Summary: You think you need to hide your emotions from your family. Bruce decides to make it his mission to help you see otherwise
It was too much. Things had been going wrong all day, small things that would seem insane to be upset about if you told anyone. Wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater you decide to slip out for a bit. No one should see you like this.
It had started this morning. Your hair wouldnât do what you told it to. You brushed it wet, meticulously styling it as usual with all of your products and it had still managed to dry frizzy somehow.
Ok, you can handle one bad hair day.
During breakfast, you spilled jam from your toast onto your uniform bottoms right as you were about to head out the door. As you grabbed your things to leave, Damian made an offhand comment that touched a sore spot.
Thatâs ok, heâs always like that, and the stain was small. No worries.
Before school, your friend rushed up to your locker in a panic. She had just started her period and didnât have a tampon or extra uniform. You helped her, which made you late to first period.
Ok, youâd rather not have another tardy on your record but it was for a friend.
At lunch, no one had saved your seat. You went to your usual table where your group of friends usually sat, only to find someone else sitting there. Your friend apologized, saying that their other friend was tagging along today. You sighed, telling them it was alright before finding somewhere else to sit.
Why wouldnât they save your seat today? They always save your seat. Ok, itâs ok. They didnât mean anything by it.
The little things from the day started adding up and by the time you were finally back at the manor, you were exhausted. No one was home yet, and everyone had patrol tonight anyway so they would only stop by for a moment before leaving again.
You went up to your room to change, bringing you to where you are now. You quietly leave your room and go down the stairs. After navigating the long hallways you make it to the large doors that lead to the garden. You always loved to sit alone in the garden, the only things there to judge you were the insects.
You moved quickly towards the maple tree in the far corner of the area. Sitting under it with your back facing the manor, you look up to the moon. You canât see many stars (thanks to the Gotham smog), but you always gaze up at the moon.
You cry to yourself until you lose track of time. You donât hear the garden doors opening, and you certainly donât hear the approaching footsteps until Bruce sits cross legged right beside you.
He turns his head to look at you, but you canât quite meet his gaze.
âWhyâre you hiding?â He asks, voice soft. When Bruce had come home from work, one of the first things he did was check on you. When he couldnât find you and Alfred hadnât known where youâd gone either, he realized there was only one place you would run to.
âIâm not.â You say shakily.
Bruce sighed. âLook at me.â He said, leaving no room for argument.
When you turned, Bruce felt his frown deepen. He hated when you felt like this because he couldnât take it from you. He only wanted to help but you shut him out more often than not. He moved your hair behind your ear, his other arm wrapping around you and pulling you close.
âSweetheart..â He pressed a kiss to the top of your head like he did when you were smaller. âTell me whatâs wrong.â
Just like that, it was like he had broken the faucet handle. You began to cry into his shirt, tears staining the fabric. He didnât say anything, only gently rubbing your back to try and comfort you.
When itâs out of your system your crying stops. You both were quiet, listening to the noise of Gotham mixed with your occasional sniffles.
When youâre done with your crying, you pull back and wipe your eye. You explain everything to Bruce and he listens. He doesnât shame you for being upset over what happened, waiting until you were finished speaking.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â He asks. Heâs not mad, but heâs a bit upset at himself that you felt you couldnât come to him.
You shrug. âYou were at work, and besides, it doesnât matter.â
He looks a bit hurt at this. â[Reader], you know I would drop everything if you needed me, right?â It was true. Bruce was prepared to wipe his schedule if you ever even hinted at needing him. He wipes a tear that falls from your eye. âAnd anything that made you upset like this does matter.â
âI just thought- because it wasnât that bad you wouldnât care.â You confess.
Bruce furrows his brows and hugs you tighter. âYou never have to hide from me. Not this.â
You sit there with him for a while. Heâs going to be late for his patrol but thatâs the last thing he cares about right now.
Because he would do anything for his daughter
And she believed it.
A/N: hope you enjoy this oneshot!!! Some comfort to thank you all for 100 followers!!!
Summary : When readers hatred for her father morphs into a preference of older men, her family finally starts to notice.
Pt. 1 here
Cw: characters might be ooc, mentions of sa, grooming, angst.
Waking up in your bedroom at the manor made it feel like any other boring day. Until you feel the material of what youâre wearing and it all rushes back to you. Bruce, Dick, Jason and- Kyle.
Your whole body freezes as you realize the last time you saw him he was being beaten to a pulp by your brother. You had to find out what happened to him now.
Though youâre still in the grimy clothes of the day before, you canât help but notice the clothes on the end of your bed. A simple, clean outfit layed out nicely. It looks like someone who had only met you once passingly was asked to make an outfit in your style but, who were you to complain right now about something you already knew?
These people donât know you
Kyle knows you
Find Kyle, and run so far they wonât ever find you
You slip into the outfit and step out of your room. The hall is eerily silent, but youâre not sure what youâre expecting to hear. No one talks to you up here anyway, so the silence should be normal. But it feels different. Bad different. You keep going without another thought until youâre down the stairs.
From there, you can see the lights of the living room in contrast to the dark of rest of the house. Gotta find another way out. Youâd snuck out of this place a million times so it was a piece of cake. Sucking in a nervous breath, you slowly but steadily walk away from the living room in the opposite direction.
Unfortunately, everyone in that room was a vigilante with excellent hearing, and had heard you almost as soon as you started walking down the stairs.
â[Reader]?â A voice carries from down the hall and you stop like a deer in headlights.
â[Reader]? Come here please.â The voice came again. You recognized it this time. It was Bruce. You hated his tone. It was soft and patient like he was trying to lure you in. Despite yourself you turn and take a step towards the living room. His voice was calm while you were anything but and it was pissing you off.
Of course heâs calm. Heâs not the one who has no idea where the one person they care about is. Heâs not the one who was in that apartment. Heâs not the one whoâs been in a constant cycle of suffering.
You ought to go in there and give them a piece of your mind, you thought. You took a deep breath, lifting your chin and walking with false bravado. As soon you come to the open entrance your confidence falters and your shoulders droop. You suddenly felt small, like that kid wandering the halls alone again.
Stepping into the living room, you felt the eyes turn to you before you gathered the courage to raise your chin and look at them yourself.
Jason and Tim were sat on the sofa with Dick sat on the floor infront of it. They each had their own expression of worry or guilt and It almost made you laugh. Damian sat in a recliner, looking like the guiltiest of them all while still managing to hide it with his assassin façade.
Bruce is standing. His eyes are trained on your face like heâs studying you. Like youâre another case to figure out instead of his daughter who needs just one stable person in her life.
âI know itâs the last thing you want right now.â Bruce started. âBut we need to talk about last night.â His voice is firm, letting you know you will tell him everything one way or another.
You glare at him. How would you even start? You had to figure out how to give him the answers he wanted from you while simultaneously withholding enough information as to not dig a deeper hole for yourself or Kyle. Nobody says anything at first and it feel like the windows might pop from the tension.
Jason runs a hand down his face before finally breaking the silence. âThat man was 32, [Reader]. What the hell were you doing anywhere near that apartment!? Did he force you?â
You blink at him in slight disbelief. How could he accuse Kyle of kidnapping you? He hadnât even known the guy! They hadnât really had much time for a chat before Jason broke into his living space and beat him brutally.
âNo.â You snap. âI asked him to pick me up.â
A collective look of shock paints their faces as they stare back at you like youâve just started speaking a foreign language. Jasonâs lips part, about to say something else before Dick beats him to it.
âYou knew him?â Why hadnât he known that you were talking to grown men? âYou let him take you from this house?â He points his pointer finger firmly to the ground over the arm rest of the couch, like he canât believe it happened here. A predator had been allowed to take you from here with no one noticing.
âI begged him to. Anything to get away from here.â You said honestly. Withholding the truth be damned, you were going to make these assholes feel your hurt.
Damian felt something twist in his stomach. He had talked to you on the stairs that day. He knew you were leaving. He always brushed you off, so why was it so different now?
âSo that is where she..â He mutters, unable to keep the guilty words down.
Though his voice is quiet it is picked up by Bruce standing near, whose head immediately turns.
âDamian? Do you know something?â He asks. Damian knew how to control himself. If he couldnât contain the words then it had to be important.
Damian nods slowly. â[Reader] and myself ran into each other before the.. incident. She told me she had lunch with a friend and I stupidly did not push.â
âYou would have tried to stop me.â You say, side glancing at Damian. âAnd I wouldâve run to him anyway.â
Tim had seen the way you looked when the others brought you back. He saw the way Bruce was practically carrying you with the way he had to support you on the way up to your room. He saw the tired panic and fear in your eyes. A kind of look that scared him.
âWhat about-â Tim swallows mid sentence, suddenly not knowing if he want the answer to his question. âWhat about how you came back? You looked awful.â
You looked almost offended. He thought Kyle hurt you? They probably were all thinking that.
âThat wasnât his fault.â You countered, raising your voice. âI got myself sick. He was just taking care of me.â
Timâs brows furrow. â[Reader], we took a blood sample from you when you came back. You were so you of it you didnât even notice.â
You felt violated! They had fully invaded your privacy!
âYou did what?!â You shout before the words fully even register in your brain. âYou canât just do that to me!â
âWe can if we believe it necessary.â Bruce interjects.
Tim nods. âYour blood alcohol level was crazy high. Mixed with those..â He motions to the bruises blossoming along your arms. Weird, you hadnât noticed that before. But there were a lot of black spots in your memory now, and that was the last thing on your mind.
When you donât respond, Jason pushes for an answer. â[Reader]?â He calls out to you with all the softness his rough voice can muster, the sharp edge of his shock and anger still there. âWhat happened?â
You freeze. Your leg was shaking and the tears were falling before you could even feel them. But when you did, they were hot. You canât let them see this. You thought. Stop it! Stop it!
âWe drank together.â Your voice wobbles so much it makes you cringe inwardly at yourself. You werenât afraid of Kyle. You knew exactly what you had done together and had even repeated the entire event a million times in the short span since it passed. So why were you acting like this now? You were satisfied but now here you are, shaking and crying like a child about it infront of your family.
âHe gave you alcohol?â Bruce asks, voice as collected as it can be.
You nod âI could handle it.â You say. You try to hold your chin high. Try to keep any of the fight left in you that slipped away so easy, but almost all of it is gone.
âI couldnât handle it and fell asleep. Kyle took me to bed. Thatâs it.â Your face was stoic even as tears dragged a path down your cheeks. It wasnât Kyleâs fault.
No one believed you. â[Reader], why do you insist on defending him?â Bruce raised an eyebrow, voice becoming more firm. It scared you a little bit, but you didnât want them to see.
âI love him.â You say low, the words heavy on your tongue. âHeâs shown me more love and care than I have ever gotten here. He doesnât treat me like a little girl like the rest of you still think I am. When was the last time any of you asked me about anything about myself? About anything going on in my life? Maybe then youâd have known.â
âYou donât love him.â Bruce shakes his head slow. He crosses his arms tight in frustration at the situation. How could he fix this? How could he knowing he was to blame? He glanced around the room. He could tell by the looks on their sorry faces that they couldnât remember the last time they had talked to you about anything more than whatâs on the surface level theyâd have known.
âYes I do.â Your nails dig into your knees but you canât feel it.
âWhat happened after you went to bed?â Bruce asks, though he doesnât know if he wants to know the truth, because that would mean having to face it.
âI woke up feeling sick.â You remember waking up besides Kyle with that horrible pain in your stomach, and a strange one between your legs. âI went to the bathroom.â You list off the events, remembering kneeling on the cold floor infront of the toilet.
You remember not having your pants on. The memory is like a rock being thrown full force at your brain. âI- I remember..â You stutter. You remember spilling your guts. You remember the feeling of hands. You remember the smell of alcohol.
You feel the bile rising in your throat. You feel faint. You donât even realize that youâre shaking until you feel Dick wrapping his arms around you for stability. Pushing him away isnât an option, youâre too weak. So instead, you cry into his shoulder. You want to yell and scream but you also want to hug him back and beg for his help. Kyle was stealing your life. He ripped everything from you, and you complied with a smile on your face. But he gave you what you wanted. What you needed. Love.
When Dick pulls away you notice that everyone has moved closer, almost hovering over you. Your first response is to get out as fast as you can. Bringing your fist up to your mouth you clear your throat.
âI need to be alone.â You say quiet.
Tim quirks a brow. âAre you sure you should be alone right now? I feel like-â
Bruce cuts in, disregarding Timâs concern. âItâs ok. Youâre processing. Take your time and come back when youâre ready.â Heâs doing the right thing, he thinks to himself. Youâre supposed to give kids space, right? Even so, he was unsure how to deal with a teenage girl especially one dealing with these emotions. It was better you calmed down first before he could get some proper answers for the investigation.
The room is silent as you get up and rush towards the entrance. When youâre back in the hallway, it feels like you can finally breathe again. You take a second before starting up the stairs.
â[Reader.]â A voice calls from behind.
You turn around and are met with Damianâs green eyes staring into your own. He stands tall but the awkwardness of his posture tells you the truth. It was a moment just like this he had watched you leave.
âWhat do you want?â You say, more exhausted than angry.
âI would have stopped you if I had known where you were truly going.â He starts, stepping up the first step, closer to where you were.
âIâd have shielded you from that vile man.â He seems to grimace at the mention.
From the moment you had come back, Damian had been stumped. He knew himself very well inside and out. He could control his body flawlessly from being drilled with discipline since birth, and could always pinpoint what he was feeling. But since you had come back, those thoughts were being challenged. He knew he was guilty. But for some reason, he couldnât tell if he felt guilty because he cared for you, or if he felt guilty because you had visible marks. The times he had made you upset and shut yourself in your room, he felt nothing. Out of sight out of mind. But here was something he couldnât ignore this time. The dark purple bruises seemed to taunt him.
You stared down at him, your face blank. Your eyes are red and puffy and your cheeks tear stained.
âThen why didnât you ask?â You question. It was simple, but Damian was at a loss for words. You both knew the answer to your question, but he couldnât bring himself to say it out loud.
You nod and turn away, walking quickly up the rest of the stairs. Damian doesnât follow. The walk down the long hallways seems to stretch on the quiet leaving nothing but you and the memory of the whole intervention replaying again and again in your head. When you get to your room the first thing you do is search for your phone.
You find it face down on your bedside table. When you grab it and look at the screen, your heart skips a beat. Kyle had texted you.
Kyle: they fucking arrested me.
Kyle: fucking lazy ass cops werenât watching and I left haha.
Kyle: wya?
Youâre quick to text back and tell him youâre at the manor again. You know theyâve probably got a camera in your old blind spot before, so youâll have to think of something else. You remember a spot you used to go as a kid, somewhere you knew no one ever bothered to check.
He tells you heâs on the way and you leave the room immediately. You canât got down the main staircase unless you want to be caught immediately. Lucky for you, Wayne manor is huge and there is always another staircase. After turning some corners you come to a side staircase thatâs is rarely used, maneuvering through the rest of the manor until you were outside. As the cold wind blew through your hair on the way to the spot, you couldnât help but feel a bit sad that you hadnât been caught. Even after this, they didnât care too much about what you did or where you were.
After standing in the freezing cold for what felt like forever, you finally see the familiar front of his truck. As soon as he parks you run up to the vehicle, swinging the door open and throwing your arms around him as soon as you get inside.
As you start driving off you look back at the manor through the back window. No one comes outside. It was silly, but you were imagining them noticing you were missing, and running out to chase the truck to get you back. Your turned back to face forward, your eyes teary.
Kyle notices and puts a hand on your thigh, his thumb making circular motions that slowly start getting higher and higher. You smile as a tear slips down your cheek.
This was it. You were finally going to be happy.
A/N: part 2 finally here! Iâm so sorry it took so long, I donât usually write regularly but I tried my best! I thought about making this have comfort but than I decided to be mean so I hope you like it đ«
Older!Bruce Wayne who guides you with a steady hand, always letting you know heâs there for you to fall back on.
Older!Bruce Wayne who never wants to be in your way and always supports you emotionally and financially if youâre enrolled in school, have a job, or just want to be his pretty housewife.
Older!Bruce Wayne Who gazes at you with hungry eyes, watching as you turn and spin in the new clothes you bought on your shopping day as he sips a glass of scotch
Older!Bruce Wayne whoâs sometimes afraid youâll think heâs only with you for shallow reasons. He takes you to lavish restaurant, taking you home when it gets dark to bathe you in kisses and wait on you hand and foot as you lounge on the expensive plush couch in an impossibly soft robe
Older!Bruce Wayne whoâs chuckle rumbles through his chest as you tease him about a gray hair you found on his head
Older!Bruce Wayne who has to hide his cock twitching in his pants when he holds you in his arms and feels how much smaller than him you are
Older!Bruce Wayne who only wants to be your sole provider
Summary: you show Bruce your scars for the first time since starting to date him.
You had been dating Bruce for six months; and it had been the best six months of your life. Bruce spoiled you to no end but never made a show of it, only smiling when you ask him about the shoes you were eyeing the day before that had mysteriously appeared on your kitchen table or the fresh bouquets of flowers that were delivered to your door step multiple times a week.
He would take you out to restaurants the you definitely felt out of place in, the two of you making quiet conversation about your lives before the evening would eventually take you to his place. You had only agreed to be intimate twice, and both times you had convinced him to keep the lights off. He did with no question. He didnât want to push and always respected your boundaries, but he was growing suspicious.
The majority of the time where you werenât intimate you would both sit on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap and your head on his shoulder. The two of you would nurse glasses of wine that were so expensive, it made your jaw drop the first time Bruce told you how much it was worth and talk late into the evening.
There were things Bruce was hiding from you. He loved you of course he did, but for his safety and yours he just couldnât tell you about what he did at night just yet. He couldnât keep his secret life away from you forever, he knew that, but he would keep you away from it all for as long as he could.
But he knew you were keeping secrets too. He could tell in the way you held back your words when talking about your childhood. How you steered the conversation gently away when the topic drifted anywhere near mental health.
You shut him down when he proposed the idea of a beach vacation, the thought of having to wear a swimsuit in front of him sending a cold shiver down your spine. When he suggested the private pool of the manor, you declined that too. You had to admit, the pool was absolutely gorgeous, but it was the same reason. You just werenât ready.
The summer in Gotham was brutal that year. The temperature was peaking at over 100 degrees and the ac in your apartment couldnât take it anymore, breaking down just as the days weather was reaching its peak. You messaged Bruce that you were coming over. He replied seconds later, telling you to wait.
Ten minutes later a sleek black Bentley pulls into the parking lot of your apartment. You sigh, smiling as you know it was for you. The drivers seat door opens and Alfred steps out, smiling at you and opening the backseat door.
âGood evening, Miss [Reader.]â He greets.
âGood evening, Alfred.â You reply, sitting down, you immediately feel relief as the ac blasts you with cool air. The drivers seat door to the manor is silent, but not awkward.
Once you arrive, Alfred steps out of the car once again and opens the door for you. He opens the large door to the manor and watches as you walk in.
âMaster Bruce is in living room.â Alfred says, the door closing behind him.
âThank you Alfred.â You say, and he gives you a nod. It takes you a minute to get to the living room by yourself, the manor being so large and you still having not figured it all out yet. But once you step in, there he is. Heâs sat on the couch infront of the empty fireplace, wearing a pair of expensive yet plain pair of sweatpants and a shirt that made the muscles of his arms look delicious.
You step forward and he notices immediately, turning to you with a look in his eyes that gives you butterflies.
âCome here.â He says, beckoning you to him with two fingers. Your body obeys without a second thought. Coming closer, you notice a gift box resting on his lap. Itâs sleek black with a frilly pink ribbon, clearly from some boutique. You swallow, suddenly nervous. You sit on his right, facing him and knee touching his. Your hands rest in your lap awkwardly. Bruce takes one in his own larger hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss each knuckle.
âI got you something.â He says low, eyes trained on you. His free hand grabs the box and slides it over to your lap, letting go of your hand so you can open it. You slowly grab the end of the ribbon, pulling and letting it fall. You remove the top to the box and move the tissue paper to reveal the piece inside. Itâs a black lingerie set, lacy, expensive, revealing.
âWhat do you think?â Bruceâs voice cuts through your thoughts. You muster a smile back.
âI love it.â You say, voice strained but not enough to be noticed. You swallow again when his hand rests on your knee, rubbing up your leg gently.
âI was thinking. You would try it on for me? See what it looks like on.â He says, face holding a hint of smugness. His gaze felt hotter than the heat outside. You nod without thinking and he smiles with affection in his eyes, standing and offering his hand to you, leading you up to his bedroom.
You turned and twisted your body every way looking in the large mirror of the master bedroom, staring at yourself with the black set on. The lace covered enough to where you werenât fully exposed, but you felt you might as well be. Your scars were fully exposed, and you could feel your face heat up. Bruce was out there waiting for you, and you could barely even look at them without wanting to cry.
It wasnât your body you were insecure of, no. But no one had ever seen your scars. You barely even wore shorts unless they were practically to your knees! To you they were ugly, a mark on your skin that told the world you were weak. You just assumed anyone else would be repulsed at the sight just as you were everytime you were forced to look at them.
You wanted to run away. But how do you run from your own skin?
A tear slipped down your cheek. You looked at yourself in the mirror one more time before sinking to the floor. You couldnât stand the sight. You hated the girl you saw. Bruce would probably hate her too.
You cover your face with your hands as you lose control of yourself, feeling tears roll down your cheeks. A soft knock interrupts your thoughts, the noise startling you.
âIs everything alright in there, sweetheart?â Bruce asks softly. He had given you more time than necessary, knowing that this was your first time wearing something like this for him. He knew you might be nervous and wanted to give you space before you came out on your own. It was only when it had been way too long to be just nerves that he decided he should check on you.
He hears a sniffle through he door and his frown deepens.
You wipe your eyes frantically and clear your throat. âY-yes! Everythingâs ok!â You shout through the door, voice cracking despite how hard you tried to make it not do that.
âNo, itâs not. Will you please let me in?â He asks, not believing you for a second. His eyebrows are knitted together with concern and worry. You had seemed fine not too long ago, had he missed something?
When you donât respond, he takes your silence as a go-ahead to gently open the door. He takes in the sight, your discarded clothes thrown in a pile to the side and you, curled in on yourself in-front of the sink. Without hesitation, he hurries forward, kneeling infront of you.
His hands grab your wrists with sickening softness, pulling them from your face gently. You try to shy away, knowing how you must look. Your face is red and your eyes are puffy, adding to your embarrassment.
âHey, look at me please.â He encourages. âWhat happened sweetheart? Why the tears?â His hands move to cup your face, thumbs wiping your cheeks.
You want to speak and explain yourself, but you feel rocks in your throat. You open your mouth so say something, but itâs like all of your speech has been stolen. This makes you hiccup a sob and Bruce wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a grounding hug. He hushes and cooes at you, rubbing your back soothingly.
When you finally pull back, you figure itâs easier to show than tell. You move your legs from being pressed to your chest to sitting with them crossed, all healed over scars now fully visible.
Bruce pauses. His eyes scan over them with an expression you canât quite read. You stare at his face, feeling your stomach sink deeper and deeper. His hands slowly move to your legs like heâs dealing with a frightened animal. His fingers glide over each scar, feeling the texture beneath his skin.
Bruce takes your hand and brings in to his lips, kissing your pulse point and sighing shakily. âWhy did you hide this from me?â He asks quietly. There is no accusation in his voice, no anger, but hurt. Hurt that you didnât trust him enough to tell him, and hurt that you had carried this alone so long.
You canât meet his gaze as you wipe your damp eyes. âDonât you think theyâre hideous?â You ask with so much sincerity it stings. You hiccup again and he brings up a hand to stroke your hair, the other still on your scars.
Bruce shakes his head. âNo. Not at all.â He says firmly so you believe it, punctuating his statement with a kiss on your forehead. âYou were hurting, and that is nothing to be ashamed of.â
âYouâll see me differently.â You counter, because in your mind he could not possibly accept you like this , and there had to be some catch.
Bruce pressed his lips into a tight line. He wanted you to know how much he loved you. How beautiful he thought you were. How he worshipped you and how absolutely nothing could make him see you differently, but he didnât know what to say.
âI could never see you differently for surviving the only way you knew how.â He musters seconds later. You need him, and he would be there for you.
You shrugged and he sighed. You were a goddess to him. You took his breath away, how could you not see yourself as anything less than holy? He puts his hands on your waist and you put your arms instinctively around his neck. You let out a surprised noise as you feel yourself be picked up, one of his arms under your bottom and the other supporting your back as he carried you out of the bathroom.
âYouâre beautiful.â He said, voice rumbling from his chest. He placed you on the put of his bed, gently pushing you down till you lay flat on your back. It wasnât till now that he got a proper look at you in that pretty new set, and you looked delicious. He groaned, climbing on top of you. He caged you under his perfectly chiseled arms, gazing down at you with a look that made you squirm.
âLet me show you how beautiful you are to me.â
A/N: whew, another one done! Ty for reading and I hope u enjoyed đđđ
Summary : When readers hatred for her father morphs into a preference of older men, her family finally starts to notice.
CW: Neglect, Grooming, underage drinking, sa (nothing explicit but itâs hinted to have happened.) lmk if I missed anything
You donât know when it happened. After the upteenth time of facing out to the crowd at your school concerts or sports games, hoping to see familiar faces just once, only to be met with disappointment every time to where you had sworn you hated every person in that Manor.
You were called for meals every day out of obligation and not a longing for your presence. You could tell that by how you were barely spared a glance, and if there was a conversation you could forget about actually participating. You knew you stuck out amongst them. You were the odd one out, and not being a vigilante didnât help either. You cried at night trying to figure out what was wrong with you, but every theory had an unfortunate answer. Maybe it was because you were young? But Damian was younger than you. Maybe it was because you never pulled your weight? But why would he take me in just to ignore me?
You shake your head, groaning into your pillow as you try not to cry for the nth time already. From your bedside table, your phone screen lights up with Instagram notifications. Picking up the phone, you see that someone replied to your story. Clicking on the notification you see that a boy replied to the story you had posted 8 hours ago of yourself alone by the indoor pool of the manor.
?: Youâre beautiful. Iâm guessing you arenât single?
You: Thank you! And I am haha.
?: Lucky me then. That is, if youâll let me take you out.
You click on his profile and the age in his bio almost makes your heart skip a beat.
32
Your age was in your bio too, so you know he had seen it and didnât care. Was this alright? Youâd never had a boyfriend before, so you didnât know what was normal and what wasnât. You couldnât ask your brothers or your father because you knew that they would brush you off as soon as they even heard your footsteps down the hallway. You decide to agree. Even if it wasnât normal, it would sure be nice to be loved by someone.
You: That sounds nice, Iâm in. Howâs tomorrow?
?: Iâm glad. Tomorrow is perfect :)
Thus began your secret relationship. Your new older boyfriend, Kyle, would come by the manor in the spot you had told him to park if he wanted to avoid the security cameras or any kind of suspicion from anyone who might see. Once you got in his car, he would take you all the places you always dreamed of going with your family but had never happened.
It was perfect. Or at least, it felt perfect. Maybe if your family was more invested in your life or treated you with the same care as they assured every other kid in Gotham, they would be able to warn you of the wolf in sheepâs clothing that was picking up their underage sister in his car. Oh well.
The days and weeks stretch on as your relationship progresses secretly. He picks you up, takes you out, and drops you back off before anyone notices. But eventually, itâs not enough anymore.
Kyle: Hey [Reader], I was thinking. How about I take you to my place instead? I could finally show you my apartment.
Your phone buzzed, grabbing your attention.
You: That sounds great!!
Kyle: Awesome :) Iâll pick you up around noon? Love you
You: Sounds good, love you too :)))
You put your phone down and get off your bed. Your closet is a mess, making you frown. You pull a pair of pants and a random top from the pile and put it on, nodding in approval at your reflection in the mirror.
Noon rolls around, and so does Kyle. You exit your room at the end of the second floor hall and start heading towards the entrance of the manor and to the spot where Kyleâs been picking you up. As you quietly move down the stairs, a voice comes from behind you.
âTt. Where are you going? I donât recall you being involved in anything other than wasting your time wallowing alone at all hours of the day.â Damian asked, stopping his descent behind you, one hand on the rail and an eyebrow quirked.
Rude. You thought. But that was no matter. Kyle was waiting outside and you were dying to see him. He wouldnât make you feel ashamed for bed rotting all day and crying over the small things your brothers often teased you for. He would wrap his arms around you and kiss your tears away, muttering soft reassurances that everything would be ok. That he had you now. He was going to give you the love you had only dreamed about receiving from another person.
Right. Get to Kyle quick.
You scoff at Damianâs words so maybe heâll understand you donât feel like talking, but he doesnât seem fazed at all.
âIâm grabbing lunch with a friend. Is that a crime?â You reply. It comes out meaner than you intend, but oh well. Not like anyone cared about sparing your feelings.
Damianâs face changes to a subtle expression of surprise. You never talked to them like that, even when they were being complete jerks. His face goes back to its regular stoicism just as fast as it changed. Damian huffs. âNo, though your defense makes it seem suspicious.â
âBecause youâre reading into it on purpose.â You snap at him. Damian is silent for a moment, then gives you a puzzling look before turning on his heel back up the stairs. Weird. Why was he so interested in you today? Whatever, Kyle was still outside and waiting to save you from this.
You leave the house and shiver as youâre hit with the mid-autumn chill. With quick pace, you hurry to the spot, eyes lighting up as you spot the familiar black Tacoma, and the man smiling at you from the drivers seat. You run as fast as you can with frozen legs and pull the truck door open.
âKyle!â You shout happily, throwing your arms around his neck once youâve climbed inside the passengers seat.
âHey, beautiful.â *He says softly, head tilted down to look back at you. His eyes were dark, and not just in color; it was almost.. uncanny. Like something in them was wrong, but still trying to look at you sweetly as not to alarm you. Another chill runs down your spine despite Kyleâs body heat wrapped around you and the heater turned up to the max.
Choosing to ignore it, you turn back front and buckle in, letting him take you to his apartment.
You had been gone for 36 hours before the first person realized you were missing.
In fact, it was Alfred who had said something to Bruce as he was having a late lunch at the manor.
âMaster Bruce, has Miss. [Reader] announced when she will be returning?â He had asked passingly as he lifted Briceâs now empty glass. Alfred had watched you leave the day before, like he almost always did. He could only ever see the tail end of the truck and never managed a glimpse at the driver, but never questioned it. You were a teenage girl after all, it wasnât uncommon for you to want to hang out with friends. Besides, you always came back by dark.
He wasnât worried when you didnât come home as usual. A sleepover, he figured was where you were and you would be back. It was the next day that had rung the alarm bells in his head.
Bruce paused. You were gone? Strange. He didnât remember you leaving. Actually, he couldnât remember the last thing you had said to him let alone when that even was. Before the guilt could reach him he cleared his throat and answered Alfredâs question.
âNo, she hasnât said anything to me. Is something wrong?â
Alfred frowns.
âShe has been gone for almost two full days, Master Bruce.â
This shocks the younger man. Two days? And he hadnât noticed? He was a busy man and you knew that, and he wasnât all that great of a father, but he had no idea how far he had pushed you away. Could he still make it right? He had to try. He had never realized it before but the thought of you not coming home safe made his chest ache. His chair scrapes against the floor of the dining room as he abruptly stands up and walks out, muttering something about checking the bat cave.
Entering the cave, Bruce could already see the bright light of the bat computer, and he could already guess who was using it.
âTim.â He called, approaching the boy. âI need you to do a favor for me.â
âWhat is it?â Tim asked, spinning around in his chair to be face to face with Bruce. He rarely asked Tim for favors out of the blue like this that werenât for a case, so his interest was piqued.
Bruce sighs and runs a hand down his face, almost embarrassed to be asking. âI need you to find your sisters location. She hasnât been home in almost two days.â
Tim looks shocked, then worried, then he turns back to the computer and exits the current page to something new, already starting to type.
âDid she say where she was going?â Tim asks.
âNo. Alfred told me that she left without a word.â Bruce replied. He was going to feel so guilty if Tim couldnât find you, and he knew it from the way unease settled in him.
A few stressful minutes passed by before a signal finally appeared on the on-screen map of Gotham and BlĂŒdhaven. Tim had picked up a signal from your phone, and was now zooming in on where you were exactly.
âGotham City apartments.â He read aloud. âIt looks like thereâs only one other phone signal in the apartment with her.â He points out, continuing. That was strange, why would you be in an apartment with just one other person? Maybe your friend had their own place or their parents just werenât home for the evening, but neither of those answers felt quite right.
Bruce called Dick to the manor urgently and informed him of the situation. Dicks eyebrows had knitted together, seeming having the same thoughts Bruce initially had. He couldnât remember the last time he had initiated a conversation with you. To him, that stung.
But he couldnât dwell on that right now. He had to focus on getting you home safe. He and Brice stood behind Tim as they examined the computer.
âWho owns that apartment?â Dick asks.
Tim pulls up the resident information, and Kyleâs picture sits on the right hand corner of the screen. Their gazes harden, locking in on the information infront of them.
Kyle Rivers.
32 years old.
Unit owner.
Alarms rang loud in their heads, Bruceâs heart dropping. Why were you there with that man? Who was he? Did you know him? How? Where did you meet? Questions spun around in his head so fast he became dizzy.
âKyle Rivers.â Tim said aloud. He sounded like he was still trying to piece it together just as the other two were, scanning the pages of digital information.
Bruce was already moving. âLetâs go. Now.â He felt sick. If that man hadnât hurt you already he was going to make sure he never did. And if he already had.. Bruce didnât want to think of the animal the he would become if he found you hurt in any way.
You sat on Kyleâs bed in his tee shirt and your pants. You blinked, feeling the air around you as it flowed from his box fan, making a soothing white noise to go with it.
Kyleâs apartment reeked of alcohol. That was the first thing you had noticed when you walked in. It was relatively clean, which was a bit shocking to you. There were clothes thrown over the arms of the couch and a few beer cans here and there and the carpet could definitely use a vacuum but you decided it was solid. You donât remember the first night much.
Kyle had ordered a pizza, just something for you to eat before he pounced. A shot glass was slid to you, vodka already in it. You gave him a questioning look.
âWhat? Donât usually drink?â He asked with a stupid smirk. You shook your head, making him laugh. He lined up a few more shot glasses before pouring from the bottle into them. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling nervous. You didnât want to be lame in front of him. Would he kick you out if you didnât drink? You pick up the glass and drink it, making a face and coughing.
He shoved a drink in your hand and you drank it immediately. Pineapple juice. The sweet juice was a nice replacement of the strong, bitter taste of the vodka.
It was only after 3 shots and halfway through a beer that you realized he wasnât drinking.
He had a beer but he was nursing it, having barely taken a few sips and had no shots for himself. His eyes were set intently on you. noticing the look on your face, he slides another shot towards you and gives you that look that makes you take the shot anyways, ignoring the heavy gut feeling.
You woke up early the next morning with a pounding headache and the worst nausea of your life. Kyle was still asleep next to you, facing the wall. Carefully not to disturb him, you slipped out of bed. But as you stepped on the floor, you realized how much your whole body hurts. Your legs were wobbling and your hands shaking, your peripheral vision was blurry from nausea. Thankfully you made it to he bathroom just before spewing into the toilet.
You started to cry as you threw up for the nth time. You throat was raw and starting to hurt bad. Your knees hurt as you kneeled on the hard floor with no pants on. Wait. Where are your pants? You finally stopped throwing up and sat on the cold floor, staring off into space to try and wrap your head around the situation.
You couldnât remember anything from last night. You couldnât remember yesterday. The shirt you were wearing isnât yours. Your pants are gone. Your stomach dropped as dread seeped into every crevice of your body as you started to cold sweat.
You couldnât remember much after that, and the second night had been pretty much the same. That brought you to now, sitting alone on his bed as he worked on paperwork at the table.
There was a knock at the door. Normal, nothing alarming as Kyle got up to answer the door. You heard Kyle shout and something break, then a punch. You were startled and jumped from the bed when you heard two male voices arguing. One was obviously Kyle, and the other was a voice all too familiar.
You leave the room and sneak town to hall to peak you head into the living room, where you see nightwing beating Kyle to a pulp.
âStop!â You yell, running over to your brother and trying to pull him off of Kyle with tears in your eyes. âStop it! Stop hurting him!â
Dick stops punching Kyle to look at you with worry and startle in his eyes. â[Reader]..â He murmurs, saying something into his comms before swiftly and gently grabbing your wrists and pinning them against him, his strength winning at you feeble attempts to slip from him.
Seconds after the code was muttered, Jason comes crashing through the window in red hood gear, zeroing in on Kyle with a dangerous look in his eyes.
You donât get to see what happens next, only can hear the sound of fists repeatedly punching flesh mixing with the sound of your sobs as you beg Dick to let you go.
He practically drags you out to the Batmobile where Bruce is waiting, eyes scanning the area until they lock on you. Dick sets you down and immediately another pair of arms are around you, Bruce pulling you into a tight embrace. You donât understand. Why did it take so long for them to notice you? For them to care? You were tired. So.. so tired. You leaned your head against Bruceâs shoulder as you let your tears flow and run down his costume.
No one said anything for a long time.
When Bruce eventually spoke, all he could muster was one word. âWhy?â
You swallowed. âHe made me feel seen.â
His arms tightened around you. If he wasnât so disciplined as Batman he would be crying right now. Instead, he presses his lips to you hairline and then your temple, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back as he whispered apologies into your hair.
âLetâs go home sweetheart, yeah?â He pulls back slightly to look you in the eyes, cupping your face with his hands and wiping your tears with his thumbs. He was going to make up for all the damage he had done. He would be the best damn father in the whole world for his little girl.
You nod, too tired to fight. You know tomorrow there will be questions and possibly much more arguing, but for now, you let him guide you to the passenger seat of the Batmobile. You sit quietly as he drives, your head against his shoulder again as you feel your energy drained.
Bruce feels your weight against him and he stiffens before softening in a way he had forgotten he could.
He was going to make this right.
A/N: omggg this took all day but Iâm finally done đ„Čđ„Čđ„Č lmk what u think! I love criticism!! This was a random fic because the idea popped into my head and I couldnât find any like it, so here we are lol so Iâm sorry if the story is structured or written weird!!!!
Date everything with an mc who talks to themselves while they pace around the house.
By the time you get the dateviators, the objects basically know everything about you. Theyâve heard your angry rants about something stupid someone you know said, your family drama, likes and dislikes, passions and hobbies.
When they relay these facts to you in passing conversation, your face flushes in embarrassment before they chuckle and assure you it only makes them feel closer to you.
Cw: mentions of sh scars, eating disorders, drug use and abuse
this is based on me and my life but I tried to keep it as broad as possible! also some characters might be ooc so Iâm sorry for that đ„Č
Not even a few minutes ago had a mysterious drone crashed through your window with a box and a pair of glasses you definitely did not order, and now a pink haired stranger was standing in front of you, excitedly talking with her hands as she casually explained the objects in your house were alive and had been since you moved in.
Your stomach twists and carries that familiar heavy feeling of dread and guilt that makes you want to fall asleep and never wake up. Had they really seen everything? You havenât even met them yet but surely they all hated you already, probably disgusted by your constant self destructive habits.
The jagged edges of your bitten away nails find the fabric of your pants, the scars beneath starting to itch at the embarrassment washing over you. The bubbly stranger, who introduced herself as Skylar notices this, clearing her throat to grab your attention back.
âWhy donât I just show you what I mean? I know this can get a bit confusing!â An airy chuckle leaves her lips as she gently grabs your arms and points your attention to your front door. Just as youâre about to question the lunatic beside you, a handsome stranger dressed like a bouncer appears in front of you. He speaks, and surprisingly a heavy British accent finds your ears. How can an object be British? Was he made in a British factory? Was it where the wood was from? Did he pick it up from somewhere? Were his parents british? Do objects even have parents? No matter, you donât have time to dwell on the millions of questions flooding your brain.
âI donât want to see those spectacles being used for anything, untoward.â The man eyes you, not as judgy as you expected. He looks almost concerned. Not a look youâre a stranger to receiving.
âHey Dorian! Donât worry, this is going super well!â The cheery stranger both annoys and intrigues you. Why was she annoying you? Sheâs only trying to do what she was created for. God youâre so negative. Maybe itâs because you canât remember you ate even half the bare minimum amount of calories for the day, or the last time you went a day fully sober, or the last time you had gotten more than a few hours of sleep.
âYou sure about that?â Dorian quirked an eyebrow up at you. Your hair was thrown up in something just to keep it out of your face, your cheeks sunken in and eye bags prominent. âMaybe keep them away from the- rowdier objects.â
âRoger that!â Skylar snaps her fingers at him. Never mind, you liked her. âOo I know just who is dying to see you. Follow me!â She takes your hand to lead you up the stairs and as you near your room, that pit in your stomach is harder to ignore. âThe bedroom? I donât know if..â You trail off. Great, 5 seconds in and youâre already being difficult. Skylar gives you a sympathetic smile and squeezes your hand. âDonât worry at all, just be your wonderful self.â You nod and push into the room, grimacing at the unmade bed, clothes scattered around the room that you swore up and down youâd put away, straws and scissors in the corner of the room, yeah you were fucked.
You point the glasses sheepishly at the bed, a beautiful pink haired lady materializing in front of you. âHey there, cutie.â Her soft voice makes you feel warm. She pats the spot next to her on your mattress. âThis is Betty! Your uh, Bed!â Skylar introduces. Your hands shoot to your lap awkwardly. âUm sorry for, all of this. I didnât know my mess was affecting anyone but me and I swear I wouldâve-â your rambling is cut off by a soft male voice coming from the side, and a white tuft of hair comes into view. âPlease donât apologize. We donât mind, really.â He has a small smile on his face that makes your stomach churn. No way they didnât care. âIâm Mateo. Mateo Manta. Iâm your blankets.â He rubs the back of his neck.
Another object materializes into view. The teddy bear youâve had since childhood sits on the end of your bed and looks at you with the fondest eyes youâve been looked at with. âHey there! Just who I wanted to see!â He holds out his arms and you awkwardly crawl closer to him. This makes him chuckle âDonât be shy, my arms are always open for you.â The invitation has the familiar burning sensation of tears come to your eyes as you return the gesture and sink into his arms. You canât remember the last time you felt this wanted. You feel the tears before they register in your mind. âS.. sorry I donât..â you try and choke out an apology, but teddyâs hands rubbing your back, Bettyâs hand now smoothing your hair and Mateo wrapping you with a blanket make the tears flow even heavier.
âShh.. weâve got you.â You hear Mateo whisper. The threeâs voices blend together as your lack of sleep hits you. Teddys jacket lulling you to the soft embrace of sleep as the trio silently fuss over you. They, more than anyone had seen your struggles. Betty how you toss and turn at night, Benders keeping you up till the brink of passing out. Mateo had been tossed on and off as your bodily temperature switched from too hot, to too cold. Teddy had been with you for years. You squeezed and cried into him as you questioned just why couldnât you be loved? Why could no one care for you the way you cared for them? Now he could show you just how much you were truly wanted. How loved you were by all the objects. He would be sure of it.
ââââââââââ
umm maybe part 2 maybe not, if I do Iâll just write homeowners interactions with other objects but like idk đ I hope u liked it I wrote this at midnight while crying
