Hi! So I'm sick and have a ton of homework but here's this monster of a story. This was requested by @kikkan24 and uses prompt 5 (You broke me and now you expect me to follow you out onto the battlefield? No. The answer is no.) As always, I love you. I appreciate you. Thank you for existing and as always remember how dope you are.
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Bruce Wayne Pov
She looks at me like a stranger, yet worse. Instead of the fragile soul I have loved for so long I see an enemy. I never sought to hurt her. Her eyes are cold like I've never seen and her features immobile. I hurt her. I pull with one hand - push away with the other. I know what I was doing but I don't stop. I knew it was wrong but I didn't stop. I remember how Selina's lips would brush mine each time we would meet up. Not innocently like (Y/N)'s, it was a hot, fiery, tease, demanding more from me. Every time I want to push Selina away before I lose myself but I never do...In those moments, my senses are seduced and I can no longer think straight. Regret washes over me like long slow waves on a shallow beach. Each wave is cold and shivers run down my spine. There is no way back to redemption. There is no way to make it right.
(Y/N) saw a part of me that I never wanted to let out of the bag. I fell for her harder than a fall from a ten-story building; She is funny, always cracking jokes to offset my stoic nature. At every event we attend together men and women flock to her like she is the only light in the room, hanging on her words. After a time I wanted more than the "happy girl" persona, I already loved her, I wanted to get to know the woman behind the jokes. At first, she distracted me with jokes and I followed each one, laughing down every blind alley. Then one day Alfred asked me some things about her: where she grew up, what her parents are like, who her best friends are, and I froze. After six months I knew nothing about her, she was a complete puzzle to me. So, instead of conducting thorough research on her like I usually would...I sat with her. Reached out and invited her to reciprocate, to make that connection. Never did she withdraw or flinch away from me but instead, smile and told me about her past.
But as I quickly approach the Batcave, I can't help but think of how (Y/N) would react if she found out I was cheating on her. I think of how her eyes would shift to the side, unable to meet mine whilst becoming glazed with a glossy layer of tears. How each time she would blink, the tears would drip from her eyelids and slide down her cheeks. How she would bite her lip tightly in an attempt to hide any sound which may try to escape her mouth. With each thought, my heart sinks. The thing between Selina and I, it needs to stop. It has to stop.
The alert in my cowl flashes for a short moment and a text from (Y/N) comes into view.
(Y/N) :) : Hi Honey! I'm heading to bed now but happy to report that nothing too hectic happened on my side of Gotham tonight. Just a few thieves and fights, nothing I couldn't handle. I'll see you when you get home, I love you. Stay safe.
Batmom out xx
I would defend her with my life even if the odds were insurmountable. I know her eyes can see through me, but I know they do not dwell on the anger, nor the deceit, nor the selfishness. She looks past every flaw to find the person inside, the real me. Is this something she would be able to look past?
(Y/N) Pov
I rub my fingers along the silken mattress. I press my cheek to the cool, velvet pillows. The comforter is thick and irresistibly soft, like a billowing cloud. I topple into it, relieved to rest my weary feet. Warmth enveloping me. I feel myself quickly succumbing to the call of sleep but the vibrating of Bruce's phone jerks me awake. I groan and roll over, mindlessly grabbing the phone from his nightstand. One of the boys must need something. Or maybe the guys at Wayne Enterprises might want something.
I lazily lift the phone up to my face, my eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the brightness of the phone's screen. I notice the text had come from an unsaved number before I open it to see a revealing picture of a woman's chest as well as a filthy message underneath. A gasp escapes my lips, then I begin to notice the previous messages and plans between the two. I look away and close the phone, now fully awake. In Bruce, I saw the chance for that kind of love that people forgot existed, that's why I married him. I saw the type that spans far longer than one lifetime. I wanted a love that was made up of passion and determination, fire with earth, yet is also a serenity souls can dwell in forever.
I knew beforehand that to love deeply meant to risk great pain but I really thought I had found something with Bruce. I wasn't prepared for this. It feels like giving a murder a gun and expecting not to be killed. Why didn't I know? God, why did I trust him? I knew he was famous for shit like this. Why did I believe that if I give him my hearts he would not crush it? Hearts shouldn't be crushed. They should be cherished and protected. Why didn't he cherish and protect me?
All I feel is anger, all I feel is that I don't want to be close to anyone at all because then I don't have to trust anyone, it'll be safer, easier that way. I scramble out of bed and hastily grab my suitcase, throwing all the essential clothing and toiletries into it. Within seconds I'm dragging the large suitcase behind me and heading down the Monor's halls. I stop for a second, wiping a few tears which roll down my cheeks. I sharply inhale as I hear footsteps and step into the shadows, attempting to conceal myself and become invisible.
"Ma?" Jason calls out.
"Mom, what's going on?" Dick asks.
"I'm visiting a friend of mine, out of town," I shrug.
"Why?" Jason pushes.
"I just need some me time," I sigh.
"Does Bruce know?" Dick asks, concern written on his face.
"He'll find out when he gets home." I bitterly reply.
"He'll find out when you're gone?" Dick asks
"Is everything okay between you two?" Jason asks.
"Just peachy keen," I sarcastically retort.
"(Y/N)?" Bruce's voice interrupts us.
When I turn to face him there is no trace of tears, not in my eyes or in track marks on my reddening face. My eyes are narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. Where there had been love is now emptiness, but not in a vulnerable sense. My unmoving gaze is accompanied by deliberate slow breathing as I fight back the urge to either scream or cry. We stare at each other in an odd way, as if it is a silent argument. The last thing I want to do is break down in front of him, but I can't help it. I am hurting on the inside, badly, and as much as I try to control it... I just can't. Bruce silently approaches as if he is approaching a wounded animal, embracing my body in his arms. His touch sends jolts of both good and bad throughout my body, and a rush of images through my mind-what we used to be, who he was to me, what I always imagined we were going to be together, and the reality of what we are now.
I yank myself free and wrap my own arms around my frame. Our glances battle each other until tears arose, and I find myself crying. The tears were not quiet and controlled, they fall as fast as falling rain and I sob. All this time I've spent with him and I've never looked at another, wanted another. But Bruce, I guess he doesn't feel the same. Although, it's not like I couldn't have seen this coming. There were days where this relationship felt one-sided, he'd shut me out for numerous days because in his words I "wouldn't understand". Every night when he put on his mask, he turned into a completely different person, not letting anything or anyone stop him from his mission for justice, not even the woman he married, me.
My eyes are swollen and pouring a river of black mascara down my face, trying to keep myself standing upright... when all I want to do is curl up in a little ball and try to scream the hurt away. I am a fucking mess. After about a minute of silence, I manage to find what is left of my voice.
"Why did you do it?" I hiccup, tears rolling down my face.
"It was a mistake. I made a mistake. Ok?" He answers softly.
That was the breaking point of my patience. My face has become rigid, jaw clamped tight, teeth grinding. My features buckle just slightly before I speak, the only betrayal of my grief.
"Bruce, you had sex with another woman!" I exclaim before taking a breath "I'm leaving. I'm saying goodbye to the boys then I'm gone."
"No!" He exclaims, grasping onto my arm.
"Let me go Bruce!" I pathetically hit his arm.
"No, you need to stay, we need to talk about this!" He urges.
"Okay, alright. Let's talk Bruce" I sarcastically agree.
"Okay," He murmurs.
"How was she?" I ask.
"What?" He
"Was she good?" I continue.
Bruce's complexion remains pale and matt, his eyes as steady as if he were shopping for shoes. He let out an understated sigh as if I were acting like a child. He appears nonchalant, no pinkness in his cheeks to betray him unlike me. Bruce moves close enough for me to be able to smell his cologne, the smell which brought me so much love and happiness only hours ago.
"Come one Bruce! You said you wanted to talk about it. Let's talk about it! How was she?!" I urge.
"She was...she was different," He sighs in defeat.
"Good different?" I ask.
"I'm sorry ok? I'm sorry, I was disgusted with myself, then I got your message and I was so happy and all I wanted was to hold you in my arms. She means nothing to me," He tries to explain.
"And yet she was worth jeopardising our relationship?" I retort.
"Please forgive me, I'm sorry." He mutters.
"Would you be able to forgive me if I was having sex with someone else?" I ask.
"Yes, I would." He immediately replies.
"You'd be ok if you knew that someone else's hands were on my naked body, someone else's lips were on mine. If someone else was making love to me?" I retort.
"Yes..." He hesitantly agrees.
"If you knew that our hot, sweaty, writhing bodies were..." I begin.
"Stop! Okay, okay...I would have been devastated but I would still want to be with you...because it's you." He cuts me off.
"You know what? I should have listened to my sister when she said you were no good for me, that you'd go back to being that playboy." I cry out.
"Look, I can't tell you how sorry I am. Please forgive me," Bruce begs.
"I don't want you to fucking apologise. I want the guilt to eat you alive. I want you to drown in your thoughts as I've drowned in mine, you can say "sorry" and "I love you" a million times but they're just words now. It doesn't mean a thing if you can't prove it," I scold him.
"I never meant to hurt you," He whispers.
"It doesn't matter because in the end, it all hurts just the same." I bitterly reply.
"I-I-" He stutters.
"I'm leaving Bruce, I'll come back when I've got divorce papers" I inform him.
"Remember when you said that there was nothing too big for us to work pass," He calls out.
"No, no, no. I was dumb and nieve back then. I thought I had you. I thought you and I would be different. We became so close in such a short time and I thought you genuinely cared about me. You didn't play games with me. I thought we could actually be something, you know? I thought wrong." I shake my head.
"There's got to be a way for us to move past this," He pleads before pausing "I can't imagine my life without you,"
"You know what? I used to think that you would never, ever, ever hurt me. God, and now I can't stop picturing you with her. Once again, It doesn't matter what you say or what you do Bruce." I snap.
"(Y/N)—" He trails off.
"I loved you." I firmly say before pausing "I loved you so much I couldn't breathe. You consumed my entire being, and that's why I let you treat me the way you did. I don't know what you got out of destroying me time after time, but I hope you don't put that other girl through that. I waited for you. I gave you chance after chance and I left you with every last goddamn thing I had. And you took it all without a care in the world. I tried to hang on, because I thought you were worth it. I gave you the world and I kept fighting long after I should have stopped. And that wasn't good enough so don't drag this out. Let me go. If I can't have your heart then you can't keep mine prisoner. That's how it works, Bruce."
*A Few hours later at Dick's apartment*
I slide my back down the bathroom wall, and before I know it water drips from my eyes down the bridge of my nose and onto my cheek. Throughout the whole trip to Dick's apartment, I had told myself I was fine and pushed my demons back into their cages. But here I am, sobbing, muffling my quiet screams of anger, frustration, and sadness. There is a quiet knock on the door before Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian shuffle into the bathroom, kneeling at my side.
"What did I do wrong? Why wasn't I enough for him?" I croak out.
"Hey, hey, hey. You're the best he could've ever gotten, and he blew it. Don't let him make you think for one second that this was your fault. It's not. He screwed up, and you did absolutely nothing wrong." Dick assures me.
"Yeah, he's an asshole Ma," Jason pipes up.
Dick, Tim and Damian hum in agreement. Someone's chin rests on top of my head. The boys wrap me in their gentle arms, giving me space to still be able to breathe. I let my body sag, my muscles becoming loose. Their arms clenching me tighter.
*One Year Later*
I lay awake and think about the girl he is probably kissing. I wonder if she even looks a little bit like me; if she tastes the same as I do. I think about how passion has a taste. And love, love has a taste that is hard to describe. It is like being filled to the brim, it is like being ignorant of emptiness and hunger. I wonder if he's happy. I think he must be bursting with it, or maybe he is just like me. Maybe he is trying to fill the space with a girl who leaves him emptier than before. Maybe he remembers me and regrets the way we ended. Or maybe he's already in love with her and I'm the one who can't move on. I wish he would call. I want to hear him speak, even if it is just to talk about the weather. I didn't realise how much I could miss a persons voice until they've stopped talking. But he never called, and I am too tired to sleep, so I lay awake and just wonder. I wonder how he is doing. I jump slightly as my phone begins to ring. With a groan, I grab it and answer, not bothering to check who was calling me.
"Hello?" I answer.
"(Y/N), I need your assistance," Bruce informs me.
"Wait, what?" I ask, brows furrowing in confusion.
"Penguin, Riddler and Joker are working together. Alfred insisted I call you for help." He replies.
"You broke me and now you expect me to follow you out onto the battlefield? No. The answer is no." I bitterly reply.
"The boys were taken," He simply states.
"Send me the location and I'll be there," I reply before ending the call.
Bruce Wayne Pov
Her (H/C) hair falls in soft layers around her shoulders as she removes the motorcycle helmet from her head. Her muscle definition is perfect and she walks with the confidence of someone a decade older. She isn't just flawless in her bone structure, her skin is like silk over glass and she radiates an intelligent beauty.
Her imperfections made her perfect. There is hesitation in her body movements as her eyes meet mine. Her form-fitting suit has a tailored look that is bold against her (S/C) skin. She is right there, only feet away, but in her understated glamour, she might as well be on the television.
"Batwoman," I greet her.
"First of all, this doesn't man I forgive you. Now, let's go save my boy's," She replies bitterly.
I nod and glance towards the building which hold the boys captive. From outside the boarded windows, the shabby wood panelling and the pealing door that is bolted with iron rods, each look is threatening enough to keep the many citizens of Gotham away. There are no doors separating the rooms on the ground floor yet they can be found a few feet into each room with large chunks torn out of them, large scratch marks creating cross-hatched patterns and occasionally there is still paint left clinging to the worn wood. There is only one rickety staircase leading to the first floor, again the same long scratch marks could be seen all the way us the wall opposite the worn, beaten banister. The first floor is in a considerably better state than the ground floor with all doors still in their rightful places, however, the paint clinging to them, once colourful, now many shades of yellow. A thick layer of dust settles on everything in sight giving the place an atmosphere of being untouched for many years, unlike downstairs where the dust hung in the air clearly disturbed at a regular occurrence. The only light source for the dank, dark building were the cracks within the roof and barricades over the windows throwing stripes of light into the near destroyed building.
(Y/N) Pov
The building seems to shudder and sway in the wind. I pull down my hood. The building appears to be empty. Just as it was outside, the inside looks like something out of a dystopian movie. I step further into the building, looking around as my boots leave muddy footprints on the floor. My hand trailing along the wall.
"Are you sure?" I ask, turning to Bruce.
"Yes," He mumbles.
My breath hitches in my throat as I hear a pained grunt followed by sadistic cackling, either coming from Joker or Penguin. My heart hammers in my chest but I keep my gait casual with no hint of hesitation. The anger within me boils in my system, it churns, hungry for destruction. The three men holding my boy's captive walk out of the room causing Bruce and I to retreat into the shadows. As the men pass I glance at Bruce, he slightly nods his head towards the room next to me, silently telling me to get the boys and get out of here.
With a shaky breath I enter the room. I tried to stay calm as my eyes met Damian's slumped form. He isn't moving and he is bleeding profusely from his head. I reach for him, grabbing him in my arms. I feel numb as tears gather behind my eyes. I unclasp the knife on my belt and cut the ropes binding the boy's limbs.
"Mom, what are you doing here?" Tim asks.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm saving my kids," I reply.
"You're such a badass," Jason chuckles.
"I wouldn't be your mother If I wasn't awesome, now come on, let's get you boys out of here." I grin.