#ex reader

You and Bruce got married young (far too young according to most people). You were 17 and he was 18. You had been dating for almost half a year at that point, having met during high school, and you thought things were going well. Bruce was kind and attentive and supportive, showering you with affection. In turn, you adored him, always doing what you could to make things easier.

Your wedding was small, since neither of you wanted to make a big fuss. You felt like a princess, getting the happy ending you always wanted. When Bruce kissed you, you genuinely believed you would be together forever.

You had noticed his distraction during the wedding planning, but you convinced yourself it was just nerves. However, even after the wedding, he always seemed distracted, as if he was looking for something you couldn’t see.

However, nothing prepared you for waking up alone in your bed three months after the wedding with divorce papers next to you. Next to the papers, you found a letter from Bruce who simply said he was sorry but he needed to work through some things so he was going on a trip around the world. The letter felt like a dagger to the heart.

Alfred helped you move, even though you knew he wanted you to stay. You didn’t hold anything against him though. You could tell he was just as confused as you were.

The divorce was quick, especially since most people didn’t know about the marriage in the first place. Bruce had offered you a large sum of money, but you didn’t want all of that. Instead, you left with what you had before Bruce, plus a small sum that Alfred insisted you took with you.

You moved on. You had to, after all. The memory of the man who broke your heart and left stopped hurting so badly.

Bruce didn’t forget you. Even as the years passed, he found himself looking for you in every person he dated. Alfred could see it too. (Bruce didn’t look you up. Alfred made it clear he shouldn’t.)

However, instead of fading with time like it did with you, the pain worsened as Bruce got older. He missed you often, many times, looking at your wedding photos that he had stashed away in the attic. The boys found out about you at different points, but he always kept it short. They only knew that he’d been married, but he had chosen becoming Batman over his marriage. Alfred firmly discouraged them from looking into you, so despite their burning curiosity, they didn’t look into you.

Until the day that Bruce saw you being harassed by drunks while he was out at as Batman.

It was a late night, and a quiet one. The streets were comfortable level of silent, most people recovering from the recent joker attack. He was doing his patrol along the rooftops when he saw you walking on the sidewalk below him and nearly stopped breathing. You looked almost the same as you had the day he married you. You’ve got a new hairstyle, cutting the long hair he had always run his fingers through shorter, and you looked more tired, but he would’ve been able to pick you out in a crowd of thousands.

Bruce had a moment where he just focused on how beautiful you were, until he heard the callous remarks being thrown your way by a group of drunks at the end of the street. He could see you were walking faster than your usual walk, your left hand, clutching your phone while your right hand clutched a taser that he remembered getting you for your 17th birthday.

It was the look in your eyes that really made him upset. He could see slight fear in them, sure, but it was the bone deep exhaustion and resignation that really made him feel a chilling sense of guilt and self hatred. You should’ve never been like this. You were young, you had been the light in his world. You had been amazing and never expected anything from him that a normal boyfriend wouldn’t give. You had always looked at the bright side of things. Now, looking down at your tired face, all he could feel was guilt.

The drunks were easily dealt with, though he made sure to be quiet so that you would not hear. (Later, the men would be admitted to the hospital with major injuries, with the one who spoke the most now having a permanent limp)

That night, he ignored Alfred‘s reproachful look and looked at your social media. You had never been someone who posted that often on socials, so after he finished going through your posts, he started going through anything you were tagged in. Then, he started going through your likes, your emails, your text messages.

By the morning, he had a plan. he gathered the boys and told them about your love story, and how he had run into last night while being harassed. He showed them how you were living in a terrible neighborhood. (it wasn’t actually that terrible, a one bedroom apartment in a decent enough part of Gotham, but he made sure that they all knew how subpar your new living conditions were.)

Then, he informed them about how, while obviously grieving your relationship, you had dated several henchman and other criminals. (which was true, though many of those criminals only had minor misdeeds like shoplifting as teenagers or DUIs.)

That night, you were at a restaurant for a second date with a guy you know from work when you got a text from your date stating that he couldn’t go and couldn’t be with you. You stare and bewilderment at the strange text before starting to get ready to go. Then, you hear a large amount of commotion coming from the front of the restaurant.

You are already heading that way to leave so you push through the crowd, but trip. Luckily, a pair of strong arms catches you. A familiar cologne fills your nostrils, and you look up to meet familiar blue eyes.

“Hi darling,” Bruce‘s voice is still as smooth as ever, but now it’s even deeper. You knew from looking at tabloids that the years have been kind to him, but the pictures didn’t do him justice.

You quickly straighten, but he doesn’t let go. Before you can protest, you feel a tug on your dress. You look over to see a boy who looks like a tanner version of Bruce with green eyes. He must be Damien Wayne, Bruce’s biological son.

“Hello.” His voice is stiff and formal, but his face looks so much like Bruce that you can easily read the slight anxiety in his smile. “Would you like to eat with us?”

“My treat.” Bruce offers. “Unless you are eating with someone else. But I would love to introduce you to my kids.” you look at the garage of children behind. Remember, almost bitter sweetly, how you’d always told Bruce that you wanted children always been more hesitant on it anymore, but now he obviously didn’t have that same anxiety.

Feeling the eyes on you, you cautiously take Bruce‘s hand. “Will Alfred be here?”

Bruce nods. “He’s just parking the car.”

You sigh. At least you’re getting a free meal.