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Batman X Reader - Blog Posts
The Other Half Masterlist
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader
Notes: Welcome back to accidentally-created-a-series-Monday
Not beta-read.
Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, angst, fluff, explicit sexual content
Summary: You glance at the man, then freeze, eyes widening. There’s no way that the goddamn Prince of Gotham is on your counter right now. Luckily for you, he’s focused on the tie clips. Maybe he knows you’re staring and is just ignoring it. Maybe he’s just so used to the sensation that he simply doesn’t register it anymore.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen
Part Seventeen
Part Eighteen
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty One
Part Twenty Two
Dc character x *new* hero Reader
Synopsis: Being a hero is actually very simple.
Batman who decided to give Reader a tour of the street.
Batman: "This ally is especially dangerous as it is a blind spot and have man-"
*Joker appearing out of nowhere.*
Batman: "Stay behind me I'l-"
Reader who got so scared that they ran atleast one mile away.
Reader: "I'll watch from here... Beat his ass!"
Joker trying to traumatized Reader.
Reader: "Why are you ugly?"
Joker: "Are you mocking me?"
Reader: "You are ugly"
Joker: "If you dare move I'll slit their throat"
Reader picking up a broken pipe and throwing at the Joker, hitting their knee with a loud crack.
Reader: "God damnit... that was supposed to end your bloodline"
Hal minding his own business.
Reader: *Whispering into his ears* "Nuclear... Nuclear, big boom. Nuclear..."
Hal: "What...?"
Reader: "I just wanted to see how easily distracted you are and how easy it would be to manipulate your thoughts"
Hal: "By saying nuclear? trying to kill us or what?"
Reader: "I mean... There's a great reason why I am not a green lantern"
Wonder woman saving Reader during a big fight.
Reader: "I do love a strong woman... God I wish she could kill me"
Random civilian side eyeing Reader.
Reader: "What? Im being honest"
Lex destroying the city.
Reader: "I can't see! His head is reflective!"
Superman: "what...?"
Reader: "His Baldness! that must be his ultimate weapon!"
Lex now wore wig.
Slade: "What are you going to do now?"
Reader: "Cry"
Slade: "..."
------------ ☁️
Thinking of writing for this <3
so, i kinda wanna write a fic where reader is the daughter of Selina (Catwoman) but not related to Bruce Wayne. and after Selina abandons the reader, she is taken in by the Waynes. btw, i’m not sure i will write this during the time Damian is even alive. i don’t know yet, i think that the conflict between Damian and the reader, would be interesting though.
but also i want it to be either a Jason Todd x reader or Dick Grayson x reader, i don’t know which one yet. PLEASE tell me which one you’d rather have.
i haven’t really figured out the specifics yet, but lmk what you guys think. :) <3
Hello! Could I ask for general yandere Bruce Wayne headcanons? Thank you! ^^
ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ | ʙ. ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ
ben affleck version cause hes hot
gn reader cuz im a boss
warnings: stalking, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, obsessiveness.
Bruce is typically on the kidnapping side than the manipulation. Manipulation was his second option but he spent months watching you closely and couldn’t contain himself for long.
He isn’t a big fan of the manipulation crap like Diana, he prefers to just take you instead; its his ego or his wealth.
He uses his money to win you over.
You are probably wealthy but still on the “unfortunate” side according to Bruce.
I can see Bruce already knowing about you before you even met him, he is the Bruce Wayne and of course you heard of him and his heroic events but you just didn’t really know him.
However, he does watch you first. In his eyes, he doesn’t stalk; he just happens to be patrolling in the carefree nights in Gotham on your side of town. No big deal. The Batman is just caring for all citizens.
He is very delusional about his beliefs and his beliefs only. Doesn’t really care of what anyone thinks of him.
He probably gets judged by the League before they take their darlings.
Like, Diana would get her beloved first and Barry and Victor would give her a weird side-eye but when Bruce first talked about you; Barry and Victor were highly against him. Arthur didn’t care and Clark had already known about Bruce’s intentions.
He is an observer. Probably even knows how long it takes for you to even go to sleep, depending on your mood of course. I can see Bruce even knowing your day-to-day schedule. Whether you work or go to school. He knows how you function and knows what you need to function throughout the day.
He will probably take you when your sleeping or walking to your home. But Bruce is no dumbass. He plans out his kidnapping with the help of Alfred who is too concerned for Bruce’s intentions.
Predicts the time and everything, everything is planned out and your finally his.
Due to his power as the Batman and his wealth as Bruce Wayne: he is wayyyyyy toooooooo strong to escape.
Probably monitors your phone because he knows you will contact anyone for help.
Go to Gotham City Police? They know better to turn you back to him.
Your bank accounts are fucked up.
Your social media accounts are deactivated.
Every app has a child's lock on it because it uses it to taunt at you, how defenseless and powerless you are against him.
God forbid you actually manage to escape, somehow break Alfred into letting you go. Now Bruce will never fire Alfred but he does tend to show you both a reminder about what happens if you cross him.
Definitely catches you before you are able to go to any of your friends or family to support.
You have not been in contact with the people you love the most: they are currently under the impression you started a new job opportunity at Wayne Enterprises and will be quiet for a while, but not to worry: Bruce can easily make your family forget about your with a little dash of cash.
Blood, Blood, Blood. Kills what is the most meaningful to you.
Definitely not afraid to get his hands dirty, honestly prefers it.
Reminds you he does everything to protect you.
Because you may not need him but he needs you.
He had been shallow for way long and now takes what he wants.
There is no escaping Bruce Wayne, the Batman.
credz to @/tonystarksproperty
ᴄʟɪɴᴏᴍᴀɴɪᴀ | ᴊ.ʟᴇᴀɢᴜᴇ
gn reader ykkkkk
disclaimer: clinomania is an excessive desire to remain in bed
ʙ.ᴡᴀɴʏᴇ
Upon finding out that you were a bed addict: Bruce is at ease. It’s a 50/50 type of adjustment. It is beneficial in some circumstances. He doesn't have to run around, chasing you around Gotham or worry about escaping.
He practically spoils you with the highest quality things for sleeping.
A lovely custom made king sized silk sheeted with both of your favorite colors along with matching pajamas and if you act right: squishmellows.
He doesn't care that you sleep every day, he is usually in his bat-cave or risking his life somewhere, however, whenever he have may time on his side: spend time with him.
A good thing about this is that it actually convinces him into getting full 7 hours of sleep, if he’s lucky maybe even 4.
He's touch-starved after 30+ years in working apart of Gotham as Batman so don’t just remove him and hump a pillow.
He wants you to love him, rely on him, cherish him and vice versa.
So even if sleeping in all the time won’t be an issue in the beginning of this quarrel it will be eventually.
Now, it takes Bruce a while to be tested over his limits, as Gotham’s best; he is a very patient and studious man, it takes a while for him to get very riled up.
So, when it is becoming an issue for Bruce, it is an issue that must be dealt with accordingly and better yet abundantly.
He just wants you to rely on him. But he can't just have you sleeping all the time. He refuses to force anything. He maybe a stalker but at least he has class and you can’t penalized him for it.
He tries his very best to keep everything consensual to the max.
As much as he would die and kill for you. He’ll respect it. Until he can no longer take it. But all he asks is for your love, not snores.
He finds it harder and that you both are drifting apart.
When he does finally confronts you about it, you instantly spat back with the same aggression.
He then loses it all when you blame him for the clinomania. “Maybe you should start getting off your ass and do something about it instead of bitching about it in your sleep, like a fucking coward you always are.” his tone matches his rude demeanor, and that night: he slept in the bat cave.
You both end up “disagreeing.” that night.
However, it doesn’t take long when you both are back on the same terms, you now spend more time with him (even if you hate him)
You know he means well at his heart but his words doesn’t match that energy and E+ for effort, right?
Although, the mighty Bruce Wayne is patient, caring and selfless: do not be fooled when it tests his level of patience. He plans everything through to prevent catastrophe.
Out of all of the league; Bruce is the most coordinated
ᴄ.ᴋᴇɴᴛ
Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Clark is bruised. It is such an overwhelming emotion when your soulmate just gives up on you like that. Will you leave him like Lois? Will he not be able to protect you?
Perhaps, it is his insecurities or possible PTSD corrupts his level of judgement but he refuses to even allow you out of his sight.
He walked inside your shared bedroom to find you there laying lifelessly. He used his abilities to fly you to the hospital. When you woke up, you would wake up from the light in the hospital lights.
Rubbing your eyes, you let out mini yawns. “Where are we, Clark?” You yawned while smacking your dry lips together as you search the white hospital room with grogginess.
Clark would stand there, motionless and pale with his mouth agape from the confusion as the doctors behind him had exited the room with slight annoyance.
It wasn’t long until he pulled you to his chest and cried his eyes out, claiming how he assumed he lost you just like everything else around him he cherished. However, you had no sympathy from the man who stole you from your home.
Days turned into weeks when you were on the couch, refusing to sleep in the same room as him: he would just watch. His strength and rush of adrenaline prevent him from needing sleep, he would just watch.
You in his ray of vision makes a wave of bliss rupture throughout his body, it was a sensation he did not wish to cease.
He didn’t have the time to worry about the world. Metropolis, not even the league when you are his purpose and his future.
He forces you out of bed, and you cannot fight the last son of Krypton, so you oblige. Gym dates, picnic’s, beach walks, restaurants even though he (and the help of Bruce) rented the place out because no one should know of your existence.
Your friends and family had been ghosting you, the moment you had “disappeared.”
So, there was no one else but him.
With all of this time with him, you then realized that sleeping is possible preventing you to actually know Clark.
That maybe he wasn’t all that bad when you first met him. He catches on that you’re warming up to him.
On the contrary; chill days on the farm house, watching the television together, his arm draped around you while you lay next to him, he stares at your eyes which you notice instantly. “What?” you asked curiously, full of intrigue of his answer.
He laughs through his nose. “It’s just good to see that now I’ve finally gotten your attention.” he smiles, after planting a quick peck on your cheek before caressing your shoulder and returns his attention to the television.
It isn’t only the thought that makes Clark realizes what his primary purpose is: it’s all the distractions he is willing to put aside to make sure nothing will ever happened to take distract his lover from him.
Out of all of the league; Clark is most impulsive..
ᴅ.ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ
Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Diana is obstinate. Perhaps she is maybe overthinking the disorder but it isn’t herself to blame. She isn’t so bad? You should be grateful your friends have both arms.
So, why must you spend your days, in bed laying there when she’s there?
Most times, you’re not even sleeping. Dazing off as if you don’t wanna be there with her. “Don’t you grow bore to this game of yours?” She greets you as you were slightly awake, barely able to stand with the cup of coffee in your palm.
She would come home from her human job, surprised to see that you are still able to even walk. “You are given night time for a reason.” Diana continues, a hand on her fancy hips are she gives you ‘the look.’
You stare back at her rather insult. “I’m given nighttime but you take it for your own intimacy..” you sneered with annoyance.
That’s how it always is.
She would come home for you to do something for your health and then that’s the last she would see you.
It’s ironic though. That you still are somewhat relying on her abilities to provide like groceries maybe even snacks.
It just doesn’t feel right, and a god surely doesn’t bite their tongues.
For now; it was time to use the voice that she was given from the gods that blessed her. “My dear, this must end. The childish acts and the foolish games of this cycle.” she says from within the doorframe of the shared bedroom in the penthouse.
Diana is well aware you are awake.
The door was off its hedges from the first time you were taken here.
She rounds the bed as you sit up, now realizing she is now serious. “We are lovers, are we not?” she states while you just scoff at her sentence in annoyance. “We are supposed to care and love for each other.” She continues, you look up at her with a now dropped expression.
You found this to be unentertaining. “You have truly shown that you no longer care.” Diana says, her gaze dropping as her eyes become glossy while her body shook with discomfort.
You wince, she was crying. Fake crying. “I-I will spend more time with you,” you say as you swing your legs over the bed to embrace the now trembling woman.
You felt a coil in your stomach as you hugged your captor. The feeling was unsettling but anything to get some peace and quiet. “I will spend more time with you.” You coo reassuringly as you soothe her embrace with yours, her arms wrapped around yours in almost an instant.
Diana was never so easily convinced.
It was wrong, but when was anyone so ever perfect? It was something that had to be done.
A re-motivator, an eye opener is what she would call her performance the other day.
You now spend more time with her. You claimed her as your lover! Surely things will now be different, no more walking into the penthouse with a back turned to her, but rather a warm welcome.
Diana maybe cruel, but she is no fool. It would be best for her to leave the situation alone, wait for the right timing. She is almost like Bruce, but what separates her is her pride. Diana would probably be the type of yandere to “handle” the problem in a more straight-forward way.
Out of all of the league; Diana is most manipulative.
ᴀ.ᴄᴜʀʀʏ
Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Arthur is crazed. He would joke and attempt to hide his anger: not wanting to scare you, but there is this uprising that is waiting to be unleased.
He is probably the least patient within the league: and not afraid to express his emotions and probably a brat sometimes but maybe some can’t handle the honest truth.
He is honestly the less strict and most laidback but to a certain extent.
When he find you sleeping the first time after he kidnapped you: its cute to him.
He thinks you’re dream your way out of this walking nightmare of a relationship, well that's what he thought at first.
However, that “cuteness” easily went away when you were just laying down, not even sleeping, listening to your favorite song. Not even reading a book or catching up on your series.
You were like....a dull person with no meaning or purpose in life.
Have you always been like this? When he took saved you, did he miss a day in your life?
It doesn’t take long until he confronts you head on. Like Diana, but instead of a thought-out plan; he goes straight in, just like he always does.
You hear his loud, wet boots echo through the wooden floors of the house and the door is wide open so he walks in.
His body and hair dripping in water which makes you scrunch and turn your back to him. He takes a seat, not minding the mess he is leaving on the bed.
He roughly nudged you slightly, hoping to get your attention. You groan annoyingly but turn your face slightly to oblige his presence. “You gonna get out of bed or what?” Arthur asks while you gaze off into space.
You then roll your eyes, finding his presence a complete waste of time. “Hey, when are we gonna talk? Like an actual couple?” He raises his voice a bit, this time you sit up and match his aggression.
You kiss your teeth harshly. “So the type of couple that ruins lives? Teach me of how a ‘couple’ is suppose to act, Arthur.” You spat with annoyance. His nostrils flared as he clearly shows more anger within his expression.
Now, you’ve crossed a line. “Well, why don’t you get the hell off of your ass for once and maybe I can show you that I ain’t really that bad.” He replies with a very much more pissed off look.
You then stare at him like he was insane, which he was. “Well, you haven’t really done anything to show you’re good either!” He then just seem like he was holding himself back from anything.
You scoffed sheepishly. Who did he think he was, better yet, who did he think you were? “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve, your highness?” You mocked groggily.
Just about you were going to lay down, a calloused hand had been wrapped around your throat, forcing you out of the comfort of the sheets and now chest-to-chest with Arthur..
A very enraged Arthur who hadn’t even realized he was hurting you. “I bust my ass providing for you and all you do is just lay around! You know how much people would kill to be you right now?!” His grip was even more tighter than it was before.
However, You weren’t even taken chances even if you were going to die, even if you could see dots when your vision blurred. At least you didn’t have to be near him. “Go be with them..then.” You managed to croak until he soften his grip, allowing you to gasp for breath.
He chuckles loudly, and pretends to think hardly. “Thought ‘bout it. Don’t wanna.” He says, his grip from your throat was gone as he keeps you in his arms.
Of course you were scared, you could feel death from him. “I chose you.” He murmured slightly, his muscular yet moist arms kept you in an embrace, while you were confused and very much scared; since the moment you got here.
Your glare deepen, not giving him the reaction he expected but that honestly turned him on a bit. Soon, a very long exhausting kiss was met between you both. Tongues wrestling with yours that caused you to painfully grip his arms in weary.
Then he dropped you onto the bed. He got up and made his way to the door. “Try sleeping that off. Call me if you want an orgasm.” he said, leaving as if nothing happened.
Arthur maybe a douchebag but he isn’t as sinister! He just has a hard way of expressing what he wants in a romantic type way. You just know where to hit him, and it really gets under his skin. He never wanted to use anyone you love against you but, damn, he needed to go extreme.
Out of all of the league; Arthur is the most sadistic.
ʙ.ᴀʟʟᴇɴ
Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Barry is bothered. Not like he has a problem with it (he does). Everyone needs a little break. Surely you did too.
It’s a big adjustment. Living with a complete stranger that claims they love everything about you! So he get’s it totally. He doesn’t get that you’re just in the bed and just laying there though.
Like a NPC in one of his video games almost.
Barry has the tendency to overthink a lot. He claims that you’re just waiting for the right time to leave him!
Perhaps installing that camera in the warehouse wasn’t the worst idea.
Ever since you both been together, he always seems he is coming “home” alone.
No warm welcome.
No massage.
Nothing.
He wants you to like kiss him or show affection. He doesn't want to be the only putting energy in the relationship. He felt like you were giving up.
Like Clark he would find some things for you to do. You would go on dates. Not expensive dinners but dates. He would take you to the movies, strolls in the park, small coffee dates. Something to keep you busy
With the money Bruce gave him; he would take you on small trips. He just wanted you to spend time with him, you know. He just wants the love that he craved for what feels like forever.
Walking back into the warehouse: after a very unencouraging conversation with his father in jail, he comes back with you no where to be found.
He sighs, not even angry or sad: just so disappointed.
He threw the groceries to the ground before stomping towards the bedroom. He isn't angry; he is just disappointed and maybe sad. “H-Hey? Maybe we can have a quick chat? If you’re not cool, I get it.” He stammers a bit, damnit why can he ever NOT be awkward.
You turn immediately yet groggily. “I think we both drifting away with each other.” Barry says, getting an intrigued look from you with a head tilt. He notices quickly and panics. “I know that I am not the best right now with the debt and everything, and I’m sorry for that.” He stammers, taking breathy gasps of breath as you notice he is becoming anxious.
He breaks eye contact to rub his glossy eyes, licking his now dry lips and continues. “I really do care and love you but I just want to-” He continues, soon interrupted with an embrace from you.
His arms drop to his sides, unfortunately, the tears will not stop.
You felt yourself go numb from the tears falling from his eyes. “I’ll do better.” You say, holding him more gently and it was like words in heaven.
He felt himself stop crying within your embrace before wrapping you into his arms as you cuddled for the rest of the day.
Although Barry is the most immature, there are times when even he, the dummy of the league can become very sensitive. Maybe he is being sensitive, or maybe he cares a lot. He was always taught how to love and he just wants to help you in the best way he can.
Out of all of the league: Barry is the most gullible.
ᴠ.ꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ
Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Victor is curious. It’s not his place but shouldn’t you be out living your best life? Not wanting you to escape or anything but like you’re human! You should be out winning football games or shopping or something with your friends.
He doesn't force you to get up cause like he’s afraid he will hurt you with his body but he does convince you to go outside. “Wanna go shopping?” or “there's a grocery store with your favorites.” He can and will hack everything that is intelligence and robotic to cheat your way through life.
He wants you to know that even with his current state: he can be slightly useful in a way. He wants you to know that there is something can be valuable to life other than just laying down in bed.
He scans you whenever he pleases. Checking your vitals etc. He would just stare at you, you’re the only thing he had left.
Like Clark, he would watch you sleep: because what he has become, sleep is not a necessity to him.
Your peaceful and stress-free expression as you slept your worries away. He didn't waste any time before sitting near your bed. He then scanned your body health which was up to his standards.
He let out a small chuckle before watching you grunt. He rose a brow as his robotic eye scanned your mind. His eye widens at the stage you went through.
That’s why you always slept in! He felt himself grow guilty from the problematic events you had to go through. Bullying, discrimination, family problems, trust issues, parental issues, dead relatives and friends etc etc.
He never felt so upset before.
He would wake you up with your favorite food from your favorite restaurant. “Y/N,” He greets you. It was rare to see you out of the bed. Of course you would get up for food and yet again his predictions paid off again. You just do a small and sloppy wave.
He checks your vitals again, just in case you were unhealthy. “Last night, I was there when you slept,” Victor continues and you almost drop your glass. “How many times do I have to tell you to NOT watch me when I sleep!” You screech annoyingly, it was so uncomfortable to you.
He ignored your outburst and continued, “I know what happened, your childhood. The pain, the suffering..” He said reassuringly, causing you to stare at him with mouth full. You then blink into a shocked state when you realize what he meant.
Victor walks beside you. “Please know that I’m here. You never have to do anything alone again.” He spoke while his robotic hand went to the center of this chest-plate.
You smiled with tear-filled eyes before jumping onto his lap and hugged him. “Thank you.” You muttered, actually glad that it was all out there as he pulled you into an embrace. “You’re welcome.” He replied as his hands soothingly comforted your back.
Perhaps, Victor is a stalker, maybe curious. He will always knows with the cursed knowledge given and automatically investigates the source of the clinomania. He shows more mercy and remorse towards his S/O sleeping habits that doesn't bother him much due to him always being by their side.
Out of all of the League; Victor is most sympathetic.
© tonystarksproperty
Why won’t you speak?
“As I am standing over your dead, rotting body, I wonder: are you cold?”
Story: between Dick and Jason, Bruce adopts another hurt boy. M/n was around before Dick left, so he really considers him his older brother. When Jason comes around, M/n can’t help but feel jealous. After all, M/n is weak. He can’t be Robin.
Warnings and additional notes: M/n is using crutches to walk because of a car accident in which he took part at the age of twelve, the car accident that killed his parents. Bruce Wayne takes him under his wing, making sure he gets all the medical support he needs, making sure he is cared for. M/n is envious of Bruce’s soft spot for Jason. Major character death. Canon compliant… ? There are things added by me, of course.
—. —
The large doors of the library open with a burst of uncharacteristic storm.
“When has Batman died and put you in charge.” Jason’s shoes make an almost soundless approach in M/n’s direction.
M/n chuckles, “Oh my, aren’t you an opinionated little brat?”
Jason’s tongue clicks. No. He ain’t doing this shit. He takes a few more steps towards his tormentor.
“ I am Robin.” He points towards his chest. “Me. Not you, M/n. I should be in charge, not you.” He might not be in his suit, but he is Robin. And not even this bastard could take that away from him.
“Yeah, yeah. Listen here, you little asshole. You need to calm down. I don’t like you getting in my face. You annoy me. ” M/n rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms, leaning on the windowsill. The library is getting too crowded for the both of them. “Well, you don’t really have a choice. I’m older, more responsible. Don’t you have to listen to me or something?” Jason locks eyes with his fake brother, watching the words fall from his lips like boredom in the wind.
“You’re only two years older. Don’t act superior just because you’ve been here a little longer than me.” Jason wants to scoff, instead he draws back. Only to rethink his decision and bite. “Even so, I am Robin. And you’re just sickly prickly M/n. Nothing special there.”
There is a crack in M/n’s smile. Small, but noticeably there. Almost makes Jason regret it. Almost.
M/n scoffs, hiding the hurt, “You need to calm down, little asshole. It’s Alfred who holds the rule anyway. Don’t even know why you’d think it’d be useless, little me.” M/n tilts his head tauntingly, picking up his crutches and making his way out of the library. “Congratulations though. You’re pathetic.”
Jason rubs his eyes in exasperation. They will never get along. Never.
“Master M/n, is everything alright?” M/n tries to calm himself, almost bumping into Alfred. He feels like he’s gonna burst, but he can’t let the tears fall.
“Oh, Alfred… Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” M/n forces a smile. And he is sure it doesn’t fool Alfred. The elder man always knows.
“It’s quite alright, Master M/n. My question stands, however. Is everything alright?”
M/n averts his eyes, “Of course.” He stumbles a bit with his crutches as he tries to pass Alfred.
“You should try and get along with Master Jason. He is family. You two are family now, Master M/n.”
M/n doesn’t even feel like protesting. This Jason boy came after Dick left, almost as if their father was trying to replace his oldest son. And M/n can’t bear the thought of that. Of course he doesn’t like Jason. They’ll probably never get along.
“Alright then.” Alfred smiles and helps M/n down the stairs. “How about some tea?”
M/n relaxes slightly in the comfort of Alfred’s warm arms, “That sounds great, Alfred.”
Going down the stairs is becoming harder and harder for M/n. It’s like his legs are becoming lazier and lazier, which is normal considering the doctors already informed them about the changes waiting to happen. M/n doesn’t dwell on it most of the time. However, there are those moments of silence in which he can’t help but want to hit his head with something or accidentally drop one of those candles onto his own clothes. Jason had caught him in one of those moments in the library earlier. M/n gets nastier in terms of behavior around then, and truly he doesn’t have any interest in insulting Jason that much (just a little). The little prick just knows how to find his moments.
They get to the bottom of the stairs, but Alfred doesn’t let go. The man really knows everything.
When Bruce gets home, things haven't necessarily changed in any way. Alfred meets Bruce in the foyer, as it usually is when Bruce comes back from business. And then there is Jason who runs ahead of his brother and forcefully throws himself at Bruce with all his young years and fire thrumming in his veins, like he owns the world and Bruce, as well, with it. The man once young boy himself remembers owning the world once, it was not bare then. Behind, with struggle unfit for a child, M/n staggers forth with his ebony crutches. Jason does not let go of his hugs easily, in fact he holds on as if Bruce would disappear if he ever dared to let go earlier than he should. Thus, the man lets his son hug him tight. Moments later, Jason reluctantly lets go, making way for his older brother, who visibly stumbles on an uprise in the carpet.
M/n yelps as one crutch gets caught in the crimson material. He falls in front of everyone's eyes, but is caught by Alfred who is nearer to him. Bruce wants to reach out, he would've reached out. Yes. If, just so, he were closer to his son. Alas, distance is great in between them.
They head into the living room where Jason tells Bruce all about his exploits around the manor and how Bruce’s bedroom is actually haunted when he isn’t there. That gets a smile out of the man, rare as they are. His life has become increasingly livelier since Jason became part of the family. After all, the quiet of Dick’s departure was sadly difficult for one little M/n to fill, though the efforts were there. Bruce just… couldn’t make himself meet his son halfway.
After dinner Alfred corners him in the emptiness of Bruce’s study (not his, his father’s study). The older man wears that look on his face, the one he shows only to Bruce and especially when he ‘s done something bad, like stealing a cookie when he was younger, or choosing to dress up as a bat.
“You should talk to him more.” Alfred keeps his eyes on Bruce and the man once boy under that gaze doesn’t know if he should look away or try to dominate the stare down. It’s an automatic response, he reckons. It would never work on Alfred, either way.
“Jason is fine, he talks to me now.” That gets another smile out of Bruce. He fears these days he is getting stiffer, body hardening with the darkness and the years. Maybe he is actually growing softer?
“It’s not Jason I’m worried about, sir.” Alfred leans forward and places a tray with two cups and a teapot on it. It smells good, roses and camomile?
“M/n? Should I think there’s something wrong with him?” Bruce raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t know, sir. Should you not?” Alfred continues to look at him, almost as if his eyes harden. It’s hard to tell, even with the bat’s experience.
“Is something wrong with him?” Bruce takes a seat on his father’s old leather chair that was once black but now tints to brown. The chair sighs underneath him with tiredness becoming of age.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself, sir?”
Bruce would ask. He really would. He should… but it’s late. The boy probably sleeps already. “It’s late, Alfred. Some other time, perhaps?”
Alfred scrutinizes him, yet ends in a half concealed sigh. He wasn’t going to tell his Bruce, the stubborn and with years worth of guild child he so much wished fulfillment to about how his son still stands at the dinner table, ashamed to ask for help and beating himself down over how he would never be good enough to help his father the way his younger brother does. No, Alfred shall deal with that himself, as he always does. Foolish master Bruce. He ends with a, “You know best, sir.”
Bruce doesn’t know best. He’s never felt himself as holding the power of knowing whats and ifs and what ifs. The ‘what if’ of the situation, it always arises at the time when his weakness fills him with the dread of what has been. What if he’d said “let’s stay for another movie” the night his parents died. What if he’d spent more time trying to talk with Dick instead of arguing foolishly and towards nothing, like the boy wasn’t the son he so cared for, like he hadn’t been the only once. What if he’d listened to Alfred and talked with M/n more, mended the disruption between him and Jason. What if he’d protected Jason the way he should’ve protected him, the way his soul screamed to keep the boy safe because how can you let someone else suffer when it is you who should have been? It should never have been Jason. Not his Jason. Not his boy. Not his hope and his dreams and the one he holds as if he were holding his younger self. Not the Jason who laughed so hard whenever something remotely funny came to light. Not the Jason who ran to the door to welcome Bruce, jumping into his arms with all his young years and fire thrumming in his veins, like he owns the world and Bruce, as well, with it. ‘Welcome home, dad.’ Not… Not Jason. Not Jason, God, please, not him. Don’t let it be like this, Bruce’s soul screams as it trashes and shoves and splits, stabbing and scratching and killing to get out.
Jason Todd, beloved son and brother, full of fire and full of life
with all his young years and fire thrumming in his veins, like he owns the world and Bruce, as well, with it
The morning Bruce has to come home and let Alfred and M/n know that Jason won’t be home for dinner tonight or any other night, the sun shines on a clear sky. It smiles upon the Wayne lands, over the gardens and the pond. M/n is there with the flowers, reading a book. ‘The three musketeers’ the title reads. Does M/n enjoy reading? Maybe he does. Bruce isn’t around enough to figure out a pattern.
M/n’s eyes raise from the pages, smile a bright one, as the sun above them with a glint in his eyes and hair tussled with sleep and the ends of dreams.
Bruce must look all the wiser and the better and the all powerful because his son’s smile becomes smaller with what Bruce can only read as surprised… a little concern as well.
“Welcome back, dad.” The boy speaks, voice carried by the breeze and the petals of the flowers.
Bruce says nothing. He can’t bring himself to. Because how can you ever begin. How… How do you tell your son his brother has died before they even had the chance to make up after an argument? How do you let your son know, he will be in a quiet house yet again? How do you tell your son you’ve killed his brother?
M/n’s smile falters yet again. And he must sense something because he looks around. Behind Bruce, to the gate, to the flowers and to the door where no one but Alfred stands.
“Where is Jason?” His smile is gone by now, replaced by something akin to curiosity. “Did he get lost?” A small laugh bursts at that.
M/n locks eyes with Bruce again.
Bruce isn’t smiling. His lips haven’t even twitched. In fact, Bruce thinks he is getting worse by the second and it must be showing in some way because M/n forces himself to keep a smile on as he struggles to get up with the help of a crutch. He almost falls twice, but stands almost straight soon, book closed in hand, a finger inside to keep the page. The boy is pretty far into the book. Bruce doesn’t know if it’s the first, the second or the third volume.
“Dad… are you alright?” His son asks him with those alight eyes that speak the language of the sun and the moon. He looks around again, maybe he hopes to see the brother he so is annoyed by. There is no annoyance in his eyes. “Where is Jason, dad? I didn’t see him go inside.”
There’s a shake in Bruce’s eyes, a tremor of the lips. M/n pushes himself forward on the crutch. It gets stuck in the grass for a second, but it does not stop the son from approaching the bat with no suit, no protection.
A shove closer, half a stumble backwards.
“… dad?” Bruce lets his son see his head fall down, down, down, looking at the grass next to his shoes. Bruce thinks he shook his head somewhere in between the burn of the sun on his neck and the thud of ‘The three musketeers’ by Alexandre Dumas, fallen to the earth. For a moment, Bruce imagines the volume as his own head, rolling on the too green grass, blood dried and burned by the sun.
“M/n… Why do you hate me?”
“…”
“Have I… done something that wrong? I know I can be annoying and loud and sometimes want attention, but I don’t mean what I say to you. I never do, not the bad stuff at least.”
“I… I don’t hate you, Jason. How could I? You’re everything I wish I was.”
“Why?”
“Aha… I think I say all I say and blame you all the time because, not so deep down, I’m envious of you.”
“Envious? How could you possibly be envious of me? You’re older and you’re smart… and you don’t get into trouble with the teachers.”
“Ha, well, I suppose I’m envious because dad is close to you, the way he isn’t with me. And… and because you are with him the way I could never manage.”
“But… it’s really not that hard. Just talk to dad, I’m sure it’s gonna be alright.”
“Aren’t you wise.”
“Ha ha. I’m serious, M/n. If you want something, just do it.”
“See? That’s why I’m envious of you.”
… or maybe I admire you for it. Is what M/n imagines late at night, a conversation that could have been between Jason and him, especially close after the funeral, when Dick drinks in his room and their dad drinks in his study and Alfred cleans up the dinner none of them really taste any more, but only eat as unfeeling corpses coveted in a quiet house.
Part 2:
can u do another bruce x male reader angst
Definitely 😌 I’ve got a lot of angst in me.
Since you didn’t specify, I took it and ran with it. Anywayss Enjoy 😉😮💨
Soo, this is longer than I planned 🧝🏻🥹 And there’s gonna be a part 2, probably 🫣😮💨
Warnings of sorts: major injury, character death, diverging from canon.
Small summary: After an attack by the Joker, the bat family is thrown into an unlikable situation, unfortunate even. M/n is stuck in the hospital, barely living. And who knows what happened to the rest? Alfred won’t really talk about it.
“This is your legacy. Watch careful, love, as it all falls and burns. To the ground with your house of stone.”
They were tied together by the moon, under the stars of a clear sky, on the rooftop of the manor. A lapse in time, a glimpse of the universe. They were happy in that moment. Only them and the quiet world.
M/n recalls it being a clear sky. Yes, it had to be in order to light up Bruce’s face just so. Or maybe it was the man’s eyes, those who lit up the whole sky. Often times, M/n thinks about this and that, and everything is muddy, but the brightest memories still shine through.
That’s what makes him sure they’re real. They are too strong to be stomped down by the heaviness, too alive to dissipate.
There are days in which he feels he forgets everything, but then Alfred visits, and the memories are alive again. Painfully so.
“Master M/n,” Alfred would say, “How is your morning?” And M/n would understand it was indeed morning.
“Hello, Alfred.” Momentum, he remembers both of their names. “I see you better today.” He tries for a smile, uncertain of the success.
“That is great news, sir.” M/n can’t make out the details of Alfred’s face, but he hears the extension of a smile in his voice.
Later, they are drinking tea, the tension in M/n’s shoulders not soothed by the liquid, “Alfred, when can I come home?” Silence follows.
M/n sees the movement of Alfred placing down his cup, “Soon, sir. Probably next week, if things go well.”
“Yes, but you’ve been saying this for a while now.” He recalls in the haziness. “I reckon, if I stay here more, I’ll go crazy, Alfred. I wanna come home. I wanna see Bruce and the kids.” His voice is overwhelmed with tremors. He can’t feel his face half the time, but now he feels the stinging in his eyes.
M/n is almost startled by Alfred’s hand over his own. “Master M/n… I’ll see what I can do. I’ve been trying, remember?”
Right. He… remembers. “Thank you, Alfred.”
Later that week M/n is allowed to go home. Happiness fills him. Like fireworks on the night sky, his chest is filled with emotion.
Home.
Yes, he is finally going home.
Alfred comes to pick him up around 1 p.m. He is moved in a wheeling chair through the hospital. He can’t see all the faces around him, but the doctor and the few nurses he does see and recognize, he says goodbye to. He is happy, so he leaves them all with a smile.
In the car, Alfred tells him all about the changes around the house and the land around it. Like how the rose garden is gone —there is a momentary pang in M/n’s chest, but he doesn’t let himself be deterred by it—, or how the paintings from the hallways had been moved to a guest room now turned storage room, or how Jason moved all of his stuff back into the mansion, but he didn’t actually come around to inhabit his old room, or how Damian is now taking care of most of the affairs of the mansion and company.
“Since you’ve been gone, young master Damian has been given a lot of new responsibilities.” Alfred adds, not as an after thought, but carefully building up to it. “He should be home, at the moment, but there is always the possibility of him being away. He is leaving two weeks from now, for a conference in Vienna.”
“That’s wonderful. Such a nice place. I… Bruce took me there. Yes. A few years ago. Very nice.” M/n is sure his smile persists. How could it not? He is finally going home. To his Bruce. To his sons. To his life, after the endless time in that horrid hospital room with white walls and shadows and the buzzing of the fluorescent light above, barely perceptible.
The car parked, Alfred helps M/n up the ramp and into the foyer.
The door opens before Alfred goes for the handle. Beyond the opening door, the tired face of one Damian Wayne comes as the most welcoming sight. As soon as the boy’s —he is still the small boy M/n used to read to sleep, or sing to— eyes landed on his parent, he visibly relaxes. His stance falls into something more fitted for his age. M/n can’t see a smile on his face, but that isn’t saying much. He can’t really see much anyway, in the light. Nonetheless, even through the sting caused by daylight, M/n can’t help the unabashed happiness slipping onto his every feature. He extends his arms, wide and welcoming. And Damian falls to his knees, into his parents arms.
“Hi, dad.” The boy whispers softly.
“Hello, baby.” M/n feels tears soak his shirt. “Oh, baby. What happened, love?” The man gives Damian’s head comforting caresses.
“I just missed you.” Damian gets out through a shudder. Oh, why is his baby crying? No, he shouldn’t be crying. M/n is here now, it’s okay.
“I missed you too, honey.” Damian lowers himself until his head rests in his father’s lap. M/n’s hand still moves through Damian’s raven locks.
Damian squeezes M/n’s waist, “I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry.” His son is trembling. He must be so tired. Did he sleep well? His poor baby. M/n should’ve been here for him.
“Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for, love.” M/n feels his own eyes sting harder, but not from light.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come see you. I’m so sorry.” Damian’s voice is muffled by him being pressed against M/n.
“Hey. Hey. Honey, it’s okay. Alfred told me you’ve been working so hard. My baby isn’t a baby anymore. You’re taking care of the family. I’m so proud of you, Dami.” M/n feels a tear falling. Alfred places his warm hand on M/n’s shoulder, but he can only look at Damian’s blurry form falling apart at his feet.
“No, dad. I… I didn’t come because… I was afraid. Of what I’d see. So I used everything as an excuse to stay away. I’m sorry, dad.”
M/n’s lower lip is filled with tremors, tears glistening in his eyes, “It’s okay, it’s okay, Dami. I’m home now.”
M/n holds his son for a while, caressing him, trying to reassure him with all the love he has.
“Where are the others?” M/n asks as Damian raises to shaky feet.
Damian visibly freezes, but forcibly relaxes himself, “Well… I’m not really sure what Todd is up to, but he literally moved his stuff here, then proceeded to up and go.” The boy pauses as he moves behind M/n, wheeling him to the stairs, where there is already a built in type of elevator just for him, one you see in movies. Damian attaches the back of his wheelchair to the machine. “And father… Father doesn’t leave his room during the day, only at night, but as Batman.”
“What?” M/n stares at his son incredulously, as he is raised by the machine, Damian following closely by, walking up the stairs.
“I know Batman is doing a great job, as always. But I don’t know how father is doing. He wouldn’t talk to us.” Damian looks into his parent’s eyes pleadingly. The boy can guess that his dad doesn’t see this detail. But, still, he can’t help but want to beg for M/n to make things better, like he always did.
“I’m sorry, baby, that you had to go through this. I’ll talk to Bruce myself. Only with a bit of help.” M/n chuckles as the machine gets to the top of the stairs.
Damian’s lungs and heart finally seem to realize that M/n is home, that he isn’t alone, that maybe they can do this. Call it false hope, but it’s everything the boy can cling to.
Once at the door leading into the master bedroom, M/n looks at Damian with the intent to reassure. As if telling him ‘it’s okay, you can rest, I’ll take care of things now’. And so, he is left alone by his son, followed closely by Alfred, who also seems different all of a sudden, lighter even. He is gonna make them a nice dinner, for four, and not for one.
M/n would be lying if he says he doesn’t hesitate. Because he does hesitate. And he hates himself for that. His Bruce needs him. This is no place or time for backing away.
“Bruce?” The silence is deafening. “Are you there, honey?” He wheels himself —his arms are weak, so he finds it a tiny bit more difficult than he originally thought it would be— closer to the door. Where he places his open palm on the hard oaken door. There is no answer from the other side, but M/n isn’t known for giving up easily. It’s how him and Bruce got together, then married. He knows when to push and he knows when Bruce is keeping himself from his own happiness.
“Bruce, I’m home now. You can open the door.” M/n says a bit louder. And this time he is startled by the sound of hurried steps and crashing from beyond the door.
The door opens before he can say anything.
And his Bruce is there. He looks tired, and his features are clearer because in the manor there is darkness. And M/n sees how much Damian is becoming more and more like his father, for Bruce falls to his knees in front of him, hands grabbing at his face and hair, cupping his cheeks in hurried strokes. M/n believes the tears that fall from Bruce’s eyes and onto his blotchy cheeks. He doesn’t know how many times he’s seen Bruce cry before. It hasn’t been much, but there were plenty times to know that M/n’s husband doesn’t trust people with his tears and his pain. And most of the time, he doesn’t even trust himself with it. It pains M/n to see the man he loves in pain, so he ends up placing his hands over his darling’s hands, keeping them on his cheeks.
“… M/n” His husband’s voice is coarse, unused.
“Bruce.” M/n says his name, to ground Bruce with his own voice. “What happened to you, my Bruce?”
Bruce doesn’t say anything at first, but after long seconds, there are those same two words that came out of his son’s mouth, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, love.” He has never seen Bruce like this. This broken. Falling apart. What happened? Where are Dick and Tim? Nobody said anything about them yet. What were his memories trying to keep away from him? M/n really needs to know. “I can’t remember what happened that well. Please, tell me what happened, my Bruce.” M/n squeezes Bruce’s hands into his own and brings them to his lap.
M/n is afraid of the unknown. What is he missing? Why is everyone so down? Why was he in the hospital for weeks on end?
“What did you do, love? Why are you upset?” Bruce raises to his feet, slowly and weak, and M/n has never seen him like this. Bruce goes behind him and wheels him into their bedroom.
Bruce lifts him up with care. Closer to his face, M/n can see his expression better and it hurts him to see his husband in this pain. Bruce places him on the bed, with soft movements and soft touches.
“Talk to me, Bruce.” M/n cups Bruce’s cheeks in his palms when the man sits next to him on the bed.
“No, no, I can’t, M/n, I can’t, no.” Bruce shakes his head. M/n can’t help but feel out of balance, out of place, out of touch. He has never seen his husband this startled. They’ve had moments in which they’ve shared their fears and problems and what not. But M/n has never seen his Bruce this shaken up.
“Come on. Talk to me, Bruce.” He presses on.
“I.. Oh god…” Bruce whispers through a clenched jaw.
“Love, please…” There is desperation in M/n’s voice.
“God… God, how, how can I tell you? How can I possibly tell you?” Bruce puts a distance between them as he rises from the bed. Covering his face, he blocks away M/n’s view of his expression.
“Bruce? Bruce… Bruce!” M/n raises his voice, feeling his tongue become numb and surplus in his mouth.
“Ah, I, I…” Bruce takes a deep breath looking at the ceiling, “Di…” His voice fades. “Dick and Tim,” M/n fees the air become stale around him, and the constant pressure in his chest that never seems to go away increases. Breathing suddenly becomes harder and there is the faint feeling of suffocation. “They are gone. Because of me. I …killed them.”
And that suffocating feeling is back tenfold.
The world is swimming around them and he can feel it all flowing beyond the ground, and he is falling too, into his own hell. He doesn’t know where he is anymore, but his body is too small for him and his heart is so big and so loud it breaks at his thoracic cavity. His lungs aren’t big enough, however, cowering before his beating, pumping heart, smaller and smaller by the second. There isn’t enough air. There will never be enough air. This is how he is dying. He wants to die. He wants to die now, to disappear.
He hears screaming. After long seconds it becomes obvious it is him who is screaming, clawing at his throat, eyes hurting with tears that burn him to the core. He scratches his throat like he wants to get out of his own skin. And if he were any more conscious, he would now exactly how to kill himself in that moment. The words keep repeating in his head, however, in an endless loop that wants to keep him there, caged in his disbelief.
He must’ve passed out.
Because, when he wakes up, he is in the rose garden, somehow.
The end is here, my dear
"𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘐'𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬. 𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘐 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺."
“There’s no use in hiding now.” M/n turns around, looking at his husband hurting. “There is no use anymore, Bruce. Just say it.”
Bruce can’t comprehend what is happening.
He supposes it is his fault. It’s always him, but… How has it gotten to this? How did they come to this point?
“Say it, damn it!” M/n turns back to his husband with tears glistening in his eyes. His voice is strong, but Bruce recognizes the grief in his partner’s voice. M/n takes hurried steps towards him. They are in their bedroom. The lights are low. Night has fallen too long ago. They aren’t dressed for bed however. Bruce doesn’t think he can prepare for it. M/n falls to his knees in front of the man he sees as his best friend, his partner in crime, the only one. Bruce is sitting on the edge of the bed. He catches M/n’s hands in his. “Please… Please, just do it. Because I can’t anymore…” M/n’s voice is cracked by something close to resignation.
Bruce’s head falls. He looks at their hands held close together and sighs. “What do you want me to say, M/n?”
M/n lets out a weak, humorless laugh, then pulls at his husband’s hands, “Look at me.” Bruce doesn’t look. “Look at me!” Bruce’s head snaps up in delay. There is rage in usually crystal clear eyes. There is pain. There is disbelief.
“I’m sorry—“
“What are you sorry for? What are you sorry for, Bruce? For asking me to stay? For getting me to stay? For marrying me? For giving me the family I could never dream about? Or for taking it all way?” More ironic laughter escapes M/n. “What are you sorry for, darling?” He says the last part through a sob. As if it hurts him to speak it.
Bruce can’t look into his husband’s eyes anymore.
M/n should’ve expected it. Bruce knows he should’ve expected it too. After all, he is Bruce self-destructive self-deprecating self-hating self-flagellating Wayne.
The divorce papers stand pristine on the bedside table. On the ground, the broken, lightless lamp of their life has shouted its last goodnight, in the warm embrace of their tainted shadows.
Things not to do when you write fics:
1.) Don't tag it 'x reader' when you make it an oc... big no no.
2.) Don't post masterlists if there is nothing is on there (thats a personal thing for me idk abt y'all)
3.) When you don't put the summary and warnings down... it's annoying and it also doesn't help you because no one knows what they finna read🤷🏽♀
4.) WHEN WE DONT KNOW WHAT THE PAIRING OR SHIP IS (put it at the top plz).
5.) Using wrong tags... just don't do it ...please
6.) BACK TO # 1 DO NOT TAG IT X READER IF YOU MAKE IT AN OC ITS NOT COOL!! I DONT HAVE PALE SKIN AND LONG STRAIGHTHAIR SIS
7.) This one is just for appreciation for the ppl who write fics open for everyone who use the following; H/C, E/C, S/C, and the most important... ✨Y/N✨.