman.

She understood the man behind the mask.

Not the terrifying vigilante, not the billionaire philanthropist, neither of the two masks he used on everyone around him.

She saw the little boy who ran around the Wayne Manor gardens with colorful bandages on his scraped knees, the boy who always hugged his mother and wanted to make his father proud.

She had been with him since before his shining smile died along with his parents in that dark alley.

Everyone knew him as cold, distrustful, a fortress frozen in time, submerged in the blue of sadness, with walls so high they seemed impenetrable to anyone.

But she knew the version of him who laughed; she had been there to hold his hand and be the shoulder he could cry on.

Somehow, she had preserved a part of that childhood innocence, those thunderous laughs, those mischievous glances, and knowing smiles.

She had kept all those fragile, fleeting memories capable of being swept away by the wind and forgotten by those who had never made the effort to truly know him.

She had made them immortal by placing them in a glass box protected by her, where her warmth helped him endure the coldness of the eternal, devastating winter that was now his life.

A part of that boy who allowed himself to be happy, who allowed himself to smile, still existed, but only thanks to her.

She who had become his safe place since he was five, she who had been his refuge since sadness tore his soul apart.

Because everyone knows that when the death and darkness of the world came to Wayne Manor, the doors of the place once illuminated by the bright rays of the sun closed.

And she had been the last to enter, not only the family home now ruled by loneliness and nostalgia, but also that melancholic heart that no one could truly enter after her.

Because he had closed the doors behind her, because she was all he needed.

Her arms, her comforting touches, her empathetic glances, and her warm smiles.

He didn't need anything, or anyone else.

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I'm such a nostalgic person.

Anyway, I'll try to post more things this month.

English is not my native language. Requests are open!

Greetings and kisses from Lena, babies!🌷💌

—Helena the witch!📖🔮🦇

[bornindarkparadise]

Hey pookie (ı hope you dont mind me calling that) can you do more dad bruce fanfics with inculding damian? Like y/n as a stepmother? Its okay if you dont want to add damian or dont want to do this but ı would like to see that from your handwriting 💋💋

Hi Pookie! (I actually love the nickname) I loved this request because I really love Bruce in his dad mode, and I love the Batfamily and Batmom. I truly believe all these traumatized children need a hug and a kiss from their mom before bed. Damian is definitely one of my favorites. I hope you like this!.

English isn't my native language. I'm sleepy, and this isn't fully reviewed. Requests are open.

"He is just a kid. A little kid"

It wasn't uncommon for members of the Wayne family to have nightmares. It was common, the screams of terror that would wake you up in the middle of the night.

It happened with your husband, who sometimes woke you up with his movements in bed, his furrowed brow, his body covered in a layer of sweat, and his labored breathing.

When you woke him up, Bruce would always stare into your eyes while you murmured; "You're okay, I'm here with you, my love."

Neither of you would sleep again that night, but you would continue lying in bed with your bodies intertwined; hearing the steady beat of your heart always reassured him.

This had also happened several times with your children.

Dick, when he had just arrived, was just a terrified little boy who relieve the moment his parents died every night.

Bruce and you would wake up and run to the boy's room, calming him by talking to him and hugging him.

Little Richard Grayson, eight years old, would end up asleep in the double bed between you and your husband. His legs were draped over Bruce's, his blue socks on, and his head was resting on your shoulder as you cuddled him.

On the other hand, when Jason had nightmares, he would enter the room without even knocking. He would touch your shoulder, and you, still half asleep, would step aside, approaching Bruce so Jason could get into bed. He would remain silent, simply clinging to you as if you were his only safe place, your fingers stroking his hair.

Tim was a different case from your first two children, as he was too similar to Bruce. When he had a nightmare, he would try to forget it by overloading himself with work, his brain half asleep, while he sat in front of the Batcomputer with a cup of coffee in his hand.

He would be silent as you came down the stairs, yawning softly in your black bathrobe. You always came over and sat next to him, taking the cold coffee from his hand and giving him hot tea.

Whenever he asked you how you knew he was here, you responded the same way.

"Maternal instincts."

So, after a brief conversation between sips of hot tea and affectionate hugs, Tim would go back upstairs and head to his room. He wouldn't go to bed without you there to kiss him on the forehead.

These boys might be the brave young vigilantes of Gotham to everyone else, but to you, they were just your little boys who jumped into your arms every time you entered and left the Mansion.

That was normal for them, but Damian Wayne was peculiar.

He didn't cling to you, no. He found your warmth unpleasant, but he respected you; you were his father's wife, after all.

From the moment he set foot in that house, he knew full well that you were a strong woman. No ordinary person could handle the villains, the blood, and the wounds that came with having three vigilante children and being married to Batman himself.

Despite everything, you were always kind to him. You cared about him; he was Bruce's son, and you saw a lot of your husband in the boy.

That concern for him was why you were here now. You had woken up to a loud scream and got out of bed, trying not to wake Bruce, who had recently returned from patrol. You walked to his room in your pajamas, a robe wrapped around your body.

You opened the door without knocking and saw the boy, breathing heavily, his hands clutching the sheets.

"Are you okay?"

Your soft tone of voice caught the boy's attention, as he was now looking at you with his piercing green eyes. He nodded slowly

"Father?"

"He's asleep. I don't like waking him up when he comes back from patrol. He needs to rest."

"Then you hear a scream in the middle of the night, and the first thing you do is run alone toward the source of the noise. It could have been dangerous."

"I've lived with bats and robins enough years to know how to perfectly differentiate a scream of danger from a scream of a nightmare." your tone was calm as you looked at him, trying to decipher what was going on in his mind.

"This is pathetic." he seemed embarrassed as he avoided your gaze and shook his head.

"It's fair Damian. Everyone here has nightmares, your brothers, your father, even Alfred and me."

The room fell silent. She observed his uncharacteristically nervous appearance, his hands fiddling with the green sheets.

"Do you have nightmares too?"

She closed the door and slowly approached him.

"The people I care about most are fighting crime, risking their lives, and I'm here, unable to do anything but wait for them and hug them when they return." her voice was soft and calm.

Despite Damian trying to hate her, he couldn't deny that she was pure warmth, the light in that house and the heart of this family. Without her, everyone would be lost, including Damian.

She was someone who had always tried to understand him. Even when Bruce lost his patience and saw him as a problem child trained as a killer.

When that happened, she would put her hands on her husband's shoulders and always tell him;

"He's just a little boy."

That same little boy was the one she saw now, scared, agitated, clinging to the bed with a blank stare and disheveled hair.

She slowly raised her hand in case he wanted to push her away, but when he didn't, she gently touched his unruly hair and combed it.

He turned his head, and his bright green eyes met hers.

"Are you okay?" she asked, caressing his cheek as if he were fragile and would break if she treated him with the same roughness everyone else had treated him with since birth.He simply nodded, his gaze lowered.

He wasn't used to being treated kindly, and she was like a ray of light that made everything bloom with her touch.

"Do you want to talk about what you dreamed?" He shook his head. He didn't want to talk, and she respected that.

"Okay," she nodded and looked away for a few seconds, pursing her lips. Usually, she didn't know how to treat him. Sometimes she was afraid of being too sweet for a boy trained by a league of assassins, and at the same time, she didn't want to be unkind because she didn't want to hurt him like everyone else had, like even the other members of this family did when they judged him for acting the way they had molded him.

"Do you want me to leave?" He didn't respond, so she removed her hand from his cheek so as not to upset him. But when she was about to move away, Damian leaned his forehead against her shoulder.

"No."

He didn't say another word, and she didn't need any more.

The next morning, when Bruce Wayne woke up alone in his bed, he wasn't so worried. Although he didn't like the fact that she wasn't the first thing he saw when he woke up, he knew his wife usually woke up earlier than he did.

But when he went to wake Damian, he found a sight that surprised him but made his heart warm.

The sight in front of him was unreal, something he'd never believed would happen.

His wife lying in bed, sleeping peacefully, with Damian curled up against her side, his face hidden in the crook of her neck, and Alfred the cat lying between the two of you.

Bruce smiled; she had this ability to soften the coldest hearts, to easily break through walls that to anyone else would seem impenetrable.

He laughed lightly, shaking his head, as he gently closed the door without making a sound.

It was the first time I'd seen Damian the way you saw him: a small, innocent boy who, no matter how much he fights with everyone, wants a hug at the end of the day.

He's just a kid, after all.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

I'm sleepy and frustrated because I've been writing this for four days and I don't like the result. I literally just finished writing this while listening to The Life of a Showgirl (I loved Elizabeth Taylor and CANCELLED!).

I'd love to do the October challenge, but I don't have anything planned, so maybe next year. Anyway, I'll try to upload more things as compensation. I have some ideas, and your requests help.

Your likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Greetings and kisses from Lena sweethearts! 🌷💌

-Helena the witch🔮📖🦇

[bornindarkparadise]

—There's happiness because of you

•Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader

"I know I made a promise, but I didn't see this coming,

I didn't count on being happy."

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

When several years ago, Bruce first donned the Batman cowl and swore his oath in the darkness of Gotham City, illuminated only by the moonlight.

When he spoke those words, swearing in the name of his mother and father that he would never allow history to repeat itself, that another child would lose their parents in a dark alley, that violence would invade the lives of innocent people.

Never, not while he was in the city. With the cowl, the cape, and his agile battle movements as he watched from the heights of buildings.

He had never thought how lonely that mission would be.

Because he gave himself completely to the cause.

Sacrificing not only his sleep, but also his health, his time, his life.

Because he could pretend like Bruce Wayne in front of Gotham City's cameras that he was someone charming, a playboy who walked in with two beautiful models on either side of him.

He could pretend, like Batman, that he didn't need company, that he was fine sinking into his own melancholy and letting himself be swallowed by the dark loneliness that had gripped him since he was eight years old.

But there was a time when he couldn't lie, not to himself.

When he arrived late and exhausted after a long mission, his body bruised and aching, his eyelids feeling heavy.

Those were the moments when the cape felt heavier on his back.

When he wandered into his room, completely alone. Lying in the cold bed with purple bruises all over his body and a strange feeling in his chest that disturbed him, that wouldn't let him sleep.

Empty.

He felt empty.

Being Batman was important to him, something that kept quiet a voice in his head that had been there since he was a child, telling him he was a coward, that he could have done something to prevent what had happened but didn't. Being Batman was what kept that voice quiet, what calmed him down, what made him feel useful.

Being Bruce Wayne was something he couldn't disassociate himself from. He'd been born with an important name and had been responsible for it. Attending every charity gala, managing Wayne Enterprises, handling the money, and changing his will every time he adopted another child, so he could ensure their financial stability the day he died.

But at the end of the day, none of that mattered.

Because at the end of the day, it was just him and himself, and even though he wanted to believe he was okay with it.

The idea of having someone waiting for him, someone who would welcome him with a smile on their face and kiss him on the cheek, was tempting, a beautiful fantasy he couldn't help but immerse himself in.

As he ran his fingertips over the soft sheets made of the finest and most expensive fabrics, he couldn't help but think about what it would be like to have someone warm this cold bed, a woman who would cuddle him at night with her head on his chest while she ran her fingers through his hair.

But he would simply have to sigh and close his eyes, clutching his pillow as he tried to forget all those stupid thoughts that left him daydreaming and that would never happen.

Or so he thought all those years ago.

Now, as he took off the gloves of his Batsuit, he couldn't help but stare at his wedding ring.

The ring was golden and shiny, the same ring that had once belonged to his father.

As he approached his bedroom door, he could feel the weight on his shoulders lighten, and as he took off his Batman cowl and entered the room, he couldn't help but feel like a different man.

Not Bruce Wayne, the billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist.

Not Batman, the Dark Knight who terrorized the villains of Gotham City.

It was just Bruce.

Your Bruce.

A small, closed-lipped smile formed on his face without him even realizing it.

And he couldn't help it, not when you were sitting up in bed in one of his old t-shirts that was so big it fell off one of your shoulders, with your daughter sleeping peacefully on his chest, absorbing your warmth as she drooled on your skin.

That last fact made him chuckle slightly, which caught your attention, causing you to raise your head and look at him.

And the moment your eyes met his, his heart beat faster, and he couldn't help but lean closer to you, as if he couldn't control himself, as if gravity itself were inevitably pulling him towards you.

He simply threw himself down on the bed, his body on top of yours, his arms around your waist, placing a kiss on your daughter's head and burying his face in your belly.

When you ran your fingers through his dark hair, he smiled stupidly, moved his face, and kissed your palm with a softness that resembled adoration.

He smiled when he saw the ring on your finger, the ring his father had once placed on the hand of Martha, his dear mother, and that years later, he placed on your finger after kneeling before you and asking to let it be yours for all eternity.

His blue eyes, so cold to anyone, shone as they met your face. He gave you a brilliant smile, not a chilling one like the ones he gave his enemies, not a fake one like the ones journalists' cameras captured, a real one, a radiant and honest smile.

A smile that no one but you could see.

"Welcome home, my love."

Your soft murmur comforted him.

That emptiness that had once kept him awake was now just an old memory.

Because for the first time in his life, he felt whole.

You and your warmth, your familiarity, your affection, kindness, and patience had put an end to that feeling that made him feel incomplete.

He no longer came home to a dark room and a cold bed.

Because now all of that was replaced by the warm light on your nightstand, the warmth that both you and your daughter transmitted with your warm, half-asleep bodies.

He was no longer alone; he was accompanied by the only person who had ever seen him for who he truly was:

His beloved wife.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

I was supposed to upload this on Batman's Day! but oh well, I never got around to finishing it.

But I wanted to upload this in honor of the love I have for Bruce.

English is not my native language, there may be mistakes, sorry.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Requests are open!

Greetings and kisses from Lena, my dears!🌷💌

—Helena the witch🔮📖🦇

[bornindarkparadise]

Oh baby!

Jonathan Kent x Wife!Reader.

Requested by @theall-seeingone , sorry it took me so long to do it darling, hope you like it.

Requests open.

English is not my native language, there are probably mistakes, sorry.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Being in a relationship with a member of the super family was complicated, to say the least.

Jonathan was a ray of light, like a lovelorn puppy at your feet. From the first time they locked eyes, so many years ago, when they were just children, he told his father that this little girl with the shy smile and beautiful eyes would be the woman he would call his wife one day.

And since you attended every gathering of the half-kliptonian family hand in hand with Jon Kent, with a huge grin on his face, you could say your super boy kept his promise as a lovelorn teenager.

So, after a few years of that domestic atmosphere of a young newlywed couple, your little family of two grew to now a family of three.

The truth is, you couldn't be happier, even though it was obvious to everyone that Jonathan was the happiest. The man had a grin from ear to ear and heart-shaped eyes every time you stood in front of the mirror watching your growing baby bump.

He treated you like porcelain. Despite his super strength, he treated you with pure delicacy and didn't let you do anything.

Carrying heavy things? Never. He'd give you a glass of water and place a soft kiss on your nose while murmuring that he could do it.

Bending down to clean under the furniture? You couldn't even think about it. He'd grab the vacuum cleaner and have you sit down while he hummed about how wonderful his wife was, earning a laugh from you.

That's how the months of pregnancy and postpartum went.

But even though you were used to your beloved husband being someone with superpowers, nothing prepared you for finding your son flying through the air at just one year old.

That's how the peace of a small family of two turned into the delightful disaster of a family of three with a superpowered baby he couldn't control.

Sometimes your son would cling to you too tightly, and Jon would pick him up, murmuring about how, despite your surprisingly strong body, you couldn't fight a mini-kliptonian.

He said it as if the boy understood, as he just looked at him with those big blue eyes resembling his father's and grandfather's.

There were times when you would wake up in the middle of the night and see your son floating above his crib, while Jon stared at the child with shock and disbelief on his face.

He simply murmured that he would take care of it and that you should go to sleep since you needed to rest.

But when you woke up after a couple of minutes, you saw your husband floating above the bed next to you, your son sleeping peacefully on his chest. The baby's soft sighs and Jon's snores made you smile.

Yes, they weren't a typical family, much less a normal one. This was a superfam.

And even though powers can sometimes be annoying or dangerous for a normal person, you loved your superboys, even if they snored and floated in the middle of the night.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

I want to thank you for reaching 100 followers (106 actually) it's crazy for me and I'm very happy, I would like to make a special post but I really don't have any ideas so you can make your requests!.

This is so Clark Kent-coded, and even though I'm not that close to the superfam (I prefer the batfam), I liked the result.

Anyway, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated.

Greetings and kisses from Lena, sweethearts!🌷💌

–Helena the witch💜🔮📖

[bornindarkparadise]

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

I truly believe no one could possibly understand what it would be like to have a newborn baby in Wayne Manor and how it would affect the family

.A babbling baby who kicked in the air and seemed to light up the room when she laughed.She has big, bright eyes filled with curiosity and innocence; she is so warm, so gentle, so pure.

So it's no surprise when you go into your daughter's room in the middle of the night and find your husband and children staring at the sleeping baby.

They watched as she breathed slowly while peacefully dreaming.

As she rested peacefully in the crib where she was, you couldn't help but admire her long eyelashes, her chubby cheeks, the small trickle of saliva dripping from her mouth, and her little hands moving in her sleep as she peacefully took over her crib.

The men and boys around the crib can't help but simply stand there motionless. Even when you approach, their gaze never leaves the baby.

You watched them for a few seconds. They had returned from a long night of patrol, still in their suits, with bruises, small cuts, and some dried blood on their clothes.

Spending hours facing the darker side of Gotham, witnessing violence and blood, and coming home, being enveloped in the warmth of a home.

And seeing a small child, someone who hadn't yet been tainted by anyone, someone innocent who was smiling and crawling, babbling, while looking into your eyes as if having a very serious and entertaining conversation with you, that reminded them why they did this.

Because they fought crime, putting their bodies on the line, fighting with their teeth, and holding on with their hands.

For children like her.

So that their innocence would remain intact. So that this city wouldn't traumatize him, so that no villain would torture her, so that her small and fragile body would remain intact without scars that make her look away from the mirror, without stormy memories that fill her eyes with tears.

This was worth fighting for.

Because this house had been plunged into sadness, despair, and melancholy. Darkness, along with a blue cloak, had ruled it since the day an eight-year-old Bruce had gone to the movies with his parents and returned alone, his suit stained with blood and tears in his eyes.

But this baby had been born in one of the rooms of this mansion, just like his father had so many years ago.You remembered how Bruce had held your hand tightly during childbirth with a firm expression, being strong for you, but when he saw his baby resting on her chest, he froze.

Because his daughter had clung to you, absorbing your warmth, like all his children after a hard day when memories took over and they couldn't sleep.

And don't even mention the first time your children saw her.

You were resting in bed with the baby girl in your arms when Dick entered the room with a shy smile as he approached you. But when he saw your eyes with Bruce's dark hair on his little sister's, his eyes simply filled with tears.

Then Damian arrived, walking slowly and gracefully. Unlike his older brother, he clung to you as he asked how you were feeling, but his gaze was fixed on the baby girl.

Jason arrived, pushed by Tim, and although they were arguing, their voices faded as he entered the room. Tim quickly approached, murmuring about how cute the baby was and how lucky she was to look like you and not Bruce.

Jason had remained still, staring at you on the bed, with the baby in your arms and his siblings around you. You looked up and beckoned him to come closer.

He remembered the words you had said to him and everyone else during the pregnancy: that even if you were having a biological child, she could never replace them, because they would always be her babies, and she would love them until her last breath.

Jason approached slowly, nerves running through his veins, but to his surprise, the baby stopped looking at Dick and turned her head, her bright eyes now fixed on him.

When your husband arrived at the bedroom door, he found you and his newborn daughter surrounded by the four boys, as if you were the sun itself and they were the planets that were predilectioned to orbit you.

And feeling drawn to your aura of warmth, love, and intimacy... he found himself inevitably approaching you.

So, to find your four children and your husband staring at the baby now, in the early hours of the morning, honestly wasn't a surprise.

This little girl had charmed everyone: you, her mother, her father, her four older brothers, and her grandfather, Alfred.

You sighed in the darkness of the moonlit room as a small smile spread across your face.

Because you knew your daughter would always be protected, by the same five men who loved you like no one else.

Because batboys love unconditionally the girls they always come home to.

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I find it funny that I write so much about babies and toddlers when I feel like I'd never have children for fear of not being a good mother.

Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated. Requests are open!.

Greetings and kisses from Lena, my babies!💌🌷.

—Helena the witch🔮💜📖