#Christian University

[k12academics]

SAGU seeks creators, dreamers, and change-makers. SAGU Lions are service-minded and look for opportunity in surprising places. They take truth and apply it to their callings to impact the world for this moment.

Your experience Students describe SAGU as relational. Our Christ-centered environment fosters strong bonds with professors and other students, creating a comfortable and meaningful college experience.

You will grow among friends as you learn in a hands-on, Bible-based environment that prepares you to be confident in your skills and grounded in your faith after graduation.

Knowledge SAGU's Bible-based academic curriculum will challenge and stretch you to become the best in your field as you pursue your Christian purpose. Small class sizes allow you to know your professor and receive personalized instruction.

Community The relationships you form with Christian roommates and peers will provide a network of support and a family of friends with bonds that last beyond college. Lions are there to help, encourage, and pray for one another.

Uncommon destinations Do you want to impact the world? SAGU just completed the end of a 10-year mission, reaching more than 170 destinations. And now, the new 20/20 FocUS vision is to reach all fifty stats, ten most populated cities, top ten unreached people groups, and ten largest tribes in America in the next 8 years.

This mission reaches every academic discipline. History majors have participated in archaeological digs at biblical geographic sites. Business majors provided training to help setup microbusinesses. Education majors teach English as a second language. Bring your own impactful ideas to SAGU.

Affordability Attending SAGU is a rich investment that impacts the rest of your life. SAGU’s tuition, fees, and room and board are 20% lower than the average four-year private Christian university. Scholarships, grants and other financial aid are available, making paying for college simple and affordable.

Location SAGU is just south of Dallas/Fort Worth. Students have access to abundant stores, theaters, restaurants, museums, theme parks, professional sports arenas, and more. Plus, Texas provides a strong job market for opportunities after college.

Come see us Meet professors, visit classes, and see students by arranging a personal campus visit or learn about our virtual options. Call the SAGU admissions counselors today! 1.888.YES.SAGU

[supportingeducation]

Grand Canyon University Fined $37.7M

The U.S. Education Department has imposed a historic fine of $37.7 million on Grand Canyon University, citing misleading conduct towards over 7,500 students and violations of federal law. The department’s chief operating officer for Federal Student Aid, Richard Cordray, underscored the institution’s actions in harming students, breaking trust, and escalating student debt. The issues date back to…

[magnetothemagnificent]

As we enter the Christian holiday season, just your friendly reminder that "non-Christian character discovers the magic of Christmas" is not a trope you should be writing for a holiday themed fic. Cut that shit out.

[artist-issues]

“At least it's not ferociously attacking God quite as directly as Steven Universe did…”

Not that I’m surprised by this statement, but can you elaborate on this? Kinda intrigued by your thoughts on Steven Universe.

Okie dokie, you’re not the only one who has asked me about this, so I suppose I’ll poke the hornet’s nest. 😅 I haven’t talked about this before because I assumed that everyone who wanted to hear my kinds of opinions on stories wasn’t watching or interested in Steven Universe.

It’s like asking vegetarian if they enjoyed a turkey dinner. The turkey dinner was so obviously not made for vegetarians to enjoy, so why would the vegetarian even bother analyzing the turkey?

But I think if some people are asking me why I think Steven Universe is anti-God (of the Bible) its because maybe they don’t know what the turkey is. Not completely. (Maybe not you, because like you said, you’re not surprised by my comment.) So I’ll explain my thoughts on Steven Universe.

If you’re just following me because you liked some stuff I posted, but didn’t realize that I’m a Bible-believing Christian and don’t want to hear about it, unfollow me now. Because I’m going to talk about some hot button issues here and the trolls will come out.

Steven Universe is really well-done. The jokes are funny, the writing is believable, the characters have great chemistry, great design, the concept is fascinating, the slow build-up and reveal of the plot elements is great. But when you watch the throne room scene in the last episode of Season 5 “Change Your Mind,” it’s alarmingly clear how much the whole show is not just settling for defending and championing the LGBTQ+ worldview—it goes all the way to attacking what Christians believe, on the other side.

Anything that’s pro-LGBTQ+ is doing that by default, but this show goes out of its way to do that.

You have to understand: God created and designed us. Deeper than that; He created and designed romantic relationships, and invented marriage. He didn’t just create love—He is love. So when humans come along and do what we’ve always done since the fall, and say, “I’d rather define what Your thing is and how it works for myself, God,” it’s not only an incredible slap in the face, it’s an attack on God’s actual identity—and it’s destructive for us and the people around us. Like a fish insisting it can breathe oxygen.

But Steven Universe goes beyond that. It knows that the Christian worldview is it’s biggest opposition. It digs right down to the heart of the worldview-battle. LGBTQ+ worldview says, “I should get to love what I want and be who I am, because I’m me. Love is love. (By which I mean, any action or relationship I choose to call love is love, because I’m the one calling it that.)”

Biblical worldview says “No, wait, you shouldn’t base your decisions on you alone; what you want changes day to day, and you’re broken, so you can’t ever be satisfied based on what you want—the Bible says God made you for something, and you rejected that, and it broke you. You’re not how you’re meant to be: even what you want and what you think love is is twisted up and can hurt you and others. But if you submit to God He’ll help you, He’ll fix what’s broken and give you new life by making you how you were supposed to be: He’ll live in you and through you.”

Are we beginning to get the picture?

See, the whole thing with the opposing views between LGBTQ+ and Christian people is as old as time. It’s not a new debate. It’s Satan and Eve in the garden. She says, “This is not how God said things should be,” and Satan says, “Are you sure that’s what He said? He knows if you do this thing, you’ll be like Him. You’ll be god: you’ll get to decide ‘how things should be’ for yourself.”

He lied and said that disobedience would satisfy her. That she knew what her own heart needed better than the God that made it did. That the very act of being imperfect would make her godlike.

And then Steven Universe comes along and says “if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.”

And has a cast of created being characters who’s imperfections (Garnet’s forbidden “love,” Pearl’s obsession, Amethyst’s insecurity) are supposedly “the best thing about them; what makes them who they are.”

And has a main character who used to be a part of the god-like creator relationship, but used her power to come down to earth and completely change who she is into a fully different person.

And has a godlike Creator character who claims she “doesn’t need” her created beings (just like the God of the Bible) but they all have a little part of their creator in them so she has to repress their imperfections; she holds them all to a standard that’s impossible to reach called “perfection” and punishes them when they don’t meet it even though it hurts them to try; she expects them all to do what they were created by her for; she fixes them when they can’t meet her standard by shining her light through them and making them extensions of their Creator.

And has a main character who argues, fights back, tries to stop her, and is answered with lines that sound surprisingly like what LGBTQ+ people hear when Christians argue with them: “you’re only making things worse; you’re just deceiving yourself; even while you resist it your actual light can’t help shining through,” etc.

White Diamond just wants everything to be perfect. Like her. She just wants her created beings to “be themselves.” But what she means is, be how she created them to be.

And she’s the bad guy. She’s playing God in this show, and Rebecca Sugar is saying, “If God is telling us that can only be happy by being perfect, as He is perfect, and doing what He created us to do, then He’s wrong. Our imperfections are what make us special—unique—individuals—free—and there is nobody who has the right to take that freedom away from us, not even out creator!”

And you know what?

If God were like White Diamond, like Rebecca Sugar believes Him to be, Steven Universe would be right.

But He is NOT.

God is not a dictator who forces us to conform to a standard of perfection and then smashes us when we don’t meet it. He is a King who made us perfect to begin with, and we rejected him, because He allowed us to do that. He knew that true love was love that had to be chosen, and He wanted us to love Him by choice, so he gave us the option. But Rebecca Sugar doesn’t understand—there was never “Choose God or Choose Yourself.” There was only, “Choose God or Choose Nothing.” There was nothing except God. Then He created everything. There is no version of reality where you have something better than God, or even slightly less good but different, to pick. You’re not jumping from one ship into a smaller one, but at least it’s yours—you’re jumping from one ship into a void, and then complaining that there’s no other ship. That’s humans. That’s not God. / White Diamond didn’t make her creations perfect (Amethyst) and she didn’t make them for love. She made them for power. That’s not the God of the Bible.

Even when we did choose to try and love ourselves instead of God, and therefore warped our ability to perfectly love at all, He didn’t smash us. True, everything fell and was cursed, which is exactly what He warned us would happen if we chose it, but it was a natural consequence of breaking ourselves. And then He didn’t leave us that way. He didn’t give up on us. And He certainly didn’t just zap us, snap His fingers, quick-fix it and turn us all into robots who are extensions of Him, who say they love Him but only because it’s His voice puppeting us to say it.

No. He came to us, chose to give up His life at the exact point on the timeline when Romans, masters in the art of slow, humiliating, torturous death, would be the ones to carry out His crucifixion, and saved us Himself. Through the sacrifice of His own life. And even then, we still have a choice. We get to choose to accept that incredible self-sacrifice when we don’t deserve it, and be given new life and a relationship with the Creator who knows us and loves us better than we can love ourselves or receive love from others—OR we can just keep stubbornly insisting that our slavery to the opposite of what God wants is somehow freedom, and our twisted versions of love are genuine, and we’re not broken, and die like that. Die broken creatures who lived their whole lives stomping their feet and screaming “I’m not a creature, I’m a god!”

White Diamond sacrifices nothing, because Rebecca Sugar doesn’t know the God of the Bible. She just knows her idea of Him. She’s never actually gotten to know Him. If she had, she’d learn how silly and twisted her idea is.

Because you know what, yeah, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs. But people aren’t pork chops. And hot dogs have flavor (not better than pork chops) but they are awful for you.

Christians aren’t perfect cuts of meat with no individuality or flavor. Just because we all know and love the same God doesn’t mean we have no personalities. It just means we don’t think so freaking much about what we are, or who we get to be, or what we like and want. Jeez, what a self-centered, narcissistic, self-obsessed way to live. She plays Steven like he’s this wonder-child, innocent and full of heart, who encourages his friends to love and keep trying. But honestly?

This is very pretty animation but it’s not real. Steven looks happy hugging Steven but self-love doesn’t ultimately get you that.

That’s all based on the premise that what he’s encouraging them to do is actually good, and will make them happy, and will help them love better. And it just won’t. Not in real life. That’s not how any of this works. Self-love is just self-obsession. And that is a sure-fire way to hurt you, and everyone around you.

You’ll never be free by choosing to run to a worse master. You’ll never be satisfied with your crappy attempts at loving yourself, because you were made to be loved flawlessly and forever by someone who is Love Himself.

And choosing to identify with your imperfections doesn’t make you uniquely you. It just makes you exactly like every other human being marching in the same line since the Fall.

White Diamond’s not relational. She’s up high and distant. That’s not God. He made you to be in relationship with Him. He loves you, totally and perfectly, and He proved it by sacrificing for You.

So yeah. That’s the problem with Steven Universe. Come get me, SU fans.

[streetlamp-amber]

blanket fort for the soul

dick grayson x batmom!reader

word count: 2.2k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: mention of death, family fluff <3 NOTES: dick grayson my little baby i love you so so much you deserve endless happiness and to be protected from all evil

You were just coming back from your lunch break with two of your coworkers when you received a call from Gotham Academy asking you to come pick up Dick as soon as possible. It didn’t take more than a minute after the call ended for you to inform your boss you were cutting your day of work short today, to grab your black trench coat and bag and to sit behind the wheel of your car, on your way to the private school.

Dick Grayson had entered your lives a month and a half ago, after Bruce took you on a date to Haley’s Circus where the young boy’s parents died tragically in front of your eyes. When you were informed that their child didn't have any family to care for him and would end up in the foster system, you didn't even have to try to convince your husband to begin the process to become his foster parents. It had been two weeks since Dick started living with you in the manor and though he was slowly warming up to Bruce, Alfred and you, he was still plagued with nightmares and a deep sadness about the loss of his family.

“What happened?” You asked the receptionist in a hurry once you arrived at the school. You didn't need to introduce yourself or mention to the woman behind the desk that you were Dick’s ward, perks of being married to Bruce Wayne.

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne!” The headmaster, a bald fifty-something white man with round glasses that you should probably try to remember his name, exclaimed as he appeared in the doorway leading to his office. “Please, follow me.”

You walked around the receptionist’s desk and entered the headmaster’s office, where a small boy with dark hair hung his head low. You could sense the sadness emanating from him the second you stepped in the room. You ignored the principal’s invitation to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk to instead crouch down in front of Dick.

“Dick, sweetie, are you okay?” You asked him worriedly. You rested your hands on his knees and lowered your head to try to catch his eyes.

The young boy shook his head ‘no’ before lunging onto you, wrapping his thin arms around your neck as he wept on your shoulder. You were surprised at first, Dick wasn’t comfortable enough with you and Bruce to do more than holding your hands when outside of the house, but you recovered from the shock in less than a second.

“Oh, bubs,” you whispered in a sigh, hugging him close to you and rubbing your right hand up and down his back in a comforting way as sobs shook his small body.

“He’s been like this since the beginning of the students’ lunch break,” the headmaster sympathetically informed you. “The lunch supervisors tried to comfort him but it was to no avail, so we called you.”

You turned your head to face the older man, noticing at the same time the plaque on his desk that read ‘Principal Richardson’. “You did the right thing,” you told him.

“Given the circumstances, it is more than alright if Mr. Grayson wants to go home for the afternoon,” Mr. Richardson offered.

“Do you want to go back to the manor?” You whispered the question in Dick’s ear and he nodded his head ‘yes’.

You rose up from your crouching position, Dick still hanging onto you tight like you were his lifeboat. Thank God he was a little frail since his parents’ death or you wouldn’t be able to carry the eight year old in your arms right now.

“Thank you, Mr. Richardson,” you thanked the principal and he accompanied you out of the school where one of the lunch supervisors waited at the door with Dick’s school bag and lunchbox.

You sat Dick down in his booster car seat – he was still a little too small to sit without one – and put his bags in the seat next to him before closing the door behind you.

“Please send our salutations to Mr. Wayne,” the principal told you and you shyly smiled, nodding your head one time as you sat down in the driver’s seat.

The ride back to the manor was quiet except for Dick’s sniffles as he continued crying. It broke your heart that you couldn’t just take all of his pain away. Both you and Bruce had lost your parents when you were kids, you understood the grief Dick was in just like you knew that only time will heal him.

Once you arrived home, Alfred came down the stairs to grab your bags while you carried Dick, who was back to latching onto you like a koala, in the house. You kicked off your high heels after walking through the front door and went straight to Dick’s room on the second floor.

“Let’s get you out of that uniform, how’s that sound bubs?” You softly asked him once in his bedroom.

“Okay,” Dick murmured, letting go of your neck to rub the tears away from his eyes and his cheeks.

You sat him down on his bed and turned to his drawer to pull out a pair of pyjamas. You then helped him change his clothes and once he was ready, with Zitka his elephant plushie tucked under his arm, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of his room.

“Can we make hot cocoa, please?” He looked up at you with his big blue eyes, the colour eerily the same as Bruce’s, and you simply couldn’t say no to them. Not before, not now and definitely not ever.

“Of course, bubs,” you said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

You both made your way to the kitchen, where Alfred was doing an inventory of the dry food in the cupboards.

“Mrs. Y/N, Master Dick, can I help you with something?” He politely asked you.

“Pretend like we’re not here Alfred,” you told the butler as you helped Dick sit on the kitchen island. “We’re making hot cocoa. Do you want some?”

“You know I would never refuse a cup of your famous hot cocoa, Mrs. Y/N,” Alfred lightheartedly said and the two of you broke down in small chuckles.

“Should we also leave some for Bruce when he gets home?” You asked Dick who was now eye levelled with you from where he was perched on the kitchen island.

The little boy nodded his head ‘yes’ and you set up everything you needed to make the warm beverage, along with four coffee mugs. Dick helped you and in a matter of ten minutes, your drinks were ready.

“Come with me,” you whispered to Dick as you helped him get down from the kitchen island counter. “I have an idea of how to pass time while we wait for the hot cocoa to cool down a little.”

Dick held your hand as you made your way to the living room with the television and the comfy couches (because of course Wayne Manor had more than one living room, including ones that were more formal for the balls and galas you hosted).

“You wanna know what my brother and I used to do when one of us was feeling down?” You looked down at the small boy. He nodded his head for you to continue. “We built the biggest blanket forts that could ever be built. But I think with all the materials we have here, we can build an even bigger one. Are you in?”

You were slowly succeeding at making Dick feel better after the little episode at lunch. Grief comes and goes in waves, and his loss was still very recent. You just wanted to be there for him when the pain hits him.

Dick nodded his head, a little more excitedly this time, and the two of you set off to start building a giant blanket fort using the couch mattresses, throw pillows and blankets stored in the room. You were hanging a blanket that would be the roof while Dick held up the mattresses when Alfred brought your cups of hot cocoa to the living room, the drinks now topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. You thanked the butler and he smiled at you before he went back to the kitchen to complete his inventory, sipping his beverage along the way.

“Are you comfortable in there?” You asked Dick after a moment from the entrance of the blanket fort. He had been in charge of placing the pillows and blankets inside while you made sure the structure was stable.

“Mhm,” he positively hummed in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you our cups of hot cocoa then I’m gonna come in with the laptop and we can watch whatever you want,” you told him.

“Okay,” Dick said, his mood lighter.

Once the two of you were settled in the fort with your mugs, you opened the living room laptop (because of course you and Bruce had more than two laptops) and put it down between the two of you.

“So, what are we watching?” You looked at the dark haired boy to your right, waiting for his answer.

He shrugged his shoulders while drinking more of your hot cocoa. Yeah, he was gonna be a ball full of energy until way past his bedtime, but he deserved something fun and comforting. If anything, Bruce could train with him to tire him out once he was back home from work.

“Remember those songs we were listening to on the drive back from Bruce’s office last week?” You tried to jog his memory up to when you blasted Abba’s greatest hits after his first visit to Wayne Tower. You kept stealing glances in the rear view mirror the whole ride, smiling every time you saw Dick bopping his head along to the music.

The little boy nodded his head.

“Well, they made a movie where the characters are on a Greek island and sing the songs the whole time. Wanna watch that?”

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

You grabbed the laptop and put it in your lap as you went on Netflix and searched for Mamma Mia!. Dick took the opportunity to scoot closer to you, his small body curling around your torso, and you smiled at the fact that he was more trusting and comfortable with you.

When Bruce arrived back home, he came to a stop in front of the living room with the television in it that he was only planning on passing by while he made his way towards the staircase to get to your shared bedroom. The room was disordered and more loud than it usually was at this time of the day, which is what got his attention away from his cellphone. He loosened his tie, feeling more relaxed now that his day of work as ‘Bruce Wayne, CEO’ was over, and approached the blanket fort in the middle of the room.

“What is going on in here?” He crouched down and peaked his head inside the fort.

“So when you’re near me darling, can’t you hear me? S.O.S.,” you sang instead of answering him, index finger pointing in your husband’s direction.

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “You roped him into watching Mamma Mia?” He asked with a hint of a smile.

“I didn’t rope him in,” you scoffed over Pierce Brosnan’s horrible singing. “I suggested it and Dick agreed to watch it,” you sweetly grinned at Bruce.

Dick, who was still curled against you, one arm looped with yours while the other held tight onto his elephant plushie, nodded his head to back up your claim.

Bruce then noticed the two now empty mugs, clear traces of hot cocoa on them. “Did you make hot cocoa?” He perked up, now fully smiling.

“You got this little man to thank,” you pointed to Dick. “We made a cup for you, just heat it in the microwave then you can join us.”

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce said and jogged to the kitchen where a cup of your famous hot cocoa was indeed waiting for him. He was back in the living room two minutes later, shoes and blazer off, top buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, ready to relax with his family.

He handed you his cup of hot cocoa for you to hold while he made his way in the blanket fort and settled on your left since the laptop was still in your lap, hence putting you in the middle. Once next to you, Bruce pecked your lips to greet you and when Dick glanced up at him, the look in his eyes wondering if he would also receive some kind of greeting, your husband affectionately ruffled his dark hair before leaning over you to plant a kiss of the top of the little boy’s head.

Bruce then made himself comfortable, also cuddling onto you, and put his head on your shoulder, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he did so. You handed him his mug back and the three of you continued watching Mamma Mia!, much to your happiness.

Enveloped in the warmth of your two boys squishing you from both sides, you couldn’t fight off the smile that pulled on your lips. Laying under your blanket fort with your little family, it was moments like this one that made everything else worth it.

[wombywoo]

ID 🪪

[athleticperfection1]

TCU Soccer

[animentality]

[potato-lord-but-not]

sometimes I'm surprised John was like "i tried to kill Oscar and it was a manifestation of my guilt" bc prior to that bc of the timing I had assumed John heard Oscar talk abt trying to do an exorcism on Marie's husband and had thought "this guy CANNOT learn abt my existence or hes gonna do that to ME"

That’s honestly so funny to image that John actually thought an exorcism would work on him. like yes there’s probably a way to actually do that which resembles an exorcism. But John,,, honey,, you’d think an exorcism? from a catholic priest? would work? after living inside the head of Christianity’s number one hater and nonbeliever??? cmon now

[proseandpsalms]

Queer Christians have such an admirable faith. To be told by the community we've grown up in that we are sinners, we will go to hell, and that our God hates us.

To then turn around and say "No. My God undeniably loves and accepts me" is so beautiful to me.

[ranminfan]

St. Thomas Aquinas, Doctor Angelicus

Dominican friar, philosopher and theologian. To think he was set to become a Benedictine abbot, instead he joined the unlikely poor friars of the Dominicans to become part of the radical mission in preaching the word of Christ.

.

I was not as familiar with this St. Thomas back then, but now knowing a lot more, I'm becoming so fond of him and his life.

[k12academics]

SAGU seeks creators and change-makers--students who long to gain real-world experience. SAGU Lions are pioneers who find opportunity to live their Christian faith in diverse careers such as: producers at Warner Bros. and ABC Entertainment; cabin services coordinator, Southwest Airlines; promotional developer, IPHC Ministries; ministry world-wide; teachers at all levels nationwide, and more!

[christianbalefanatic]

Christian Bale as Batman/Bruce Wayne in The Dark Knight (2008) dir. Christopher Nolan

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Polar Opposites

(1-1)

Short story # 21

Gif NOT mine.

Summary - You and Bruce have absolutely nothing in common, and yet he can't seem to get enough of your attention. He is completely desperate to make you his, and prove to you that he's more than the tabloids make him out to be.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW (There is cussing & talk of violence.)

Reading time (roughly) - 25 minutes

Reader is fairly covered in tattoos, and is more on the metal head/tomboy style. Enjoy.

(Y/n) has known Bruce for a year now, having met him by chance while at a gala. She was a waitress, serving glasses of champagne to the stuck up society of Gotham. She smiled charmingly to each and every last one of them, despite wanting to tell them to fuck off every time one would catch sight of her tattoos, scowling at her in disgust as if she were the scum of the earth. That is until she crossed paths with Bruce. She'd offered him a drink with a smile, a well practiced role to play while working jobs like this. He'd accepted a glass, and when she turned to move on to the next guest, he caught sight of the tattoos decorating her hands. She was technically supposed to wear these delicate white gloves, to look more appropriate, and to hide her ink. But she had a habit of loosing her grip on her drinks tray while wearing them. So against her bosses wishes, she went without them. Before she got even a step away, Bruce had taken ahold of her elbow, of the arm not carrying a tray full of expensive champagne, and tugged her back to his side.

"Can I help you?" She asked with a bit of a bite in her tone, despite the smile gracing her lips, her eyes betrayed her true feelings. Without a word Bruce pulled her hand up into his line of sight, closely observing the fine details of her tattoos. (Y/n) tried tugging her hand free, but he kept ahold of her arm, ignoring the curious looks of other party goers. "Back off man." (Y/n) hissed, dropping the tray of champagne, she yanked back with full force, effectively tearing herself free. People gawked and gasped in surprise at the sudden noise of the various glasses breaking. While (Y/n) glared daggers at Bruce, who still hadn't uttered a single word, her boss rushed over to see what had happened. His eyes widened considerably when he saw (Y/n) glowering at the Bruce Wayne. The man quickly made up his mind, and stormed to (Y/n)'s side. Without asking what had happened, or even considering the needs and feelings of his employee, he tightly gripped her bicep. "You're fired." He hissed in an hushed tone, not wanting to draw any more attention to the situation. Her attention snapped to him in an instant, her anger now palpable to anyone with eyes. "That's fine." She hissed pulling back her arm.

Unlike her now former employer, (Y/n) was content with making a scene. Without a second thought she ripped open her white button up top, the buttons flying in every direction, she aggressively yanked the material from her arms, and threw it onto the wet floor. The black tank top she wore underneath clung to her like a second skin. Bruce wanted to intervene, but the sight of tattoo sleeves she sported made his voice catch in his throat and die. She was unlike any woman he'd seen before, clearly covered in a vast array of ink, with a confidence that rivaled his own. Her former employer scoffed at her defiance. "You'll never get another job in this town." He threatened her. "We'll see about that." She shot back before turning her back to them, intent on leaving, and giving Bruce a glimpse at the tattoo that covered her back and shoulders. "I'll make sure of it!" The man shouted, clearly enraged by her attitude. "Get fucked!" (Y/n) shouted over her shoulder, practically shoving her way passed the Gotham elites. It wasn't until she was out of sight, and the man began apologizing to Bruce that he snapped out of his daze.

Without a second thought Bruce dropped the glass of champagne he held, and rushed to follow after the woman who'd stunned him into a stupor. By the time he rushed out into the chilly night of Gotham City, she was long gone, like a mystery of the night she'd vanished without a trace. Bruce's heart raced in his chest, looking up and down the empty street, he ran in the direction he hoped she'd gone. But she was long gone, and Bruce hadn't felt this lost in a long time. He'd called Alfred and had him look into the catering company for the gala, and asked him to find out who all of the employees were. By the time he arrived at the mansion, his loyal friend had all the information he'd asked for. A list of each employees name, paired with pictures, printed off and waiting on his desk. Bruce sifted through the papers for several minutes before finding (Y/n). He said her name in a soft whisper, repeating it a few times to really get a feel for it. With her paper in hand, and without saying a word to Alfred, he went down to the batcave. Punching her full legal name into his computer, he scoured for any information.

She had no criminal record, which he was a bit relieved by, but he did find her various social media accounts. Practically stalking them he learned all that he could in one night. She was new to Gotham, and she seemed to be struggling with adjusting to her new life there. From what he gathered, she'd been apartment and job hopping, seeming to get herself into one pinch after another. For several weeks he stalked her accounts, and tried pinpointing where she'd be working or living next, anywhere he could bump into her at, that wouldn't make it obvious he was desperately trying to find her. And ironically enough it had been purely accidental when he ran into her again. He was making his way up the stairs leading to the Gotham library, intent on picking up a few books to take his mind off of (Y/n) for a while. When the noise of a rumbling trash truck caught his attention, he wasn't sure why, he'd heard them plenty of times and never paid them any mind before. And then his eyes landed on (Y/n) as she heaved a couple trash bags into the back of the truck. His heart froze up for a moment, then he was jogging across the busy street to speak with her.

Cars honked at him, and he waved apologetically, the commotion catching the elusive woman's attention. When her eyes locked onto his familiar face she scowled, he tried to smile at her, but she didn't seem interested. "What the fuck do you want?" She grunted with annoyance. "Look I'm sorry about what happened at the gala that night." He said. Wincing a little when she rolled her eyes before turning back to her job. "Really I-" She cut him off when she swung another trash bag into the back of the truck, the sticky black bag just barely missing him. "How about you do me a favor." She huffed before tossing the last bag in. "Anything." Bruce said, totally ready to offer her anything she asked for. "Hop in the back of the truck where you belong." She said with a sweet smile, before pulling the lever that crushed and packed the trash into the back. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle, finding himself at a loss for words again. "How... How about a job?" He tried hollering over the noise of the truck, sighing under his breath when (Y/n) looked at him confused, clearly unable to hear him over the noise.

"I said HOW ABOUT A JOB?!" He hollered louder, feeling a tad bit embarrassed when she cut off the noise halfway through his sentence. "I've got a job thank you." She mused as she stepped up onto the back of the truck, ready to signal for the driver to take off. "I could offer you something better." He tried, but she only laughed. "I ain't no pencil pusher Mr. Wayne." She shot back, and before she could signal the driver, Bruce grabbed her arm, not carrying in the slightest about the sticky feeling of her work shirt. "Please let me help." He begged with a soft look in his eyes, but the confusion in (Y/n)'s eyes turned to anger. "I don't need your fuckin' charity." She hissed before flagging the driver down, having yanked her arm away. The truck jerked then pulled away, and in his desperation Bruce chased after her. Only to loose sight of them after they'd gotten far enough away and they turned down another road. Leaving him there panting for air, his chest feeling tight for having been so close, and letting her slip between his fingers again.

He would go on for several more days trying to track her down, only to be surprised when she showed up on his doorstep one evening. She looked worse for ware, her lip busted and swollen, a nasty bruise blooming on her jaw, and her knuckles busted and swollen. "What happened?" He asked as he rushed her inside, having answered the door while Alfred was busy with dinner. "What's it look like." She huffed, leaning into his hold with a hiss, as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Got jumped." She added, walking on wobbly knees. "What, why?" He asked as he sat her down at the dining room table, kneeling at her feet to asses the damage. "Didn't think to ask 'em." She chuckled bitterly, groaning in pain she clutched her ribs. "You need to go to the hospital." Bruce said as he stood up, intent on calling for an ambulance. But he froze in his tracks when (Y/n) quickly took ahold of his arm. "No fucking way." She hissed, slouching back into the seat when he turned back to her. "Why not?" Bruce asked as he knelt to be level with her.

"Can't afford it for one." She chuckled softly, grunting again with her hand against her ribs. "I'll pay-" He tried but she cut him off with a glare. "You should see a doctor." Bruce tried to reason with her, frowning when she laughed a hardy type of laugh. "If you think I look bad, you should've seen the other guys." She said with a grin, and he couldn't help but believe her. "I think you have a broken rib." Bruce pointed to where (Y/n) clutched her side. "Oh yeah it's definitely broken." She said it so casually Bruce was at a loss for words. "You got a first aid kit layin' around in this estate of yours?" She asked him in the softest tone he'd heard from her so far. "Yeah of course, stay here I'll be right back." He said before rushing off. Another door opened into the room, an aroma of food wafting into the room, making (Y/n)'s stomach turn with hunger cramps. "Oh hello." A gentle voice entered the room, and when (Y/n) turned her head to greet the individual, the man gasped in shock at the sight of her. "Oh you poor woman." He said as he rushed to her side, leaving the trolley of food behind. "I'm alright darlin'." She drawled with a small grin, trying to reassure the older man.

Bruce came rushing back into the room, a first aid kit in hand. "Master Bruce shall I call for an ambulance?" The Butler asked as he turned his attention to his employer. "No Alfred that won't be necessary, set the table for two, and have a guest room ready." Bruce said before ushering (Y/n) to her feet. "Very well master Bruce." The Butler bowed his head slightly and set to work. "I've got a small room set up as an infirmary, it'll be easier to patch you up there." Bruce said as he led her down a hall. "Of course you do." She rolled her eyes, despite the amused grin on her lips. "Why didn't you just take me there in the first place?" She asked as they neared the end of the hall. "I honestly forgot all about it." He admitted with a chuckle, flushing in embarrassment when she shook her head in disbelief. "You're an idiot." (Y/n) muttered as they entered the "small" room. "Only when I'm around pretty girls." He said with a grin as he helped her sit down onto an examination chair. "That's nice dear." She retorted sarcastically with an equally sarcastic smile, making Bruce chuckle softly.

Methodically the billionaire cleaned up the scrapes and cuts. Having to dig out small chunks of asphalt from her banged up knees. She hardly reacted to any of it, simply watching him with curiosity. "I never would have guessed you could do something like this, let alone be willing to actually do it yourself." She stated as he pulled the last of the asphalt from her knee. He peered up at her, with an unreadable expression. "There is a lot people don't know about me." He stated before cleaning the cuts on her knees with warm water and a washcloth. "I guess so." She mused, glancing up when the Butler entered the room. "I took the liberty to bring some Tylenol extra strength, and a glass of water." The older man said as he placed a tray with the items onto a nearby table. "Thanks Alfred." Bruce said not looking away from his task at hand. Without a word the Butler left the room, closing the door behind him. "Can I ask you something?" Bruce asked as he moved onto her opposite knee. "You just did." (Y/n) said with a grin, chuckling when he gave her a pointed look. "Ask away." She hummed with amusement.

"Why did you come here?" He asked her, focusing his attention on cleaning her knee. She was quiet for a short while, and when she didn't answer his question, he looked up to find her with a lost look in her eyes. "I didn't..." She bit her raw lip, ignoring the sting she felt when she bit onto the cut. "Hey look at me." Bruce pulled her attention back to himself, effectively getting her to stop biting her lip. "What's wrong?" He asked in a gentle tone. "I didn't know where else to go." She admitted in a near whisper. "I don't... I don't have any friends in this fuckin' town... Everyone I've met hates me for one reason or another... Except for you... I think." She muttered the last part anxiously. "I don't hate you." Bruce assured her with a smile. "I was kind of an asshole before, so I wouldn't blame you for hating me." She admitted, making Bruce chuckle. "I kind of deserved it." He argued with a smile, making (Y/n) smile right back, then her smile washed away, and she looked lost again. "Those guys... They weren't just trying to jump me... They were trying to kill me." She said as she picked at a torn part of her pants. Bruce gripped her calf a little tighter, but she hardly noticed. "I've done things I'm not proud of, and I can look after myself okay..." She exhaled heavily through her nose.

"But I'm fucking scared, and I can't go home because they know where I live." She continued, jumping slightly when Bruce suddenly cupped her bruised cheek. "You don't have to worry about that right now okay, you're safe here. I promise." He was sincere in his words, his thumb lightly brushing her cheek. "Thank you." She whispered softly, a stray tear falling from her cheek. It was the first time she'd cried in years. After Bruce had finished patching her up, he passed her the pain killers and water. His eyes idly scanning over the tattoos decorating her arms, only just realizing her legs appeared to be just as covered as her arms, tattoos peaking through the various tears in her jeans. "Why do you have so many tattoos?" He asked suddenly, as (Y/n) sat down the now empty glass. "Why does it matter?" She shot back with a bit of bite, having grown sick of people judging her for her choice to get tattoos. "It doesn't, I'm just curious." Bruce explained. (Y/n) eyed him for a moment or two, before responding. "I never felt all that comfortable in my skin, but with these." She held her arms out to him, showing off the intricate work. "I feel more at ease, with it all... I feel more like me." She explained and Bruce found himself understanding her reasoning entirely.

That night was a year ago on this very day, and Bruce couldn't have been more pleased with the outcome of their chance meeting. (Y/n) opened up more to Bruce during her stay at the mansion, telling him all about her past, and her passions. And while they had nothing in common, he felt that he connected better with her than he had anyone else in his life, especially the women. When (Y/n) was all healed up, Bruce had offered to teach her some hand to hand combat techniques, claiming she could benefit from knowing self defense. She had agreed with a grin, and by the end of it, she'd thoroughly kicked the billionaires ass in every sparring match. Even when he tried adding in some mixed martial arts, she excelled past his skill set as if she'd been doing this her whole life. If Bruce wasn't smitten before, he definitely was after that day. After a few months of getting to know eachother, Bruce made the bold choice to invite (Y/n) to move into the mansion. He half expected her to decline and say something snarky or sassy about it. But she surprised him yet again, and accepted his offer with a soft smile.

To say he was overjoyed would be an understatement of the highest degree. And after a few weeks of adjusting to her new life at the mansion, (Y/n) made it known how she had come to feel about the billionaire, and they began officially dating. In his excitement to show her off, Bruce asked her to attend a gala with him. And she swiftly declined, telling him she'd never attend one of those shitty parties again. But today he was adamant about convincing her to join him to a big Gotham ball being thrown for charity. "Please darling, these things are always so boring without you." He asked as he sat beside her in one of the many sitting rooms of the mansion, she sat reading a book, only glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "I've got a beautiful dress for you." He said, as he traced a line up the ink marking her thigh. "I don't really do dresses." She pointed out with a grin. And it was true, she mostly wore band shirts, jeans or shorts, with either combat boots, or converse. Something Bruce considered a breath of fresh air, compared to stiff models in tight dresses and high heels. "I think you'll like this one." He said with a grin, having had this dress made just for her weeks ago. "Please my love, go with me." He begged as he slid closer to her on the couch. The contrast in their outfits almost comical.

"And what do I get in return?" She asked with a grin. "Anything you want." Bruce promised, prepared to give her the world on a silver platter. "I want a ride on the batbike." She stated, having been privy to his secret identity since she moved in. "It doesn't exactly seat two." Bruce pointed out, a fact she already knew. "Hm what a shame." She mused before turning her attention back to her book, Bruce sighed in defeat, resting his forehead against her shoulder. He then muttered something, but (Y/n) hadn't caught it. "What'd you say?" She asked him. And he lifted his head, resting his jaw into her shoulder. "I'll let you drive the batmobile." He said in a whisper, grinning when her head whipped over to look into his eyes. "Liar." She accused as she squinted at him. "When have I ever lied to you?" He asked with a knowing smile. "Fine you've got a deal, Batman." She said with a cheeky grin, chuckling when he leaned forward to nip her jaw.

"Come on darling, you need to get ready." He encouraged pecking her cheek afterwards. (Y/n) sighed softly as she sat her book aside, taking Bruce's hand when he offered it to her, assisting her to her feet. He led her to their shared bedroom, and into the expansive walk in closet. Where a long silk black dress hung on display, another attempt to convince her no doubt. (Y/n) observed the gown with curiosity, an amused grin tugging at her lips. The bust was cut low, the back completely exposed, with fine chains keeping the back together. When she touched the dress she realized the skirt was slit on both sides, which would allow both her her legs to be exposed high on her thighs. "Bruce Wayne, are you trying to slut me out?" She asked when she turned to her boyfriend, a brow arched in question. Bruce's cheeks tinted pink, and he seemed a little embarrassed. "I just wanted to show off how incredible you look." He stated, knowing full well the dress would expose a vast majority of her tattoos. "Uh huh sure." She said with a grin, moving to shoo Bruce out of the closet. "It's not like I haven't seen you naked." He pointed out with a chuckle, (Y/n) scoffed despite her amusement.

"Yeah well I don't want you to see my struggle as I try getting this contraption on." She said as she pointed back to the dress. "I could help you know." Bruce offered. "Nope. Last time I let you assist me with getting dressed, you couldn't keep your dick in your pants." She sassed with a small laugh, and while she was right Bruce had intended on protesting to the statement, but stopped short when he remembered the heels she was going to need for the evening. "Oh I nearly forgot, you're going to be wearing these heels." Bruce said as he picked up a black pair of heels, which had small chain accents to match her dress. (Y/n) eyed the heels then Bruce skeptically. "I don't do heels babe." She pointed out. "Well you can't wear your combat boots." He argued with a small grin. "I don't see why not." (Y/n) giggled, but took the heels anyways. "Okay now out." She shooed him away, smiling when he held his hands up in surrender. "Okay okay I'm going." He said as he backed out of the room. After he closed the door behind him, (Y/n) turned her attention to the dress. Despite herself she found the gown beautiful, and she felt a little excited about going to the ball.

Once she was finally dressed, high heels and all, she exited the closest to find Bruce waiting patiently for her. His eyes widened momentarily, and his breath hitched. He stood up and approached her with slow steps, as if he were in a trance. "You... You look incredible darling." He finally breathed out, taking her hand in his, he had her turn slowly, showing everything off. "I might not be able to resist you." He said with a sly grin. "You better mister if I'm going to this thing, I'm gonna make it worth of it." She sassed before walking to the vanity. "I have something else for you." Bruce said as he walked across the room, coming to her side with a large box which clearly contained jewelry of some kind. "I don't like diamonds you know." She eyed him wearily. "I know you don't, but I do know you love amethyst." He opened the box, revealing a glamorous necklace. "Allow me." He said as he pulled the necklace from the box, placing the cold item around her neck. (Y/n) sighed almost dreamily at the feeling of its weight, it sat high on her collarbones, with a large center piece which lay against her sternum. She did find the necklace stunning, but she felt odd wearing it.

"It's not really my style, but it is very pretty." She admitted to him, looking at him through the mirror as he placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "I know it isn't your style." Bruce said before tracing her jaw with his thumb. "But I hope you'll indulge me tonight, and continue to wear it when we "retire" for the evening." He said with a suggestive smirk, his words making (Y/n) chuckle softly. "If you ask nicely enough, I'll wear nothing but this necklace anytime you like." She said with a cheeky grin, leaning into her boyfriends touch. "You're really making this hard." He said as he closed his eyes, trying to keep his composer. "What am I making hard?" She asked with a small laugh. "You're making it hard not to ravage you and ditch this ball." He said as he opened his eyes, unsurprised to find her smirking at him. "Yes well I plan on making good on my part of the deal, I'm driving the batmobile if it's the last damn thing I do." (Y/n) said with determination, making Bruce smile at her. "Well then let's get this over with, so we can leave early, and I can have my way with you when we get back." He hummed as he took her hand in his, hooking their arms together once she was standing. "You're insatiable." She mused before pecking his cheek. "I'll never get enough of you darling." Bruce said before pulling her in for a proper kiss.

[ink-stained-student]

☆ 20.06.2024 ~ Thursday ☆

I just got my Psychology grade back and I'm over the moon!! I'm so shocked by how well I've done on my final exams/essays so far!! I'm equally terrified and excited to get my other grades back!

Two down, two to go, but 80% and 84% are both amazing grades, and I'm so happy with them!!

[streetlamp-amber]

bad time to be claustrophobic

bruce wayne x gn!reader

word count: 2k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: claustrophobia, panic attack NOTES: reader is gender neutral but it is mentioned they wear high heels

It had been two weeks since you started working for Wayne Enterprises and you were finally getting the hang of the job. At first, you felt like some sort of imposter, to be part of the famous company that overlooked the city and felt almost out of reach from every normal Gothamite. You had worked hard to get to where you were now and you deserved the stability this job brought to your life, as your roommate never failed to remind you every time you voiced out your doubts in the last weeks.

Your boss had needed you to bring some documents up to the top floor, where the CEO’s office was, and it was as you waited for an elevator to bring you down that you finally met Bruce Wayne. Of course you knew who he was – who lives in Gotham and doesn't know who Bruce Wayne is? – and you also knew of the playboy reputation he had that the gossip magazines could never get tired of. Although you had never really been interested in him before, one quick glance of the eye up and down his six feet two inches tall body was enough to determine that the media failed to describe how truly mesmerising Bruce Wayne was.

The two of you shared a brief eye contact when he came to a stop next to you in front of the elevator doors. He sent you a polite, tight lipped smile with a shy nod of his head as a form of greeting and you replicated his actions before turning your head forward again, hoping Mr. Wayne hadn’t noticed the beginning of a blush on your cheeks. You were no better than anyone after all, few could resist the natural charm that emanated from him.

The ding! of the elevator broke the silence floating in the air and Mr. Wayne, ever the gentleman, motioned with his right hand for you to step in first. He pressed the button for one of the basement floors as he entered before turning to you.

“Which floor?” He asked, and the sound of his voice caught you by surprise for a second.

“Oh! Um, sixteen,” you answered in what you hoped was a nonchalant way but was probably leaning more towards timid.

Mr. Wayne pressed on the button for your floor and the doors closed, the only noise that could be heard was the faint music of Mozart’s Horn Concerto no. 4 in E-Flat Major playing through the elevator speakers.

You watched with an anxious eye the floor numbers go down as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers, trying all your might to keep your hands down instead of divulging your embarrassing habit of biting off the skin around your nails to Bruce Wayne upon your first meeting. You hated elevators, or any kind of small closed space really, but your claustrophobia was just something you had learned (and still were learning) to live with. You usually avoided elevators, but Wayne Tower had more than thirty floors and you simply were not going to climb up all of those stairs in high heels for a bunch of documents. You could survive a minute long ride in an elevator, what’s the worst that could happen?

Well, the worst that could happen, happened.

The elevator was plunged into darkness as it shook to a stop, making you and Mr. Wayne almost lose your balance. It didn’t take more than five seconds for the lights to turn back on but the elevator wasn’t moving.

“No,” you whispered to yourself when you realised what was happening.

Mr. Wayne didn’t hear you, preoccupied with trying to get in contact with someone on his phone.

“Lucius, tell me what happened,” he spoke in an urgent tone, fearing that he was trapped in an elevator while Gotham needed his alter ego.

You were too busy trying to focus on keeping your breathing at a steady rhythm to listen to what the man on your left was saying. Everything suddenly felt hot and as you pulled on your white dress shirt in quick movements to air your torso, you started to feel like the walls were closing in on you.

“City workers were cutting a dead branch off a tree and it fell on the power lines,” Mr. Wayne explained as he closed his phone and put it back in the pocket of his suit, his eyes yet to see the state you were in. “Apparently there was some problem with the elevator when the generator turned on but a team is already wor–”

Bruce didn’t finish his sentence when he finally noticed that you weren’t listening to a single word he was saying. “Are you okay?” He asked, taking one small step closer to you.

“Yes,” you murmured, trying to sound as normal as possible. How embarrassing was it that the first time you meet the Bruce Wayne, you end up having a panic attack in front of him because of some ridiculous phobia that involves elevators.

“You’re not okay, you’re shaking,” he pointed out the obvious.

“‘S nothing,” you dismissed, clutching your shaking hands to your chest. You had your head hanging down and your eyes closed, unable to see the concerned look on Mr. Wayne’s face.

“Is there any way I can help?”

If your mind wasn't in such a frenzy, you would've heard the almost pleading tone in his voice.

“Not really,” you answered and your breathing quickened.

“Okay, okay,” he passed a hand through his hair as he tried to think about what to do. You were clearly in a state of panic and there was nothing he could do stuck in the elevator. He had to try to distract you while you waited for the team to fix the elevator.

You reached with your right hand to support yourself against the wall, the numbness in your legs making it hard for you to stand upright. Mr. Wayne was at your side in a second, holding your arms to keep you from falling.

“Let’s, let’s sit down, alright?” He suggested and you nodded your head.

He lowered the two of you to the floor and once you were sat up against the wall, he moved to sit in front of you, trying to catch your gaze.

“Hey, hey, there’s a team working on fixing the elevator as we speak, we’ll be out of here soon,” he tried to reassure you but you still wouldn’t meet his eyes. He observed the way your chest kept rising up and down rapidly and clocked that he needed to help you calm down.

“Okay, there’s this thing my… Alfred taught me when I was young. Just cross your arms over your chest and put your hands on your shoulders, can you do that?” He calmly asked you.

You nodded your head and did as he told you.

“Now I’m gonna put my hands on your knees, is that alright?”

You nodded your head once again and his large hands covered your bent knees over your charcoal dress pants.

“Alright, I’m gonna tap my hands to a rhythm, you’ll do the same with your shoulders and try to breathe along with the rhythm. Understood?”

Your distressed, teary eyes finally met his reassuring ones and in this moment, through all of the panic and the fear clouding your head, you were able to see that Bruce Wayne was a caring man under the playboy persona.

After you shook your head ‘yes’, Mr. Wayne started tapping his hands to a relaxed, steady rhythm like he told you he would. It took a minute for you to ground yourself in his eyes that never left yours and you followed his movements, tapping your hands on your shoulders to his tempo. He made a show of exaggerating the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, for you to eventually fall in step with.

“You know, when I was a kid, I was playing in the garden with my friend and I fell in an old well,” he started telling you when a few minutes passed and your breathing had calmed down a little. The both of you were still continuing tapping a steady rhythm on your knees and shoulders. “I was stuck down there with a broken arm and then a colony of bats flew out of the darkness. Been scared of those creatures ever since.”

“Is that why you’re not Batman’s biggest fan?” You asked in a small voice and Bruce faintly smiled both at the secret he was keeping from all of Gotham and because he was finally hearing your voice not in a panicked state. He always made sure to make his displeasure with the caped crusader known to deter the press from making a connection between the two.

“Amongst other reasons,” he answered, one corner of his lip curling up to show you his tiny crooked grin.

The two of you stared at each other and it surprised you how easy it was to feel safe and comfortable while looking in Bruce Wayne’s eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure to meet you before,” he spoke up after a short moment of comfortable silence.

“I assure you I would’ve made a better first impression in any other circumstance,” you quickly said, eyes going wide like saucers when it sunk in that you almost had a panic attack the first time you met Bruce Wayne.

“I can tell you, this isn't even in the top twenty of the worst first impressions I’ve had,” Mr. Wayne tried to reassure you with a joke. The shy smile on your lips indicated he succeeded. “I’m Bruce, by the way.”

“I know,” you said, a little more at ease. You told him your name, to which he couldn’t help but compliment.

“How long have you been working here? I don't remember ever seeing you, and I try to say hi to all my employees at least once a month,” he asked you.

“A little more than two weeks,” you answered. “I’m in the PR department, specifically overseeing the funding of your charities.”

“You have the most important job in the company then,” Bruce grinned.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” you rolled your eyes and this time there was no way he didn’t catch the beginning of the blush on your cheeks. You could only wish your face was still flushed from your almost panic attack so it wasn’t too noticeable.

The doors of the elevator were finally pulled open, Bruce and you turning your heads in that direction at the new noise. You sighed in relief that you could finally escape this cage of nightmare and both Mr. Wayne and the maintenance guy helped you slide out of the elevator, which only offered a thirty centimetres tall opening since it got stuck before it could reach the floor below.

Once Bruce had also gotten out, he ignored the assistant who had been assigned by her superior to catch him up on what he missed while being stuck in the elevator to instead talk to you.

“You know, if you want to take the rest of the day off, it’ll be no problem,” he told you, lowering his voice so only the two of you could hear. “I’ll vouch for you, make sure you don’t get in any trouble.”

“That’s very kind of you Mr. Wayne–”

“Bruce,” he interrupted you, though his tone was warm and friendly. “Please, call me Bruce.”

“Thank you, Bruce, I really appreciate the concern.” You were still a little unsettled by the events and when you usually would push through whatever sickness or weakness to make it to work, this time you didn’t fight off the chance to relax and recover.

“Gotta make sure my most important employee is well rested and of sound mind to do the job,” he smiled at you and you smiled back at him. “I have to go back to my duties, but I’ll be seeing you around.” Bruce said goodbye to you and you waved at him until his back was turned on you.

The first thing you did when you got back home to your apartment was search for a good pair of affordable running shoes to help you climb the stairs of Wayne Tower comfortably until you were ready to get in an elevator again.

And ever since that day, Bruce made sure that the elevators were inspected once every week.