Batman Master List
Secrets Among Love Series
dirt enthusiast
$LAYYYTER

Love Begins

@theartofmadeline
RMH

titsay
taylor price
Keni
Not today Justin
No title available
art blog(derogatory)

⁂
Xuebing Du
we're not kids anymore.
almost home
DEAR READER
Claire Keane
styofa doing anything
wallacepolsom

No title available
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany

seen from Türkiye
seen from Hong Kong SAR China

seen from Malaysia

seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye

seen from Spain
seen from Malaysia

seen from Canada
@brucewaynecollection
Batman Master List
Secrets Among Love Series
Secrets Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
This is dedicated to @jasontood3904000. Here is a bit of sunshine to drive the clouds away. 🥰
Secrets Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
Reader gets sucked into Bruce Wayne's world.
I love all the support that I have been getting and since it is now gotten enough traction, I will now be posting two parts a week so please enjoy!
Part Eleven
Secrects Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
Thank you to all those who voted! It looks like our beloved reader will stay normal! However with the vote being EXTREMELY close I am considering writing an alternate ending.
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
Reader gets sucked into Bruce Wayne's world.
Part Ten
Batfam Fic Recs
updated 4/26/2026
Jason Todd
Just Us Two: Damian loves intruding on your and Jason's alone time.
Third time's The Charm: The two times Jason almost told you he liked you, and the one time he finally did.
Baby Came Home: After you lose your powers while trying to take down a partnership between Lex Luthor and Penguin, Jason and you confront your deepest fear — being each other's second choice. When the rest of the batboys lock you in the Batcave, though, the confession becomes inevitable.
How Can We Go Back to Being Friends: You hook up with your best friend, and now you don’t know how to act around each other.
Damian, You Are So Psyched: Damian came home from school yesterday acting off, so now it's your goal to cheer up the distant little boy.
Don’t Judge a Book by Its Leather Jacket: Jason has been telling himself he's visiting the little coffee shop at the end of the block for its cheap coffee, but it's his only way to see the cute barista every day and quote "Pride and Prejudice" at her until she falls for him.
Don't Judge a Book by Its Leather Jacket (sequel)
Not what you think: Jason went snooping and thinks you're cheating on him. Good luck explaining yourself!
A shear disaster: Your boyfriend is acting suspicious and won't take off his helmet.
Guilty pleasures: You cheat on your boyfriend, Jason, with the Red Hood.
Unexpected Guests: Damian finds out you're dating Jason.
Rough Night: Your secret relationship with Jason is accidentally revealed the morning after a rough night.
The Babysitter: After being hired to babysit Damian Wayne, you end up putting a masked intruder in a chokehold, only to realize you’ve just tackled his older brother, Jason Todd.
Making an Ass of U & Me: Jason didn’t mean to keep your existence secret from his family. At first, it was for his and your own protection more than anything; his double life wasn’t just for any average person after all. But, even after the whole marriage and settling down thing, he may have just forgotten to mention it.
Careless Accidents: You get hurt, and Jason’s pissed.
So This is Love: You show each other what love is supposed to be like (4 in 1)
The Gift of Truth: After figuring out that your boyfriend is Red Hood, you struggle to figure out a way to tell him you are aware of his “nightly activities.” When Jason finally introduces you to his family a week before Christmas, you are presented with the perfect opportunity to tell him
Pride & Prejudice: When you first meet Jason Todd, he seems to be nothing more than an entitled asshole, but as the seasons change, you begin to realise maybe you were wrong about him.
Good With Kids: You never really had an opinion on your colleague Red Hood, that is until you walk into him interacting with some kids.
The Investigator: The Batfamily discovers Jason's been hiding a long-distance relationship with someone who might be even more terrifying than Batman himself.
Are You Dating My Teacher: Bruce decides to cash in a favor that Jason owed him, and now the Red Hood- the most ruthless vigilante of Gotham- is chaperoning his youngest brother’s field trip to the zoo.
Who Do You Love: You're hopelessly in love with your classmate, Jason Todd. And you just so happen to be quite good friends with Red Hood. drunk one night, you admit you have feelings for Jason to your vigilante friend, not knowing the man behind the mask is the man you're in love with.
When She Sees Me: Your best friend Dick Grayson took you to one of Bruce's galas a while ago. When Dick finds out his brother has a crush on you, he decides to play Cupid.
Blah Blah Blah: Jason is angry after watching Wuthering Heights. You are horny watching him get angry.
Cover Blown: You and Jason cannot stand one another. Unfortunately. you both go undercover as a married couple, and that should'nt change things between you two... right?
La Vie en Rose: The four times Jason wildly preferred you over everyone else.
Kiss or Miss: A quiet Saturday at the shooting range becomes anything but when Jason decides hands on help is the best kind.
Can I: It’s your last year of university and Jason Todd has been in your classes, plotting on you. You’d promised yourself you’d make the most of this year, go to more parties, finally lose your virginity, and step out of your comfort zone, while Jason steps into yours.
Glad It Was You Prove It To You Hit Me
The Magic Words: You’ve been urging to tell your boyfriend that you love him and you finally do.
Ice Skating With Jason: Ice skating, jealousy, and accidental confessions... what could go wrong?
Random blurbs Old habits Revealing Secrets I'm still right though Jason accidentally reveals he has a soon-to-be fiancée Interrupted Dates First Time Shy (but experienced) Jason and his freaked-out (but inexperienced) girl Jason Todd who makes everything in your home kiss Random Headcanons My pretty, pretty girl Collar Jason has a wet dream while you’re trying to wake him up
Dick Grayson
Sweater Weather: Dick just wanted to have lunch with his best friend, but he didn't expect you to show up in some other guy's sweatshirt.
The Light Behind Your Eyes: A week spent at Dick’s apartment leads Damian to discover what unconditional love looks like.
Hard to Impress: Dick Grayson can't seem to make you swoon, no matter how hard he tries, until he finally does
The "She's With Me" Is The New Gaelic Shrug (sequel)
Easy lovers: After a series of dates, dick finds himself desperate and decides that tonight will not end until he gets to walk home with a kiss from you.
Miraculous partners: Basically, a "Miraculous Ladybug" plot between you and Dick.
Territory, Marked: Damian makes an unexpected friend at the dog park, and when his older brother tags along one day, he takes a little too much interest.
Dinner Was Not Served: Dick had one goal: to seduce his girlfriend. He forgot the part where he should check for unwanted guests first and narrates his plans in very, vivid detail.
Stakeout at Table Nine: Dick Grayson just wanted a normal date. No suits. No masks. Definitely no Batkid stakeout at a fancy restaurant. Too bad his siblings brought disguises, drama, and a front-row seat to his love life.
Lightning Strikes Twice: Nightwing accidentally develops feelings for the anxious woman whose rescue has become part of his regular nightly routine by this point.
Whatever You Say Teach: Damian gets in a fight at school, and his favorite teacher has to set up a meeting with a parent or guardian. Bruce Wayne is away on a mission and Alfred isn’t picking up the phone, so Damian’s eldest brother has to attend a parent teacher conference. Only to find out that he has history with his little brother’s English Lit teacher.
His Person: You and dick have been close friends for years now, and that's all it would ever be, but after he snaps and upsets you, things change.
Random blurbs Take him back, please! Revealing Secrets Interrupted Dates
Damian Wayne
Near: He hates contact, except apparently when it’s you he’s inching toward.
Nepo Vigilante: After your parents die, you inherit their legacy as vigilantes, reluctantly stepping into a life you never asked for. Bruce takes you in to honor a promise to them, pairing you with Damian, whose cruelty and perfectionism push you to your limits, until one day, fed up, you choose to train with Tim instead, sparking Damian’s outrage.
When The Spite Dies: You were expected to quit after Damian Wayne’s first vicious insult, but fueled by spite, you stayed— only to end up hopelessly attracted to the despicable man and vice versa.
When The Spite is Desire (sequel)
The Heart Remembers: Damian's short-term amnesia from a concussion causes complications when he refuses to believe the break-up ever happened—and his missing memories dissolve all defenses and unravel the true depths of his undying devotion for you.
The Only Exception: Getting a list of everything Damian hates, you feel self-conscious about ticking the boxes in that list—and try to fix that, not knowing that you’re Damian’s only exception.
Animal Interests: Damian’s father drags him along to an old acquaintance's house for intel, only to find that her teen also has an interest in animal rescues. In other words, she has a rescued panther as a pet
Random Blurbs Interrupted Dates Damian Wayne and Reader Get Domestic
Tim Drake
If I Was Your Boyfriend: Tim Drake had his eyes on you from the very first week of the semester. So now he’s praying for your (ex) boyfriend’s downfall, because God forbid a man openly plots to have you for himself instead.
Dairy Queen Closes in 10 Minutes: You broke up with Tim a year ago. Too bad he still thinks of you as his. Too bad everything he does reminds you that you are.
Random Blurbs Interrupted Dates
Bruce Wayne
The Wrong Man’s Wife: The Justice League members think Batman is in love with Bruce Wayne's wife.
Like Real People Do: Bruce's wife goes missing, and the media and family are both in shambles. Bruce grows colder as the family tries their best to find her. To try and cheer him up, they find old video diaries from the couple’s early dating lives and witness a new side of Bruce.
The Watchtower's Worst Kept Secret: The Justice League suspects something is happening between Batman and Bruce Wayne's wife.
Seven Smacks: Bruce Wayne was a stubborn and fiercely independent man, which meant that his children were too. Unfortunately for you, that meant that scolding one of them was practically a moment to scold both.
The Bat's Wife: Some members of the league are still surprised by the way the Dark Knight's wife looks.
Oh, It's... Gold: Bruce made a small mistake on a gift he gave you, and everyone judged him for it.
Random blurbs Revealing Secrets
i won't last a day without you
by Shirley Bassey
pairing: Bruce Wayne x pregnant!reader ~ 1.3k
summary: Bruce has a tendency to stay up too late working, making his pregnant wife come all the way downstairs to convince him to join her in bed
warnings: sexual innuendos obvi, mentions of scars from whipping, pregnancy symptoms, self-deprecatory thoughts and beliefs, not proofread 😁
Bruce knew he should be in bed.
As soon as he was finished writing up the report from patrol, he should have removed his cowl and costume, turned off his monitors, climbed up the bat-cave steps, and curled up beside you in your Egyptian silk sheets. He could only imagine the heat of your skin against his; the way your body throws itself over his subconsciously.
Yes. He should really be in bed.
Should I give our lovely doctor super powers in Love Among Secrets?
Yes
No
Secrets Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
Thank you all so much for all the support it has made this so enjoyable reading your reblogs and comments! I usually post wednesday mornings but I got too excited!! :D
Taglist is open.
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please keep leaving comments! ❤️
Reader gets sucked into Bruce Wayne's world.
Part Nine
Jason hears it. Not all of it. Just enough.
He’s halfway down the hall when Bruce recounting the argument he had with you to Alfred. He wasn’t trying to listen. He’d been heading to his room, already annoyed about being sent to bed like he was ten instead of… well, still ten, but that’s not the point.
Then Bruce says it.
“You’re not their mother.”
Jason stops. Everything in him goes still.
He doesn’t hear what comes after. Doesn’t need to. Because he knows that tone. Knows what it means when something crosses a line you don’t come back from the same way.
He waits. A minute. Maybe two. Long enough for the house to go quiet again. Jason turns. And storms back down the hall.
Bruce is still in the cave when Jason finds him. Standing exactly where you left him. Like he hasn’t moved.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Bruce turns sharply, caught off guard for once. “Jason—”
“No,” Jason snaps, marching forward. “No, you don’t get to do that. Not after what you said.”
Bruce’s expression hardens slightly. “You shouldn’t be down here.”
“I heard you telling Alfred,” Jason cuts in. “I know what you said to her.”
Silence.
Jason’s hands clench at his sides.
“You don’t get to say that,” he continues, his voice shaking—not from fear, but from something angrier. “You don’t get to act like she’s nothing.”
“I didn’t say she was nothing,” Bruce replies, controlled but tight.
“You basically did,” Jason shoots back. “You told her she’s not our mom like that means she doesn’t matter.”
Bruce exhales slowly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” Jason demands.
Bruce doesn’t answer right away.
And that—
that tells Jason everything.
“Yeah,” Jason mutters bitterly. “That’s what I thought.”
He steps closer, glaring up at him.
“She is my mom.”
The words land hard.
Bruce’s gaze sharpens. “Jason—”
“No,” Jason snaps again, louder this time. “You don’t get to correct me on that. Not you.”
The cave goes still.
“She’s the one who fed me when I didn’t have anything,” Jason continues, voice rough now. “She’s the one who didn’t look at me like I was some street rat she had to fix. She didn’t ask for anything. She just— she was there and not because she had to be but because she wanted too.”
Bruce doesn’t interrupt.
“And yeah,” Jason adds, swallowing hard, “you took me in. You gave me a place to stay. That matters.”
A beat.
“But so does she.”
The words hang there.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Jason shakes his head, backing away. “You screwed up,” he says.
Then he turns and leaves. Bruce doesn’t stop him.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
You don’t remember getting home. Not clearly. You remember unlocking the door. Dropping your keys. Sitting down and then suddenly you’re crying. It comes out of nowhere.
Sharp.
Uncontrolled.
You press your hand over your mouth, like you can hold it in, like you can contain it if you just try hard enough. It doesn’t work. Because it’s not just what he said. It’s what it meant.
You’re not their mother.
You curl in on yourself, the weight of it pressing down hard on your chest. Because you never asked to be. But you became it anyway. In the quiet moments. In the small things. And he dismissed it like it was nothing.
You cry until there’s nothing left. And then you sit there—empty.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
A Few Days Later.
The phone rings. You almost don’t answer it. Almost. But then you see the name.
Dick
You pick up immediately.
“Hey—are you okay?”
“I miss you.”
Your chest tightens instantly.
“I miss you too sweet boy,” you say gently. “Are you okay?”
There’s a pause.
Then—
“…Jason told me what happened.”
"What do you mean Jason told you what happened?"
“He told me what Bruce said to you. I’m sorry,” Dick adds quickly. “He said Bruce was being stupid and I agree. ”
Despite everything, you huff a small, tired laugh.
“That - .” You begin to speak when you hear another voice on the other end of the call.
“Hey—give me that—”
There’s a scuffle.
Muffled arguing.
Then— Jason’s voice.
“He was being stupid.”
“Jason—”
“No, I’m serious—”
“Guys,” you cut in, rubbing your forehead. “Put me on speaker.”
There’s a brief pause.
Then—
“Okay,” Dick says.
You take a breath. Steady yourself. “I love you both,” you say softly.
The line goes quiet.
“This is between me and Bruce,” you continue. “Not you. You don’t have to pick sides.”
“We already did,” Jason mutters.
“Jason.”
Silence.
You soften your tone.
“I won’t be at the manor for a little while,” you say. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gone.” A pause. “If you need me,” you add, your voice gentler now, “I’ll always be there.”
Dick sniffles slightly.
“Okay.”
“And listen to Alfred,” you continue. “He knows what he’s doing.”
“…Most of the time,” Jason mutters.
You smile faintly. “Take care of each other,” you say.
Then—
before you can second-guess it—
you hang up.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Two weeks pass you go back to work. The ER is the same. Loud. Fast. Demanding. And for the first time in weeks— you’re grateful for it. Because it doesn’t give you time to think.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
“Fix it.”
Bruce looks up. Both boys are standing in front of him. Arms crossed. Unimpressed.
“That’s not how this works,” Bruce says.
“It should be,” Dick replies.
“You hurt her,” Jason adds bluntly.
Bruce exhales slowly. “I know.”
“Then fix it,” Jason repeats.
Silence.
“Because if you don’t,” he continues, “we will.”
Bruce’s gaze sharpens slightly. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Dick says, stepping forward, “if we had to pick—”
“You wouldn’t be it,” Jason finishes.
That lands.
Hard.
Before Bruce can respond— they’re already turning.
“Where are you going?” he calls.
Neither of them answers.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
You’re exhausted. Your shift ran long. Your feet ache. Your brain feels like it’s running on fumes. You unlock your door—
step inside—
and freeze.
“…What are you doing here?”
They’re both on your couch.
Jason shrugs. “We missed you.”
Dick waves. “Hi.”
You stare at them for a second. Then you move. You pull them both into a hug, holding them tighter than you intended.
“You can’t just show up like this,” you murmur.
“But we did,” Jason replies.
You sigh.
But you’re smiling.
“Sit,” you say. “I’m making breakfast.”
They obey immediately.
You call Bruce.
“They’re with me,” you say before he can speak. A pause. Relief.
“Thank you,” he says.
“I’ll take them to school,” you add.
“…Can I come by?” he asks carefully.
You hesitate.
Then—
“…Okay.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
After school drop-off, he arrives. You let him in. There’s a moment. Quiet. Tense. Then—
“I’m sorry.”
No pretense.
No deflection.
You cross your arms slightly. “For what part?”
“All of it,” he says. “Keeping things from you. What I said.”
You study him.
“You hurt me,” you say simply.
“I know.”
Silence.
“You don’t get to decide what I am to them,” you continue. “That’s not just your call.”
He nods. “You’re right.”
That matters.
You exhale slowly.
“We need to talk about everything,” you say. “The boys. This—” you gesture vaguely “—lifestyle.”
“We will,” he agrees.
“And no more secrets,” you add, your voice firm now. “If this is going to work, I need the truth.”
“You’ll have it.”
A beat.
He steps closer.
Hesitates—
then kisses you.
It’s softer than before.
Careful.
“I’ll see you later,” he murmurs.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
That Evening – The Manor
You sit across from them. All three of them.
“This stops being half-truths,” you say.
Silence.
“Is this what you want?” you ask the boys. “Really?”
Dick nods immediately. Jason follows.
You close your eyes briefly. Then nod. “Okay,” you say.
Bruce watches you carefully.
“But there are rules.” That gets their attention. “No patrol past 10 PM on school nights.”
Jason opens his mouth—
“Don’t,” you warn.
He closes it.
“You don’t go out without Bruce,” you continue. “Ever.”
They nod.
“And no more secrets,” you finish.
Bruce inclines his head. “Agreed.”
You look at him. Really look at him. “If anything happens to them,” you say quietly, “I will kill you.”
The room goes still.
Even the boys don’t laugh.
Bruce swallows. “…Understood.”
A beat.
Then— Jason leans toward Dick. Not quietly enough.
“The only thing that scares him is her.”
Dick snorts.
You blink.
“…What did you just say?”
Jason freezes.
Dick grins.
“Nothing.”
But it’s too late. Because you heard it. And more than that— you felt it. That shift. That word.
Her.
Mom.
You don’t say anything. Not yet. But something settles into place. Stronger than before. Unspoken.
Unbreakable.
Taglist!
@jasontood3904000 @marliliyndreams
Secrect Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
Reader gets sucked into Bruce Wayne's world.
Part Eight
Darkness fades slowly. Pain comes back first. Sharp. Deep. Familiar.
Then—
Memory.
Fight. Blood. Failing to make it back.
Alfred.…you.
Secrets Among Love
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
Part Seven
Bruce brings it up one evening sitting on the couch in the manor, his tone more measured than usual. “There’s a charity gala,” he says. “For at-risk youth.”
You glance up at him, already understanding what he’s asking.
“I’d like you to come with me,” he continues. “Publicly.”
A pause. You consider it. The attention. The scrutiny. The shift it would create. Then you think about the boys. About what this means.
“…Okay,” you say.
His expression softens, just slightly.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Alfred arrives the next day.
“You’ll need something appropriate,” he says smoothly. “Mr. Wayne insists.”
“Of course he does,” you mutter. But you go anyway.
What you don’t expect— is how much you enjoy it. Alfred is… surprisingly delightful company. Dry humor. Sharp observations. A quiet warmth that sneaks up on you. By the end of the day, you’re laughing more than you planned to. And he’s watching you with something almost fond.
“You are good for them,” he says at one point.
You glance at him, caught off guard.
“…They’re good for me too.”
He smiles and nods, like that’s exactly the answer he expected.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The night arrives quickly. When you step out— everything feels still for just a second.
The gown is black, elegant, floor-length, hugging just enough to feel bold without crossing into something you’re not. The front is modest, clean, while the back dips lower, striking just the right balance.
Your hair is swept up, Grecian in style, soft pieces framing your face.
Timeless.
You don’t feel like someone else. You feel like… a sharper version of yourself. Bruce is waiting when you come down.
And when he sees you— he stops. For a moment, he just looks at you.
“You look…” He exhales softly. “Breathtaking.”
“Thank you.” smile, just a little.
He offers his arm. You take it. And together— you step into the light.
The ballroom glows gold and crystal, every surface polished to perfection—too perfect. You’re used to harsh fluorescent lights, to blood and urgency and noise. This kind of elegance feels like a different planet.
You adjust your dress subtly, fingers brushing the fabric as you scan the room. Gotham’s elite. Politicians, donors, socialites.
Predators, in prettier clothing.
“Overwhelming?” Bruce murmurs beside you, his voice low, almost amused.
You glance at Bruce Wayne, immaculate in his tux, completely at ease in a world that still feels foreign to you. “I’ve handled six trauma cases at once,” you say lightly. “This is just… quieter.”
“For now,” he replies, a hint of something knowing in his tone before he’s pulled away by a board member.
And just like that—you’re alone.
Well.
Not alone for long.
“You're that ER Doctor, right?”
The voice is smooth, confident, practiced. You turn to find Harvey Dent stepping into your space, a charming smile already in place.
“Guilty,” you reply, polite but measured.
“I’ve heard about you,” he continues, taking your hand briefly, his grip warm and assured. “The ER miracle worker. Gotham’s lucky to have you.”
You huff a small laugh. “Miracle worker is a stretch. Mostly I just don’t give up when I probably should.”
“Mm,” Harvey tilts his head, studying you with open interest. “That kind of stubbornness is… admirable.”
There’s a beat. Then another.
And then—
“I was hoping I’d run into you tonight,” he adds, voice dipping just enough to shift the tone. “Though I have to say, you’re even more impressive in person.”
There it is.
You’ve dealt with this before—different men, same energy. Usually, it’s easy to deflect.
But this is… complicated.
Because you are here with someone.
You smile, calm and unbothered. “Careful, Counselor. That almost sounded like flirting.”
“Almost?” Harvey grins, unashamed. “I can be more obvious if you’d prefer.”
You shake your head, amused despite yourself. “Tempting, but I should probably stop you there.” You gesture lightly across the room. “I’m here with someone.”
Harvey’s gaze follows yours—and lands exactly where you knew it would.
On Bruce.
Recognition flickers. Then something sharper.
“Ah,” he exhales. “Of course you are.”
“Of course I am?” you echo, brow lifting.
“Well,” he straightens slightly, smile returning but tighter now, “it is Bruce Wayne.”
There’s a hint of challenge in it. Old rivalry. Old history.
You don’t get the chance to respond.
Because suddenly—
Bruce is there.
You don’t even see him approach, just feel the shift in the air as he steps in beside you, close enough that his presence is unmistakable. His hand settles at the small of your back—firm, grounding, just this side of possessive.
“Harvey,” Bruce says smoothly, though there’s an edge beneath the polish.
“Bruce,” Harvey replies, equally composed. “I was just keeping your date company.”
“I’m sure you were.”
Bruce’s thumb brushes once against your back, subtle but deliberate. A silent claim.
You glance at him, catching the faint tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders have squared just slightly.
Oh.
This is new.
You decide—very intentionally—not to rescue him from it.
“Harvey was just telling me how impressive I am,” you say lightly, eyes flicking between them.
Bruce’s gaze drops to you for a fraction of a second, something warmer surfacing before he looks back at Harvey. “He’s right.”
Harvey lets out a quiet chuckle. “Careful, Bruce. Didn’t know you were the sharing type.”
“I’m not.”
It’s immediate.
Flat.
Certain.
The words hang in the air for half a second too long.
Your breath catches—just a little.
Harvey notices. Of course he does.
“Well,” he adjusts his cufflinks, smile returning in full politician form, “that answers that.” His gaze flicks to you one last time, something almost regretful there. “It was a pleasure, Doctor.”
“Likewise,” you reply, still composed.
He nods once to Bruce and moves on, disappearing back into the crowd like nothing happened.
Silence settles between you.
Bruce’s hand is still on your back.
You turn your head slightly, just enough to look up at him. “You handled that… subtly.”
His eyes meet yours, dark and intent. “He was flirting with you.”
You hum. “I noticed.”
“And?”
“And I told him I’m dating you.”
Something in his expression shifts—tightens, then softens, like he’s trying to decide what to do with that.
His hand doesn’t move.
If anything, it presses a fraction closer.
“Good,” he murmurs.
You tilt your head, studying him now. “You get like this with all your dates, or am I special?”
A pause.
Then—
“You’re not like my other dates.”
The way he says it—it’s not a line. It’s a fact. And somehow, that’s worse.
Your chest tightens, just slightly.
“Bruce—”
“Dance with me,” he interrupts, already guiding you toward the floor.
It’s not a question. But it’s not a command either. It’s something in between. Something that makes it very hard to say no. And as his hand slides properly into yours, pulling you into the swirl of music and light, you can’t help but think—
The ER was easier than this.
The gala is everything you expected and more. Flashes of cameras. Murmurs of curiosity. Eyes following you as you move through the room at Bruce’s side.
You feel it—the attention, the speculation.
But it doesn’t overwhelm you. Because he doesn’t let it.He stays close. Grounded. Present.
You talk to donors. Listen to stories. Watch the impact of what this night represents.
And slowly—
the noise fades.
By the end of the night, you’re laughing quietly with him near the edge of the room, the world narrowed down to just the two of you.
Across the room, cameras flash again.
Tomorrow, the tabloids will explode. Speculation. Headlines. Questions.
Who is she?
Where did she come from?
Why her?
But tonight— none of that matters. Because for the first time— you’re not just part of their world. You’re part of his. And he’s not letting go.
By the time the tabloids start using the phrase “future Mrs. Wayne,” you’ve already stopped reading them.
Not completely—you’re not that disciplined—but enough to protect your peace. Enough to keep your life from turning into something dictated by headlines and speculation.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
It’s been nine months.
Nine months of dinners that turned into routines, routines that turned into something steadier. Nine months of learning Bruce in pieces—the quiet parts, the guarded ones, the ones he doesn’t offer easily but doesn’t hide from you either.
Nine months of the boys becoming… yours, in a way you don’t say out loud.
The attention has changed things.
It had to.
You’ve had to cut back your hours at the hospital, stepping away from shifts you would have taken without hesitation before. At first, it felt wrong—like you were abandoning something important, something essential to who you are.
But the trade-off…
You can’t deny it.
More time with them.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The apartment smells like sugar and warmth—cinnamon, butter, something soft and safe that settles into the walls like it belongs there.
It’s… not something either boy is used to.
“Are you sure that’s enough sugar?” Dick leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching you with exaggerated suspicion. At fourteen, he’s all restless energy and sharp eyes, already too observant for his own good.
You don’t even look up as you spread the filling. “I was a baker before I was a doctor. Have some faith in me.”
From the small kitchen table, Jason snorts. Eleven years old and already permanently unimpressed, he’s hunched over a book—but he’s been rereading the same page for the last five minutes.
“That’s not reassuring,” he mutters. Looking a the previously ruined batch in the trash.
You glance over your shoulder, catching the way his nose scrunches faintly at the smell—like he doesn’t trust something this good to be real.
“Relax,” you say, softer now. “Worst case scenario, we eat something slightly too sweet and survive the experience.”
Dick grins. “Bold assumption.”
You shoot him a look, but there’s a smile tugging at your mouth as you start rolling the dough. It’s messy—uneven—but you don’t seem to care.
Neither of them misses that.
There’s flour on your hands. A streak of it on your cheek.
You don’t look like someone who belongs in Bruce Wayne’s world right now.
You look… normal.
Jason’s gaze lingers a second too long before he looks back down at his book.
Dick, of course, notices everything.
“So,” he says casually, pushing off the counter and wandering closer. “You do this a lot?”
“Burn food?” you ask.
“Domestic stuff.”
You pause for half a second, then shrug. “When I have time. Which is… not often.”
Dick hums like he’s filing that away. “Huh.”
You slice the rolls and place them into the pan, spacing them out carefully. “Why?”
“No reason.” He glances at Jason, then back at you, something mischievous sparking in his expression. “Just trying to figure out if this is, like, a regular thing or if we’re witnessing a once-in-a-lifetime event.”
Jason looks up just enough to add, “Probably a fluke.”
You gasp softly, hand to your chest. “Wow. Betrayed in my own kitchen.”
“You invited us,” Jason shoots back, but there’s the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth now.
“Yeah,” Dick adds, leaning his elbows on the counter again. “Fed us, too. Honestly, this is getting suspicious.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Suspicious?”
“Mm-hmm.” He gestures vaguely at the apartment, the warm air, the pan of cinnamon rolls. “Food, supervision, no imminent danger…”
You blink. “That’s your baseline for suspicion?”
“I’m just saying,” he continues, grin widening, “this is dangerously close to, like… a mom situation.”
The words land lightly.
Too lightly.
Jason stills.
Just for a second.
You feel it.
The shift.
Your hands pause over the pan, something quiet threading through your chest—but you don’t let it turn heavy.
Instead, you raise an eyebrow at Dick. “A mom situation?”
“Yeah,” he says, completely unbothered. “You know—making snacks, letting us hang out here, not kicking us out when we’re annoying—”
“Speak for yourself,” Jason mutters.
“—it’s very mom-coded,” Dick finishes, nodding to himself.
You glance at Jason.
He’s looking at the table again, but his shoulders are tighter now. Guarded.
Careful.
You wipe your hands on a towel, turning to face them fully.
You roll your eyes, but there’s warmth behind it. “You’re both extremely lucky I like you.”
Jason huffs quietly. “That’s debatable.”
You walk over, nudging his book down just enough to meet his eyes. “Oh, it’s not. I could’ve let you starve.”
He snorts despite himself. “We wouldn’t starve.”
“Sure,” you hum. “You’d just dramatically suffer until Alfred rescued you.”
Dick perks up. “To be fair, that’s a solid backup plan.”
You shake your head, but your hand lingers for just a second on the edge of the table near Jason—close enough to be there, not close enough to crowd him.
“Well No matter what happens,” you say gently, the humor still there but something steadier underneath it. “I do care about you. Both of you.”
Jason’s eyes flick up to yours.
Searching.
Like he’s trying to decide if that’s safe to believe.
Dick doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, we know.”
Of course he does.
Jason doesn’t say anything.
But he doesn’t look away this time either.
You give him a small smile before stepping back, turning toward the oven. “Alright. Moment of truth.”
You slide the pan inside, closing the door with a soft click.
“Twenty minutes,” you announce.
Dick groans. “That’s forever.”
“Patience builds character.”
“I have enough character.”
“Debatable,” Jason mutters.
You laugh quietly, leaning back against the counter as the apartment settles into something soft again—warm, quiet, filled with the smell of cinnamon and something else that none of you quite name.
Not family.
Not exactly.
But…
Something close enough to make it hard to leave.
Your life is… fuller.
Different.
And for the most part—
you’re happy.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The conversation starts simply enough.
It’s late, the manor quiet in a way that still feels unfamiliar even after all this time. The boys have already gone to bed—after prolonged arguments, laughter, and at least two reminders from Bruce that they were not negotiating their bedtime.
You’re sitting with him in the study, the low light casting everything in warm shadows.
“Move in,” he says.
You blink.
“…That’s it?” you ask, glancing up from where you’re curled slightly into the couch. “No buildup? No dramatic lead-in?”
A faint hint of amusement touches his expression. “Would you prefer one?”
You consider that for a second.
“…No,” you admit. “I think that might make it worse.”
That earns a quiet huff of laughter from him.
But then you shake your head.
“No.”
The word lands softer than it could have—but it’s firm. Bruce studies you, not surprised, but not dismissing it either. “No?”
You sit up a little straighter, meeting his gaze.
“I’m not moving in here,” you say calmly. “Not like that.”
A pause.
“Why?” he asks.
Because it would be easy. Because it would blur lines you’re not ready to erase. Because you’ve seen what happens when people build something without a foundation strong enough to hold it.
“Because I’m not playing house,” you say instead, your tone steady. “I care about you. About them. But I’m not moving into this—” you gesture lightly around the room “—until it’s real.”
His gaze sharpens slightly. “This isn’t real to you?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Silence stretches for a moment.
“I’m not moving anywhere,” you continue more gently, “until I’m married.”
That lands.
You can see it in the way his expression shifts—not rejection, not frustration… something more thoughtful.
Measured.
“…Alright,” he says after a moment.
And just like that, it’s settled.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
A few weeks pass and the call comes too late. It’s the first thing you register. Too late, too vague, too wrong.
“Miss— I apologize for the hour.”
You’re already sitting up, heart pounding, phone pressed tight to your ear. “Alfred? What’s wrong? Is it the boys?”
A pause.
Too long.
And that’s when your stomach drops.
“It’s Master Bruce.”
You’re out of bed before he finishes the sentence.
Wayne Manor feels different at night. Too quiet. Too empty. Like something is holding its breath.
The doors are already open when you arrive—Alfred waiting, composed as ever, but there’s something strained in the lines of his face.
That’s what scares you.
If he’s worried—
“How bad?” you ask, already moving.
“This way.”
He doesn’t answer. That’s worse. You follow him. Past the main halls. Past the places you’ve been before.
And then—
Somewhere you’ve never been.
A hidden passage.
Your steps falter. “Alfred—”
“Please,” he says quietly. “There is no more time for half-truths.”
Something cold settles in your chest. But you keep walking. The cave opens up around you like something out of a nightmare.
Cold stone. Machinery. Shadows.
And at the center of it—
Him. On the table. Unmoving. Bleeding. Your breath catches.
“…Batman?”
No.
No, this—
This doesn’t make sense.
The suit—
Black. Armored. Torn open in places, soaked in blood.
You step closer, slower now, like if you move too fast it’ll become real.
“What… what is this?” your voice comes out thin.
Alfred is beside you, steady, grounding.
“Miss, I need you to listen carefully.”
You’re already reaching for him, your hands hovering over the worst of the damage. “He needs a hospital—”
“He cannot go to a hospital.”
You freeze.
Slowly turn.
“…what?”
Alfred meets your gaze. And then, very gently— He reaches down. And removes the cowl. The world tilts.
Because it’s not just Batman.
It’s—
Bruce.
It’s the same man.
The same face.
The same—
Your hands start shaking.
“No,” you whisper. “No, that’s— no, that doesn’t—”
But it does.God, it does.Every late night.Every unexplained injury. Every time he brushed something off— It all crashes together at once, suffocating.
“He is losing blood,” Alfred says, voice firm now. “If you are to be angry with him, I suggest you keep him alive long enough to endure it.”
That— That snaps something back into place.
You suck in a sharp breath, forcing your hands to steady.
“Gloves,” you demand.
Alfred is already moving. You don’t think after that.
You can’t.
You cut through the suit, exposing the damage—deep lacerations, bruising, something that feels dangerously close to internal bleeding.
“Jesus, Bruce—what did you do?” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone.
No response.
Of course. Your chest tightens—but you push it down. Focus. Pressure. Stabilize. You work fast, precise, slipping into the version of yourself that doesn’t panic, doesn’t feel.
But it’s harder this time.
Because it’s him.
Because every time your hands touch him, all you can think is—
He lied to me.
Halfway through, you feel it.
Eyes on you. You glance up— And freeze. Two figures stand at the edge of the cave.
Watching.
Dick. Jason.
Too still. Too quiet.
And they’re wearing—
Your stomach drops again.
“…no,” you breathe.
The colors.
The armor.
The bruises.
Robin.
Both of them.
Your gaze flicks between them, horror dawning in slow, terrible clarity. “You—”
Dick takes a step forward. “We can explain—”
“You’re children,” you snap, the words cracking out of you before you can stop them.
Jason flinches.
Just slightly.
But you see it.
“You’re children,” you repeat, louder now, your hands trembling as you press down on Bruce’s wound. “And he’s letting you—what? Do this? Go out there and—”
“He’s not ‘letting’ us,” Jason shoots back, defensive, hurt bleeding through. “We chose—”
“I don’t care!” you cut in, your voice sharp enough to slice. “You don’t get to choose this!”
Silence crashes down.
Heavy.
Breathing hard, you look back at Bruce—unconscious, broken on the table.
“…all of you lied to me,” you say, quieter now. Not yelling.
Worse.
Dick’s voice is softer when he answers. “We didn’t know how to tell you.”
You laugh once. It’s not kind.
“Yeah,” you murmur. “I’m getting that.”
You finish the procedure in silence after that. Efficient. Cold. Professional. When you finally step back, peeling off your gloves, your hands are still shaking.
“He’ll live,” you say.
Relief floods the room. But you don’t feel it. You don’t look at Bruce. You don’t look at the boys. You just grab your bag.
“I should go.”
“Miss—” Alfred starts.
You stop at the edge of the cave.
Just for a second.
“…if he dies,” you say without turning around, your voice steady in a way that feels unnatural, “it won’t be because I didn’t do my job.”
And then you walk away.
Leaving Bruce.
Leaving Batman.
Leaving all of it behind—
Even though, deep down,
you already know you won’t be able to stay away.
Secrets Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
Reader gets sucked into Bruce Wayne's world.
Part Six
The card arrives two days later.
It’s simple. Cream-colored. Heavy in your hands in a way that feels deliberate, like even the paper understands its purpose. Your name is written across the front in clean, elegant script, and for a moment, you just stand there in your apartment doorway staring at it, trying not to overthink what it means.
Inside, the message is brief.
Dinner. 7 PM.
A car will be waiting.
—B.W.
You huff a quiet laugh despite yourself, shaking your head as you close the door behind you.
Of course he’d do it like this.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Secrets Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
Reader gets sucked into Bruce Wayne's world.
Part Five
By the time you see him again, you’ve almost convinced yourself to stop looking.
Not completely—never completely—but enough to function. Enough to get through your shifts without checking every face that passes through the ER doors. Enough to walk home without scanning every shadow like he might be waiting there.
Still, the absence lingers.
It settles into you in quiet ways. In the extra portions you stop making. In the routes you no longer take. In the silence of your apartment that feels just a little too still.
So when you run into Bruce Wayne again, it’s the last thing you expect.
It happens on an ordinary afternoon.
You’ve just finished a long shift, exhaustion dragging at your limbs as you step out into the daylight—rare for you, unfamiliar in a way that makes everything feel slightly out of place. The city looks different like this. Less honest.
You’re halfway down the block when you hear your name.
“Doctor.”
You turn, already recognizing the voice.
Bruce Wayne is crossing toward you, tailored and composed as always, like he stepped out of a completely different world and into yours by accident. For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the timing, the coincidence.
“Mr. Wayne,” you say, straightening slightly. “Everything okay? Dick hasn’t—”
“He’s fine,” Bruce assures you quickly, something almost reassuring in the way he says it. “Actually… that’s why I wanted to speak with you.”
Something in your chest tightens.
“Okay,” you say slowly.
He studies you for a moment, like he’s measuring your reaction before he continues.
“I took in another child,” he says.
You blink.
“Oka—” The words catch in your throat as your brain scrambles to catch up to why he’s here telling you this.
“I believe you know him. He says you have probably been looking for him.”
The world seems to still for just a second.
“…Jason?” you repeat, barely above a whisper.
Bruce nods.
“He’s safe,” he adds, softer now. “He’s with us.”
Relief hits first.
Sharp. Immediate. Almost overwhelming.
You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding for months, your shoulders loosening as something tight in your chest finally gives way.
“He’s okay?” you ask, searching his face like you need to see the truth in it.
“He is.”
And just like that— you feel it. That strange, complicated mix of emotions rising up all at once. Relief, yes. Happiness, undeniably.
But beneath it—
something quieter. Something that aches. Because he didn’t come back. Because he’s safe now—but not with you.
You swallow it down, forcing a small smile.
“That’s… that’s good,” you say, meaning it. “He deserves that.”
Bruce watches you carefully, his gaze sharper than it was the last time you saw him. Like he’s noticing more now. Understanding more.
“I thought you might want to see him,” he says.
Your eyes flick up to his.
“…Really?”
“He asks about you.”
That does something to you. Something soft and unexpected that settles deep in your chest.
“I’d like that,” you admit.
Bruce nods once, like he expected that answer.
“Then come to dinner,” he says. “A few days from now. Both boys will be there.”
There’s a pause. Something almost deliberate in the way he adds—
“You’re important to them.”
You hesitate for half a second.
Then nod. “Okay.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The mansion is… exactly what you expect.
And somehow still more.
Wayne Manor rises out of the grounds like something pulled from another time—grand, imposing, too large to feel real. You stand at the base of the steps for a moment, taking it in, trying to reconcile this place with the boy you last saw trying to steal tires in an alley.
It doesn’t fit.
None of it fits.
The door opens before you can knock.
Alfred stands there, composed and welcoming in a way that immediately puts you at ease.
“Miss,” he greets with a small nod. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“Thank you,” you say, offering a polite smile as you step inside.
You barely make it past the entryway before you hear it.
Footsteps. Fast.
“Is she here?”
“That sounded like her—”
And then—
they’re both there.
Dick reaches you first, bright-eyed and grinning, but Jason isn’t far behind, skidding to a stop just short of you like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.
For a split second, they both hesitate.
Then, they look at each other.
“I saw her first,” Dick says quickly.
“No you didn’t,” Jason snaps. “I got here at the same time—”
“You were slower—”
“I was not—”
You blink. Then laugh softly despite yourself.
“Hey,” you interrupt gently, stepping forward before the argument can escalate. “I’ve got two arms.”
That solves it.
Immediately.
Dick throws his arms around you first, hugging you tight, his energy warm and open in a way that makes it easy to return.
Jason lingers for half a second—
Then steps in too.
His hug is different.
Tighter.
Quieter.
Like he’s holding on to something he’s not ready to say out loud.
“Okay,” Bruce’s voice cuts in, calm but firm. “That’s enough. Let her breathe.”
The boys pull back reluctantly. You smile at them both, your gaze lingering just a little longer on Jason.
He looks… better. Healthier. Still sharp around the edges—but not hollow. Not like before.
“Hi,” you say softly.
“Hi,” he mutters, a little awkward now.
After a moment, you glance at Bruce.
“Can I talk to him for a minute?”
Bruce doesn’t hesitate.
“Of course.”
He places a hand lightly on Dick’s shoulder, steering him toward the dining room.
“Come on.”
Dick looks like he wants to argue—but doesn’t. That leaves you and Jason alone. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then you step forward and pull him into another hug.
This time, he doesn’t hesitate.
You hold him tighter, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head without thinking, instinct taking over.
“What happened?” you ask quietly. “After that night.”
He exhales against your shoulder, shifting slightly before pulling back just enough to look at you.
“…Batman caught me,” he says, like you don’t already know that part.
You huff softly. “I noticed.”
He shrugs, but there’s a nervous edge to it.
“He didn’t… do anything,” Jason continues. “Not like I thought he would. He just—” He hesitates. “He took me to Jim Gordon.”
You blink. “The commissioner?”
“Yeah. Told him to look after me.” Jason huffs a small laugh. “Like that was a normal thing to say.”
You smile faintly, imagining it.
“That tracks.”
Jason shifts again, hands sliding into his pockets.
“Then Bruce showed up,” he continues. “Gordon told him I needed a place to stay and…” He gestures vaguely around them. “Boom. Guess I live here now.”
You study him for a moment.
“…And how do you feel about that?”
He shrugs again—but this time it’s softer.
“Better,” he admits quietly. “I get food. A bed. Not getting chased all the time.”
You nod slowly.
“Good,” you murmur. “You deserve that.”
There’s a pause.
Then—
“…I meant what I said,” he adds, glancing at you. “Before. Thanks. For helping me.”
Your chest tightens.
“You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
You don’t argue.
Instead, you reach out and gently ruffle his hair.
“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s go eat before Dick steals all the food.”
Jason snorts.
“Yeah, he would.”
Dinner is… surprisingly normal.
You sit between the boys, answering their questions, listening to their stories. Dick talks the most, animated and expressive, while Jason chimes in with quieter comments, sharper observations.
Bruce watches more than he speaks. You notice that. It’s warm. Comfortable. Easy in a way you didn’t expect.
By the time dessert is finished, you almost forget the distance that used to exist between all of you.
“Are you coming back?” Dick asks suddenly.
Jason looks up too, trying to play it off like he’s not as invested—but failing.
You open your mouth to answer—
“Boys,” Bruce cuts in gently, rising from his seat. “It’s time for bed.”
“Aw, come on—”
“Five more minutes—”
“No.”
There’s just enough authority in his voice to end the argument.
They both groan, but stand anyway.
Jason hesitates for a second before heading out, glancing back at you like he’s committing the moment to memory.
Dick waves.
“Goodnight!”
“Goodnight,” you reply, smiling.
The room falls quiet once they’re gone.
You sit there for a moment, the warmth of the evening settling into something softer. Something quieter.
Then Bruce speaks.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he says, his voice lower now. “You’re important to them.”
You glance up at him.
“I care about them,” you reply simply.
“I can see that.”
There’s a pause.
A shift.
“And I’d like to see you again,” he continues.
You raise a brow slightly. His lips curve faintly.
“Outside of the hospital. Outside of them.” He finishes.
You study him for a moment.
There’s no playboy charm this time.
No performance.
Just something… honest.
“…Are you asking me out?” you ask.
“Yes.”
You lean back slightly, considering.
Then a small smile tugs at your lips.
“On one condition,” you say.
His expression sharpens, interested.
“You don’t forget you’re their father first and you keep all that playboy gothams prince stuff locked away.”
Something flickers in his eyes.
Recognition.
Understanding.
“…I will,” he says.
You nod once.
“Then yes.”
And for the first time it doesn’t feel like Gotham is taking something from you.
It feels like it’s finally giving something back.
Taglist:
@jasontood3904000
Secrets Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
Reader gets sucked into Bruce Wayne's world.
Part Four
You start noticing it slowly, in the spaces between everything else.
At first, it’s just a feeling—subtle enough to ignore, easy to explain away. A prickle at the back of your neck when you step out of the hospital after a long shift, the sense that something lingers just out of sight. Gotham is full of that feeling, though. You’ve learned not to give it too much weight. If you did, you’d never make it home.
But this is different.
This doesn’t feel like danger.
It feels… intentional.
You catch it more often at night. Walking the same streets you always do, taking the same turns, passing the same flickering streetlights—and yet something is off. The city feels quieter when it happens, like it’s holding its breath. Once, you swear you see movement on a rooftop across the street, just a flicker of something dark shifting against the skyline. By the time you look properly, it’s gone.
You tell yourself it’s nothing.
You tell yourself a lot of things.
Still, the feeling doesn’t go away.
One night, you decide to stop pretending.
You’re halfway down the block when it hits again—that awareness, sharp and unmistakable this time. Instead of brushing it off, you stop walking entirely. Your footsteps cut off mid-stride, echoing once against the pavement before the street falls silent.
You don’t turn right away. You just stand there for a second, letting the quiet stretch, letting whatever is watching you realize you’ve noticed.
Then, finally, you speak.
“You know hovering is rude, right?”
Your voice carries just enough to reach the rooftops.
For a moment, nothing happens. The city remains still, unchanged, like you imagined the whole thing.
Then something moves.
A shape separates from the darkness above, dropping soundlessly onto a nearby fire escape. The impact is so controlled it barely makes a sound, but your pulse jumps anyway.
Batman.
Even now—even after everything—you’re not immune to the way your body reacts to him. The presence alone is enough to shift the air around you, heavy and undeniable.
"Something tells me that you wouldn't make it so obvious that you're following if you didn't want me to know." you say, crossing your arms to ground yourself. Your voice is steady, even if your heart isn’t.
“I’ve been observing,” he replies dropping down into the light.
Of course he has.
You tilt your head slightly, studying him despite yourself. “Why?”
There’s a pause, deliberate and measured, like he’s deciding how much to give you. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than you expect.
“You care about people. You help them.”
You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. “That’s literally my job.”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Not just your job.”
Something in your chest tightens at that. You don’t like how closely he’s been paying attention—how much he’s seen without you realizing it.
You shake it off with a small exhale. “Shouldn't you be paying more attention to the criminals in the city?” you ask him. “There are worse people in this city.”
“Yes,” he says, and there’s something in the way he agrees that makes your stomach twist slightly. “There are.”
The conversation lingers for a moment, suspended between you, before you break it yourself. You don’t have the energy for whatever this is—not tonight.
“Well,” you mutter, stepping past him, “try not to loom so much. It’s unsettling.”
You don’t wait for a response. You just keep walking, your footsteps steady even as that strange awareness settles over you again.
He’s still there.
Watching.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Time moves the way it always does in Gotham—fast and unforgiving.
The hospital stays busy, the nights stay long, and you fall back into the rhythm of your work whether you want to or not. Dick comes by a few times over the following weeks, never for long, but usually during your break. Dick comes enough that you notice the changes in him. He’s brighter each time, more open, like something in his world has steadied just enough to let him breathe again. You don’t ask too many questions. You’ve learned that pushing too hard with kids like him only makes them retreat.
Bruce sometimes comes too, though he typically keeps his distance, only giving you a short greeting or a wave. He still carries himself the same way—polished, distant, effortlessly charming—but there’s a shift underneath it now. Subtle. Controlled. He lingers during Dicks visits always in the background giving the two of you space.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Jason, on the other hand, disappears.
At first, you tell yourself it’s nothing. That he’s out there doing what he has to do, that he’ll show up again like before—hungry, guarded, alive. But as days stretch into weeks and then into months, that quiet reassurance starts to crack.
You begin to look for him.
It starts small. Walking a little farther out of your way on your route home. Checking the places you’ve seen him linger before. Asking careful, casual questions to the right kind of people—the ones who notice things, who remember faces.
No one has seen him.
No one knows anything.
And that’s when the fear really sets in.
The night everything changes feels wrong before you even understand why.
It’s late—later than usual—and the city has that same strange stillness that always makes your instincts sharpen. You’re halfway home when you hear it: the metallic clank of something being loosened, followed by a quiet, frustrated curse.
You slow, then turn toward the sound.
It doesn’t take long to find the source.
He’s crouched beside a car, half-hidden in shadow, his movements quick and practiced as he works at one of the tires. For a moment, you just stare, your brain catching up with what you’re seeing.
“Jason?”
He freezes.
The wrench in his hand stills, his shoulders going rigid before he slowly turns to face you. For a split second, there’s something raw in his expression—something close to fear—but it disappears almost as quickly as it came.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he snaps, standing up too fast.
“You disappeared,” you fire back, stepping toward him before you can stop yourself. “Do you have any idea—”
“I’m fine.”
The words come out sharp and defensive, like he’s said them too many times already. They don’t convince you for a second.
“You call this fine?” you ask quietly, your eyes flicking over him. He looks worse than the last time you saw him—thinner, harder, like the edges of him have been worn down by something relentless.
His jaw tightens. “Don’t start.”
“Then don’t give me a reason to.”
The tension between you stretches tight, neither of you willing to back down. For a moment, it feels like you’re standing in two different worlds—yours, where things can be fixed, and his, where they can’t.
“I needed money,” he mutters finally, gesturing vaguely to the car. “This guy can afford it.”
You glance at the vehicle properly this time, unease settling low in your stomach. It’s not just expensive—it’s wrong for this part of the city. Sleek, heavily armored, built like something designed for war rather than the road.
“Jason—” you start.
“Just go,” he cuts in. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Before you can respond, a voice cuts cleanly through the night.
“He’s right.”
Everything in you goes still.
Jason’s head snaps up, his body already shifting, ready to run.
You don’t need to turn to know who it is.
Batman steps out of the shadows like he’s been there the entire time, watching, waiting, allowing the moment to play out exactly as it has.
Jason bolts.
It’s instinct, pure and immediate, his body moving before his mind can catch up. He’s fast—you’ve seen that before—but it doesn’t matter.
Batman is faster.
The distance between them closes in seconds. A hand catches Jason’s arm, momentum redirected with practiced ease, and suddenly he’s on the ground, the breath knocked from his lungs.
“Get off me!” Jason snarls, fighting hard, wild in a way that has nothing to do with winning and everything to do with survival.
“Enough.”
The word lands with weight—final, immovable.
Jason goes still, not because he wants to, but because something in that voice leaves no room for anything else.
You move before you think.
“Don’t hurt him,” you say, stepping closer despite the tension coiling in your chest.
Batman’s gaze shifts to you, something unreadable passing through it.
“I won’t,” he says.
Jason lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, right.”
You crouch down near him, careful not to startle him further. “Hey,” you say softly.
His eyes flick to yours, and for just a second—just a second—you see it again. The boy from the hospital. The one who didn’t know how he was going to eat.
Then the moment closes.
“I told you to stay out of it,” he mutters.
“And I told you you don’t have to do this alone.”
Silence settles between you, heavy with everything unsaid.
Batman watches the exchange closely. You can feel it—the way his attention sharpens, the way he takes in every detail.
Then, without another word, he pulls Jason to his feet.
“Wait—” you start, rising quickly running to catch up.
Batman stops and turn toward you.
"You think you are capable of dealing with him?" He ask looking down at Jason.
"I think I am more capable than you!" You shout at him. "Besides that the the point where are you taking him?"
"I am holding him responsible for his actions."
The worst images pop in your mind and before you have the good sense to stop yourself you stand toe to toe with batman glaring at him.
"Jason is a child! I'm not letting you take him anywhere. If you think I'm letting you hurt him you've got another fucking thing coming." You snarl at him yanking Jason from his grip and shoving him behind you.
Something that has not happened in a long time happens to Batman in that moment surprise has him frozen as he looks down at the tired overworked doctor stand her ground with him face to face ready to take him on when grown men have pissed themselves at the sight of him.
"You should let me go with him." Jason says from behind you. You hardly register the words as you open your mouth to threaten the vigilante again.
"What?" You say turning to Jason.
"I don't want you to get hurt because of me." Jason says with tears in his eyes. Something in your heart breaks at that and solidifies in your gut at the same time.
"No." You say turning back to batman only to find him gone. You frown in confusion as you turn back to Jason as something covers your mouth and nose you suck in a deep breath as you hear Jason shout for you and everything goes dark.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
You wake up on your couch still dressed in your clothes from yesterday. The memories from last night flood you as you sit up. You run around your apartment trying to find any clue of Jason.
You wait at first.
A day. Two. A week.
Each time you pass your porch, there’s a small, stubborn part of you that expects to see him sitting there again, pretending he doesn’t need anything.
But he never is.
So you start looking again—harder this time.
You retrace your steps. Check every place you can think of. Ask questions you know better than to ask.
Still nothing.
It’s like he vanished.
Going to the police feels like a last resort.
You know how this city works. You know what happens to kids like Jason in systems like that. But not knowing is worse.
The station smells faintly of stale coffee and disinterest. You step up to the desk, already bracing yourself.
“Name?” the officer asks without looking up.
“Jason,” you say quickly. “I don’t know his last name. He’s about thirteen, dark hair, blue eyes—”
“Runaway?” he interrupts.
You hesitate. “…Yes, but—”
He sighs, leaning back in his chair like you’ve just confirmed something inconvenient. “We get dozens of those a week.”
Your stomach drops. “He’s in trouble,” you insist. “He was with—” You stop yourself before you say it. Before you sound as ridiculous as it would sound out loud.
“Look,” the officer says, already dismissing you, “if he turns up, we’ll log it.”
“That’s it?” you ask, anger slipping into your voice. “You’re not even going to look?”
He shrugs, completely unmoved. “He’s not the only kid on the street.”
Something inside you snaps.
“He matters,” you say sharply.
The officer finally looks at you then, his expression flat. “Sure,” he replies. “They all do.”
You leave before the conversation can go any further, your hands clenched tightly at your sides.
Outside, the air feels colder.
Heavier.
You stand there for a long moment, trying to steady the storm building in your chest, but it doesn’t settle.
Because now you don’t know where he is.
You don’t know if he’s safe.
And somewhere, deep down, a thought takes root—quiet and unavoidable.
Batman took him.
And you don’t know if that’s better…
or worse.
High above the city, unseen and unmoving, Batman watches you.
The streetlights cast you in soft gold against the pavement, smaller from this distance but no less steady. He studies the way you stand there, the tension in your posture, the way your hands clench and unclench like you’re trying to hold something together that isn’t yours to carry.
He replays the moment from earlier—the way Jason looked at you, the way you spoke to him, the way you reached for him without hesitation.
Not fear.
Not defiance.
Something else.
Something rare.
Something Bruce recognizes immediately.
Trust.
And that—
more than anything—
is why he made the decision he did.
Secrets Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
Part Three
The ER is loud again.
Busy. Chaotic. Alive in that familiar, overwhelming way—monitors beeping, voices overlapping, the sharp scent of antiseptic hanging in the air. Normal. You almost convince yourself that’s enough.
“Doc, we’ve got a kid with a possible fracture coming in!”
You glance up immediately, already moving. “How old?”
“Thirteen—maybe Fourteen.”
Your stomach tightens.
When they wheel him in, he’s trying very hard not to cry.
His arm is bent wrong—clearly broken. His face is pale, jaw clenched tight, eyes glassy but determined. There’s something stubborn in the way he holds himself, like he’s refusing to give in to the pain.
You recognize that look.
“It’s okay,” you say gently, kneeling in front of him so you’re at eye level. “I’ve got you.”
He studies you for a moment, searching your face like he’s deciding whether to trust you.
Then he nods.
Your voice calm and steady as you introduce yourself properly before asking him his name.
“…Dick,” he mutters after a second.
Secrets Among Love
Updates Regularly
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
A brilliant ER doctor thrives in chaos, saving lives under pressure while keeping her own carefully controlled world intact—until Bruce Wayne crashes into it with his secrets, intensity, and undeniable pull. As their connection deepens, she finds herself entangled in a life far more dangerous than the emergency room. Caught between her oath to save lives and the man who risks them nightly, she must decide how far she’s willing to go before his world consumes hers completely.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen
Part Seventeen
Part Eighteen
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Epilogue
Secrets Among Love
Bruce Wayne x Reader!Doctor
A brilliant ER doctor thrives in chaos, saving lives under pressure while keeping her own carefully controlled world intact—until Bruce Wayne crashes into it with his secrets, intensity, and undeniable pull. As their connection deepens, she finds herself entangled in a life far more dangerous than the emergency room. Caught between her oath to save lives and the man who risks them nightly, she must decide how far she’s willing to go before his world consumes hers completely.
A/N: Please do not repost , translate or copy my work without permission. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments! ❤️
Part One
Part Two
You tell yourself you’ve moved on.
You haven’t.
You can feel it in the quiet moments—the way your thoughts drift back to things you don’t want to name. The way your chest tightens when the city gets too still. Gotham doesn’t let people move on. It just gives them space to pretend.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
It’s late when you leave your shift.
The kind of late where the air feels heavier, like the city is holding its breath. Streetlights flicker overhead, casting uneven pools of yellow across the pavement. Most of the noise has died down—no traffic, no voices, just the distant hum of something far away.
Too quiet.
You pull your jacket tighter around yourself and start down the alley, choosing the shortcut without thinking. You’ve taken it a hundred times. You know every crack in the pavement, every rusted fire escape, every broken window that never got fixed.
But tonight—
Something feels off.
Your footsteps echo louder than they should. The sound bounces off the brick walls, stretching behind you like it doesn’t belong to you anymore.
And then you hear it.
Movement.
Oh my God, I'm very much obsessed with your blog! 🥰😍
If you don't mind, I would like to make a request. I would like a platonic bat family with batsis where she's the semi youngest child of the family ( maybe the same age or younger than Damian) where she just turned 19 or 20. And to the horror of Bruce and her brothers that they realize that batsis is drop dead gorgeous! Not to say that they did know she was pretty but their daughter/sister they've seen her in all phases of life so it doesn't process immediately. It all clicks together for them one day when they're out without batsis and they see her strolling down the street and getting wolf whistles and head snapping turns as she walks by. I think everyone has always seen her in the control environment such as school and galas so no one would approach Bruce Wayne's daughter so casually. I just think this would be funny for Bruce to process that. I think a situation like this would be a father's worst nightmare.
Anyway love your work! Hope to see more! 💕
Thank you so much!!! I read this right before I started my hw and I couldn't stop thinking about this idea, I love it so much, I had to drop everything and write it!! I hope I did it justice and that you like it 🥺🫶
You were the baby of the family, barely younger than Damian, but it still counted. It had always counted.
It meant extra eyes on you at galas and charity events. It meant your dad’s hand resting on your shoulder a second longer than necessary, like he needed to remind himself you were still there. It meant your brothers orbiting you without ever quite admitting it, hovering close, teasing you relentlessly, but always watching. Always aware.
It meant they never really saw you. Not like this.
Because in their heads, you were still something fixed. Familiar and safe.
You were the girl who trailed behind them through the manor halls, half-listening to their conversations, pretending not to care when they left you out. The one who sat on the cave floor with a blanket around your shoulders, stubbornly refusing to go to bed. The one who stole fries off Jason’s plate and then argued like it was a constitutional right. The one Damian bickered with like it was second nature, like arguing with you was just part of his daily routine.
You were theirs. Contained within the walls of the manor, the cave, the carefully controlled environments where nothing touched you unless they allowed it to. So no, it didn’t register.
Not until now.
You had just gotten back from your first year of college in Metropolis. A year away from Gotham, close enough to visit, but far enough to feel it, had made you miss the little things more than you expected.
The skyline. The noise. The familiarity of it all.
And BatBurger.
So when you got back, you didn’t even unpack before texting the group chat.
BatBurger. Tonight. Non-negotiable.
The response was immediate, of course it was. The chat lit up so fast it almost felt like you hadn’t been gone at all.
Dickie: SHE LIVES?? Jaybin: dramatic Dickie: you ghosted us for a year You: I was in college?? Timbo: she texted in the chat at least twice a week Jaybin: yeah and ignored my messages specifically You: maybe reflect on why that is Jaybin: unbelievable, I thought I was your favorite Dami: You return and immediately demand low-quality food You: you’re coming Dami: …I will be there
A pause. Then—
Bruce: Time?
Simple, direct, but it said everything it needed to. Because none of them said no. Not one hesitation, not one excuse, not even a maybe later. Just, there.
Bruce had been at Wayne Enterprises when your message came through, seated at the head of a meeting that had already run longer than it should have. Papers spread out in front of him, voices filling the room, all of it important in the way his life demanded, but none of it enough. His phone buzzed once against the table. He normally wouldn’t have checked. Would’ve waited, finished what he started, stayed exactly where he was expected to be. But he glanced down anyway. Saw your name. Read the message. Read the replies. And something in his expression shifted, subtle enough that no one in the room could quite place it, but enough that the entire tone of the meeting changed. “We’ll continue this tomorrow,” he said, already standing before anyone could object, gathering nothing as he walked out. He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to. But for once, Wayne Enterprises wasn’t the priority.
Dick had been in Blüdhaven, finishing something that had kept him tied up all afternoon. The second your message came through, he was already reaching for his keys, a smile pulling at his face before he even realized it. “Family thing,” he tossed over his shoulder to no one in particular as he headed out, because that was explanation enough. It always had been. The drive into Gotham didn’t feel long that night. If anything, it felt overdue.
Jason didn’t say much after his first response, but he didn’t need to. He’d been somewhere in the city already, no one asked where, no one ever did, but the moment your name popped up, he paused just long enough to read it through once, then again. His jaw shifted slightly, something unreadable crossing his face before he grabbed his jacket and moved. No announcement. No explanation. Just gone.
Tim had been at the manor, buried under screens and open tabs, three different things running at once like always. Your message cut through all of it. He read it, blinked, then leaned back in his chair for a second like he was recalibrating. Then, without another thought, he shut everything down, mid-task, mid-process, and stood. Alfred had barely stepped into the room before Tim was already halfway out. “I’ll be back,” he said, like that explained anything at all.
Damian had been studying when his phone buzzed. He ignored it the first time, eyes fixed on the open textbook in front of him, pen moving in precise, deliberate strokes as he annotated the margins. The second time, his brow furrowed slightly, irritation threading into his focus, but he still didn’t reach for it, didn’t break his rhythm. The third time, he did. His gaze flicked to the screen, already impatient, and then stilled. Something in his expression shifted, not softer, never that, but sharper, more intent.
He read the message once, then again. The pen in his hand paused mid-line before he set it down carefully, closing the book with a quiet, final motion. His notes remained unfinished, ink still drying, but he didn’t go back. He stood, already reaching for his jacket, the decision made without hesitation. Whatever had just come through that screen had pulled him away completely, and for once, studying could wait.
No one coordinated rides. No one planned to arrive together. And yet, somehow, they all ended up in the same place, like they always did.
Dick got there first, sliding into a booth by the window like it was instinct, like he’d been in this exact spot a hundred times before. He leaned back, one arm laid over the seat, already glancing toward the door every few seconds without realizing he was doing it. His phone buzzed in his hand and he sent a quick message to the group chat, something about being there, something about you taking too long, but there wasn’t much bite to it. If anything, he looked… restless. Like he didn’t quite know what to do with the fact that you were back in the city again.
Jason showed up not long after, pushing through the door with that familiar, quiet presence that always seemed to shift the room just a little. He spotted Dick immediately and made his way over, dropping into the seat across from him without a word at first. His eyes flicked toward the door once, then back to Dick. “She’s not here yet?” he asked, casual, but not really.
Dick shook his head. “Not yet.”
Jason hummed under his breath, sitting across from Dick. He stayed angled slightly toward the entrance, like he wasn’t trying to watch it, but still was.
Tim arrived next, already halfway in his own head, phone in hand as he slipped into the booth beside Dick. He didn’t greet them right away, just glanced up briefly, taking in the empty seat, the two of them already there. “She’s on her way,” he said after a second, more observation than reassurance, like he’d already checked.
Jason gave a small nod. Dick just leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.
Then Damian. He paused just inside the door, scanning the restaurant in a single, sharp sweep before making his way over. There was a faint crease between his brows, something unimpressed settling in his expression before he even reached them. “It smells," he said as soon as he reached the table.
Jason didn’t even look up. “Then leave.”
“I did not say I was leaving.”
Dick smiled brightly. “So you like it.”
Damian narrowed his eyes at him before sliding into the seat beside your designated seat, without comment.
Bruce arrived shortly after that. Not rushed, not out of breath, not anything other than composed, but there was something in the way his eyes immediately found them, the way his attention settled only once he confirmed they were all there, that gave him away. He slid into the booth with them, quiet as ever, but present in a way that anchored the entire table.
They didn’t order yet. They didn’t need to. Because this wasn’t about the food. It was about you.
And then, just as the conversation started to settle into something familiar, Dick talking, Jason interrupting, Tim half-listening, Damian judging, Dick’s voice faltered. Mid-sentence. Mid-thought. His gaze shifted past them, out the window, something in his expression changing so subtly it took a second for anyone else to notice. “…Oh.”
Jason frowned immediately. “What?”
Dick didn’t answer. Because across the street you were walking toward them. And just like that everything else stopped mattering.
Tim noticed the stillness first, the break in rhythm. His attention shifted, eyes lifting from the table to the window, tracking the exact point Dick had fixed on. It took him a second, just a second longer than it should have, and then he went quiet too.
Jason turned next, impatience already on his tongue, already forming something sharp and dismissive and then it died there. “…No.” The word came out low. Disbelieving. Almost reflexive, like rejecting the thought would undo what he was seeing.
Damian was last, but when his gaze snapped to the street, it locked with immediate precision. No confusion. No delay. Just a cold, narrowing focus that sharpened into something dangerous.
Bruce didn’t need to turn. He had already seen. Across the street, you were walking toward them. At first, it didn’t register. It couldn’t. Because in Bruce’s mind, you existed in pieces that didn’t look like this.
You were eight, standing too close to him in a crowded room, your hand curled into the fabric of his sleeve. You were younger, smaller, trailing behind the others through the manor halls, trying to keep up without asking for help. You were curled up in a chair in the cave, stubbornly awake long past when you should have been asleep. You were contained. Known. Safe. This—
was none of those things.
Someone slowed as they passed you. Bruce saw it. Noticed the shift in their pace, the turn of their head, the way their attention lingered just a fraction too long before they moved on. Another followed.
A second glance. Then a third.
It built quietly, subtly, like something inevitable. A whistle cut through the street. Jason’s shoulders locked. Dick’s hand dropped from the table. Tim’s phone stilled. Damian leaned forward, just slightly. Bruce didn’t move. But something in him did. Something instinctive. Something that had nothing to do with strategy or control and everything to do with something far more paternal.
Because they weren’t looking at you like they knew you. They weren’t looking at you like you were off-limits. They weren’t looking at you like you belonged to anyone. They were looking at you like—
Bruce’s jaw tightened.
You didn’t react. That was the part that stayed with him. You didn’t look at them. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t change your pace. You just kept walking, steady, unbothered, like this was something you had already decided wasn’t worth your attention. Like it happened often enough to ignore. That thought settled heavy in his chest. Too heavy.
“…Do they,” Jason started under his breath, voice rough, “always—” He didn’t finish.
“Seems like it,” Tim said quietly.
Dick let out a breath that didn’t quite reach a laugh. “Yeah. I hate that.”
Damian’s voice cut in, sharp and controlled. “They are staring openly.”
Another whistle. Closer this time. Jason shifted forward in his seat, the movement automatic, instinct pulling him up before thought could catch up.
Dick’s hand caught his wrist immediately. “Don’t.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Jason said, but there was already tension in his voice, already something coiled tight.
“You were about to.”
Tim’s gaze flicked between you and the people around you, tracking, calculating, noting distance, movement, intent. Damian’s hand curled slightly against the table. Bruce spoke. Quiet. Firm. “…Sit.”
It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. Jason stilled. For a moment, it looked like he might ignore it. Then, slowly, he leaned back again. Outside you stepped off the curb. The streetlight caught you as you crossed, casting you in that brief, golden glow that made everything feel sharper. Clearer. Like there was no distance left to soften what they were seeing. No barrier. No illusion.
Bruce felt it then. Not all at once. Not like a sudden realization. But like something cracking. Because there was no moment, no single second, where you changed. No line he could point to and say there. It had happened quietly. Gradually. While he was looking somewhere else.
You reached the door. Pushed it open. The bell chimed. And just like that you stepped inside. The noise of the restaurant wrapped around you instantly, voices, movement, the hum of something normal, and you looked like you belonged in it. Like this space, this world, had already made room for you in a way Bruce hadn’t accounted for.
Your eyes scanned the room and then landed on them. Your face lit up. "I've missed you guys!" The sound of your voice cut clean through everything. Warm. Easy. Familiar. You walked over without hesitation, the others standing up to greet you
“Did I miss anything?” you asked, getting closer. No one answered. You looked at each of your brothers, brows pulling together slightly. “…Why are you all staring at me?”
Bruce didn’t respond. Not right away. Because he was still looking at you. Trying to reconcile the girl he had raised, with the person sitting in front of him. And for the first time, truly, fully, understanding something he had somehow avoided until now.
You weren’t something he could contain. Not anymore. You had stepped out into the world, and the world had noticed. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Dick was the first one to move, the moment snapping back into something familiar as moved to pull you into a hug like he’d been waiting to do it since the second he saw you walk in. It wasn’t quick, either. It never was with him.
One arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other pulling you in fully, like he needed to make up for the distance of the last year all at once.
“You’re actually here,” he said, like he was still catching up to it.
“Yeah,” you smiled. “Miss me?”
He gave you a look, something soft settling in his expression as his hands stayed on your shoulders. “Obviously.” His eyes flicked over your face for a second, checking, grounding, memorizing, and then he smiled. Softer this time. “You look happy.”
Jason was already standing before you fully pulled away. He didn’t say anything at first, just stepped forward and pulled you into a hug that was quicker, tighter, like he didn’t need to make a moment out of it to mean it. One hand came up to the back of your head automatically, steadying you like it always had.
“You’re late,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it.
“You've never been on time to anything in your life,” you shot back.
He huffed, letting you go. “Don’t start.”
But his hand lingered on your shoulder for half a second longer before he stepped back, eyes flicking over you in a way that mirrored Dick’s, quieter, less obvious, but just as deliberate.
Tim didn’t stand right away. He watched the two of you for a second, like he was letting the moment pass through its usual rhythm before inserting himself into it. Then he stood, stepping in and pulling you into a brief but genuine hug, one arm around your back. “Welcome back,” he said.
“Missed me?”
He glanced at you, something faintly amused in his expression. “Obviously.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You could sound more convincing.”
“I think that was pretty convincing.”
Damian didn’t move. At least, not at first. He stayed seated, posture straight, arms still crossed like he was holding onto whatever composure he had left. His gaze tracked every movement, every hug, every second of it like he was filing it away. Then you turned to him. “…Hi, Dami.”
Something shifted. Subtle. But there. He stood. Not quickly. Not dramatically. Just… deliberately. “You took an excessive amount of time to return,” he said, tone as sharp as ever, but there was something off about it, something that didn’t quite land the way it usually did.
You smiled. “Missed you too.”
He didn’t respond to that. Didn’t correct you. Didn’t deny it. Instead, he stepped closer and pulled you into a hug, awkward for all of half a second before it settled into something steadier, his grip firm, grounding, like he wasn’t letting go any time soon. “You should not remain away for that long again,” he muttered.
You softened instantly. “Okay.”
He let go a second later, stepping back like nothing had happened, composure snapping right back into place. And then—
Bruce.
He hadn’t moved during any of it. Hadn’t interrupted. Hadn’t stepped in. He just watched. You turned to him last. There was always something different about this part. Quieter. “…Hi, Dad.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you. Really looked at you. Then he stood. The movement was simple, but it shifted the entire space around you. He stepped forward, closing the distance in a way that felt both familiar and new all at once. And then, he pulled you into a hug. Not quick. Not restrained.
One arm around your shoulders, the other steady at your back, holding you there like he needed to confirm something real, something solid. You stilled for a second, surprised. Then relaxed into it. “I’m home,” you said quietly.
His hand pressed slightly more firmly against your back. “I know.” There was something in his voice, low, steady, but threaded with something deeper. Something that had nothing to do with the restaurant, or the city, or the people outside.
Just you. He pulled back after a moment, hands resting briefly at your shoulders like he had done a hundred times before. But this time, there was a pause.
A small one.
Like he was still catching up. “…You look well,” he said.
You smiled. “That’s your version of ‘I missed you,’ isn’t it?”
A faint shift in his expression. Almost a smile. “…Something like that.” And just like that the moment settled. Back into something familiar. Warm. Loud. Yours.
Jason dropped back into his seat. Dick was already talking again. Tim reached for the menu. Damian sat beside you like he had never moved. And Bruce—
Bruce sat back down last. Still watching you. Not with worry. Not with fear. Just—
with the quiet, steady understanding that his daughter had grown up…
and came home anyway.