Has Talia ever tried to steal batmom!reader from Bruce?
A/n: Now she has
Title: “The League of Girls’ Night”
Or: That Time Talia al Ghul Kidnapped Bruce’s Wife and Left Him with the Kids
—
It started with the doorbell.
Bruce didn’t even know the manor’s doorbell worked.
He was half-dressed in sleep pants and a black WayneTech hoodie when Alfred called out politely, “Master Bruce, you may wish to come to the foyer. You have… a visitor.”
That should’ve been warning enough.
But it wasn’t.
Because standing in the doorway—dressed in a blood-red jumpsuit, stilettos, and a dagger strapped casually to her thigh—was none other than Talia al Ghul, sipping from a pumpkin spice latte.
“I’m here for her,” she said, shouldering past Bruce like she owned the place.
You blinked from the couch, holding baby Martha in one arm and a throw pillow in the other. “Talia?”
“Girls’ night.”
You laughed.
She didn’t.
“…Wait, you’re serious?”
“Of course I’m serious,” Talia said, flipping her hair like a shampoo commercial villain. “You’ve had two children with the World’s Most Brooding Billionaire. You need a break before he knocks you up again.”
“Talia—” Bruce began, already reaching for the baby.
Talia raised a finger. “Nope. You don’t get a say. You’ve kidnapped my father’s heir, my legacy, and my eyeliner,” she narrowed her eyes, “so I’m kidnapping your wife.”
“I’m not a hostage,” you said, mildly.
“You’re not not one,” she muttered, grabbing your hand.
—
“Okay but—”
You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before you were swept out the door, half in pajamas, still holding your phone, and shouting back to Bruce:
“DON’T LET THOMAS EAT THE COASTERS AGAIN.”
“WHAT DO I DO IF HE DOES?!” Bruce called.
“PRAY!” Talia and you shouted in unison.
—
Back inside the manor…
Bruce stood in the foyer with baby Martha in one arm, blinking at the now-silent doorway.
Then—
A crash from the kitchen.
Thomas’s voice echoed, far too excited: "DADDDYYYY! I put peanut butter in the KEURIG!”
Bruce turned slowly, eyes wide.“…Alfred?!”
“I’m off the clock,” Alfred replied, calmly sipping his tea as he retreated into the shadows like the butler version of Batman.
—
The Next Three Hours: Chaos.
•Bath time: Thomas insisted the bubbles were “clouds for his car army” and accidentally flushed three Hot Wheels and one Batarang.
Bruce had to call Tim to fish them out. Tim is still emotionally scarred.
•Diaper change: Martha peed on Bruce mid-change. Twice. She giggled. Bruce muttered something about needing better armor.
•Snack time: Thomas demanded dinosaur nuggets, and when Bruce tried to bake them, the oven caught on fire because Thomas had hidden crayons inside it.
Jason, walking in mid-blaze, just turned around and left. “Not my circus.”
•Story time: Bruce attempted to read “Goodnight Moon,” but Thomas insisted on rewriting it.
“Goodnight Bats,”
“Goodnight Crashed Car,”
“Goodnight Daddy’s Sadness,”
“Goodnight Crime!”
•Bedtime: Martha refused to sleep unless Bruce rocked her while singing “Twinkle Twinkle” in the Batman voice.
He did it.
Thomas insisted on backup vocals.
Meanwhile…
Talia and you were at a rooftop bar overlooking Gotham, sipping spiked cider, cackling over your phones as you scrolled through the “BatDad Disaster” group chat that Dick had sneakily created and added everyone to.
Cass sent a blurry photo of Bruce trying to cradle both kids in one arm while using the Batcomputer with his foot.
Duke commented:
DILF in Distress.
Jason added:
I think Thomas is hacking the mainframe.
You sent:
He just texted me 6 emojis and a picture of Alfred’s nose.
Talia lifted her drink. “To Thomas. May his reign be chaotic and covered in glitter.”
You clinked her glass. “To girls’ night. And to you. For breaking into my house like a sexy, dagger-wielding hurricane.”
She winked. “Anytime. You’ve joined the League now. The League of Exhausted Women Married to Men Who Fight Crime.”
You sighed. “There’s more than one?”
She grinned. “We have a group chat. Lois made it. Diana moderates.”
Later that night…
You returned home to find Bruce asleep on the couch.
Thomas drooling on his chest, snoring with one sock on.
Martha curled like a baby bat on his stomach, one tiny fist holding Bruce’s hoodie strings hostage.
You stood there quietly.
Talia stood behind you and whispered, “Look at that. My ex really did become a house-husband.”
You laughed, tiptoed over, and kissed Bruce’s forehead.
He stirred awake, groggy. “You’re back…”
“I am.”
“You smell like… liquor and glitter.”
“Guilty.”
“Never leave me with them again,” he whispered.
Thomas mumbled in his sleep, “Daddy’s bad at diapers…”
Martha let out a gurgling laugh.
Talia blew a kiss. “See you next time, Mrs. Wayne.”
And vanished into the night like a beautiful problem.
—
The End.
…until next month’s League of Girls’ Night meeting at Diana’s island spa
