Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To say your life was interesting would be a lie. 

Average grades, average looks, and a degree in a field you never ended up working in. You have always craved more, of course. Some kind of romantic love story to sweep you off your feet, or a sudden adventure to prove that you are more than some background character in your own life. 

Life doesn’t always give you what you want… 

And you long since stopped asking.

Somewhere along the way, you just settled for what you had. Gave up looking for something meaningful to do with your life and just… existed. 

You worked your ass off in a job you hated for years, then quit randomly to open a bookstore/coffee shop on the edge of crime alley. You don’t make enough to hire more than two employees, so more often than not, you’re working. You barely have time to make friends, so you spend most nights trying out new hobbies and watching bad TV. 

If you had to describe your life in one word.

It would be boring. 

Of course, as soon as you admit it, the powers that be laugh right in your face. 

CRASH

BANG

A loud noise right outside of your window rips you away from the latest episode of a trashy dating show you couldn’t bother to remember the name of. 

The first instinct of any Gothamite would be “ignore and hope it goes away.”

Unfortunately, you lack any and all survival skills.

You approach the window with the biggest kitchen knife you could find and slowly take a glance at your fire escape. 

The sight in front of you almost makes you vomit.

Robin

The child sidekick to the Dark Knight himself, bloody, bruised, and unconsciously right on your fire escape. 

The stillness of his body sends fear and dread down your spine. 

Was he dead?

A dead child.

Maybe one of the most horrifying sights. 

You rip open your window so hard it almost breaks, praying over and over again that you were wrong. 

Your saving grace was the shaky breath he took and the almost silent groan he let out. 

He isn’t dead yet, but he may as well be on its doorstep. 

Your body moves before your mind, and you carefully hoist the kid up and gingerly carry him to your bed. There’s so much blood that you aren’t entirely sure where it came from, and the black and red of his costume does nothing to help your search. 

A curse tears itself from your throat as you quickly run around and gather whatever you thought could be useful. 

Towels, a bowl of warm water, an overly stocked first aid kit you got online that promised to be “Gotham certified,”  and a small, but powerful, flashlight that you drew a bat on with Sharpie. 

You weren’t sure if it would be visible or if anyone was even on their way, but you had to let someone know you had the kid. It had already been around ten minutes by the time you got him changed and started dressing his wounds. If no one had found him yet, then obviously, they needed the help. 

You kept his domino on for his identity’s sake. You had already been pushing boundaries by changing his clothes, and the last thing you wanted was to terrify him any further. 

When you found his wounds, they were worse than you thought. 

Slashes and stab wounds littered his torso, bruises already popping up all over him, and if his breathing was anything to go by, he definitely had more than a couple broken ribs. 

You were in no way, shape, or form equipped to deal with the extent of his injuries, but what you could do was disinfect and apply pressure to the worst of them. 

He woke up once while you were cleaning his wounds.

“Imme… it hurts,” he rasped, a rough cough that sounded painful coming right after. He wasn’t lucid, groaning softly and struggling to 

Then came the banging at your door.

It wasn’t Batman.

Batman was the type to try to go through a window rather than wait patiently for someone to let him in. 

No, this was… dangerous. 

You didn’t own a gun, but you owned brass knuckles, a butcher knife, and a taser. If they wanted to take the kid from you, they’d have to pry him from your cold, dead hands. 

Which, to be honest, was seemingly the most likely outcome of the night. 

You could feel your thoughts want to spiral, to give into the fear and the doubt and just break down,,,

The sound of the door cracking off its hinges pulled you from your morbid thoughts. 

They were inside.

You could only shield the kid with your body by hoisting him onto your back and running to the nearest corner. 

Five men stepped into view.

“Come on, dollface, hand over the kid. We promise to be real nice to him.” 

A shiver went down your spine. 

The men were at various levels of scum. No clown masks to say they were Joker, or any other identifiable rogue attire to tip you off. Instead, they were wearing bloody jeans and jackets. The appearance an average mugger would have.

“Is that brat really worth your life? I would hate to ruin that pretty face…”

You laughed bitterly. 

The look in their eyes made it very clear. Give him up or not, you weren’t getting out of this unscathed. 

“W-what… who?”

Robin stirred on your back, groggily trying to make sense of his new location. 

“Hey, sweetheart, do you think you could stand?”

He slowly moved his legs before hissing in pain. 

“Yeah… I didn’t think so. We’re in a bit of a situation, so I’m gonna try and buy some time until the bat gets here. Just hold onto me as tight as you can.”

“I do… eugh, I do not need pro-protection from a civilian I-”

A hiss of pain stops his protest as you narrowly escape the grasp of two men who obviously do not think you have the balls to actually use the knife.

Think again, asshole.

You swipe your knife across the arm of one of the men before tasing another. There was no way you’re getting out of this unharmed, but you sure as hell didn’t plan on going down without a fight. 

Robin tried to twist out of your grip, screaming about duty and purpose. You could feel it, though.

The uncoordinated movement, the sluggish effort that it took even to sit upright, the glassy, unfocused eyes that tried to track the movements of your attackers.

You barely register the glint of another blade before it sinks into your side, finally pulling out the screams you’d been desperate to hold back. 

“You fool! Move! I can- I can help! I can do something!”

Your vision swims as you give him the sweetest smile you can muster. 

He looked so fragile. Tears threatened to stream down his face as he picked up your knife and swung wildly at your attackers. 

He was terrified, angry, confused…

You couldn’t offer him comfort as the men mocked you, swiping at the knife in Robin’s hand as if it were more of an annoyance than a threat. 

You couldn’t move as they threw you aside like a sack of rocks and openly discussed their plans for you if you survived. 

You couldn’t cover his ears as their words got more vulgar, as they suggested selling him off instead of killing him.

You could only smile, a reassuring glance that seemed more like a grimace, forcing your body to move again until you were hugging him close and shielding his body with your own.

“Batman will be here soon,” you croaked as one of them kicked your side. “Stay -augh! Stay strong for me, okay?”

You felt him nod in your arms. 

Trained vigilante or not, he was still a scared child.

“Fuck this shit! Just shoot them both and let’s go! That bitch fuckin tased Bill in the throat!”

“How the fuck is she still standing?! I’m telling you, boss, she ain’t normal!”

It all happened in slow motion…

The sound of the safety of a gun being turned off. 

“I-I don’t wanna die Imee…” You weren’t sure if he was really seeing you at that point. 

The sound of a zipline in the distance

“Then close your eyes and count to ten little bird… You’re safe now…”

The sound of glass shattering…

Screams…

The loud pop of a gun…

Then pain…

Chapter Text

The pounding in your head brings you back to consciousness, but it’s the smell of antiseptic and the realization that you’re still alive that fully wakes you. 

You really weren’t expecting to survive that encounter. Figuring you’d go out in some spectacular way to offset the dull hand life had dealt you and end up having someone care about your death in the end. Even if it was just some stranger who had you to thank for their life. 

Instead, you wake up to the most comfortable hospital bed you’d ever been on, surrounded by dozens of bouquets and gift boxes. 

“Wh-what the…” 

Your voice rasps as you attempt to speak. Only barely getting the words out before you break into a coughing fit and desperately try and reach for the cup of water at your bedside.

“Oh! You’re awake!” An older doctor rushes to your side, gingerly pressing the cup into your hands and preventing you from taking too large of sips at a time. 

“Thank you, uh…”

“Dr. Leslie Thompkins.”

You offer your own name as you glance around the room. 

You sat up quickly, ignoring the protests from your arms and ribs. 

“Robin! Is he okay? Oh my god, I passed out on him. He didn’t get hurt after that, right? I tried to stay conscious until help could arrive, but…”

Dr. Thompkins slowly pressed you back into the bed, a soft smile on her face. 

“He’s currently resting. You did an amazing job dressing and disinfecting his wounds. It’s all thanks to you that he’s currently expected to make a full recovery.”

A weight lifted off your chest at the thought. 

Then another thought popped into your head to replace the worry that was taking up the majority of your mind. 

Where did all these gifts come from?

“If you’re wondering where the gifts and flowers came from,” She gestures around the packed room. “At first it was just gifts from the bats, those would be your flowers, the watch that doubles as a panic button and taser, and (Much to Batman’s dismay) a bright pink pistol.” 

Somehow, none of these gifts surprises you. 

“And the others?” You ask skeptically. You definitely didn’t know enough people to get this many gifts. 

“Well, apparently, the supers got wind of the attack and wanted to thank you for reasons that are too complex to explain.”

The supers? Like SUPERMAN???

“Of course, when Superman found out, Wonder Woman found out, of course, then Martian Manhunter discovered what happened, and so on and so forth. Until you had an entire hospital room full of kind, and definitely some expensive gifts.”

Your head was spinning. 

“I… I don’t know what…”

“Take the gifts,” Leslie’s hand rested gently on your knee. “You take the gifts, accept the praise, and go forward in your life knowing you accomplished something amazing.”

“How… how long was I asleep?”

Leslie looks apprehensive, “It’s been around 44 hours. You spent about 12 hours in surgery to remove the bullet lodged in your abdomen. We kept you under for around 8 hours for observation, and you’ve been asleep for the last 24. Thankfully, that was the worst of your injuries. The fractured rib and broken leg are pretty straightforward considering the circumstances.”

“Did… did you call anyone?”

Leslie sighed and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You knew the answer; you were expecting it to be completely honest. However, you hoped for a single minute that you could’ve been wrong. That maybe the threat of your death would be enough, enough to realize what they missed. Enough to realize that they regretted everything they’d ever put you through. 

You were never that lucky. 

“I’m sorry. We contacted your family and…”

“And they told you not to call unless I’m dead, or that if I’m still alive now, then it obviously wasn’t that bad. Oh! What about ‘What are you calling us for? She’s a grown woman. She should be able to handle her own mess.’”

You gave a humorless laugh, and your head fell to your chest. 

“I’ve heard it all before.”

Forty-four hours. 

Forty-four hours gone, and not even a single text. You didn’t even have to check your phone to know that much. 

“If I ever had children of my own, I would never let them suffer alone.”

You never had the best relationship with your parents.

Nothing dramatic or exciting.

Just two young people who never wanted kids, suddenly stuck with a child they didn’t want.

They tried to make it work, to the best of their abilities at least, but the connection was never made. There was no warmth in their gazes, no ‘I love yous’ whispered as they tucked you into bed, not even comforting words after nightmares. 

Instead, it was cold indifference that they stared at you with. A detached “Wake up” whenever you scream in your sleep. Declarations of love were saved for special occasions at best, and outright ignored most times. 

You were used to being invisible, not mattering to those around, searching for comfort in books or movies where you could pretend for even a moment that you were someone important. 

Someone who mattered. 

Of course, books end and credits roll. 

And you’re back.

Back in the harsh reality of a world that doesn’t see you. A world that passes you by as you slave away with monotony and the endless cycle of work and bills. 

A world that no child deserves to be brought into. 

So you never pictured yourself having kids.

A pretty easy task when you’re used to being overlooked in a crowd. Not even qualifying to be someone’s backup option for affection or attention. 

You were painfully average in your mind. Relationships that barely lasted a few months before you were left for someone shinier and newer. Someone… exciting. 

You were a stepping stone, not the destination. 

So how… How did you end up here?

Your morning started off pretty strange as is. 

When you returned home from the clinic, you found that your entire apartment was clean. You had distinctly remembered blood stains on your couch and bed, but when you looked, they were cleaner than the day you bought them. 

You didn’t need a note to know who was responsible, but the cardstock on your coffee table was at least confirmation.

“Apologies for the intrusion; however, Batman felt that you should focus more on your recovery than on cleanliness. 

Please accept our gratitude for your protection of young Robin. Should you require assistance in the future, we have programmed an extra panic button onto your mobile device. Simply start the application and tap confirm twice. 

• Agent A”

Okay… You had no idea who this Agent A was, but you were more than happy for their help. 

Warmth bloomed in your chest at the thought that mere strangers would treat you with more kindness than anyone else had in years. 

The morning only got stranger from there. 

Unfortunately, being covered in mostly bandages, a leg cast, and hobbling on crutches meant that working was a no-go, so you closed your coffee shop for the day. 

The plan was to lie on the couch until you got too hungry to drag yourself to the kitchen to find something to eat; however, only an hour into your relaxation period, your door burst open and a child on matching crutches made his way into your apartment with an assortment of food. 

Right behind him was a very large, but very young-looking man.

“Who-”

The child steamrolled you entirely.

“Since you are currently incapable of adequately feeding yourself, I took to having Alfred prepare multiple meals for you. Much to my displeasure, I was not permitted to come alone, so Todd was brought along as my pack mule.”

“I’ll throw your snarky ass down the steps. Don’t test me. I’m only here because I caught your dumbass skipping class. B would be pissed if you got hurt in my territory.”

“I can take care of myself. Father will understand the urgency of the situation.”

“Yeah, yeah, brat. B totally didn’t say he was ordering food or anything.”

“Any food would be inadequate compared to Alfred’s cooking! I made an exec-”

Okay, this is getting out of hand.

“Hey! Yeah, hi!” Their heads snapped to you, seemingly remembering you were there. “Are you sure you have the right apartment?”

“I wouldn’t be so foolish as to forget my Imee’s address.”

Imee?

“Wha-”

“Damian, this is why Dickhead told you to let him handle everything. You’re confusing Ma!”

Ma?

“I have done no such thing!”

Their voices faded out as static filled your ears. 

These kids… they seemed so familiar… 

Holy shit…

These are Bruce Wayne’s kids. 

Bruce Wayne- his kids- your house- Mom?!

“I have no idea what’s happening right now…”

The man you now recognize as Jason Todd-Wayne starts setting down food on your coffee table, while Damian Wayne starts messing with your remote. 

“Hey! Who said you get the remote?!”

“My high-quality tastes.”

“You’re about to have a high-quality foot up your ass in a minute.”

“Don’t overestimate your skills.”

“You fuckin-!”

A fever dream. 

This was all an infection-induced fever dream, and when you wake up, you can laugh about it with your employees. 

It’s all a dream…

It wasn’t.

For the rest of the week, you were continuously visited by a random combination of Wayne children. A little jarring at first, considering you were mostly on bedrest and you’re certain that you never actually gave any of them your address.

“Mom, where’s the espresso maker?”

“You’re on your fifth cup of coffee at noon, honey. You can get the espresso machine back once you take a nap.”

“What?! That’s not fair!”

“Your paperwork can wait two hours; the rapidly approaching heart attack you’re gonna get from a caffeine overdose cannot.”

“But moooo-”

“Aht Don’t ‘but mom’ me. Get your behind on that couch and we can watch that anime you’ve been trying to convince me is the ‘single greatest piece of media ever made’”

“ONE PIECE?! HELL YEA!”

“Language.”

“Sorry”

After only a week, you fell completely into this role of “Mom.”

Children, desperate for approval, bright-eyed and energetic, moved something in you. Like two pieces of jarringly different puzzles, fitting together seamlessly. They craved affection, and you craved family. It was a strange, yet easy partnership.

If you put more thought into it all, you would’ve tried wondering why they chose you, but the mixture of affection and pain medicine completely wiped those thoughts from your memory.

“RICHARD GRAYSON!”

“Oooooo you’re in troubleeeee”

“Shut up, Jason… Yes, my beautiful and kind mother~”

“Did you ruin my cast-iron pan?”

“Oh wow! Look at the time. I suddenly remembered I had business in Blu-”

“I’m calling Alfred.”

“WAIT WAIT HOLD ON”

You just had to wonder what their other parent had to say about it all.

Bruce Wayne considered himself a very logical man.

Someone who rarely gave in to his emotions and analyzed every situation before making a choice. Someone who seldom lets the whims and actions of others affect him. 

Someone who, by all means, should not believe in love at first sight. 

Yet, as he stood in that window, watching her shield his child from harm, refusing to give in to fear, and completely focused on comforting his child in the face of potential death… he was sure he was deeply and irrevocably in love. 

When the gunshot rang out and a bullet embedded itself in her stomach, he felt his brain shift into something purely primal. Pulled forward by memories of times similar to this.

Watching as Jason died in front of him, absolutely helpless to do anything. 

Watching his parents being murdered in front of him. 

Bruce was terrified. 

Yet, he still kept moving. Kept reminding himself that he is no longer helpless. 

He wasn’t sure how long it took to finish the fight. Bruce’s mind had practically stalled completely, working on pure muscle memory and instinct. 

“B!” The sound of Nightwing’s voice broke the spell that had fogged his mind. He had autopilot to start working on stopping the woman’s bleeding, tearing up fabric sheets to create a makeshift tourniquet. 

“We need to get her to Leslie. From what Robin’s described of the attack, she clearly has at least one cracked rib, and by the bruising, I would wager a broken collarbone and leg.” 

Nightwing was attempting to pull Robin away from the woman with little success. He had obviously been traumatized by the entire incident. However, he claimed it was out of a sense of duty that he couldn’t leave until he ensured her safety, but Batman wasn’t deaf. He heard Robin call out to the woman, referring to her as his mother. 

Batman wanted to attribute it to a traumabond. A connection forged in the heat of danger. 

That was until he saw the footage. 

After much arguing and promising to visit the woman in their civilian identities, he finally persuaded Robin to come to the Batcave to get treated. 

The entire brood gathered in front of the Batcomputer, all in shock and awe at how gentle and calm the woman was while treating Damian.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know it must hurt so much.”

“You may not be able to hear me, but I want you to know that you’re safe. You can rest.”

“Batman will be here soon… Stay strong for me…”

“Then close your eyes and count to ten little bird… You’re safe now…”

There was a strange feeling settling in the brood. Like a switch flipped and an indescribable need washed over them. Everyone was silent as the same thought entered their minds. 

“So…” All heads turned to face Jason, who never took his eyes off the screen. “Are we making her our mom or what?”

Just like that, everyone started moving at once. 

“Just booked a cleaning service and a window replacement for her apartment.”

“Wait, shouldn’t I have a-”

“Why don’t we just move her into the manor?”

“There is no way we can get her to move in that quickly; this needs to be a carefully thought-out operation.”

 “Alfred is already preparing a gift basket.”

“Now just wait a minute, I-”

“She has a coffee shop on ##### street, but only has two employees. Tim, can you-”

“Already on it. Multiple job postings just went out, and I already calculated benefits and a wage increase.”

Bruce let out a deep sigh. Despite his protests, he knew it was impossible to argue with his children once they had their minds set on something. 

It wasn’t as if he wasn’t also drawn in by the woman. Her features had been burned into her eyelids, and her devotion had stirred an emotion within him that he couldn’t describe. 

He already had a file on her, but he’d never say that to any of the kids out loud. He wasn’t obsessed after a singular encounter. 

He was merely… curious.

Grateful for her dedication to the safety of his child. 

Appreciative of the way her curves-

No.

He wasn’t obsessed.

A mantra he repeated over and over into the late hours of the night as he read through her file. Searching for anything that would make her suspicious, because if she was suspicious, he’d be forced to view her as a threat. 

Forced to completely abandon his obsession curiosity.

Yes… that was the reason… 

Nothing more.

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since you met the first Wayne child. Two weeks since your life had been turned upside down in a string of strange occurrences. 

There was at least one that visited every day.

Sometimes they were there to chat and play. 

Other times, they seemed content to just stay in your presence for a while. 

Something you noticed, however, was that they were horrendous with communication despite how in sync they all were. 

After the third time Damian appeared in your apartment during school hours, you were gifted their butler, Alfred’s number.  

The rest of the children’s numbers simply appeared in your phone, courtesy of Tim’s lack of boundaries.

(Not that you minded much. You only had a couple of contacts in your phone anyway.

They added you to a group chat with the entire household (Sans Alfred for obvious reasons) and integrated you into their banter like you’d been there their whole life. 

Yet somehow, despite it all, you hadn’t run into the supposed father of your kids. You’re honestly weren’t even sure he was aware of your existence until you came home from a check-up one day and found a very expensive gift basket and the most beautiful bouquet you’ve ever seen sitting right on your dining room table. 

You found it best to try not to think about how any of the Waynes kept finding their way into your home. You were almost positive they’d made copies of your keys, but you had yet to catch any of them in the act of actually unlocking the door.

There was a note, short, sweet, and to the point.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for my children.” Short. Sweet. And to the point. 

Exactly how the children described him.

The kids talked about their father constantly. Praise rolled off their tongue just as naturally as their playful scorn. It was to the point that you may not have spoken to the man much, but it wasn’t as if you could say you didn’t know much about him. 

From what you could tell, ‘Brucie’ was a media persona. The rule Bruce was very awkward with affection and terrible at verbal communication. They constantly complained that he grunted more than he spoke at home. 

So when it took you over a month to actually speak to the man. You weren’t surprised at all. 

“Imee. I require your signature.” 

Damian pulled out a homemade birthday card. 

“Father’s birthday is next week, and I would prefer for our gift to be a collaboration.” 

“Aww, Damian, are you sure? I haven’t actually had a conversation with him yet. I wouldn’t want to hijack your gift.” 

Damian just scoffed as if you just said the dumbest thing in the world and shoved the card into your hands again. 

“Tt. Don’t be foolish. Your collaboration in this project is essential.” Despite his nonchalant attitude, you saw the small blush that tinted his cheeks and sighed affectionately.

“You know I have such a hard time saying no to you, Ammouri. Of course, I’ll sign this card for you.”

“Perfect. Now come along, we need to purchase you appropriate attire.” Damian dragged you out of the apartment before you had time to protest. 

“Whoa! Where are we going? Attire for what?”

“For the birthday Gala. You can’t possibly expect to attend in any of your current attire.”

You barely had time to greet Alfred before this unnaturally strong 11-year-old shoved you into the back seat. 

“Gala? What gala?”

“Father’s birthday gala.”

Once again, this small child sent your mind reeling with new information. 

Communication. How hard is communication

“Why would I attend your father’s birthday Gala? I haven’t even met the man.”

Damian leveled you another unimpressed look.

“Of course you’ll attend. You’re Father’s date.”

…

…

…

“I’M HIS WHAT!?”