Summary: You have become the private nurse of your childhood friend Bruce Wayne, who is trying to find out how he feels about you, but it seems he has lived too long in the dark.
Words: 1648
Warning: blood, injuries, mention of rape (No spoilers!)
A/N: When I saw Batman several ideas came to my mind, but I couldn’t seem to put them on paper, it was very frustrating, but by some miracle (@maah-sama) I managed to think of something I hadn’t even imagined heeheheh So let’s go from a dark and sad Bruce.
Bruce got out of the Batmobile with great difficulty, he leaned his hand on the window glass and didn’t even notice the bloodstain he had left there. His legs didn’t want to answer his command and he tried his best not to fall, but they gave up on him the next step and he howled in pain as his aching body fell to the ground, he doesn’t know how long he sat in the cold, but it was long enough for a hand to help him and put an arm around his neck. It was Alfred, he looked at him with more concern when he saw the dripping blood, he couldn’t tell where it was coming from but he knew it was serious so Alfred did his best to get him to the couch, Bruce softened his body more and looked where Alfred was going.
“I don’t want doctors here” he spoke snidely when he saw Alfred pick up the phone, the butler looked at him and typed in a number he knew.
You didn’t even take ten minutes to get to Wayne’s mansion, Alfred ran out of the house with an umbrella when he saw a taxi parked. You and he rushed in and you were already close to your best friend, the one who turned into Batman at night. Bruce jumped slightly when your hand touched the bruise on his stomach, you kissed his forehead and began to tend to his injuries.
Summary: You haven’t seen Bruce for weeks now. He’s been so busy being Batman that he’s seemingly forgotten about you. You’ve accepted a job offer in another city and haven’t been able to tell him. Will he convince you to stay? Reader uses she/her pronouns.
Warnings: Angst with fluffy ending because I need happiness.
Word Count: 4038
A/N: I finally got around to writing my Battinson x Reader fanfic! I have more ideas, but I’m in the middle of finals which is why this took so long to get to. Hopefully in a few weeks I’ll have more time to dedicate to writing but for now, I hope you enjoy this!
No matter how many times you walk up the steps to Wayne Manor, it’s still intimidating. You and Bruce had been best friends since you were kids. Your first encounter was not one you’re particularly proud of.
You were born into poverty and grew up knowing that money was hard to come by. Though you were young, you wanted to help your mom financially—that is, before she abandoned you—so you became a pickpocket. It was easy since your height made you hard to notice.
You had only done it a few times when you made a mistake. You noticed the Wayne family out and about one day. They weren’t surrounded by security, so you saw your chance. Even as a kid you knew about the famous Waynes. You looked at them and then noticed a nice-looking watch on young Bruce’s arm. Apparently, you had picked the wrong target.
As soon as you touched the watch, Bruce turned around and looked at you. You froze, your instincts telling you to run but you were too scared to move. Bruce looked confused. He then looked at his watch and then back to you, figuring out what it was you were after. Your face felt hot and just as you turned to leave you saw Bruce taking off the watch.
“I never liked it anyway,” he said to you. Your confusion only grew when he extended his arm with the watch in his open palm. You were too scared and confused to move. But Bruce just pushed his arm out further.
A note from Lucy:Oops, my hand slipped. Bruce is now in therapy. And you should be too. Yes I wrote this instead of revising for that all important psychology paper two tomorrow. Yes, that was the aim. Also, I KNOW, it’s not a healthy therapist/client relationship…but this is fiction, people, GODDAMN IT! IT IS WHAT I WANT IT TO BE! I also know that this is shitty…i’ll get round to editing it properly later (maybe?). But that’s not the point- the point is…Follow the batboys lead, get some help (and let me know if you want a part two). Now shut up, Lucy, go to sleep, its 2:40 am here and you have exams-
“We spoke last week about coping mechanisms; More specifically, living with this anger you described.” You were flipping through your notes from the last session you two had and what seemed the most pressing at the moment to Bruce. Bruce nodded from his seat in the chair opposite you. He was sort of slumped into it, his head lowered into his chest as he avoided eye contact. Or maybe it was just to avoid the mere sight of you. “You said you get frustrated often.” That same glassy look occupied his face, very brooding and serious. And then his brow creased. He shook his head in another curt nod. “What with?”
For the first time in twenty minutes he looked at you. Which was impressive considering it was an hour long session today. Something dangerous flashed behind those blue eyes. Bruce was hiding something. You could tell from the way he shifted in his seat, the way he closed himself off from you, the person he had come to in order to ‘open up’.
“People.” You raised your eyebrow, aiming for an elaboration. But Bruce seemed entrapped by something hidden in his mind.
The feeling of his fist colliding with skin shot hot thrills through his spine. The bruising peppered over his knuckles would have been a sign to reign it in but he just couldn’t. Not when the feeling of the thugs bone cracked under his own clenched, balled hand was screaming to be felt again. It was electrifying.
Not all people crave physical contact in the same way. Some people seek it out in violence.
“Their disrespect.” You have gotten used to these one or two word answers. Mr Wayne was certainly a silent man. But you had a feeling it was loud in his own head. A person’s head is his own space for him to voice his thoughts. Not everyone feels the need to let their opinions be shown in the stentorian daylight colours. It was such a specific hue that not everything looked as pretty as it was once earlier perceived. Lighting can be everything.
“For what?”
This man had been following a woman for the past few blocks and Batman had been following him. It was all about timing with this duty. He never went into something without taking the correct precautions. That’s why he waited until now to drag the man’s flailing body into a dark alleyway to be dealt with.
His hand clamped down like a vice over his mouth, the attacker’s hands flying to his own aid as he clawed at Batman’s arm. His nails were nowhere near enough to even scratch at the armour the Batman had on. It was at the dead end of the alley that the man was flung at the wall, his hood falling off to reveal a skinhead beneath.
The figure of vengeance and darkness itself didn’t say a single word as the man uttered out pleas to be let go and that he ‘would never do it again’. And he didn’t say anything when pummeling him into the grubby concrete, a steady stream of blood dribbling from his chin now, swirling with saliva, the mixture lacing his gums and teeth that looked darker in these specific shadows.
“For you?” He looked almost disgusted that you would ask such a question, anger heating slightly in the pit of his stomach, yet not to a boil. That frustration you spoke of soon entered the equation again. You knew from the way his fists clenched, almost gouging at the armrests to the chair opposite you. His knuckles, usually purple, drew white from the tension held so stubbornly within them. The sharp bone of his knuckles kept his skin tight, cracking them slightly as he ignored the new sting as his old cuts opened up.
“You think I have a superiority complex?” You shook your head with a small chuckle. Superior complex? No. Saviour complex? Maybe…you didn’t know enough yet.
“You haven’t answered my question yet. You answer mine, I answer yours. That’s how a conversation works, Mr Wayne.” He had grown accustomed to your slight humour in the past few and a bit months. He would be lying if he didn’t find it attractive in some way.
“For other people.” You noted this down on the page of your notebook. Bruce let out a drawn out breath, looking just out of your eyeline. Back to square one. As per usual.
“And that’s what-“ you paused, trying to think of a way to put this, “makes you angry.” There was a pregnant pause between your question and his answer, setting you on edge slightly.
“It confuses me more than anything.” You sighed in relief internally.
“How so?”
“I have a voice in my head. People’s blatant disrespect sets it off.” You furrowed your brow when Bruce hid back into himself, his hands meeting in his lap now to fiddle with his already blunt nails. Bruce felt his stomach twist and his throat tighten. Never before had he spoken about him with you. He was too terrified of letting something slip.
Rain poured into his eyes, running down the sharp slope of his nose, down the cowl that sealed his identity from Gotham’s vicious headlines, and tabloids, and criminal population. His teeth gritted- his hands tightening around the throat of a man he cared not about. Part of him felt a rush from having his life quite literally in the palm of his hands.
Their eyes soon tinted red, face burning up red, then purple, his lips becoming blue. The sight must have grounded him, prying this murderous thought from his blackened mind, for his gip loosened.
The man slipped away, scurrying off…and the Batman stared down at his gloved hands in disgust. He didn’t want to be a killer.
“What’s so bad about this voice?”
“It’s violent,” he said, not missing a beat. Something flagged in your mind. He answered too quickly for him to not have thought about this before. The man’s chest rose with an inhale, but did not fall with an exhale. You continued slowly, noticing how his shoulders drew up and he tensed.
“Why do you think that is?”
“There is violence in everything.”
“Could you think of an example?” He studied you for a second, striking blue eyes darting around your face. Studied you the way you study ice to see if it’s safe to walk on.
“Stars. We watch them burn to relax. That’s not beautiful. That’s destructive.”
“And you see people as the same.” He nodded. “The voice contributes to that, I’m guessing.”
“Sometimes I find it hard to separate it from the rest of my thoughts. It’s there to be what I feel I can’t be as Bruce Wayne.”
“It’s too often that our own worst enemy is the version of ourselves we create in our own head. And it’s difficult because it’s a part of you and therefore knows what gets you the most. We have to remember that this voice would be nothing without Bruce Wayne. But Bruce Wayne is still everything without it.” You purse your lips, thinking of what to do next. Bruce Wayne was too much of a puzzle to know right off the bat. “Have you tried journaling?”
It always took Bruce a while to shed the skin of The Batman. Every night he would take off the cowl, the suit, the boots, the gloves. But it was never enough. He was still left with those thoughts that he had to remember. Pushing himself. Finding a limit. And pushing it some more.
Bruce’s thoughts tangled into the Batman’s and he struggled with which identity was who. Bruce got angry, The Batman cowered in shadows. Sometimes he would go out, a mix of him and this monster he made. A drifter. Dark circles from sleepless, troubled and haunted nights hid under black paint pasted over Bruce’s eyes. Or maybe it was Batman’s eyes? The eyes of vengeance personified. He had no idea who they belonged to anymore. When he saw violence it was the Batmans. Any other time they were Bruce’s. He loathed it,
The Batman could not quail…or this whole idea was for nothing. He needed a way to separate the two. Or maybe merge them together completely?
He shook his head, “No.”
“You could try it. A few of my other clients use it to ‘thought track’ as it were. When they feel scared, or confused,” you said, gesturing to him, ‘they write it down. They say it helps to see the words on paper before they have a chance to…run away and hide, per say.” He was silent. Bone chillingly so. It was hard to see through the shadows the higher planes of his face created, but he grimaced.
Offering a small smile to him, you closed your notebook. This whole conversation- hell, whole session- couldn’t help but get you thinking as you paused, noticing how he shifted again in his seat. “This is off record, I won’t write it down…but-” You tried not to stare him down and give the worried-shrink-look. “Do you, as just Bruce, feel threatened by this voice and the expectations it places upon you?”
‘Shit’, he thought.
Maybe you had found out? He went to shake his head ‘no’, but paused halfway through. He couldn’t bring his eyes to meet yours, you were looking so intently at him that it almost burned up his neck. An army of goosebumps arose on the back of his neck.
“Sometimes.” The man croaked. It was hardly a whisper out of his lungs and more an exhale. Your pupils traced along the sharp contours of his face, his jaw, the slope of his nose, still in that contorted, painful position. His jaw was set on edge as if he was clenching his teeth together so hard they would crack. He felt he might crack. He couldn’t crack. His head swayed from left to right. You tilted yours, your tongue drawing your bottom lip into the confines of your teeth. “It takes a lot to ignore.”
“Do you ignore it because of this pressure?”
“I think…It’s hard to tell. I don’t know if I want that to be Bruce Wayne. I don’t know what else to do to stop it interfering with my life.”
You found it interesting how as soon as you had closed your book he had started to say more. Not limiting himself to a few words each time you asked a question.
“There are many things to help deal with intrusive thoughts, Bruce.” You crossed your legs, the position you were once in growing uncomfortable as you leaned forward in your seat slightly. “Exercise, diet…sleep.”
“I exercise.”
“Regularly?”
“Daily.” You didn’t know why it was such a shock. It’s not like he wasn’t a conventionally attractive man to look at. But he seemed to hide beneath the layers of loose and dark clothing. Today’s choice being a pair of deep blue jeans and a black long sleeved t-shirt. Nondescript. Under the radar. That was Bruce Wayne in a nutshell.
“What-” But Bruce had pre-empted your question before the words had the chance to escape your lips.
“Boxing. Martial arts.” The bruises on his knuckles made more sense now. How they never seemed to fade. It was something you made a note of in your very first session. “I don’t want to cause harm to people that don’t deserve it.”
Bruce’s keen blue eyes flicked over to the clock above your head and then the window to where it had started to grow dark under the thick blanket of Gotham’s smog. He had done this a total of five times so far this session. It added a hint of reason behind his skittish nature. The bounce of his leg and the way he seemed…elsewhere. “I have to go.” He stood up much faster than you did…or could have even anticipated. Something didn’t add up to you. He was definitely hiding something from you.
“Goodbye.”
“Uh-” He was gone. Out the door. Just after slinging his jacket over his shoulders. You moved to the window, eager to see him go. Maybe the reason for his abrupt departure lay outside on the grimy street below. He jogged down the steps to the building, glancing up at the sky before continuing with his hood drawn up down the pavement, the only trace of him being his breaths made visible from the biting cold air. You leaned forward, cheek almost pressing up to the cold glass pane, trying to get a glance at the sky. It was out, the bat symbol. He was out.
“Goodbye, Mr Wayne.” You muttered, moving to your desk and taking a seat there, opening up your notebook to translate rough notes into his file.
Hasn’t tried journaling yet…ask about it next session → maybe to see it.
Something certainly didn’t make sense here as the mystery of Bruce Wayne seemed much deeper than meets the eye. No. There was definitely more. Something darker. It smelled of mystery, made your head hurt to think about and caused a prickling of curiosity to ignite at your fingertips. Taking your pen, it took a moment for it to reach the paper, but when it did you scribbled out anything and everything he had said the moment you had closed your notebook.
“Feel threatened by this voice”…“the expectations it places upon you”…
“I don’t know if I want that to be Bruce Wayne”
His knuckles, usually purple, drew white from the tension held so stubbornly within them. They never seemed to fade.As soon as you had closed your book he had started to say more. Under the radar. Bruce’s keen blue eyes flicked over to the clock above your head and then the window. It was out, the bat symbol. He was out.
A gasp ripped from your lungs as your pen tumbled from your hands, clattering to the lino floor. In the rush of your thoughts you had drawn a mindmap to try and organise the chaos and it has worked. It all made sense now. Each branch linking together and each bubble providing another piece of evidence for your hypothesis. And in the centre; a name. His name; Bruce Wayne.
The stains of red on her ledger from her time spent with them spanned back further to a dim time she preferred to forget. The mission had struck her interest instantly and Ra’s knew it without a firm acknowledgement from her. It had all been leading up to this, a thought in the back of her mind each day. To right the wrong and confirm the true agenda behind her family’s murder. Vengeance was a key motivator and a cruel killer of the innocence within the child from before. She knew to hold this sword would be the last part of her trauma reviving to live another day and extinguish the girl that was once there all those years ago.
Bruce’s knowledge of the League was scarce, a slight encounter with a few assassins and whispers of the Demons’ Head around Gotham’s elite criminals. And so, unveiling all that was a part of her would ruin everything they’d built together since the moment they saved each other from a far greater destruction at their own hands.
Whispers of the pained cries and yells reverberated in her head. The orders and strike of a blade, ripping her skin for lost attention, something she would pay far greater focus to avoid in the upcoming training. Each day, working to be the better version of yourself; all to attain the revere of the teacher. To hold the title of the skilled and disciplined meant achieving the status of a shadow, including completing initiation. The first kill is-was always the most difficult. The hesitation and the voice telling you not to raise the blade. But you came this far, why stop now? You did everything in the name of your family. They were not offered the same mercy, nor were their innocence or good deeds regarded. Each time, each mission, she stared into the face of corruption and greed with the mindset of something far greater in mind; the people she was saving by preventing the anguish unleashed by these criminals.
In the veil of her thoughts that rushed through her mind, she managed to open the front door before collapsing against the hard wood and sliding to the floor. A dread washed over her body, a melancholy echo that wrecked her as she hushed cries beneath a shaky palm. Sobs wracked Y/N’s body while she breathed in and out, the image of Bruce’s disappointment fresh in her mind. Regret for having trusted someone when the facts pointed toward contradiction.
***
A pang struck Bruce’s chest, watching the close of the elevator receding to the top floor. The remnants of hushed whispers hinged a stillness within the air that his mind rewound to navigate. He flickered from the place where she stood with shaky eyes, clutching the drive tightly as it disappeared in his hand.
His body moved of its own accord, travelling to the computer and logging the familiar details as he plugged the drive into the port. And it began.
The images flashed in his eyes, one after the other with each click. A flourish of files and photographs; assignment details, locations, collection data. From whom, Bruce wasn’t too sure. Save for blackened lines, the facts important to him was an image he stopped on. His heart dropped, bracing over the realisation coming to fruition.
The reflection illuminated in his eyes as he ran over the features once more. A branch of the past, a more youthful version of the woman he knew, but this one held a much greater contempt in her eye. A distrust of the world holding her guard up and close by to void off the hurtful grasp of the world around her. And with it, she held her weapon in haste, a forward act in for vengeance in this cruel world. Through all of it, Bruce halted, his hand moving from the screen as his head drew to the desk. The pieces of her left behind in the jumper she borrowed form him thrown over the work desk, or the sticky notes she left behind to remind him to eat and sleep, to do all of the things he often forgot.
The creaking of the elevator reached his ears and soon Alfred calling his name before Bruce recognised the man standing over his shoulder. Alfred’s voice grew hushed as he looked back at the screen. The masked figure, the bottom of their face covered with the eyes clear for them to see. The files rushed away, a hand pulling the drive out with a click as Bruce’s glazed eyes defaulted to his hands clutching the drive. Alfred had just left from the office after witnessing the fallen tears streaking her face as she halted in her step, a guilty look tearing her face before she stepped away and shut the front door behind her.
“Bruce…”
The man’s mouth shut in response, unsure of where to go with his mind torn between the truth and the image he had of her in his mind. What lies therein in the truth of what you know and have learned versus the supposed truth handed to you. How did one discern perception from facts when emotions were involved. Such strong feelings as these tied the strings around Bruce’s hands and heart as it constricted with an overwhelming pull toward the depths of uncertainty. Not knowing was something Bruce was familiar with, but always dismissed its choking hold and turning to uncover the truth.
“I don’t know what to do.” he confessed.
Alfred blinked, glancing down at the distraught on Bruce’s face. The glint in his eyes every moment they spent together, something he had become unfamiliar after his parents passing. The glossiness to Bruce’s eyes as he clutched the drive with a determination to hold the answer and yet it faulted with each tragic second.
“I think you do.” Alfred murmured, “I think you know better than anyone. All of our actions are not what define us. Our past isn’t a clear track into our future. I think you know exactly how you feel about her, Bruce. You need to decide for yourself.”
A beat passed as Bruce exhaled and Alfred’s response arrived, a murmur in the quiet.
“Do you want to know what I see in that photograph?”
“I see a cruel world. A girl trying to survive with the cards that she’s been dealt. If you care for her, you’ll talk to her. About why she is here.”
***
A stillness resided over the house, just as it had a few days prior. No word from Bruce solidified the answer in her mind to the latter of her presumptions on his impression. She had been afraid of this result all along, and yet, it was still better than the depths of her nightmares where the darkest realms of guilt and horror existed.
Tears dropped down her cheeks, a huff escaping Y/N while she looked through the window into grim day sweeping the street. It was a brutal cold that bit at anything it could reach, sweeping the barren streets in a mist that nipped at your fingers and consumed your lungs. Although, the knock at her front door was more so a stilting event, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Y/N’s sight wavered as she caught the gaze of the person upon opening the door.
A shaky breath escaped her, echoing his name as she stared at him, unsure of what exactly to expect. She closed her agape mouth and read his expression, gulping down her anxieties as she held the door open for him. He was in his right to answers, if that was what he came there for. She stared down at the coffee table between them, Bruce stood opposite, not moving to take a seat on the couch.
“Aren’t you going to ask if I…” he breathed, unsure if he was truly going to say it until she visibly recoiled.
“I don’t think I need to.” she gulped, “Whatever your reasons are for being here, I can’t-” she clenched her eyes shut. “I can’t fault for you wanting to know the truth. Whether you read it or not. I-I understand-”
“The betrayal? Guilt?”
His words struck her as Y/N whipped her head up, witnessing the masked calm in Bruce’s eye replaced with an intensity she couldn’t quite discern. She fell quiet, waiting for him to continue while he studied her closely. “You lied to me, and you never once said anything about it.” he wore an inquisitive look as he stood tall in his dark coat. “If there’s anything I know well, its loss.”
She remained quiet, watching him with this unsure look that he hadn’t witnessed before. He wasn’t sure if she would blink with how she trained her focus on him, almost unassured if he would disappear at any moment and leave.
His throat grew tight while he restrained a shiver from the memories, “Alfred could tell you better, all of the summers I spent looking for something-somewhere to belong.”
Bruce looked over at her figure leaned against the bench, arms held to her chest, not protectively, but certainly guarding something rather close to herself. The unsettling silence between them was obvious with the shivers running along his arms. Discerning where they stood was just another uncomfortable conversation left unspoken.
“I’ve been looking for something to give me purpose. The Batman was one part of it, but it was the people of this city that showed me who I needed to be.” he exhaled, “I needed something to run toward.”
He closed his eyes, squinting behind the burning sensation as the sight of her unshed tears moved him. “I don’t care about your past. Whether you tell me or you keep those parts to yourself…Your future is my privilege.”
She whispered his name, confusion filling her until he retrieved something from his pocket, revealing the tarnished remains of the drive in many pieces. Wide eyed, she flickered from his palm to his eyes, an almost dream-like state gazing upon the source of every tarnished memory.
“Why-you had every right to read it and to know.” her face twisted.
“I know the kind of person you are from here and now. I don’t need to know everything about your past to understand where you stand now.”
She finally felt the pressure release from her chest, tears falling free before she felt Bruce’s arms pull her into his chest. Her fingers clenched around his coat, scrunching the fabric as she inhaled the familiar and comforting cologne.
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear those words.”
Bruce rested his chin on her head, sighing in relief “I couldn’t bear to lose you. I thought it over enough and through everything…you never hesitated. I am sorry I didn’t do the same.”
She shook her head, returning to catch his gaze “I wouldn’t have expected any different. You deserve to know.”
“And that is entirely up to you. I-I want you to do this on your terms. Not because of someone’s agenda.” his fingers wiped her cheeks, causing Y/N to gently shut her eyes and her breath hitched.
She nodded her head encouragingly, truthfully walking into a path of acceptance and entrusting him with every part of her, “I’m ready.”
“Bruce,” she spoke up, following closely behind his step toward the computer. The entire ride back to the Tower had been silent, the echoes of Talon’s voice reverberating in her mind and surely Bruce’s with the unsettling feeling between them. He shrugged the cowl off, the sound of her repeating his name and yet he remained in his own head.
“The sins…of the father.” he whispered, cutting into her thoughts as she stared at him with bated breaths leaving her mouth. “This is what my family’s legacy has come to.” He whispered, “More lies than I can keep track of, it seems.”
A choked sound built in his throat while Y/N watched, hesitance behind her actions as he unravelled before her.
“Alfred always talks of how great the Wayne legacy is…beginning to think it’s another thing they created.”
Her hand reached out to him, falling on his shoulder with his name falling from her lips. His head shot up, darting back to her at the sensation of her touch.
“What did he mean?” his lips set into a frown, an unsettling feeling sinking into her stomach. “He knew about your life outside of Gotham. More than I do-more than you’ve shared.”
She tilted her head, her shaky gaze flickering between his eyes. He lifted something into her sight, bringing forth the Riddler’s card, the one addressed to her.
“Anything else I should know?” he mused, allowing the card to fall onto the desk.
“Let me explain,.” desperation was clear in the tremble of her voice.
He huffed, leaning his gloved hands against the desk, “I thought we trusted each other. What aren’t you telling me?” his voice low.
“Bruce-” she stepped forward, freezing at the fury building in his eyes.
He exhaled deeply, “You want me to be honest with you? I expect the same in return."
"I never expect you to understand my entire story, but there are parts of my life that I don’t share. That I can’t.” she gasped, holding herself up.
A hurt look crossed his face, “I-haven’t I been clear? After everything we’ve been through together and you come back to this?”
“You don’t understand.” she repeated, helplessly searching for reprieve as he seemingly exploded.
“I don’t! You’ve always seemed closed off, but-”
“-This coming from Gotham’s recluse.” she finally bit back.
“At least I am honest about what I mean.“
Her eyes shook, “I have never lied to you in the time that I’ve known you, Bruce.”
“Omittance is still a lie.” he replied, swallowing his words.
She shook her head, “Why can’t you understand-”
“Because, frankly I don’t think I know you all that well.”
“You know me.” she nodded frantically, “You do.”
“I apparently don’t even know myself. How is that for starters?” he replied, a bitter taste residing on his tongue.
“Bruce,” she pleaded, voice dropping to a whisper as he shook his head.
“I don’t know what I was thinking about this.”
“What do you-what do you mean?”
“How can I trust you? I clearly don’t have yours." he shook his head.
"That isn’t true-” she pleaded with him, urging to grasp his hand when he pulled back once more.
“-Then what are you hiding from me? What-what are you holding so close to your heart?”
She stared at him, gaze unwavering as a silence took over the room. The unnerving lack of sound now that he paused jolted her as her heart thundered in her ears.
"I never told you because I knew you would realise I was never who you thought I was.”
A beat passed between them as he looked down at her and the guilt laced in her expression, “How could you know that?”
"Because I’ve seen first hand what happens-” her voice strained, “Is it so crazy that I don’t want to be alone? I am afraid of losing you.” She dipped her head, gulping down the tension in her throat, “I have never intentionally lied to you, Bruce. Not out of spite…or hate, or anything of that kind.”
“Just…tell me the truth.” his gaze fell on her unsettled figure, waiting on an answer.
Inhaling deeply, she wrenched the last parts of her resolve, “Please, understand I did this because I care about you, Bruce. I care about what you think of me.” She pulls something out of her pocket, reluctantly allowing it to drop onto the desk. His eyes flickered from her to the USB drive.
“You can read it all on there,” she exhaled shakily, “but I don’t care to see the look on your face when you’re finished.” gasping out the final words as she retreated from him to the elevator, averting her gaze to hide the tears wrenched from her eyes.
As the World Caves In (10/?) - Bruce Wayne x Reader
Summary: A lead takes a stark turn with the unexpected unravelling of secrets upon them.
Author’s Note: new chapter update from series. Will probably end at 16 parts. Comment to be tagged. Follows Court of Owls plotline.
Pairing:Bruce Wayne x fem! reader
Warning:canon-level violence, slight angst
Masterlist
The rain settled over the choking harvest of the evening as the city rested and the felons came out. It was an unsettling resonance that trembled along the street’s alleys, a shudder running up the spine at an echo around the corner. Rain pummelled against the windows of a towering hospice, the shadows darkening further upon a closer look between the rigid windows caving inward.
A window cracked from above, an opening to the outside as the rain dribbled through and a body dropped down. The figure slowly lowered their body from the line, waiting a moment before their accomplice followed. The room was empty, bare the furniture and table to the side. Looking at the Bat, she silently moved to the door, not wanting to alarm any person to their presence. Her hand slowly grasped the handle, opening it to allow a peek outside. The hallway was dark, an unsettling silence resting over the barren level. The pair glanced at each other, unassured and followed through as they cautiously stepped toward the room in question.
A palpating noise thundered in her ears in front of the door, a hand ghosting over the blade on her back. Not a moment sooner, did his hand cover her’s and he looked down at her, sensing her hesitation and twisted the handle. The door fell open and her heart shuddered at the true darkness enveloping the room. A waft reached them, the choking smell of rot causing her eyes to water as Bats shone a light to the dark.
Confusion fills her room, a shiver ran down her back at the sight of the people surrounding the grand table. The chilling silence blanketed by the vacant look in some of their eyes, others resting their heads blankly on the table. Her feet wandered, crossing to the nearest person. Bruce studied them, slowly moved around the table to capture every detail and more closely to the head of the table. Her hand ghosted a woman’s neck, a lack of warmth from the bodies.
“All dead.” she remarked, “Poison?”
Bruce’s eyes drew to the bowls and cups placed in front of them, “Something like that.”
“The question is, who?” she glanced around the room, focused on the masks.
“It doesn’t make sense.” he paused.
She murmured in response, watching as he tilted his head and studied the layout. Something was missing from this setup, aside from the rest.
“They were a ghost not so long ago and now they’re all dead.” she turned to look at him pointedly. “What does that tell you?”
“In death, we take away your clarity.” he murmured, catching her gaze.
***
Bruce steadied her as they reached the roof before he looked over her shoulder at a moving shadow in his plane of sight, the eyes watching him from the rooftop opposite. Following his gaze, Y/N locked onto the beady eyes and her resolve hardened before they both moved in tandem to slink toward the departing figure. The Talon moved quickly, but the Batman was adept at tracking closely as he grappled them onto the rooftop.
Flipping onto her front, Y/N pushed off into a sprint on foot, Bruce on her heels. The Talon is close as he flipped and somersaulted to stay ahead. She stayed right up there until she flipped, throwing a dagger to catch him off guard. His wince gave Bruce the right opening to grapple and wrench the assassin back.
Wiping the blood from her mouth, she watched as Bruce and the Talon wrestle. The latter lands a blow that causes her to wince at the crack reaching her ears, a groan escaping Bruce before she moved forward and swiped her katana at his side. He dropped Bruce and turned toward her, releasing his own weapon to draw against it. He pushed forward and Y/N’s feet followed suit, losing her grip on the katana as he swiped at her hand with a claw.
A gasp hitched her breath as she darted out of the way of a strike, rolling onto her feet. Wide eyed, Y/N somersaulted into a stance and reached out for her fallen katana as Talon’s fingers brushed the handle. The weight in her hand pulled it back to her as she held it firmly, staring down her opponent. The eyes studied her for a glimpse before leaping off again. Bruce’s fist hit him, throwing him off before Y/N’s foot struck his chest. The two worked in time to meet each blow with a powerful response, throwing even her katana between them.
The final remark came with Bruce pummelled his fist into Talon’s windpipe, his back crashing against the ground with a final blow to the chest from Y/N. It’s not long before he’s restrained and the trickle of the rain becomes apparent along with the pounding of her heart.
The beady eyes stare back, a formidable wall that remains still and unmoving as Bruce’s hushed voice intercepts.
“You killed them. Why?”
A beat passed and no response was received before Y/N wrenched the mask off. Beneath it was a fairly handsome man with brown hair and a few scars littering his face. His expression was blank as he stared up at her and scanned before moving to Batman.
“What was your goal?” Y/N murmured, drawing the Talon’s attention with a twitch of the neck in her direction.
“I’m merely here to play to win. What are you doing?” he hinted.
“Not exactly a fair playing field when you pre-emptively murder your opponents.” Y/N chided.
“The Court of Owls doesn’t regard you as the threat you present yourself as.” drawing its gaze up. “You’re merely a speck in the line of millions that have come before. A cancerous cell to be cut out.”
“And the people in there? Where are the rest?” Bruce pressed, Y/N watching him in the corner of her eye.
A chuckle caught in his throat, the Talon resting on his knees “Always asking the wrong questions. Wouldn’t you rather know about your family, Bruce?”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed as his heart shuddered in his chest, glancing at Y/N in his periphery. The Talon turned to her, murmuring her name to watch her freeze.
“Their true part?” he paused, watching as the pair froze and a silence settled over the rooftop. “Both of your families have a history of philanthropy in Gotham. Surprise to no one, their hands are a little bit less than clean.”
“What are you talking about?” Bruce grunted.
Her grip was tight on the katana at her side, eyes shaking as the Talon tilted his head.
A laugh left him, “History. It’s all fabricated and whatever isn’t well, how could you tell the difference? In time, you’ll come to know that going against the Court, your end is imminent, as is the lifeline of the city’s fellow victors. Your own family had a large part in favouring the Court of Owls’ long work. Generations have seen it through. We Talons have been the ones handing out their favour.”
“You mean taking away their free will.” her gaze fell to Bruce’s clenched fists, “Murder.”
“You talk as if they deserve any better.” he chuckled darkly, “What you don’t know about Gotham is the people, no matter where they’re from, they are all if not easily corruptible. Even the likes of you-a little incentive, and it all comes down.”
The Talon turned, his eyes lingering over her “What a surprise you were. After all that your family staked in this city.”
The murmur of her name on his lips was unsettling, “Your return was nothing if not a reckoning.” striking a pang of nerves in Bruce’s chest at his words. Her eyes shook, refuting the claims with a clench of her jaw. “All of the names on your ledger,” he tutted, “The things I’ve heard…I’m frankly confused at the company you keep.” he smirked, “I thought we would suit each other far more-”
The next thing on his lips would refute everything she had built before she snapped, “I’ve heard enough-” she replied, stepping forward as a snap sounded and he lunged.
Striking her katana aside, he pulled her against his chest. Her hands pulled at the sharp claws to hold them back as the grip on her neck tightened and she gasped out a choking sound. Bruce’s furious expression stared at Talon as he held her close to his face, raising a fury as he reached for his weapon.
“While I’d love to stay and go over all of this, including all of your little secrets, I’d better be going.” whispering the last bit in her ear as she seethed, pressing away. He watched Batman narrow his eyes before he pressed her closer to his chest and took a step back. As Bruce reached for his utility belt, the Talon leapt off the roof and into the darkness.
Bruce overlooked the roof, his arms supporting her as she caught her breath. She assured him, brushing the gloved hand over her arm with the unsettling remnants of the conversation residing. It was when he refused to meet her gaze that sent a pang rushing through her chest. A silence cut through the thundering in his chest as he turned away. She reached her hand out, his name a desperate whisper on her lips, with the sway of his cape against her fingers, the lasting impression of his departure.
Summary: Bruce Wayne in his element as opposed to the Bat is a refreshing outlook.
Author’s Note: comment to be tagged!
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem! reader
Warning:none
Bruce leaned over at his desk, running over the last thing he had to sign off before he could officially leave the office that day. Back and forth comms between himself and Mayor Real had been the most of his business interactions, aside from the investigating he had been going over with Alfred and Y/N at all waking hours. Y/N had taken more time at the Tower to assist in the research, but there was something Bruce couldn’t pick out. He put it up to concerns over his last mission which evidently took a turn for the worst outcome, but they were on better terms. The uncertainty of trust between them was slowly edging away as Bruce found himself opening up to her more.
The beep of the intercom for his office drew Bruce out of his thoughts, “Yes?”
“Mr Wayne, Ms Y/L/N to see you?” his assistant’s voice rang through the intercom.
He pressed the button, “Yes, thank you. Send her up.”
“Right away, sir.”
A minute later Y/N walked in, catching Bruce’s eye as he looked up from the papers, “Hey,”
“Hi,” he replied, “I thought you went home already.”
“Not yet. I wanted to see you first.” she smiled warmly, ducking her head.
“Quite the view from up here.” She glanced at the view of the city and the bridge adjoining the different districts.
“You get used to it after a while.” Bruce murmured, drawing her back to him as she walked over and sat at the desk. His arm pressed against her leg as he looked up at her, curious about her sudden appearance.
“Of course, we’re not all privileged with this view though. I’d like to appreciate it for a bit.” she drawled.
“Is that the only reason you’re inclined to stay?” he mused, a glint in his eye. She looked down at him, pursing her lips as if considering the question.
“Not the only reason. No.” she shook her head, placing her hands on the collar of his blazer and flattening it down. He was wearing that suit she liked, the dark grey and black combo with his hair neatly combed back. Bruce looked good irrespective of his clothes or hairstyle and yet, she always found herself dumbfounded each and every time.
“I got a message from Hel. She did find something. It’s not much, but it’s more than just a whisper.”
He focused entirely on her words, allowing her to explain the entire thing. Helena had caught word from an informant, whispers of people going missing in the night. People turning up dead, vicious murders and no leads; just like their case and point.
“I’m more concerned about all of the cases we don’t know of. We know these people have been around for centuries, influencing Gotham. How many people have they silenced?” she stared down at him, eyes shaky. “What if my…”
Bruce interrupted her, grabbing her hand “Don’t think about the possibilities. Focus on now. What we do know.”
She exhaled a breath and nodded, “So if pretty much everyone works for them, who do we trust?”
“We can only trust each other. They have eyes and ears watching and listening around the city. No telling who is working for them.”
She clenched his hand, “Better to assume everyone is.”
Her eyes flickered down to the papers for the new Trust Fund, “Even the Mayor?”
“We have to carry on with appearances, that includes the company. And my interactions in the public eye.” he assured.
“Everyone is looking at you.” she noted, “Especially now with your involvement in the company.”
Bruce shrugged, averting his gaze “Better to keep their attention on me.”
“-than what?” she mused, leaning forward.
“People have always been watching me. I’m no stranger to all of the opinions and assumptions.”
“Yes,” she trailed off, urging him to continue.
He hesitated, “If the media catch wind of us together, there’ll be more attention on you…” he shook his head, “I know that it’s not something you asked for-”
“Bruce, what are you trying to say exactly?”
He paused, looking up at her “Being associated with me, I don’t know if it will make things worse.”
A sigh escaped her mouth, her hands finding placement on his shoulders “Bruce, nothing could draw me away from you, okay? I’m used to the media attention, remember? I can deal with journalists.”
He squinted his eyes, unassured “It’s not the journalists, moreso the unwanted attention from other sorts. It’s not hard to follow up or find your address.”
She gently grasped his face, “Bruce, I will be fine. I can protect myself and I will never be too far.”
The comment evidently had a quick effect, soothing his anxieties as he sighed.
“Besides, maybe getting out there will finally detract all the attention of all those admirers of yours.”
“What admirers?” his face twisted in confusion.
Her eyebrows perked up, a breathy laugh from Y/N as she clasped her hands around his neck, “I can’t tell if you actually have no idea or not, but, your name is not the only reason people stare at you.”
A glimpse of a smirk pulled at his mouth, ducking his head before he looked back at her. His eyes met Y/N’s, urging her to tell him more.
“The suit is a nice touch.”
“You like it?” Bruce murmured, his hands drawing to her waist as a content smile grew on her face.
“Considering everything that’s happened, I’m glad to be here.”
Bruce Wayne was currently sixteen, he was very outgoing. He had a small group of friends but even for a boy as outgoing as himself, there was one girl that made outgoing, charismatic Bruce Wayne, a shy boy.
Bruce picked Y/n up on the way to Gotham High school, she sat in the passenger seat, her hand rested on Bruce’s hand that was sitting on the center console. The two had been friends for some time now, they met due to their fathers working as surgeons, causing the two of them to grow as friends.
“Hey.. breathe.” She said softly, Bruce looked over to her at a red light, concerned dripped from her eyes, sometimes he seemed to forget how to breathe when she was around.
Bruce turned his attention back to the road that was covered in snow, his lips pulling into a small smile. His hand slipped into her smaller, softer one. His thumb ran over her knuckles, the small smile grew larger
“Bruce Thomas Wayne, is that a smile I see?” She giggled, causing Bruce’s heart to do a small flip
“Maybe.” He teased
The next day, Bruce was sitting in the living room, reading a book while his mother helped Alfred decorate the manor in Christmas decor. The phone started to ring. Alfred started to descend from the ladder he was on.
“No it’s alright Alfred, I got it.” Bruce smiled as he bookmarked his page and went to grab the phone
“Wayne residence?” Bruce hummed
“Bruce, It’s Y/n!” Bruce’s heart stopped for a moment as he smiled
“Hi! What can I do for you?”
“Would you like to come over and bake some Christmas cookies with me, I’m home alone currently and bored.“
Her voice was gentle, it was like hearing a song you love, it’s all you wanna hear. You could hear her smile. Home alone with a pretty girl, cookies, all pros. Cons, He was nervous.
"Bruce? Hello?” He jumped
“Uhm yeah! Yeah! I’ll be over in fifteen?” Bruce heard a small sigh of relief
“Perfect.” The line clicked and He ran to get changed. Alfred and Martha giving each other knowing smiles as Bruce rushed to his bedroom.
He found himself staring at the large front door, he gently pressed the doorbell, he could hear it echo through the large mansion. She opened the front door, she looked as beautiful as ever, she was all smiles as she stared at the boy.
“Hey! Come on in!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the house
Two dozen cookies later, they were covered in baking ingredients
“You’re horrible at this Bruce!” She laughed as he broke an egg into a bowl, getting shell in the batter
“Shit, shit, shit. Hey I never said I could cook dessert, only some meals! Besides I came here to be with you.” Bruce said as he fished the shell out with a spoon, Y/n went quiet as those words left Bruce’s mouth.
Bruce looked to her as she stared at him
“Really? You came over here to be with me?” She smiled softly at him
Bruce nodded as he blushed, he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck
“Well.. Yeah.. I like you.. You know.. Like.. more than a friend..” Bruce’s awkwardness really shined through at that moment, her eyes lit up more
“I do too..I have for a while.. But I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“Y/n, You couldn’t ever ruin anything.” Bruce gently grabbed her hand
“You mean too much to me for anything to get ruined between us. I’d do anything for you, you know that, Now, come on pretty girl, lets finish these cookies, get cleaned up and then I’ll take you to my house and have some of Alfred’s world famous hot chocolate. We can even sit at the fireplace in the smaller living room and roast s’mores, make it our first date.”
“Bruce Thomas Wayne, you are the most amazing man I’ve ever met and I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Bruce smiled softly as he placed a kiss on her forehead, her cheeks flushing a pale pink
“I wouldn’t be amazing if I didn’t have you, Y/N Y/L.”
Synopsis : You’ve always had really bad period pains. You learned to live with it, and to take care of yourself during those times…Up until a certain Bruce Wayne came into your life, and made it his mission to be there for you.
For@meghan-maria, who gotta be the sweetest out there :), and for anyone who ever had really bad period pains. I hope you will like it:
TW : periods. It’s obvious given the theme, but I guess we never know and better safe than sorry.
It’s the fact you cancelled your planned date with him without an explanation that makes him worry.
“Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Will see you tomorrow !”
You never did that before, and you two were so busy neither of you would miss a date really. Not unless something bad or important happened. But then in that case, you would’ve told him, no ?
It made him so anxious. And he was starting to clearly overthink things.
Were you maybe…having second thoughts ?
You and Bruce made your relationship official not long ago, was the media’s pressure becoming too much ? You told him you’d be fine, but after a few months experiencing the plague that were paparazzi and invasive questions, did you change your mind ?
Or maybe it was because of the whole Batman thing ? You discovered that a while ago, even before making your relationship official so…why would you change your mind about it now ?
Maybe he came home with too many cuts and bruises. Maybe you were freaking out ? He would understand if you did.
Or…There was a last option that came to his mind : he upset you somehow.
It was entirely possible, sometimes he could get stuck in his own mind, and be a jerk without even truly realizing it. He knew that fact very well about himself. It was often the reason of how he ruined multiple relationships, friends or more.
The way he sometimes just got too focused on his vigilante work. Too obsessed. And could be stuck in a “dark mode” like you’d say…
But, he also knew that you never took any of his shit. You would’ve told him if something was really the matter, right ?
Right ?!
Should he ask Alfred if he noticed anything ? His butler, and surrogate father, always saw things that escaped him. Especially when it came to feelings.
This was a less known trait about Bruce, but ever since he was a child, he’s always been anxious. He was usually really good at hiding it, and his “Brucie Wayne” persona made everyone think it wasn’t possible for him to be anything else but confident and cocky but…it wasn’t true.
Especially when it came to those he cared about. Especially when it came to you.
You loved him despite his flaws, accepted him fully, without any conditions. It was the first time it ever happened, that he LET it happen…So, with this simple plan cancellation that was quite unlike you, he freaked out a bit.
In the middle of the day, he finally decided to call you. One. Two. Three tones before you picked up, and oh. Oh he felt so relieved to hear your little “hello ?”
At the same time, his worry peaked. Was it just him, or did you sound really weak ?
“Hey honey, just wanted to check if you were alright ? Your text was a little short, and I know you don’t owe me any explanations of course, but I just wanted to check on you. You know. I-um…”
Clumsy Brooshy.
It made you smile, the way he could be a little flustered and lose his words, when with you. And it made you smile even wider that he chose to call you to make sure everything was ok.
Sweet Broosh.
If you really didn’t want to talk to him, you wouldn’t have answered. And he wasn’t the kind of man to “insist”. He would’ve left a voice message, and leave you alone until you felt like calling him back. Bruce was most definitely not invasive…but at the same time, you’d never leave him worrying for no reasons, knowing how anxious he could be.
The truth was, your text was short because…You didn’t know how to tell him the reasons you needed to cancel your date. You didn’t want to embarrass him. Men didn’t really like to talk about what you currently were suffering from.
You also were a little embarrassed yourself, because the entire society surrounding you made you feel wrong for having periods.
Periods.
One week a month. Every single months. That was a lot.
Especially for you because…you always had complicated and difficult periods. Painful. Making you feel like you couldn’t move. The pain making it impossible for you to even get out of bed for long.
You and Bruce had been dating for a while but…weren’t periods sort of a taboo subject ? You didn’t really know how to tell him. Especially since most men really seemed uncomfortable with the all thing.
Of course, you should’ve know Bruce wasn’t “most men”.
“Baby, are you there ?”
“Um yes yes, sorry I was lost in thoughts.”
“Are you ok ? You don’t sound right.”
The most observant man in the World was obviously going to realize your voice sounded weaker than usually. The truth was, you were trying really hard to keep it steady as pain filled your being.
“Yes yes, I’m ok, just feeling a bit…under the weather ?”
“Is there anything I can do ? Is it a cold or something ? If so, I can bring you buy some chicken noodle soup, and pick up any meds you might need.”
You almost cried at his words.
Super busy bee Bruce Wayne was telling you he’d go out of his way to bring you what you needed…It made you crack a little.
He was too damn nice. And your hormones were in shambles. It was very easy right now for you to cry.
This. How willing he was to help you, how he immediately asked if he could…Was what made you say the truth without thinking twice :
“I’m-I’m on my periods. They’re usually- They’re usually bad.”
“Oh.”
His response scared you a little bit. Were you right, was this maybe too much, too soon ? You were about to add something when he said :
“I’ll be there in about an hour, if it’s ok with you ? If you prefer to be alone I can send-”
“No ! No, I would love for you to come. I just-I wasn’t sure-I-”
“It’s ok. I understand. See you in a bit, love you.”
“Love you, too.”
On that note, Bruce hung up and leaves you with a wild beating heart.
************
Exactly an hour later, your doorbell rings.
With difficulties, you stand up, and go open the door. Surely enough, it’s your boyfriend.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
He has a bag in his hand, and you melt a little at the soft look and smile he gives you (even if there’s clear concerns behind it). You let him in, and go sit on the couch, even if just sitting up is already too much.
“Do you want to lie down ?”
“No. No I’m fine. You came all the way here, I can’t just stay in bed haha.”
“Of course you can.”
There’s a small silence for a little bit. Not awkward, you’re just not quite sure what to do. Should you go back to bed ? You really want to. And clearly, he understands. He always does.
“Ok.”
You stand, and wince because moving really makes everything worst. He approaches you, worried, but doesn’t dare to touch you and just follows you into your room. You get back in your comfy bed, under your comfy comforter.
Another silence. Until he breaks it, taking something out of the bag he was carrying and saying :
“So. I wasn’t sure you had a hot water bottle, I don’t ever recall seeing one in your apartment. So I bought one on the way just in case. Sorry if you don’t like the color, I can pick another one up later. It’s just, the woman on YouTube said that heat pads and hot water bottles were great.”
“The…woman on YouTube ?”
“Yes, I watched a video on menstruations on the way here.”
For a few seconds, you just stare at him, stunned. Never EVER in your entire life did you think you would hear THE Bruce Wayne say those words one day.
“A video on menstruations ?”
“Well, yes. Obviously, I don’t have periods. So I have no idea what it feels like. So I watched a video, to understand the process. And also so that you wouldn’t have to explain anything to me. You know what periods are, you don’t have to educate me on it. It’s not your job. And I definitely don’t want to sound patronizing about it. So I watched a video, and read a few articles. I won’t say I know how it feels, but I understand it more. Tell me if I ever step my bounds at any moment..”
You can’t help but smile, even as your lower belly is on fire. Ah. Of course he would search things about it. Bruce was the kind of man to be thorough in his researches before tackling a problem. As Batman, he always tried to know everything there is to know about a situation before finding any solutions. But he was like that in real life too.
And it particularly touched you that he did it so you wouldn’t have to explain…You had an ex, once, who sat down with you to talk about menstruations and it sort of drove you crazy. He thought it was nice, but your hormones were wreaking HAVOC and he was trying to explain to you how periods work and what it felt like ??? Give you advice about it and that it would be fine if you did what he said ?? Excuse me ??? As if you didn’t try everything already to feel less pain. And as if, as a woman, you didn’t know what it felt like or what it was exactly…
And there came Bruce. Reading up on it. And knowing he would never quite know how it feels. But educating himself so he won’t say something that could trigger you in any way.
Sweet sweet man…If only people knew.
He caressed your cheek softly, before whispering :
“Then I-I watched something on endometriosis, because I read in a previous article it felt horrible. And you said your periods were bad, when we were on the phone. It sounds awful. Do you-…Have endometriosis ?”
You shake your head weakly. Endometriosis was one of the reason why your periods were so painful and dreaded. And the worst ? It was a sickness many people said didn’t even exist.
A woman being in pain during her periods ? Drama queen. Right ? It didn’t hurt that baaaaad. See, some women didn’t feel anything, just bled for a bit and moved on with their months. So obviously every women felt the same. Some were just being too sensitive…
Endometriosis was still, even to this day, a rather unknown illness and one that was rarely taken seriously. Some people just couldn’t even fathom you being in pain because of your periods, so much so that you couldn’t move.
That you occasionally fainted, that you couldn’t eat much because it made you vomit, that you had awful migraines, stomach ache and back pain. That you couldn’t focus or sleep because of it. No.
No those were just “made up symptoms” because you were “weak”…What awful things to say, right ? It was even worst to hear. Someone telling you this, as you felt like you were dying because of the pain, made you feel GUILTY to have painful periods.
But it wasn’t your fault ? IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT ?! Nor were the moodswings, the cravings, the fatigue…
You hated going to the doctors when you were younger, because you knew he wouldn’t believe you when you said your periods hurt…
Anyway. Even without endometriosis, women who had bad periods pain were rarely taken seriously. Unless they met another woman who felt the same. Then they’d feel like they weren’t alone, or crazy. Like there were others who felt bad too.
Every woman was different. And you unfortunately never met someone else with the same problems than you…
You felt very alone, for so long, and it was enhanced by your hormones going crazy and the pain being unbearable at times.
And then, in come Bruce.
Your Broosh.
“Ok. Well. I brought you some of your favorite food. And um, I picked up some snacks if you want to do a movie marathon ? I brought all The Lord of the Rings extended editions. I got heat pads and a hot water bottle like I said. We can also just cuddle and relax if you prefer, I read that physical comfort was good ? Or, I can leave everything here, settle you in properly, and leave you alone. Just, tell me what you need my love ?”
What did…you need ?
Nobody ever asked you that. Nobody. Not even your parents.
What did you need ?
The answer came quickly.
Him. You need him. His warmth. His large and soothing hands. His comforting presence. His calming voice.
You knew you were in love with him since a while now. You exchanged “I love yous” already. But never did you feel as much love for him as right now, seeing him sitting in front of you, asking you what you needed…
A simple action. Simple words. And yet, it meant everything.
“What do you need, honey ?”
The concern in his eyes, and how he was very obviously ready to do whatever you wanted him to.
It already made you feel better. The physical pain didn’t go down, that’s not how it worked unfortunately. But the emotional anguish ? Gone.
Because he was there.
Without even realizing it, you started crying. This was too much for your heart, too overwhelming. It meant the World, in that moment.
It meant the world, to you and your overworked hormones. And so you cried. You cried hard.
Without thinking twice, Bruce moved towards you. Taking his coat off and leaving it on the floor (Alfred would scold him about this for sure), he climbs in your bed and engulfs you in his arms. And it’s so warm and comforting, comfortable, too.
“Just tell me what you need..”
He whispered to you, in his deep calming voice, his fingers running soothingly through your hair.
“Could you just…keep holding me ?”
He smiles softly, and says :
“Of course.”
He never, and never would, shy away from comforting you in any way. If you needed to have a good cry in his arms, so be it. And if you just needed him to be there, he would be there.
You cuddled for a bit, the soothing circles he rubbed on your back doing wonders to make you feel relax. He brought some essential oils, that he massaged on your belly before filling the hot water bottle and laying it there…It relieved the pain a little bit, as you started a marathon of your favorite movies.
He took great care of you all day long, answering your every need even as you didn’t dare to ask…as if he could read your mind. You almost suspected he really could. You never felt so in phase with anyone before like you did with him.
You had been together for less than a year. Although your anniversary was right around the corner. But him coming over as soon as he knew you weren’t feeling well. Him educating himself on what was it that hurt you…
If you weren’t sure yet that he was the one…You knew now.
It sucks to be a woman, sometimes
Bruce never knew periods could be that bad. Well, of course, he was a guy. And “periods” was never really a subject he talked about with anyone. He never really paid attention to it, like many men really.
Until he saw you while on it.
He knew you. He knew you were a tough lady. Once, you broke your leg while on a date with him. A silly accident really. Involving an ice rink, and an overzealous you chasing a hockey puck…Long story short, you ended up with a bad break. And you barely said a word about it.
Bruce had his bones broken many times, he knew the pain of it. It was one of the pain he hated the most, along with burns. One he dreaded the most. And you took it like a champ.
The break was bad enough you even needed surgery, yet you kept smiling at him (he might’ve feel bad that he let his over-competitive mind take over, “pushing” you to really want that puck…but of course, it was not his fault, after all, you too were very competitive, it was a pure accident). Saying you were fine, and that it’d be ok.
He always hated seeing you hurt, it hurt him too. Inside. And scared the Hell out of him, to even think about you being harmed. So that day, he was rather frantic. You staying calm helped him, which made him feel a little guilty that even as you were the hurt one, you reassuredhim.
But then you reminded him the roles were often reversed when he came back hurt from a rough vigilante night…You always had the right words to ease his mind.
Anyway. That one time, after badly breaking your leg, you stayed rather calm and collected. But when you had your periods ?
He never knew it could hurt so much. You couldn’t hide your pain, or pretend everything was alright.
It was clearly a really bad moment to go through.
He knew about the terrible migraines, being unable to sleep which made everything worst, feeling like your lower belly was being twisted from the inside, being sore all over for no reasons, not being able to move…
Seeing you, was enough for him to know that periods sucked.
“Being a woman is the worst, sometimes!”
You’d often say during those moments, and he’d just soothe you, wishing he was in your place…
He hated when you were hurting. It hurt him too. Inside.
And never. NEVER would he doubt that you were in real pain. Because unlike the doctors who kept telling you it was in your head, he knew you. He saw you get injured before. He knew you were tough. So for you to not be able to pretend everything was fine…
You were hurting. Badly. And it was awful. But he believed you. He believed you and that’s all that mattered to you.
Space
He also knew how to give you space when you needed it, though.
He would be here if you needed him, bring you any food you craved, giving you relaxing massages, rubbing essential oils on your belly, filling up your hot water bottle etc etc.
To be honest, his reaction to you being on your period is what made you sure he would be a great father one day…And you were right.
Not a perfect father.
But oh. Oh he cared. And wanted so much to do good…
And he knew.
He knew exactly when he had to be there, and when he had to give you space.
His hoodie
Bruce couldn’t always be with you when you had your periods, of course.
He often took time off to be. But it was unrealistic to think he could be 24/7 with you the entire week.
And sometimes, when he was away, you really suddenly craved his presence…So you came up with a trick.
You stole his clothes.
Particularly, hoodies he often wore when hanging out casually in the Manor.
First of, they were very comfortable. And second, and most importantly : they smelled like him.
They were warm, had his scent, and you could fall asleep feeling like he was almost there.
Bruce couldn’t count the number of hoodies he lost to you….Then again, after a while, you’d ruthlessly abandon one because it stopped smelling like him, and would steal another one.
Of course, he never minded. In fact, beyond the fact hoodies were nice and comfortable, he started to wear them a lot while in the house or during times he didn’t need to wear a suit (in every sense of the term), specifically because he knew you’d steal them when you felt lonely.
It was cute. And it made his heart beat faster just thinking about it.
Nobody.
Nobody ever needed him that much before. Nobody ever loved him so much that sometimes him not being around was distressing.
Of course, he felt the same. And the knowledge that you too, would sometimes feel lovesick when you were separated for too long…Filled his heart to the brim with the best feelings.
For so long, he thought someone being dependable of him, and him being dependable of someone was bad…Oh, how he was wrong.
It’s not because you open your heart to someone that you’ll get hurt, or that they’ll use it against you. You just have to find the right person…
So. Yes. He will always cancel plans just to be with you.
To bring you hot water bottles whenever you need. To cook your favorite food and snacks. To be there during all your mood swings, and endure even if you’re not the nicest to him (it’s not your fault). To watch your favorite movies. To let you sleep in and run your errands…
Periods sucked.
He didn’t need to be a woman to know that.
So he was there. Right there. For you. Taking care of you. And he would forever be there for that.
But when he wasn’t ?
Then he’d strategically leave one of his hoodie near the bed, so you could steal it, and comfort yourself with his smell…
Mood Swings
“Brooooooooooosssssh…”
You’re crying. You’re crying !
And it makes Bruce panic. You cry very rarely, so when you do it means something really bad must’ve happened or..or…
Bruce makes a quick calculation in his head and…Yup.
It’s that time of the month again.
Already ? Poor you..
This means that tomorrow, you’ll be a mess as everything will hurt too much, and today, the eve right before, you’re overly emotional.
Hence you clinging to him right now, sobbing while repeating “I love you so much Bruce, I love you soooo much”.
Hormones could really turn your head around. Right at the start of your period, before the pain, you had a rush of many emotions.
You could either get very irritated for no reason (like “WHY IS THIS FLOOR ON THE FLOOR ?!”) or cry at everything. Right now, you were crying because you realized you loved your Broosh to death and you just had to tell him and you didn’t want him to go that night and…ah…
“It’s alright, it’s alright my love. You’re ok. We’re ok.”
He lets you cry in his arms, of course. And already made the decision to not go out tonight, and stay with you. Kate could take over. He couldn’t leave knowing your emotions were doing quite a trick on you…
************
Your mood swings during your periods were particularly bad.
You guessed it went in pairs with all the pain. Of course, not just one thing had to be exacerbated. Oh no. EVERYTHING bad about periods had to be turned to the max for you. Otherwise, were was the fun, right ? Sarcasm.
You’d get irritated for no reasons. Then feel bad and cry for hours. To then feel ridiculously giddy once again for seemingly no reason…and then suddenly a burst of anxiety would attack you.
It was a circus in your mind, and in your body.
You couldn’t focus on anything. You couldn’t sleep properly. You felt awful all the time. Everything hurt. God…
And there he was. Bruce. Taking the brunt of your bad moods without saying a word. He knew it wasn’t your fault. That you didn’t mean it. That your hormones dictated your behavior against your own will.
He knew.
And he was there.
He was there.
“Every little moment is important, Son” - Thomas Wayne, to Bruce during the Flashpoint events.
“Bruce ? What are you doing here ? Thought you had important meetings ?”
“They weren’t that important.”
“Really ? Lucious said-”
“Lucious is overdramatic. Anyway, Tim is taking care of it.”
“…You’re letting our sixteen years old son taking care of the future of your company ?”
“To be honest, he’s probably more competent about it than me.”
“…That’s actually pretty accurate. But, why did you cancel things ?”
“Because it’s this unpleasant time of the month, right ?”
“Oh. You don’t have to-”
“I absolutely do.”
Disappearing for a few seconds, your husbands comes back, wearing one of his favorite silk pajamas (and by “his” favorite, he really means : he knows you love them and think they look good on him, but won’t ever admit it because they’re “damn pajamas, it’s silly”…but he likes to please you). He then climbs in bed with you, and settles comfortable against you.
“So, what’s the program today ?”
This wasn’t unusual, for him to do this when you were on your periods.
In fact, it was almost a ritual. Delegating his works to others, so he could take care of you.
Ever since that first time, all those years ago, things didn’t change much. He would ask you what you need, you’d tell him, and he would do it happily.
He knew it was a tough moment for you, physically, hormonally, mentally…Having your periods sucked. So he was there. Right there.
The words his father…Well, not really his father. The “Thomas Wayne” of another dimension. What his father would’ve become if he died that fateful night, instead of his parents. Regardless, to him, it was his father.
The father that never saw him grow up and became the man he was now…Yet who had important words for him.
“Take advantage of every little moments, you never know when it’ll end.”
Those words stuck with him. Because it was true. It only took a few seconds in an alleyway for his whole world to turn upside down…Why would it take any less for it to completely change now too ?
What if something happened to you ? And he didn’t spend enough time by your side ? Or to his kids ?
There was a time, being Batman was everything to Bruce. Because he was angry, lost, and devastated.
But over the years…Over the years this role stayed important. But he expended his vision. He included others in it.
So. Yes. He would treasure those small moments with you. And if it meant taking a day and night off to take care of you during a rough time, then he’d do it. If it meant missing work (both his works) because one of his children was sick, so be it.
He was Batman. But he was also a husband. A father.
And now…Now he knew his priorities.
He’d never stop being Batman. Never.
But he knew now. He knew there was more to life than this dark world he thought he’d get stuck in till the end of his life.
“I was about to watch a movie.”
“A movie it is. If you want me here, of course.”
“Do you even have to ask ?”
“To make sure you’re ok ? Always.”
“-sigh- Yes. Yes Bruce, I want you here. I want nothing else, in fact.”
“Ah, not even pop-corn ?”
“…Once we’ll have pop-corn, I’ll want nothing else.”
“Um, why is there tampons in your drawer ??”
One day, one of Bruce’s associate, Carlton, needed some paperworks to finish a deal, and came into his office. Bruce was on the phone, and gestured to him to just pick the papers up in one of his desk’s drawer.
Only the man misunderstood and opened the wrong drawer and…
“What the-Why is there tampons and pads in your drawers ?”
He asked, half-bewildered half-amused. Bruce finished his phone call, and answered :
“Why wouldn’t there be ?”
“Um, are you a woman ?”
“No, but my wife, who often come to this office, is.”
“Jeez Louise Bruce, never pegged you to be such a simp haha ! Oh man, they’re even “organic”, how far can you go for one woman right ? Haha joking of course, or maybe..haha !”
There was something in the tone Carlton took that brushed Bruce the wrong way. Something disrespectful and irritating. Not disrespectful to him, as if he cared to be called a “simp” (by a grown ass man by the way, which made it even more ridiculous). No. He didn’t care. But..This was his wife, they were talking about, in the end.
“A…”simp” ? Because I have items who can be useful to my wife in my desk drawer ? A place in which she often comes, as I already said ?”
His voice was cold, and Carlton definitely noticed. He always thought Bruce was an affable man, but sometimes…Sometimes he had something almost scary in his eyes.
Ah, but Carlton wasn’t the kind of man to really take this things seriously. And he added :
“Come on Bruce, don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous ?”
“No.”
“I just think it’s funny you have a drawer full of those things.”
“As I said, my wife comes by often, and might need it sometimes. I keep them here for her. It often came in handy you know.”
“Don’t say that, that’s so gross.”
“Why ?”
“Just thinking about it.”
“Just thinking about something my wife, but also yours by the way, have no control over ?”
“My wife doesn’t- We just don’t talk about it.”
“Well I guess yes. Or you wouldn’t react that way. Do you not take care of her when she has her periods ?”
At the word “periods”, the man opened his eyes wide, which made your husband roll his. It truly TRULY baffled him that this dude was being grossed by OBJECTS and most likely didn’t take care of his wife ? How could you love someone and not want to comfort them ?!
“Well, I don’t think she- I- She doesn’t - I …It’s embarrassing, no ?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe it’s not with your wife but with mine it has been. She asked me a few times to buy pads for her.”
“Why would it be embarrassing ? I can assure you, nobody is going to think it’s for you.”
Carlton’s face was steadily going red. He said :
“It’s just something we don’t talk about.”
“Why not ?”
“It’s just…gross and…”
“Why is it gross though ? Why do you think that way ?”
“I mean, you know what periods are right ?”
“Of course I do. It’s something happening to a very large chunk of our population, and that is a natural phase in their life. Do you think your wife wants to have periods ? Most likely not. Mine definitely doesn’t. But she does. So I do keep pads and tampons here in case of an emergency, in case she has nothing else on her.”
“Nothing else ?”
“Do you think only pads and tampons exist for women’s periods ?”
“I-”
“It’s not hard to read up on it a bit. Especially when someone as close as your own wife is a “victim” of it.“
Awkard silence. Clearly, the man was uncomfortable. Bruce sighed, and said :
“Just go take care of those papers.”
Evidently relieved, his associate almost ran out of the room.
Bruce kept thinking about how funny Carlton thought it was to have pads in his drawers. How he was about to mock him further before he got called out. “Simp”. If taking care of the woman he loved meant being a simp, then whatever.
Bruce couldn’t stop thinking about his associate’s words. And it gave him an idea…
The next day, every newspapers and local news channel talked about how the (Y/N) Wayne Foundation gave millions of dollars to every school and public places in the country to provide free tampons and pads to women. And how Bruce Wayne became a huge advocate of the “period positivity” movement his wife started.
“Periods shouldn’t be taboo.”, he said in his speech for the grand-opening of thousands and thousands of free pads distributors.
When the kids are around.
Dick
Dick was little when he first witnessed what your periods did to you, and he downright panicked when you fainted in front of him while you two were shopping for Bruce’s birthday present !
That morning when you woke up, you knew you were going to have your periods. You always felt it in your bones, a little bit before it truly started…But you also promised little Dickie you’d help him chose a gift for your husband.
You hated breaking your promises. Especially the one you made to your kid. He was just nine, and already experienced so many heartache…You couldn’t just break a promise you made to him, no matter what.
So you went anyway, knowing there was a high chance you’d feel ill during the day. You were hoping, in fact, your periods wouldn’t truly start up until the evening, and so you could spend the day with your son.
Alas…
“Mom ? Mom !? Someone help !!”
Your fainting during your period never lasted long. Just a sudden drop of energy, feeling dizzy, and falling…you woke up fast. Opening your eyes to see your baby boy with tears in his eyes. You knew what happened, and reassured him immediately.
You refused to call an ambulance, and instead called Alfred to ask if he could come pick you two up (you would NOT risk driving while in this state).
And there you were, sitting on a bench with your son while waiting for Alfred who would be there as soon as it takes to get from Wayne Manor to Gotham’s City Center.
“Are you sure you’re ok ?”
“Yes, don’t worry, this is normal.”
“Fainting is not normal !”
Dick looked so distressed…Should you tell him what was going on ? But he was such a young child.
Ah. But you were amongst the people who thought that kids weren’t as stupid as many people thought. And that they could handle the truth, especially this kind of things.
Understand what was happening to you would surely easy his mind. And make him understand, and act accordingly in the future. Wether with you, or a possible girlfriend ?
So you do just that.
You explain to him what is going on. You don’t give too many scientific details, but you explain as best you can so he understands.
“And every women has it ?”
“Every women have periods yes. But not everyone’s hurt.”
“Why do yours hurt ?”
“We don’t really know. I guess I wasn’t lucky ?”
“Scientists don’t know ?”
“Well, research on it are rather recents to be honest.”
“Why ? Women had it long ago too no ?”
“Yes, but it was a little taboo.”
“Why ?”
“Patriarchy.”
“Oh, damn patriarchy.”
You laugh. You knows he didn’t understand your answer, said as a joke to yourself. But it’s absolutely adorable how he immediately sides with you anyway.
“When I grow up, I’ll be a scientist. So I can help.”
“Ah, I thought you wanted to be an adventurer like Indiana Jones ? Or “whatever dad is doing I want to do it too” ?”
“Well. I can do more than once things at the same time, right ?”
“Sure you can. You can do anything.”
He smiles at you, and get closer for a little cuddle. And that’s how Alfred finds you two, your son hugging you, and you hugging him back, on a bench in the streets…
************
After the initial panic, Dick made it his mission to take care of you. He got really scared when he saw you faint, and would actually be a little…overbearing.
When he knew you were on your periods, he’d literally forbid you to walk around, and would make sure you had everything you needed.
His attentions, plus Bruce’s, made you feel like periods weren’t so bad in the end ?
Even as a grown up, Dick would often come by the manor with your favorite cake, for example, when he knew you didn’t feel well. And he would still get strict with you if he saw you roaming around and getting too busy while he knew you were in pain.
He’d do whatever you had to, for you. Wether it was cleaning things up, picking groceries…Running any errands for you, so you could rest.
You were definitely grateful. Even if sometimes, you wish you could just tell him to ease up a bit…Ah. But how could you really ?
The trauma Dick felt when loosing his parents made him overprotective and rather intransigeant. This was just how he was. And you always loved all your children unconditionally. You could take him being a bit too overprotective sometimes, because oh, oh he brought so much in your life…
Jason
You having really bad periods is the reason why when Jason, as a child or an adult, heard anyone say to a girl : “Jeez, why you so moody are you on your periods ?!”, would get mad.
It was cute to see his little ten years old self lecture grown adults about it : “Periods are really tough on a girl ! It’s not their fault is they don’t feel well or have mood swings, be more empathetic !”.
And it was still cute to see him as an adult glare at those who’d say this and give them a sermon about why it was wrong, and they better not say it again “or else” (and when a man like your son said the words “or else”, literally no one wanted to find out what he meant by it).
Once, someone told him, sarcastically :
“Wow, you drunk a lot of “respect women juice” huh ?”
“What is that even suppose to mean ? I’m being a decent human being. You should try it sometimes. If respecting women is so foreign to you, that hearing me say what I said is funny and ridiculous, reassess your life mate.”
It’s really not like anyone really wanted to argue with your son. Besides the fact he was very tall, and as a vigilante definitely worked out a lot…he had a “dangerous” air about him. It was his eyes maybe, daring anyone to argue and making them understand he wouldn’t back down without a fight ?
Ah. But if only people tried to look beyond that. If they only tried to know your son.
They’d realize he’s the sweetest little buddy around.
It surprised people that you still called him “little buddy” even as he was fast approaching his mid-twenties. But for you…
For you he was still that little, sweet Jay he was before he died. The one that you could still see sometimes, behind all his anger, trauma and hurt.
Ever since he was a child, Jason always felt everything more than anyone around him. He was an “hypersensitive” child. When he was angry, he was enraged. When he was happy, he was the happiest boy on Earth. When he was sad, it was hard to console him.
When he grew up, and all those bad things happened to him…This trait of his got even more enhanced. It was sometimes hard to reach him under all those negative emotions…Yet. Yet you managed to do it.
Bruce too…But that was another story.
For now, you just always felt extremely proud that your son was actually not as harsh as some people thought (the same mistakes they all kept making about your husband…you hated this kind of assumptions).
He always stood up for the underdogs. And was always respectful, and would voice his opinions.
Like how he hated when people told women : “ugh are you on your periods ?!” if they were being just a tiny bit difficult (sometimes, not even).
As a kid, Jason would worry a lot about you when you were on your periods. He hounded Bruce to know if you were ok, which your husband didn’t mind, of course. But he never quite dared to “bother you”.
Of course, he would never bother you. But Jason was a complicated kid who always worried too much. He didn’t want to get in your way, or annoy you.
So he had little quiet actions for you.
Like getting your slippers warm when you’d wake up, by placing them near the radiators all night and putting them right beside your bed before you’d wake up. Or bringing you hot beverages. Baking your favorite treats, and leaving them in strategic places so you’d see it. Or scolding his dad when he thought he wasn’t taking care of you enough haha.
Jason was a good kid. Nobody would ever change your mind on that. He was a good kid, to whom bad things happened. Yet he never strayed from his principles…No matter how people could see his recent actions.
Jason was a good kid.
He was your kid.
As a child, he hated this week during which you had your periods. He dreaded them as much as you did. Just like Bruce, he had a hard time standing you being hurt…
As an adult. It was the same. And he still had little silent actions to make you feel better. To make your day easier.
That was Jason for you.
Such, such a good kid…
Tim
Tim, very much like his father, was a boy who needed to always have a plan, and to know everything before finding solutions.
When you were on your periods, he’d always know. Because he kept a calendar about it.
Some people might find it weird, but…Why ? He kept count of the days to know when you’d have your periods, so he could act accordingly. So he wouldn’t be caught off guard by one of your mood swings. And so he could take care of you ??
It was an act of care, to keep track of your periods. Sometimes, he even knew before you when you were going to have it.
People who thought it was weird to kept such a calendar, were the same people who thought periods were gross and a taboo subject.
Sure, it was definitely not very glamorous. But it was part of half of the World’s population life ?? Why keep it taboo and refusing to talk about it ?
Tim immediately, just like his dad, did a lot of research on women’s menstruations…Which got you to be called in his principal’s office once.
The man was worried, and unhappy that your son was reading a magazine “for woman” about “menstruations”, he thought the topic was vulgar and inappropriate.
Your son was 13. Which was also the age many of his girl friends were experiencing their first periods. And that principal was out there, scolding him because he talked about it, making an entire generation of little girls thinking they were wrong for having periods ?
Needless to say, you got rather mad. And the principle never called you ever again (if he had to call, he was always making sure to get your husband on the line, and not you).
And so Tim kept learning everything possible about it, in the hope also to find the perfect remedies to ease your pain. He tried a lot, to help you out. Gave tricks to Bruce, too.
And so, kept a calendar.
This allowed him to know if something was wrong, as well.
He was the first one to guess you were pregnant with Thomas, because of his calendar. And one time, you had hormonal problems and he’s the one that told you you should check an endocrinologist because you’d been too irregular with your periods time !
Yes. Just like his dad, Tim needed to know a situation fully before acting. And seeing him trying to know as much as he could in order to help you was…why, it was the most adorable thing in the world.
Cass
Cass’ periods were not painful, and you were so glad for her.
To her, it was a mild annoyance, there was no pain, it was just irritating. And yes, she had mood swings and could easily get mad, but it was nothing major.
She never even knew other women could have it so bad…The education about periods was really lacking ! They never talked about it anywhere !
Cass was a woman of few words…but she knew how to pass her emotions through her body language. Oh, how she knew.
“Momma.”
Just like your other kids, she’d come check on you when Bruce couldn’t take care of you. You wanted space sometimes, which they all understood. But honestly, during your periods, when you were so sensitive about everything ? You also wanted them around almost all the time.
A paradox. Very fitting of those damn periods time.
Cass would just sit with you, and make sure you were comfortable. She wouldn’t say a word. Lay her head on your shoulder, and hold your hand. Watch movies with you. Hold you close.
She was delicate with you, as if afraid to break you.
Just like your husband, her presence had a soothing effect ? As if nothing bad could ever happen to you as long as she was there (and that probably was right, Cassandra would never let anyone touch her “momma”).
She didn’t need to talk. She didn’t need to do anything more than stay with you when you didn’t want to be alone.
She never experienced the pain you had, but if even to her, who had painless periods, it was annoying and a damn plague ? Then to you…
She didn’t need to do much.
Just her being there already meant a lot.
Her holding onto you, even as she stayed afraid of anyone’s touch for so long.
“Momma.”
Cassandra was your only daughter. And oh you were glad her periods weren’t as bad as yours. That’s all that really mattered to you.
“Momma.”
You often fell asleep with the warmth of your kiddo right there. Next to you. Knowing she wasn’t going to leave unless you wanted to. Knowing she wish she could take your pain on.
Ah. But no. No even if it was possible you’d never allow that. You were the mom. YOU were supposed to take their pains on.
And knowing that Cass never suffered on her periods as bad as you did, was enough. After all, your baby suffered enough in the past…She could get a little lucky, right ?
“Momma.”
That word was music to your hear. Cass’ first word to you.
She didn’t need to talk anyway. Being here was enough…
It was more than enough.
Damian
Everyone who saw Damian around you would notice that he wasn’t quite the same boy than "normally”.
He was calmer, nicer, and sweeter.
You’d argue that it was his real self. That this was his “normal”. That he was just never allowed to show his true heart before, and wasn’t used to trust others and open up. And you were definitely more than happy that he finally managed to do that after arriving into your home.
That none of you ever gave up on him.
You especially had a calming effect on him. After all, he never had a “conventional” mom, who could take care of him when he was sick, kiss him good night and make sure he always had everything he needed.
Some would say you coddled him too much…And you didn’t care. Because that boy lived 10 years being the opposite of coddled. So what, if you’d cut the crust off of his sandwiches, or read him bed time stories every single night ?
Damian loved it. As he often said, being a momma’s boy was “hardly something he was ashamed of”. He never felt loved and safe before, you bet he’d take every chance he got to be cared for.
He never got to act like an actual kid. You allowed him to do just that, AND you made him feel like he belonged. Finally. Like he had an actual family.
So…The day he heard about your absolutely awful periods, what did he do ?
Every single day of your life with him, you had at least one nice intention to him. Wether it was baking his favorite cookies, or telling him how proud you were of him, you always had nothing but kindness for him, often going out of your way for your son.
It was normal for you. Of course. And you did it with all your children…but you had to admit maybe Damian had just a little more of it, because he really never had anything like that to him.
And to him, it only felt normal then, when you felt at your worst, that he’d be there for you exactly like you were there for him.
During any mood swings, he’d have comforting words for you. He had little attentions for you that just made life easier.
Again, it would greatly surprise anyone but his family, but when you had your periods, he did a lot of overly sappy little things.
Like for example : every month, he wrote seven things he found extraordinary about you and would put them in a jar. Seven. The number of day in a week. And usually the number of day, give or take, your periods would last.
The jar would be sitting right on your bedside table on the first day, with the indications you had to read one paper every morning, or every time you felt down (it was supposed to be one paper a day). Sometimes, you’d go through his seven messages in less than a day…and magically, the next day, the jar would be filled again.
Damian made sure of it.
This was just a small example. But it showed exactly what kind of boy your son really was.
If he was heartless, a killer, someone destined to destroy the World…would he really put that much effort into making you feel love ? Into making you feel better any way he could ?
You didn’t think so. The only way your son could ever “turn bad”, was if you (and Bruce) stopped caring for him. Left him alone (A/N : this is a CLEAR jab at current comics canon, if you know what I mean :I ). Only if he felt abandoned, unloved, and rejected.
You knew your boy had, just like you, “rejection dysphoria”. It was hard for him to accept any kind of rejection, and it made him act out and hurt. But that was another story…
Right now, all that mattered to you, is that you knew your son was always going to be there for you, just like you’d always be there for him.
That he finally learned how to love, and care. That he would never unlearn it, as long as you lived.
Your periods sucked.
So bad.
But Damian was a ray of light in the darkness of those seven dreaded days…
Duke
Duke’s mom also had endometriosis.
Over the years, he perfected a “special remedy” he always made her when she had her periods.
He hesitated to make it for you. After all, it was something that made him bond greatly with his own mom…was making it for you, now, acceptable ? Did it mean he forgot about his mother ?
No. No of course not.
Duke scolded himself for even thinking that. You too, became his mom. He learned over the years that it was ok, to have two mom. That when they’ll find a cure for his parents, it wouldn’t take away the years you filled in for the mother role, and took care of Duke as if he was your own.
So here we go.
Some ginger. Some lemon. A dash of his little secret ingredients. Your favorite blend of tea. And it was done.
He brought it to you, saying it always soothed his mom…
And just that.
Just those words. It meant so much.
“It always used to soothe my mom. Used to do it all the time, ever since I was five !”
He said with a smile.
It was something he used to do for his mom, and now he did it for you. Just this. Just that fact, it was enough to make you feel better.
It didn’t take away the pain, but mentally ? It felt amazing.
You drunk his concoction and…Oh god.
Oh god it was disgusting. And…Ah. Yes. His mom probably pretended she liked it. “Ever since I was five !”. Ha. So cute. But also, it really was gross.
At the same time, you felt a pleasant warmth spread through your body as the terrible aftertaste slowly faded. Duke smiled to you, and with a little mischief in his voice said :
“It’s really gross, isn’t it ? But it does the trick haha”
There was a few seconds of silence. During which you blinked at him, not quite registering what he just said. Until…
You burst out laughing. The little mischievous smile, and the way he said “it’s really gross, isn’t it ?” was just too funny.
Your communicative laugh spread to Duke, and as he laughs it makes you laugh even louder too and…You forget.
For a moment you forget about your periods. The pain. The anguish. The emotional labor. This damn week of hell.
You forget.
And you just laugh.
You laugh alongside your son.
Thomas(if you wonder who the H is Thomas, you can check my “Batmom” masterlists, he appears from the story “the great mall adventure” ^^)
Thomas must’ve been about four, when he first saw you having your periods.
Your littlest baby was also one of the most sensitive out of them all (right along with Jason, the two of them cried their eyes out when they watched “Inside Out” and Bing Bong disappeared). Bruce always said he took that after you. And honestly, you couldn’t disagree. It’s true you could be very sensitive.
So one morning, when he woke up and went to breakfast and heard you weren’t feeling right, he immediately went to you and…
Bruce found him an hour later, crying in his room.
“Oh wow hey hey, what is it buddy ?”
He asked, trying to hide the panic in his voice. Thomas might’ve been sensitive, but he rarely cried. He was just a very empathetic boy. But also a cheerful one, and he had a knack to see the good even in the worst situations.
So seeing him sob like that, made Bruce’s heart drop.
“Is mommy going to die ?!”
It took Bruce a few seconds to get a hold of his racing heart. His son crying. And asking if you were going to die. It shortcircuited his brain for a few seconds. Until he realized what Thomas was talking about…
“Oh, oh no champ, no, mommy isn’t going to die.”
Your kids were used to see you strong and fierce. Of course the first time your little one would see you on your period, he’d think something big was wrong.
He had just recently learned what death really mean (you can read about this here : The day he understand what Death means), and since then was so scared it’d happen to his parents. Or his siblings. Or anyone he knew, really…
Picking up his son and slowly and softly tapping his back in soothing circles, he walked around the room and rocked him until the boy calmed down a bit, before trying to explain as best he could why mommy felt bad, without going in in too many details.
Once Thomas understood this was just like when he got a fever that time, that it would pass, he felt much better. But also worst. Because his mommy wasn’t feeling well ! And it happened often !
Bruce reassured him that there were ways they could help you…And soooo :
Thomas brought you hot water bottles, with the help of his dad (the bottles were almost as big as him), and ended up falling asleep on one as it laid on your belly (he heard that humans’ body heat was very strong and wanted to “help the hot water bottle”).
The water in the bottle became cold, and you removed it..Your son didn’t woke up, so you laid him back down on your belly. And he was warm and so tiny, and you loved him so much…It made you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, to be surrounded by people like this little one.
And all your kids. Alfred. Your friends. Broosh…You fell asleep with sweet dreams made of warmth and cuddles.
Not long after, Bruce came by to check on you, finding both you and Tommy deeply asleep and…An overwhelming feeling of happiness took him over.
You weren’t the only one feeling lucky. Except for Bruce…For Bruce it was even stronger, because after his parents died, he never thought he would be happy ever again.
This was why he’d always be there for you. You gave him another family…
His schedule was freed, and he had a busy day. A nap sounded perfect. Especially while nestled against you, with his little one right there.
Dick came by in the afternoon, and found all of you like this. Bruce holding both you and his son, Thomas taking way more space than such a small body would make you thing he’d take.
Dick snapped a picture, and send it to the group chat he had with his siblings and some other close friends and such (like Clark, Wally, Conner, Diana etc etc they used the group chat to gossip about Bruce, mainly). With the caption : “Big bad bat tamed by a four year old”.
Cass send multiple hearteyes emojis. Jason said it was adorable and send a crying emoji, and didn’t care one bit what anyone would think of him saying such things. Damian yelled at Dick that he should’ve put the comforter back up on his baby brother and mom because it wasn’t properly put on !! Duke send a : “I’m downloading that picture for the next time he gets mad at us and we need to soften him up”. Tim replied with a gif of Maes Hughes from Full Metal Alchemist saying : “dis dad”. Clark said “they look so peaceful, you wouldn’t believe he threatened me just yesterday to punch me because I made a joke” to which Diana answered : “that joke was so bad I wanted to punch you to. Cute pic btw, give kisses to Tommy for me, you should come see me more, I just stocked my freezer with nothing but ice creams”..Everyone send a little comment about it.
Because even superheroes, could have normal conversations about those they love.
Suffering alone is a thing of the past
It’s funny. You couldn’t even remember, now, what it felt like “before”.
Before.
Before you met Bruce.
Before that first time he showed up to your apartment to take care of you.
How were your periods before that ? The worst.
Definitely.
Actual Hell.
Not that they were feeling better now. Oh no. There were time your overdramatic self exclaimed : “uuuugh just kill me alreadyyyy” when the pain was too grand…But you weren’t alone anymore.
That’s what made it a bearable moment of the month.
It still felt as bad as it used to when you were younger.
But it wasn’t just you agonizing in your bedroom all alone anymore.
It wasn’t you wishing you’d have someone to take care of you, and to try and ease the pain. Not anymore.
It wasn’t you crying with nobody to dry your tears anymore…
No. You had an entire army of people right there just for you.
Alfred, your children, and most of all…Bruce.
Your Broosh.
Ah. If only some people could see this side of him you and your family knew. The caring and loving one. In a way though, it was rather comforting and made you feel special, that only you and your kiddos knew the real Bruce ?
Of course nowadays, some of his closest friends like Clark and Diana weren’t fooled anymore either. But they’d never see him the way you did, when you were in unbearable pain, and he was right there, drawing soothing circle on your back, keeping you warm and safe…
This was only privy to you.
Your Broosh.
Yes.
Your periods were still as painful as they used to. But now…
Now you weren’t alone anymore.
The end.
________________________________________________
Hey guys ! I hope you liked this :). As usual, feedbacks and reblogs are always welcomed ! (Especially lately, the reblog ratio seems at its worst haha). And again, I really hope you liked this. I was finally able to sit down and write after weeks of being stuck in a depressed mood, so I’m quite excited about sharing this. But as usual, always a bit nervous that you’ll be disappointed blahblahblah low self-esteem and all that haha… :). I just hope this is to your liking. Thank you.
Summary: Reader is a vigilante-type hero who works with Batman. When a solo mission goes wrong, you call Batman possibly for the last time. Reader is gender neutral.
Warnings: Angst, possible character death, violence, descriptive injuries.
Word Count: 3693
A/N: I love a good angsty fic! It’s a bit of an open-ended ending but I liked it better than a conclusion so apologies lol.
The metal door slams into the wall, sending an echo bouncing around the space as you stumble into the stairwell. Your breathing is ragged. You press your hand against your chest and wince at the pain. When you pull your hand back, you see red coating your skin. You can feel more blood bleeding through your suit. But you try not to focus on that.
As you grip the railing and slowly descend the stairs, you can’t help but think back to how your evening started.
You had been bored so you decided to leaf through some files for the case you and your partner had been working on. The two of you were working on taking down a major mafia gang that recently emerged in Gotham. Anyway, while looking through the files you saw a strange address.
It was an address for a pharmaceutical company which made you wonder how it was related to the gang. Upon further research, you discovered the company didn’t exist until a few months ago – similar timing to when the gang started to gain traction. You decided to visit the address in the file just in case you saw anything.
You dressed in your vigilante uniform which consisted of a skin-tight dark purple suit, a matching mask for your eyes, a utility belt with double holsters for your guns and black boots. You didn’t want to be caught off-guard in your civilian clothing. A dagger also sat tucked away in your right boot in case you ran out of bullets.
The address led you to a building on the outskirts of the city. Parking your motorcycle in an alleyway, you climbed the building opposite the one you were staking out. For the first hour you didn’t see anything and when you were about to pack it up, two black vans pulled up in front of the building.
Grabbing your binoculars, you watched as a group of men piled out of the vans. Your jaw had dropped when you realized that some of them were the leaders of the organization. By some incredible coincidence, you had stumbled upon a covert meeting arranged by the gang. You immediately pulled out your phone to call your partner, but they didn’t pick up. You tried a few more times before giving up.
You saw the men entering the building and decided that this could be your one shot at stopping these guys once and for all. Cursing, you watched as the men entered an elevator and got off on the top floor before you descended from your spot. Your first mistake of the night.
The elevator was guarded by two men which you easily took down with your guns. On the ride up, you counted your ammunition and prepared yourself. When the doors began to slide open, you hid in the corner of the elevator and waited for the guardsmen to come to you before striking.
Bullets flew around the room and one managed to graze your arm, but overall, the fight was over before the others had a chance. You locked eyes on a closed conference room and noticed movement in the room. Taking a quick breath, you broke down the doors and faced off with the leaders of the mafia.
They had time to prepare for you but they didn’t accommodate your speed as you dashed around the room, narrowly missing bullets aimed at you. You were doing well, either shooting your targets or taking them on in hand to hand combat and no one had managed to land a hit on you. You tossed aside your guns when you ran out of ammo and eventually found yourself facing off with the last man.
You unveiled your dagger and sliced his neck, his blood spewing on your suit, but you got distracted. You thought you had taken them all out and only realized your mistake when the gunshot rang out. You were quick to react but not quick enough as a bullet lodged itself in your chest. A gasp slipped past your mouth at the pain. You turned to see one of the men on the floor with a gun pointed at you and you tossed your dagger at him, officially taking him out. But the damage was done.
Your wound wouldn’t excuse any sloppy work, and so you tied the men up before leaving. You never wanted to kill your victims unless you had to and you figured they’re worth more alive than dead anyway. You decided you would call the police once you left the scene, knowing that the criminals weren’t going anywhere. The blood loss was beginning to take root as your head felt dizzy. In your weakened state, you foolishly thought that taking the stairs would be faster than the elevator. Boy were you wrong.
And that’s how you find yourself trying to walk down six flights of stairs while severely injured. You manage to reach the fourth floor but when you walk down the stairs to continue, you almost fall. Instead, you stop on the landing in between staircases, deciding to catch a break.
Panting, you lean against the white brick wall and slide down until you’re sitting. You try not to let fear or panic take hold of you. Instead, you take out your phone, though the touch screen is difficult to use with your bloodied fingers, and dial the one person who wanted to hear from.
You pray that your partner picks up the phone. You know they’re on patrol, but still you hold out hope that the ringing will stop. And then it does and your breath catches.
“Hello?” His voice is as deep as always. You suspect that it’s exaggerated to protect his identity, though you’ve never gotten him to admit it. Hearing his voice instantly calms your rising panic. In the background, you can hear the loud noise of an engine which you suspect is coming from the Batmobile. You had adopted that name for the vehicle, despite Batman’s protests. Though you think he secretly likes it.
“Hey Batboy,” you reply, managing a smile through your pain, even though he can’t see you. You imagine him behind the wheel, his gloved hands holding it tight. You imagine his bright eyes focused on the road before him, his serious demeanor on display.
“I’m sorry I missed your calls earlier, I hope it wasn’t important,” he says and it takes you a moment to remember what he’s talking about. When you do, you almost laugh. Not too important, just led to me bleeding out on some dirty floor. Though you don’t hold him responsible. You don’t have the energy for grudges. And after all, it was your choice to act.
“It’s okay, I handled it,” you say.
“I’m on patrol, what do you need?” Straight to the point as always. Though his directness can come across as rude, you never let it get to you. You know he means well and that he just isn’t a naturally positive person. Luckily, you are.
“Can’t I say hello to my partner?” You don’t want to talk to him about your situation because you’ve already come to terms with it. You wouldn’t make it. Even if you told him now, he’d still be too late. You remain calm even though your heart is begging you not to give up. You don’t want to die. But your fate is already sealed. Before you go, you just want to hear from your partner.
“I don’t have time for this. Call me back if it’s important,” he says and you almost cry out in a state of panic.
“Wait!” you say, letting too much desperation slip past your lips. You try to recompose yourself. “Please, it is important.” You wait with bated breath as you hear him sigh.
“What is it?” A sigh of relief escapes your lips, though you tense up again as your wound sends a wave of pain throughout your body. You bite your lip to keep from crying out as you put more pressure on the gunshot wound.
“I have new information on the mafia gang.” You try to focus on your conversation but your mind feels fuzzy and you find yourself staring at the brick wall in front of you. That plain, cold looking wall will be the last thing you see before you die. The thought causes your eyes to blur with oncoming tears. You had forgotten about the call before Batman spoke up.
“Y/N? Are you still there?” he asks, a slight concern in his voice. You smile and ignore your tears as one slips down your cheeks.
“Yeah sorry,” you clear your throat and enter your professional state. “I was going through some of our files when I found an address for a pharmaceutical company that I linked to the gang. The building is located on the outskirts of town, so I decided to stake it out.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing at first, it looked like a normal building. But then two vans pulled up containing the leaders of the gang. I think it was a covert meeting spot.”
“Wait, what did you do?” His voice sounds suspicious and worried as if he’s figuring out exactly what you did.
“About that…” you nervously chuckle, waiting for his accompanying anger.
“You didn’t.” His voice is hard and you imagine a fire in his eyes. Eyes that you find yourself staring into all too often and yet it’s never enough.
“It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, I had to!” you argue, wincing again as you move and are reminded of your pain.
“You should have called me first!” Again, you want to laugh at his cluelessness. Some detective.
“I did,” you say. You’re met with silence as he takes in the news.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Your phone calls.” You can picture his shoulders slumping with guilt. “You still should have waited for me.”
“I didn’t want to risk losing them,” you admit. There’s another moment of silence as he prepares to ask his next question.
“What happened?” You then explain to him how you fought your way through the gang, leaving out the part where you wound up with a bullet lodged in your chest.
“Wow, I’m impressed.” You feel a little silly for the pride that suddenly swells in you at the sound of that, along with your blush. “So the gang’s taken care of.”
“Yeah, they’re now officially the GCPD’s problem.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” he says. He’s always so professional, so uptight. You often try to loosen him up and have even managed to make him laugh a few times, which remains some of your proudest moments, but it never lasts. You wonder if you were around him more, in a not-so-professional manner, if you could add more positivity in his life. Too late for that now. “If that’s everything, I should get back to work.”
Your breathing picks up at the idea of him leaving you. You try desperately to think of a way to keep him on the line. Unfortunately, only one idea comes to mind.
“Please wait!” you cry out, sounding even more desperate than the last time. It’s getting too tiring to contain your emotions. You prepare yourself to tell him and then – “I lied to you.”
“What?”
You take a deep breath and smile sadly. “I…they got me,” you say. “They got me good, Batman.” In moments like these, you wish you knew his real identity. You wish you knew his real name. Calling him ‘Batman’ feels impersonal. But I guess you weren’t meant to know him personally, and you respect his right to privacy despite him knowing your identity.
Another moment of silence passes as Batman struggles to say something. “Are you okay? Where are you?” His voice sounds more concerned. You imagine his mouth turned down slightly. You wonder if his eyebrows are creased under his mask.
“No, I’m not okay,” you say, ignoring his second question. This isn’t how you wanted this conversation to go, but at least he’s still on the line. At least you’re not alone.
“Okay hold on, just tell me where you are and I can help you.” He sounds so determined you almost don’t want to tell him the truth.
“You can’t help me,” your voice cracks, but a smile still remains on your face. Somehow, you feel sad while maintaining a positive attitude. You figure these last moments should be enjoyable. At least you want them to be. Kind of a hard thing to ask for, but you don’t care.
“Yes I can, just—”
“It’s too late, Batman.” Your cheeks become wet as tears slip down them. They slide all the way down your neck where you’re finding it harder and harder to breathe.
“Y/N, tell me where you are.” It’s not his angered voice that convinces you, but the fact that you know he won’t let it go. Even if it’s pointless. Even if there’s not a chance in the world.
“I’m still in the building.” You give him the address and tell him where you’re located in the stairwell. You hear the screeching of tires and imagine Batman turning his car around. It pains you to know that despite all of his efforts, he can’t save you. And you’re not sure he’ll be able to come to terms with it.
“I’m on my way, just hold on for me, okay?” His voice is louder, trying to speak over the roaring engine. You hope there aren’t many drivers out tonight because you can’t imagine seeing that black car zooming down the street. Another wave of pain explodes from your wound and you let out a cry, too weak to try to hold it in. “Y/N?”
“It’s fine,” you say, trying to soothe the worry you hear. But your lie isn’t fooling either one of you.
You hear a growl sound from the phone. “Goddammit Y/N, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have gotten to you quicker.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” you say,
“Stop talking like that, you’re going to be fine.” His insistence makes you wish he was right. You can barely keep your eyes open, trying to focus on a crack in the opposite wall to ground yourself. But it’s hard.
“It’s okay, Batman. I wasn’t even going to tell you at all because I knew this would happen. I’ve accepted it.” Even as the words leave your lips, there’s still a small part of you screaming to keep fighting. The pain is slowly drowning it out.
“You can’t just give up, I told you I’m on my way,” he says. “And why did you call me then? To tell me about the gang?”
“I…I didn’t want to be alone,” you admit and you feel a small weight lift off of your shoulders at telling the truth. You decide to keep going. “And I wanted…I wanted to hear your voice, one last time.”
Batman doesn’t say anything for a moment and you’re almost afraid you’ve scared him off, when his voice crackles to life, “Y/N—”
“I only wish I could have seen you too.”
“You will,” he insists. “You will when I come to help you. I’m almost there, just another minute—”
“Batman I need to tell you something.” The urge grips you hard to tell him everything you’ve always wanted to say. You can feel blood leak into your lungs and you know it’s only a matter of time before you can’t speak at all.
“No, you can wait to tell me in person.”
“I can’t.” You can feel blood start to bubble up into your throat. The pain is fading away, which only means that your brain is starting to shut down. “Batman—”
“Y/N don’t do this—”
“I love you.” The words echo in your mind and you smile knowing that you’ve said it. At least he’ll know. Even if you can’t be with him, even if he doesn’t love you back, at least he’ll know.
“Y/N.” Batman seems to be at a loss for words. You can’t tell if that means he wants to reject your feelings or if he’s just surprised, but it doesn’t matter. You start to cough up blood and your arm feels heavy as if you were holding up a brick instead of a phone. You stare at the blank wall and try to imagine that Batman is in front of you. You want that to be your last sight.
“Goodbye,” you manage to get out just before your thoughts dissolve into air and your eyes finally close.
“No wait Y/N—” Batman’s yelling falls on deaf eyes as your arm drops to the floor, your phone still in your hand but your grip has gone slack. Batman’s voice echoes in your mind as you finally allow the darkness to consume you.
†††
“Y/N? Y/N!” Bruce yells but gets no response. “Fuck!” He presses down even harder on the accelerator, so much so that it might be touching the floor. That doesn’t matter. There’s only one thing that matters.
Bruce refuses to hang up the call in case he hears something, anything on the other end. As Bruce zips down the streets of Gotham, he can’t help but feel angry. Angry at you for giving up and for not believing he could save you. Angry at himself for not answering your calls earlier and for letting you get hurt. Angry at the world for trying to take away one more fucking person that Bruce loves.
The moment you said those three words, Bruce almost stopped breathing. It wasn’t fair, he thought. He finally finds out that the person he loves loves him back and you’re on your deathbed. Maybe if he had let go of his fears and told you earlier, the two of you would have been happy together.
Stop, he scolds himself. There’s still hope for that. They’re not dead.
Bruce hopes that he’s right. He’s about to find out as he pulls in front of the building you’re in. So close, Bruce had been so close. He told you he was coming. Why didn’t you wait for him?
He doesn’t even turn off the engine of the Batmobile (your nickname for his car) as he opens his door and dashes towards the building. Time seems to speed up and slow down all at once as Bruce runs towards the entrance to the stairwell and keeps on running.
He runs as fast as he can until he reaches the platform you said you were at and he has to take a step back at the sight before him. Slumped against the opposite wall is you with blood covering your face and suit.
Time stops as he takes everything in. Your closed eyes. The blood leaking from your mouth. Your right hand lying against the pool of blood on your chest. But the sight that breaks his heart the most is your phone that you’re still holding in your left hand, still on a call with him.
Bruce feels like the wind has been kicked out of him, finding it hard to breathe. But he snaps out of his despairing trance and quickly rushes over to you. He holds one hand against your cheek. “Y/N?” he asks but you don’t respond. His heart rages against his rib cage as he rips his glove off of his other hand and reaches out towards your neck to check your pulse.
For one horrible moment, he doesn’t feel anything. He’s about to break down, letting out all of the emotions that have been rising inside of him since you told him about your condition. But then, he feels it. A faint flutter of a pulse against his fingers. He feels like he can breathe again. He can actually do something. He can save you.
Bruce briefly examines the wound only to see blood still leaking from what he assumes is a gunshot. He wants to apply pressure to it but he curses when he doesn’t find anything to wrap it in. He’s going to have to move fast.
Carefully, he scoops you up into his arms and his jaw clenches when he sees your head roll lifeless onto his chest. You’re the one who’s usually so full of life. He found it rather annoying at first, but he soon realized that you were actually brightening his life. It’s not fair.
He moves towards the stairs and hears your phone hit the ground behind him but he doesn’t have time. Bruce races down the stairs while holding you tight against him, forbidding any more harm to come to you. He exits the building and manages to set you down in the passenger seat.
As soon as he’s behind the wheel, he takes off towards Wayne Manor. He would take you to the hospital, but the Manor is closer and he can’t have anything more go wrong. He doesn’t trust that the doctors can save you, but he knows that he can. He has to.
Normally when he has you in the car, it’s almost never quiet. You’re either singing (even when he turns off the radio) or just talking about anything at all. He has never hated the quiet so much. He glances at his screen and sees that the call still hasn’t ended. Your words begin to flood his mind.
Hey Batboy.
I lied to you.
They got me.
It’s too late.
I wanted to hear your voice one last time.
I love you.
Goodbye.
Bruce’s vision begins to blur but he blinks back any emotion knowing there’s time to hurt later but right now he needs to focus on saving you.
A thought occurs to him to call the GCPD about the gang. Normally he wouldn’t care, but he doesn’t want your suffering to be in vain. But to do that he’ll have to hang up on you and he doesn’t like that implication. Glancing at you, he makes a promise.
“You’re going to hear my voice and see me again,” he promises. “And it won’t be for the last time.” Then he hangs up the phone.
Summary: While out on a date, you feel a set of familiar eyes watching you. Reader uses she/her pronouns.
Warnings: Jealous Bruce.
Word Count: 3259
A/N: I’m wrapping up with finals which means back to writing and who better to start with than my favourite bat boy ;)
“‘Many have their own theories behind Bruce Wayne’s reclusive nature, with some suspecting that the billionaire is harbouring a dark secret,’” you read aloud. You’re flipping through a trashy magazine you picked up when you saw Bruce’s name on the cover. Your words echo throughout the Batcave as you lean back in an office chair you claimed as your own. You liked that it reclined.
Beside you, Bruce Wayne is seated in front of his multi-screened monitor, silently watching videos he recorded as Batman. In the beginning you would watch with him but eventually you realized it was all very similar and you got bored.
It was a complete accident that you found out his secret. You had been Bruce’s friend for years, always trying to bring a bit of fun and joy into the man’s otherwise gloomy life. You had been on your way to do just that, ready with a batch of cookies that he always says he doesn’t want but you know he secretly does. You knocked at the door and Dory let you in. You went wondering around the house and stumbled upon a hushed conversation between Bruce and Alfred in the office. Feeling nosy, you listened in:
“I don’t want to go,” you heard Bruce say. Alfred sighed.
“I understand that Master Bruce, but I think it would be in your best interest to go,” Alfred responded.
“Why? To negotiate business deals?” Bruce scoffed.
“That and I think it’s important you keep up with public appearances. People are starting to get suspicious,” Alfred said which made you confused as to what he was talking about. Then he said: “After all, you wouldn’t want anyone to find out that Bruce Wayne doubles as a bat-themed vigilante at night.”
“Alfred no one’s gonna—” Bruce stopped himself as a gasp escaped your mouth. He slowly opened the door to find you standing there with your mouth wide open. Bruce and Alfred had both looked panicked, but Bruce tried to act as if nothing had happened. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people’s private conversations—”
“You’re Batman?!” you shouted. Bruce and Alfred both tried to explain themselves, but it was clear that the cat was out of the bag. Or rather, the bat.
At first you were a little mad at Bruce for not telling you, but you got over it. You understood the importance of the secret. After that you wouldn’t leave him alone about it. Eventually he brought you to the Batcave, which he would come to regret as you fell in love with the place and decided that it was your new hangout spot.
Which brings you to leaning back in your chair, trying to distract Bruce while he ignores you, which annoys you. You had hoped reading from this magazine would grab his attention. “‘Some theorists have claimed to have caught glimpses of the allusive man from his manor’s windows. One even claimed to have seen him shirtless, and described the image as unbelievably hot and—’”
“It does not say that,” Bruce says before reaching over and snatching the magazine from your hands. His scrunched-up face only makes you laugh harder when he throws the magazine onto the floor.
“Oh come on, that was funny!” you say through giggles. But Bruce just rolls his eyes and goes back to work. At least you got a reaction out of him, you thought. You were desperate for his attention for two reasons: 1) Along with being his best friend for years, you also harboured a little tiny crush on the man and loved every second you got to spend with him and 2) You were bored.
You sigh before reaching down to pick up the magazine and continue reading it in silence. A moment later, you hear the elevator door ding and look up to see Alfred emerge.
“Hey Alfred,” you say with a smile, happy for new company.
“Hello Miss Y/N,” he says as he approaches you and Bruce. But of course, Bruce doesn’t glance up from his monitors. “I was wondering if you would be joining us for dinner this evening?”
“I’d love to, but I have plans,” you say with a sigh.
“Plans?” you hear Bruce say as he joins the conversation. He’s still staring at his screens. You narrow your eyes before turning back to Alfred.
“Yeah, I have a date.”
“Adate?” Bruce says. He finally tears his eyes away to look at you with wide eyes. You feel suddenly on the spot. You didn’t really plan on bringing this up, not wanting an interrogation. Like this one.
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” you say, frustrated. Bruce blushes and directs his gaze to the floor. His jaw clenches. You give him an odd look he doesn’t see. Strange,you think, but decide to brush it off. “Yes, I have a date. Which I should go home and get ready for—”
“With who?” Bruce says just as you’re standing to leave. You hope this conversation will wrap up. You didn’t exactly want to talk to the guy you love about some date. But Bruce is looking at you again.
“A guy I met at work.” His name is James, and you hadn’t originally said yes. He had come by the café multiple times and each time asked you out. Not in an aggressive way, he backed down once you said no but he still asked every time he came, hoping for a different response. Yesterday when he asked you again, you actually thought about it. You hadn’t been on a date in a while thanks to a certain crush and it would hopefully take your mind off things. So you said yes, which took the man by surprise, but he eagerly arranged a date for tonight.
“So a complete stranger.” You huff, not understanding why Bruce is giving you such a hard time about this.
“Yes, that’s how dating works Bruce. You meet someone and get to know them and then—”
“I get it,” he says, looking away. You wonder what has gotten into him. Here you were, spending your whole afternoon with him while he barely said a word, and now suddenly he’s drilling you with 20 questions.
“Well, have fun,” Alfred says, and you’re grateful for his kind words breaking up your angry thoughts.
“Thank you, Alfred,” you stress, glaring over at Bruce. He’s still staring anywhere but at you yet hasn’t returned to his monitors. He seems angry and you don’t know why since you’re the one who’s angry. “I’ll see you later.” You smile at Alfred and quickly glance at Bruce who still isn’t looking your way. You roll your eyes before heading towards the elevator, already mentally preparing yourself for the night ahead.
†††
“Turns out, the photocopier was unplugged the whole time!” James says, laughing at his own story. You offer a polite laugh and drink back your wine. The two of you are seated in a fancy restaurant, James’ choice. With your budget, you would have been fine eating take-out. The walls are draped in red with intricate black designs swirling around the room. The lights are low and there’s a candle at every table (thankfully they’re fake). Jazz music emits from the speakers, low enough to have a conversation.
Frankly, you felt out of place. You had put on one of your nicer dresses and thank god you did. You hated that you had no idea where you were going before getting ready. Your tight red dress stops short just past your knees with a slit on the left side.
“So tell me,” James says as he leans on the table. “Do you work at the café full time?”
Normally you’re not too embarrassed by your job, but after he had described his super fancy office job, you start to feel nervous. “Yeah, it’s tough to find good work around here,” you say with a forced laugh. James laughs back.
“You’re telling me. Before this job, I worked at this small office and the cubicle space was ridiculous…” You nod along as he shows you how out of touch he is by comparing a small, cushy office space to working 12-hour shifts at a café. Your eyes move from him to the window beside your table. For some reason, you start to wonder what Bruce is up to right now before mentally kicking yourself for doing the opposite of getting over him. So you force yourself to keep up the conversation with James.
“So what’s your plan?” he asks you and you tilt your head in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I imagine you don’t want to be working at a café your whole life. So what’s your plan?” he asks. Though it’s true you want to find a better job, the way he asked that question was very condescending and you had to bite back a retort. What you want to say is “My plan is to ask my rich daddy to get me a job” but you don’t think he’ll appreciate the joke. Bruce would chuckle at my sarcastic remarks, if they weren’t aimed at him of course. God Y/N stop.
As you think of a way to answer the question and simultaneously keep your mind off of the billionaire, you look out the window once again. Sometimes Gotham can look really nice. Of course, you were in the nicer part of the city but it still gave you hope to see the nice skyline, quiet streets and…
Just as you’re about to turn back to James you spot something on the roof of the building across the street. You squint your eyes and you think you see two pointy ears against the sky. Just as soon as you see them, they’re gone. You’re too surprised to speak, your jaw dropping as you realize what you saw.
“What is it?” James asks, looking at where you’re staring. You quickly remember his presence and regain your composure.
“O-oh nothing, I thought I saw um…never mind,” you chuckle, as you fail to come up with a reasonable explanation. “Back to your question,” you say a bit loudly to pull his attention away from the window, which works. “My plan is to become a writer. I’ve applied to work at a few publishing agencies and soon I’ll be sending out some of my own work,” you say.
“That would be a hard job to find,” he chuckles, and again normally you would have laughed along but it seemed more like he was laughing at you than with you. “It might be time to start considering a real, more attainable job.”
You grip your silverware and wear a tight smile. “Yeah, you might be right,” you say, not wanting to cause a scene by stabbing him with your fork.
“I’d love to read your work sometime though,” he says with a smile. Not a chance, you think as you smile back. The dinner continues and you end up ordering the most expensive meal on the menu. You already know he’s going to insist he pays for the bill so you take advantage of that in compensation for his rude comments.
The whole time, you feel like you’re being watched. Of course, you know you’re being watched but every time you glance back at the roof there’s no sign of anyone. You’re now anxious to wrap the evening up to go investigate.
“Can we get the bill?” James asks.
“Of course,” the waiter says. “Would you like to split the bill?”
“No, dinner’s on me,” he sends a smile your way. You do the obligatory dance of offering to pay yourself and as expected, he reassures you it isn’t a big deal. You think he likes flashing his money.
The two of you walk outside the restaurant and over to where he’s parked his car. “Can I give you a ride home?” he asks.
“No thank you, I’d prefer to walk,” you say, already getting antsy to leave.
“Are you sure?” he gives you an incredulous look. “It’s not always safe walking the streets at night.”
“I can handle myself, trust me,” you say. And if I can’t, then I’m sure someone will swoop down to save me.
“Alright, I know when to give up,” he says. Then comes the part where you have to say goodbye and decide how to end the date. “I had a great time with you.”
“Yeah I did too,” you say. Other than his pretentious attitude, he was still one of your nicer dates. He had his kind and charming moments, and he is kind of cute. As your mind wanders over to the building across the way, an idea pops into your mind.
You take a step closer to James and notice his eyes flicker to your lips. “I-I’d really like to see you again,” he says, his confident nature faltering.
“I’ll think about it,” you say with a teasing smile. Then you step even closer to him and lean up. He meets you halfway and you kiss him. His hands grip your waist and yours rest on his shoulders, not wanting this to go too far. You pull away and he has a dumbstruck look on his face that almost causes you to laugh. He opens his eyes and looks at you in amazement.
“I-I’ll call you,” he says.
“Mmm. See you around,” you say with a smirk on your face, adding to the ambiguity of your response. You then turn around and start to walk away. You wait to hear his car start up and leave before your eyes seek the building.
You cross the street and find a fire escape on the side. You curse at your heels but still step onto the stairs. You climb them all the way to the top where you step onto the roof. It’s empty except for a chimney and an entrance onto the roof from inside.
You walk into the centre of the area. “I know you’re up here Batboy,” you call out. “The shadows can’t hide you forever.”
A moment passes before you see a figure emerge from behind the entrance, from a corner shaded in shadows. As expected, Batman comes into the light. You look at him with a scrutinizing gaze, waiting for him to say something.
You sigh before you say, “Aren’t you even going to try to explain what you’re doing?”
“I’m on a stakeout,” he responds in a register slightly lower than normal. Again, you wait on an elaboration and you receive none.
“And just what exactly are you staking out?” you ask, wanting him to say it.
You watch him realize there’s no getting out of this without the truth. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” he says, his eyes focused on the ground. You snort.
“Yeah right,” you say. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do other than scold and yell at him, which you’re about to do before he speaks up.
“Why did you kiss him?” he asks, looking at you directly. You stutter, not expecting that question.
“So you were spying on me huh?” you say, even if you already knew he was. “And I can kiss whoever I damn well please thank you.”
“Please, you don’t even like the guy,” he says with frustration in his voice.
“Oh and now you’re seriously telling me how I feel? What makes you think you know me so well?” The conversation is escalating as your voices raise.
“Because I do know you. That guy was rude and arrogant–”
“You were listening to us?!” you almost yell, trying to be discreet but your feelings are getting the better of you.
“NoI-I,” he struggles for an explanation before sighing. “I could read your lips.”
“I can’t believe this,” you say with your head in your hands. You look at him. “You’re actually spying on me.”
You see his hands clench. “I’m not spying—”
“This is the definition of spying Br-Batman!” you almost slip with his name, wanting to have a conversation with the man under the mask. You curse at this situation. “How the hell did you even know where I was going to be?”
He opens his mouth to respond before closing it again. A few moments pass before he quietly says, “I tracked you through your phone.”
You let the information settle in before you sigh heavily. “Bruce,” you hiss quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear. You turn around with a hand on your head, trying to get a grip on this situation without your anger getting the best of you.
“I’m sorry but I-I had to.”
“Oh yeah sure. And why’s that?” you ask, still turned away from him.
There’s a silence before he says, “I-I just had to. I…You said you were going on a date and I just, I couldn’t just sitthere. I mean, I—god.”
As you listen to Bruce struggle to express his feelings, a realization hits you. You almost don’t believe it but it adds up. You turn around to look at Batman physically struggling to get his words out.
“Wait, is this because you’re jealous?” He freezes his actions and looks at you with wide eyes. He opens his mouth and stutters but no words form. Though he’s wearing a mask, you can still tell he’s blushing.
“No no that’s not,” he laughs nervously. “That’s not what this is. I-I was just bored and I wanted to see—I missed—I just thought that you would be staying longer and I—”
During his ramblings, a smile blooms on your face. While he’s not looking at you, you approach him until you’re standing in front of him. You hear his breath hitch as his words tangle themselves up.
“Just shut up and kiss me.” His eyes are wide and it takes a moment for your words to process, but when they do he doesn’t hesitate. His lips crash down onto yours and you stumble back at the impact. You giggle into the kiss but don’t stop. You wrap your arms around his neck while his hands travel across your back.
Eventually the two of you separate, out of breath. You can’t stop smiling and it seems like neither can Bruce. “If you wanted me, you just had to ask,” you say teasingly. “Then we wouldn’t have had to go through all this trouble.”
Up close, you notice his blush under his mask and bite your lip as your smile stretches at the sight. “So this was all a ploy to get my attention huh?” he asks, also teasingly.
“No, it was a real date. But I may have hoped to make you a little jealous,” you admit, a blush of your own forming.
“Hmm,” he says grinning. “I just have one question.” You look up. “Who’s the better kisser?” You scoff and smack his shoulder lightly before wrapping your arms around him again.
“I don’t know, I think I’ll need to reassess,” you tease before kissing him again, this time slower and more intimate.
Before you’re done, he pulls away to say, “Wait does this mean you’re going to kiss him ag—” You pull him back into the kiss to stop his talking and he chuckles before returning his attention to your lips. And Bruce is definitely the better kisser.
Summary: You haven’t seen Bruce for weeks now. He’s been so busy being Batman that he’s seemingly forgotten about you. You’ve accepted a job offer in another city and haven’t been able to tell him. Will he convince you to stay? Reader uses she/her pronouns.
Warnings: Angst with fluffy ending because I need happiness.
Word Count: 4038
A/N: I finally got around to writing my Battinson x Reader fanfic! I have more ideas, but I’m in the middle of finals which is why this took so long to get to. Hopefully in a few weeks I’ll have more time to dedicate to writing but for now, I hope you enjoy this!
No matter how many times you walk up the steps to Wayne Manor, it’s still intimidating. You and Bruce had been best friends since you were kids. Your first encounter was not one you’re particularly proud of.
You were born into poverty and grew up knowing that money was hard to come by. Though you were young, you wanted to help your mom financially—that is, before she abandoned you—so you became a pickpocket. It was easy since your height made you hard to notice.
You had only done it a few times when you made a mistake. You noticed the Wayne family out and about one day. They weren’t surrounded by security, so you saw your chance. Even as a kid you knew about the famous Waynes. You looked at them and then noticed a nice-looking watch on young Bruce’s arm. Apparently, you had picked the wrong target.
As soon as you touched the watch, Bruce turned around and looked at you. You froze, your instincts telling you to run but you were too scared to move. Bruce looked confused. He then looked at his watch and then back to you, figuring out what it was you were after. Your face felt hot and just as you turned to leave you saw Bruce taking off the watch.
“I never liked it anyway,” he said to you. Your confusion only grew when he extended his arm with the watch in his open palm. You were too scared and confused to move. But Bruce just pushed his arm out further.
“Take it,” he said. You hesitantly took the watch from the boy’s hand, not taking your eyes off him. Once you had it, Bruce looked around before saying, “Go.”
He didn’t need to tell you twice. With the watch secured, your legs became unstuck and you took off running. Your mom had been impressed with the expensive watch and laughed when you said you took it from the Waynes.
“Serves them right, rich bastards,” she said, her eyes still locked on the watch. For days after you had felt so guilty that you decided to make it up to the nice boy. With the money you hid from your mom, you went out and bought him a present.
The next time you saw Bruce Wayne without any security detail, you nervously approached the boy. You tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, recognizing you almost immediately.
“Look, I’m sorry, I don’t have anything more for you,” he said, thinking you had come back for more.
“Actually, I came here to give you this.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a bat stuffed animal. Your hands were sweating as you gave it to him. “I-I know it’s not that cute, b-but it was all I could afford–”
You stopped talking when you saw a smile spread across Bruce’s face. He looked at you and said, “I love it!”
You were so surprised and happy, you smiled back. After that you two got to talking and eventually became friends.
You smile at the memory. Bruce had been your first real friend, and to your knowledge, you were his. Somewhere along the line you developed a crush on him which blossomed into love, but you always kept quiet. It was never worth ruining the friendship. And besides, you knew it was only one-sided.
Now you’re standing in front of his front door, with a plan in mind. You knock on the door and a few moments later, Alfred opens the door. You smile at each other.
“Miss Y/N, please come in,” he says, opening the large door.
“Thank you, Alfred,” you say, stepping into the home.
You always admired the architecture of the home, though it often makes you feel out of place. You live in a small and crappy apartment, what are you doing amongst all this fancy shit? When you were a kid, you were in shock that someone actually lived here. It looked more like a museum or a castle.
The only thing that you didn’t like about the place was how quiet it was. It made what could be a home, so empty and cold.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Alfred asks from behind you. You turn around and smile at him. He always asks you that and you always say yes. I mean, who’s going to pass up a free drink?
“I would love that, thank you,” you say, and Alfred smiles back as he always does. You follow him to a seating area and he tells you to make yourself at home while he fetches the tea. You sit in the same chair you always do.
You think back to when you first met Alfred. You had asked him so many questions, you couldn’t believe that butlers were real! He was patient as he answered every question, even the silly ones. He always made you feel welcome and never treated you differently for being of a lower class, same as Bruce.
You remember one time when you were little you had snuck out to see Bruce, as you often did. It was sometime after his parents had passed away; your visits became more frequent after the incident. Your mother never cared where you went, or even if you came home really, so it wasn’t a problem.
Alfred had made you tea and you accidentally dropped the teacup, shattering it on the floor. You got on your knees and started crying while picking up the pieces. You thought he would get mad at you or hit you. Instead, the butler leaned down and gave you a warm smile while wiping your tears away.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Accidents happen. Bruce once made the same mistake, you know. Perhaps I should invest in some plastic tea cups.”
You smiled once you realized he wasn’t mad. He took your hand and led you to the kitchen while he poured another cup. You were very careful not to drop that one.
Now, Alfred returns with the tea set on a silver platter. He takes his seat across from you and you both silently take a sip. Then, you set down your cup and get to the matter at hand.
“Where’s Bruce?” you ask, causing Alfred to sigh.
“Busy, I’m afraid.” He gives you a sympathetic smile, the same one he’s been giving you for weeks.
Bruce Wayne was always busy these days. Or should you say, Batman was. You found out about his secret life as a vigilante fairly quickly when you noticed a change in Bruce, despite his attempts at hiding it from you. You understand that Batman is important to him, and it’s important to the city, but you haven’t seen your best friend in weeks.
Whenever you came, you would sometimes catch glimpses of him before he retreated to that damn bat cave and Alfred told you he was busy. You’re very frustrated, especially since there’s something you’ve been meaning to tell him.
Just as you are about to march over to that elevator, you hear it ding. You crane your neck to see Bruce emerging wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants. Not exactly the billionaire the public envisions, but it’s the one you know and love.
Before Alfred can interfere, you jump up from your seat and call out, “Bruce!”
He turns to see you and looks like a deer caught in headlights. He seems surprised that you’re here. He knows that if he runs now, you’ll just follow. He looks helplessly at Alfred but it’s too late for that. So instead, you watch him clear his throat and look you in the eyes for the first time in weeks.
“Hi Y/N,” he says. You wait for him to say something along the lines of “Hey, sorry I’ve been avoiding you, I’m so happy to see you!” But instead, he just stands there awkwardly. You know if you get angry with him that you’ll lose your chance so you ignore your rage for now.
“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out,” you ask.
“I can’t, I’m busy,” he says and starts to move away but you step in front of him again.
“But you’ve been busy for weeks,” you say. You see guilt cloud his eyes for a moment. You take a step closer. “I miss you.”
He looks at you and you see his jaws clench. Then he’s looking anywhere but you. “I’m sorry,” he says, before walking away. Your heart drops.
“Bruce wait I—” you try to say, but he’s gone before you can finish. You’re left looking lost. You really needed to tell him but it seems like he barely even cares. You can’t say you didn’t try, you tell yourself, but it still doesn’t feel right.
“I’m sorry about him, Miss Y/N,” Alfred says. You sigh and plaster on a thin smile.
“It’s not your fault, Alfred,” you say. “I understand, he’s doing more important things. I just really needed to talk to him about something.”
Alfred looks like he wants to argue about the “more important things” bit but he knows nothing he can say will change your mind. “Is there anything I can help you with?” he says.
You look up and realize you probably should tell Alfred. And since Bruce isn’t around…
“I’m leaving,” you tell him. You stand strong as you watch the butler’s face falter.
“Leaving where?”
“Metropolis. I’ve been offered a good job in the city and I’m moving there tomorrow,” you say like ripping off a band-aid. Still, your heart breaks a little watching sadness overcome the butler’s face.
“I see,” he says. Your eyes analyse his face, hoping he’d say more.
“I-I know it’s sudden, but the offer was only available for so long and I really need the money and of course I’ll miss you guys but—”
Hands on your shoulders cut you off. You look and see Alfred smile with glassy eyes. The sight causes your eyes to sting. “You don’t have to explain yourself, I understand,” he says. Tears fill your eyes at Alfred’s kindness and understanding, even now. You wrap your arms around his middle and after a moment, he hugs you back.
He’s been the father figure you never had through the years. He always treated you like family. “I really will miss you,” you say, as a tear slips down your face. You hadn’t realized how hard this would be.
“I’ll miss you too.” You tighten your grasp for a moment before you let go. He wipes away your tear and you laugh softly. He’s still taking care of you.
“Don’t forget me while I’m gone,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. You step back and prepare to leave.
“Never,” he says, causing your heart to ache. “Don’t forget to visit.”
“Never.” You both smile at each other. Then you walk towards the door before pausing when you remember something. Turning back to face him, you say, “Oh and don’t tell Bruce. At least not until I’ve left the city.”
Alfred frowns. “Don’t you want to say goodbye?”
You look back towards the elevator doors that separate you from your Bruce. “I think I already did,” you whisper. You look back at Alfred one last time. “Goodbye Alfred.”
“Goodbye Miss Y/N.” You take one last look at Wayne Manor before you leave and close the doors behind you.
†††
This city really never sleeps, you think as the noise from outside floods your apartment. Your window is open because it gets too hot in your apartment and of course your landlord doesn’t add air conditioning units to this dump. That’s one thing you won’t miss. This shitty apartment, the broken-down building, the asshole landlord, and the crazy tenants that you run into every once and a while.
You’re packing away the last of your stuff for the morning. It isn’t much, but you still don’t want to leave any of it behind. You look around the place and think maybe you’ll miss it a bit. After all it was yours.
As you’re folding one of your shirts, a voice rings out, “You’re leaving?”
Your heartbeat picks up and you jump, ready to run when you see the Batman standing on the landing outside your window. His dark figure blocks out the lights from the city and if you didn’t know him, you would be scared.
“Jesus Christ Batman, you scared the shit out of me!” you yell. You almost let slip his real name but you recognized the window is still open and don’t want any risks.
“You’re leaving?” he repeats, as he steps into your apartment. You really didn’t expect this. After your heartbeat slows back down, you start to panic. He wasn’t supposed to know, not like this. Why—
“So, Alfred told you huh?” you scoff, slightly annoyed at the butler for not listening to you.
“Why did I have to find out from Alfred at all?” he says, his voice laced with anger. Though your room is dark, you can still see his eyes staring at you. “I mean why—why didn’t you tell me?”
“First of all, close the window, I don’t want the whole block to hear our conversation,” you say. He rolls his eyes but moves to shut the window. He also closes the curtains for good measure. You wonder what any bystander watching would think of Batman crawling into someone’s apartment and closing the curtains. You ignore the blush on your face as you start to prepare yourself for a conversation you thought would never come. “Secondly, I tried to tell you, remember? When I came by earlier?”
You watch him clench his jaw as he realizes. “I was busy.” You can’t stop the scoff that leaves your mouth. “Besides, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
You try to restrain yourself from snapping at him. But your anger’s starting to slip out after being pent up inside for so long. “When would that have been Bruce? You have been ignoring me for weeks now.” You see him tense up. “In fact, this is the longest conversation we’ve had in a month.”
Behind his mask, you imagine his face muscles clenching up like they do when he gets frustrated. You think you see his eyes look down, almost ashamed. “I’m sorry about that.”
You snort out a laugh that has his gaze quickly back on you. “Yeah right.”
“I—”
“And can you please take off that mask? I want to talk to Bruce Wayne, not Batman.” You want to properly look at the man you love, probably for the last time in a long while. You know Bruce doesn’t like to take off the cowl while he’s out, frankly you wonder why he takes it off at all. But he relents and lifts the mask off his face. His black makeup is smudged across his face and his hair is a mess but it’s your Bruce. “Thank you.”
“Why are you leaving?” he asks, and you notice a pain in his eyes that makes you sick with guilt. But you’ve been hurt for a while now, and that didn’t stop him.
“I got a job offer in Metropolis.” He scoffs. You know he hates that place. He thinks it’s too squeaky clean and pretentious. You just think it’s because he’s never been anywhere but Gotham and his attachment to this damn city clouds his judgment. “It’s at a newspaper company and the pay is really good.”
“What happened to your old job?”
Your jaws clench. “I lost it a couple of weeks ago. Cutbacks.” Which he would’ve known had he not been avoiding you.
“But I’m sure there’s another—”
“There isn’t,” you say. He looks at you and you sigh. “I’m going to be kicked out of the apartment by the end of the week. I…I haven’t been able to pay rent.”
“Well if that’s the problem, then I can just give you the money—”
“No Bruce.” You let your head drop into your hands and take a breath. “That isn’t a long-term solution and besides, I told you that I would never take money from you.” He’s dealt with a lot of people trying to get to him for his money and you made it clear early on that you weren’t going to be one of those people.
“But I’m giving it to you,” he says, sounding frustrated but also a little desperate. You just close your eyes.
“The answer is no.”
He stands still and looks at you, his eyes piercing, as he tries to come up with a solution. But you’ve already made your peace with this decision. This causes him more frustration. He growls. “There has to be another way. I mean, you can’t just leave.”
“Why not Bruce?” Your eyes start to fill with tears the longer this went on. Why did he have to make this so hard for you?
He seems caught off-guard by this question. “Because…you just can’t.” Your hopes die out and defeat settles in.
“The way I see it…there’s nothing left for me here,” you say as a tear falls down your cheek. His eyebrows furrow, not understanding why you’re thinking like this. “I’ve had to scrounge for money since I was born into this city until I finally earned enough to afford a place and I end up living in this shithole. I’ve never been able to get a job long enough to make any real money, I’ve been just getting by my whole life. And this job offers a chance to break free from all of that. Why shouldn’t I take it?”
He stares at you and it seems like he isn’t breathing. “But what about…I mean, what about…me? Am I not something?” he asks and the vulnerability tugs at your heartstrings. To have a moment like this with Bruce makes you falter in your decision, but you realize this won’t last.
“Bruce…you’re my best friend,” you say and he flinches. He shakes his head, as if he already knows what you’re going to say. “But it looks like our lives are going in different directions now—”
“I’m sorry that I ignored you, I am—” You make a bold move and put your finger against his lips. It causes your heart to race but you needed him to listen. You try not to focus on how soft his lips feel.
“Just listen to me,” you say. Bruce still looks surprised and panicked by your move, so you pull your hand away. For a moment, it looks like his face tries to chase it but you ignore that hopeless thought. “Obviously you’ve been busy lately dedicating your time to the Batman, and that’s awesome because you’re helping the city. But, it doesn’t leave a lot of room for me. For us.” He’s shaking his head but you have to keep going. “I just think we’re at a stage in life where we go our separate ways. That doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends—”
“No,” he says, his breathing seeming to quicken. It doesn’t seem like he has anything else to say. You can see him freaking out but you have to get through this. No matter how much it hurts.
Tears prick at your eyes and your voice cracks, “I’ll miss you—”
“Stop! This…this isn’t happening. You’re not leaving. You can’t leave,” his voice cracks as well. He’s staring right at you and you almost want to relent. You almost want to stay. “You can’t.”
You close your eyes and turn around so that you’re not facing him. You can’t watch the man you love fall apart because of you. You squeeze your fists in frustration. “God, Bruce, why are you making this so hard?” Your voice is raised as your emotions build up inside of you.
“Because you’re not leaving.”
“Why?” You turn around with tears clouding your vision. Your chin wobbles as your eyes move back and forth across his face. “Give me one good reason why I should stay.”
There’s a suffocating silence that fills the room. You close your eyes and let the tears fall. There’s your answer, you suppose. You turn to your suitcase and resume packing your clothes when you hear, “Me.”
You freeze with a shirt clutched in your hands. You drop it and slowly turn around. “What?” you ask, wanting to know if you heard right.
“Stay here for me,” he says and you’re so shocked by him opening up that you don’t know what to say. He takes a step towards you. “I don’t want you to leave.” He keeps walking until he’s standing right in front of you. You feel his hand hesitantly reach for yours and you let him hold it. He squeezes your hand and gives you a look of utter desperation. “Please stay.”
You try to ignore the tears you see forming in his dark eyes. “I don’t…I don’t want to get left behind again.”
“And you won’t.” His other gloved hand comes up to cup your face. You lean into it. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I just got so wrapped up in it all and…I’m sorry.” You nod but there’s nothing left for you to say. You wait as he continues. “Y/N I…” You watch him struggle to form the words but when he does, his eyes shine. “I love you.”
You lose your breath. Your eyes are blown open. “W-what?” you ask. But before you get your hopes up, you have to ask, “As a friend, right?”
“No.” He looks down and swallows deeply before looking back at you. “As more than that.” Your ears are suddenly ringing with the sounds of your beating heart. “I know I haven’t been the best at showing you lately, but I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids but I could never find the courage to tell you before now.” You wait with baited breath as you watch your dreams come true before you. “So please, stay here with me. Give me another chance, I promise I’ll do better. I don’t want to lose you, I can’t.”
A tear falls rolls down his face past the smudged makeup. Without another thought, you reach up and pull his face down to yours and smash your lips together. He takes a moment to respond before leaning into the kiss. He holds the back of your head with his hand while the other wraps around your waist. His lips are as soft as they felt.
Eventually the two of you pull apart for air. You try to catch your breath while you’re both smiling. “I love you too,” you tell him and his grin widens causing you to giggle out of pure joy.
“Does this mean that you’ll stay?” he asks, hope shining in his eyes.
You lick your lips and break your stare to look around your apartment. “Well, I’m still broke, out of a job and about to be homeless but—”
“Stay with me,” Bruce cuts in.
You huff out a laugh at his boldness. “What?”
“Stay with me. There’s plenty of space for you and you won’t have to worry about living in poor conditions or dealing with your asshole landlord.” You laugh. Bruce looks seriously into your eyes. “Come stay with me.”
“Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly. You only just said you loved one another, it’s a big jump to live together.
“Of course I’m sure.” You can’t stop looking at how truly happy he is. You haven’t seen him smiling this much since…well ever. And it would be nice to be able to see him every day no matter how busy he gets.
“Okay,” you say with a sheepish smile. “I still need a job.”
“I’ll help you look for one,” he says right away. “So…does this mean you’re staying?”
“Yeah,” you say with a smile. Suddenly you’re swept off your feet as Bruce hugs you and twirls you around. You’re both laughing and the happiness you feel now makes the last of your anger slip away.
