Lying, Cheating, & (Almost) Death.
Requested by five anons
Summary: Batmom(Reader) and Bruce fight, after Batmom storms out they gets kidnapped by a villain.
Warning(s): Cheating, Abuse, Kidnapping, ANGST
Out of all ways to find out, you find out through Superman?! Clark of course felt he had to tell you and you couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. He came to you, under the guise of an interview, but after the “interview” finished, he sighed heavily, making you raise an eyebrow in confusion. You didn’t think it went that badly. And then the bomb dropped.
Blue eyes looked up at you with sadness as he spoke, “(Y/N)…” He paused, “I was in Gotham last night… You need to know, I saw Bruce with Catwoman …”
Your gut dropped, but your mind begged to stay naïve. “She was plotting to rob the museum, so naturally, yes.”
“No,” He shook his head, “He was with her. Actively with her. Extremely active.”
“Okay, Clark, I get it,” You snapped at him unintentionally, anger boiling up, “I… I have to go…” You trailed off, standing up and walking swiftly out.
The front door to the mansion swung open fast and hard, despite it’s weight as you set your destination straight for the batcave. That’s where you found yourself now, standing in front the brooding figure tinkering with the batbelt. Hearing your footsteps he looked up, a slight smile seeing you were home before it diminished at your expression.
“What’s wrong?” He questioned sternly, afraid something happened that would require his alter ego.
“I talked with Clark today,” Bruce cocked an eyebrow at you before you continued, “So you and Selina are a thing now?” The question was sarcastic and debatably rhetorical, it was obvious to Bruce that you already knew.
“You weren’t supposed to find out,” He stated simply with a sigh, as if he was planning a surprise party instead of cheating on you.
You scoffed and looked at him like he was a joke. “So you did get with her?”
“Yes,” The plain answer angered you even more, “I didn’t mean to…”
“I know first hand how hard it is to get you out of those pants, and you want me to believe you screwing your target on a rooftop was an ‘accident’?”
Bruce shook his head and stood straight, his voice gruff, “I didn’t mean for it to continue as long as it did.”
Your mouth hung open while he admitted that it wasn’t just a one time fling. Shaking your head back at him in disbelief, you turned around and headed for the stairs, not allowing yourself to say anything else to him.
Bruce was the most distraught you’d ever seen when he forced himself to admit to you he slept with Talia. The guilt and regret on his face was obvious then, he gave into his impulses, let his guard down, and he hated it. You couldn’t tell if he was more upset over letting himself get drugged or sleeping with her, but the remorse was there and it pained you to see him tear himself up over it.
This time was so much different. He consciously decided to go through with sleeping with Selina multiple times and now he didn’t show the slightest look of guilt. You couldn’t stay there, couldn’t sleep in that bed next to him knowing that he was intimate with you all while he was putting on his suit, making you worry, making the boys pick up his slack, when in actuality he was getting his rocks off.
In no time you had what you needed, your favorite clothes, your most beloved possessions, and your toothbrush of course. With your head high you rolled the suitcase behind you, the backpack was slung over your shoulder. Your cheeks were bright red with rage still, not having been able to calm yourself.
As you were approaching the entrance to the kitchen when Dick whizzed out before slamming on his breaks in front of you. He glanced at the suitcase and looked at you puzzled. “Mom, where ya going?”
You squinted your eyes and leaned up towards him, pointing a finger at him. “Did you know Bruce was sleeping with Selina?!”
Dick’s eyes went wide before he looked towards the ground, giving you your answer. You shook your head, just as you did to Bruce, before stepping around him and continuing towards the garage. The car you took was your own, registered in your name so you would have no ties to Bruce.
In the week that you had been gone, you found a cute apartment, out of the press’s eyes thankfully. It was odd, of course, you had grown so accustomed to living in practically a castle. That, and the apartment was so quiet. Though only three out of your six legally-adopted kids lived with you, there was always something going on and you slightly missed the noise.
No one came to see you. Not one of your children, adopted or metaphorical, visited you in that time and that, you were sure, was the absolute worst part. Work made you glad you refuted Bruce’s offer for you to work at WE with him and it got your mind off things quite a bit. Today was like all the others at work - busy, slightly stressful, and no one cared about your personal life.
When lunch time rolled around you sighed in relief as you took your break. The walk to your car was typical, same thing, different day, your shoes making slight noise against the pavement. Just as you were reaching your car, arms wrapped around your torso, a hand digging into your scalp to grab your hair. You were about to turn around or fight back when the cool metal of a gun pressed against your temple.
“Don’t move and we’ll make this niceee and eassy, alright baby?” The voice was deep, gruff, and had a thick Jersey accent.
The man ran the gun down your face almost teasingly, playing into their game you froze up, not moving a muscle, trying to figure out what they were getting at. Money? Newspaper Headline? It didn’t matter, before you could persuade him to let you go, his arm tightened around your neck. Suddenly the world went black as your perpetrator pistol whipped you, knocking you unconscious.
A groan slipped from your lips as you fought to regain consciousness. Your eyes opened and closed quickly, the light blinding you immediately. Trying to move proved fruitless and when you were finally able to open your eyes you saw that your arms were secured to the arms of a medical chair. You struggled, testing the restraints before a laugh caused your head to snap up, making you squint while your eyes still adjusted and focused.
“So, you’re the one Mr. Suave and Rich picked? Where’d he get you from? The trash of the circus show?” The female sat across from you in a chair that looked like a throne, dressed in a deep orange dress.
Finally, your eyes adjusted, forcing you to notice the rest of the orange hues surrounding you.She must really like orange. Your eyes scanned the room and you noticed it was an old dinner theatre of some sort. The big room was dusty, run-down, and you knew that you’d be sneezing in no time. Silently you scoffed to yourself, here you were, kidnapped, tied to a medical chair of all things, no one knew where you were, and you were worried about your damn allergies.
That’s when it hit you - no one knew where you were. Bruce or the kids weren’t going to find you missing. Work might call the police after a month, but then yet, they’ll just think you jetted off with Bruce again. Your landlord will call after three months, but only because you haven’t paid rent and by then, you’ll be dead. All you could do was pray that one of the kids would find your apartment in order to talk to you, finding you missing.
The woman’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, “What makes you soo special, huh?” Her face pulled into a grin as she stood up and sauntered over to in front of you.
“How long have I been here?” You retorted gently, genuinely curious and needed her to answer at least that question of yours.
The grin widened and she twirled a gun around in her hands. “Oh a couple weeks, to tell the truth we didn’t think you were gonna wake up. I got a little disappointed.”
“What do you want?” You growled lowly, once again pulling on your restraints.
She leaned over you, her hands resting on the arm of the chair you were tied to. “I want you out of my way.” She pulled back, standing tall before raising her hand, slapping you, and letting out a pleasured laugh.
Great, she was one of the ones that got off on pain. “Out of the way of what?”
“My husband and I,” She spat the words out at you as if you were supposed to have recognized her.
“Who’s… Who’s your husband?” You questioned further, trying to talk her to calm her down.
But it didn’t work, your question sent her off the deep end instead. She scoffed at you and grabbed your chin roughly in her hand, forcing your head to look to your left. There in the distance was a shrine, in simple terms, focusing solely on your husband. Her heels clicked against the floor as she pushed the chair you were in over closer to the candle lit memorial. Bruce’s face was plastered all over the wall, some pictures had you in them, but you were x’d out rather violently and replaced with a picture of the woman who held you captive.
Why couldn’t criminals in Gotham just be normal for once?
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” She asked with affection, stroking the cheek of the Bruce bust in the center of the shrine.
Raising an eyebrow, you looked at her quizzically, was she serious? Of course you thought he was good looking, you were the one banging him after all. But you weren’t the only one, remembering his infidelity your eyes narrowed. “You can have him.”
Her head whipped around to look at you. “Have him? Have him? You’re giving up a God just like that?” She scoffed and laughed manically, “You’re even more of a coward than I thought. How dare you waste his time?!”
With that, she began to punch you, swinging at you relentlessly, each of her fists meeting your skin over and over again. At first, her aim was your abdomen but as her initial rage subsided and her sadistic nature came out, she aimed for your face. After she was finished punching you she stood up, a smile on her face again. She said nothing as she reached for the gun she had set down and aimed it at you.
Your heart rate sped up, hoping she’d just pull the trigger and not let you think of all the things you regretted in your life, but she didn’t. Instead, she lowered the gun and shot your thigh. The restraints kept you from flinching but the pain made you cry out and struggle against the ropes. The burning in your thigh spread throughout your entire leg and when you looked down, your lap was already soaked in blood.
Before you could cuss her out, or do anything really, you were freed of the restraints and being hauled off to the basement. The lights were horribly fluorescent and it reeked of mildew. Her henchmen tossed you into a room and closed the thick, steel door. You tried desperately to get up, but your leg wound prohibited you from doing so as it continued to bleed out. Ripping off a part of your shirt you pressed it to the bullet hole, trying to stop the bleeding.
It didn’t take long for you to realize the blood wasn’t clotting and as you buried your face in your blood stained hands, you couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. Sobbing hard you thought of everything you loved in life, your job, your children - just the though of them made you sob harder.You watched them try and recover from, in most cases, their own parents’ deaths, their siblings’ deaths, and Bruce’s as well, you didn’t want to make them try to cope with yours.
Even Bruce crossed your mind, regardless of what he did you loved him, for what he did, for what he stood for, for who he really was. As your consciousness began to fade and the tears just wouldn’t come anymore, you mumbled a soft, “I forgive you,” to wherever Bruce may have bee at the moment before you let your eyes permanently close…
“(Y/N)?!” Hands gripped at your shoulders, trying to shake you awake and you only groaned in response.
Batman sighed and closed his eyes in relief for a moment. When he opened them back up he tried not to let your mangled, blood soaked, bruise covered body get to him. Of course he’s seen worse in his line of duty but seeing it on you - it just wasn’t supposed to happen. Gingerly he lifted your form into his own, stepping past the tied up bodies on his way to the car.
When you woke up it was another bright light shining in your face, but this time ten familiar faces surrounded you, eyes wide as they watched you wake up. Immediately smiles spread across each and every one, some small, some ear to ear, some even with tears in their eyes. Bruce was closest to you, sitting at your right side, holding your hand. Gently you rolled your head to look at him, his eyes filled with that same sorrow and guilt when he confessed about Talia.
Why is it that it always took some near-death or actual death experience for him to regret something or admit he messed up?
“How long was I out?” To tell the truth you were quite sick of having to ask that question but nonetheless, you needed to know and figured it’d be a good place to start talking to him while the rest of the family got the hint and slowly filed out of the room.
“About a half hour.” Simple. To the point. As usual. But this time, even if just slightly, his voice faltered and you knew, he did feel guilty.
“I forgive you,” You stated frankly, knowing the both of you would have to work past it, much, much more, but you couldn’t stand him going out and fighting with a preoccupied mind.
“You shouldn’t.” Bruce looked to the floor, his hands still grabbed completely around yours.
“I know.” A smug grin spread across your face before immense pain set in and you dropped the grin, “Ow.”