Whop

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.

?: You’re beautiful. I’m guessing you aren’t single?

You: Thank you! And I am haha.

?: Lucky me then. That is, if you’ll 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 didn’t care. Was this alright? You’d never had a boyfriend before, so you didn’t know what was normal and what wasn’t. You couldn’t 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 wasn’t normal, it would sure be nice to be loved by someone.

You: That sounds nice, I’m in. How’s tomorrow?

?: I’m 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 sheep’s 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, it’s 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 :) I’ll 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 Kyle’s been picking you up. As you quietly move down the stairs, a voice comes from behind you.

“Tt. Where are you going? I don’t recall you being involved in anything other than wasting your time wallowing alone at all hours of the day.” 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 wouldn’t 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 Damian’s words so maybe he’ll understand you don’t feel like talking, but he doesn’t seem fazed at all.

“I’m grabbing lunch with a friend. Is that a crime?” You reply. It comes out meaner than you intend, but oh well. Not like anyone cared about sparing your feelings.

Damian’s 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. “No, though your defense makes it seem suspicious.”

“Because you’re reading into it on purpose.” 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 you’re 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.

“Kyle!” You shout happily, throwing your arms around his neck once you’ve climbed inside the passengers seat.

“Hey, beautiful.” *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 Kyle’s 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.

“Master Bruce, has Miss. [Reader] announced when she will be returning?” He had asked passingly as he lifted Brice’s 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 wasn’t uncommon for you to want to hang out with friends. Besides, you always came back by dark.

He wasn’t worried when you didn’t 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 didn’t remember you leaving. Actually, he couldn’t 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 Alfred’s question.

“No, she hasn’t said anything to me. Is something wrong?”

Alfred frowns.

“She has been gone for almost two full days, Master Bruce.”

This shocks the younger man. Two days? And he hadn’t noticed? He was a busy man and you knew that, and he wasn’t 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.

“Tim.” He called, approaching the boy. “I need you to do a favor for me.”

“What is it?” 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 weren’t for a case, so his interest was piqued.

Bruce sighs and runs a hand down his face, almost embarrassed to be asking. “I need you to find your sisters location. She hasn’t been home in almost two days.”

Tim looks shocked, then worried, then he turns back to the computer and exits the current page to something new, already starting to type.

“Did she say where she was going?” Tim asks.

“No. Alfred told me that she left without a word.” Bruce replied. He was going to feel so guilty if Tim couldn’t 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 Blüdhaven. Tim had picked up a signal from your phone, and was now zooming in on where you were exactly.

“Gotham City apartments.” He read aloud. “It looks like there’s only one other phone signal in the apartment with her.” 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 weren’t 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 couldn’t remember the last time he had initiated a conversation with you. To him, that stung.

But he couldn’t 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.

“Who owns that apartment?” Dick asks.

Tim pulls up the resident information, and Kyle’s 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, Bruce’s 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.

“Kyle Rivers.” 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. “Let’s go. Now.” He felt sick. If that man hadn’t hurt you already he was going to make sure he never did. And if he already had.. Bruce didn’t want to think of the animal the he would become if he found you hurt in any way.

You sat on Kyle’s 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.

Kyle’s 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 don’t 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.

“What? Don’t usually drink?” 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 didn’t want to be lame in front of him. Would he kick you out if you didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 couldn’t remember anything from last night. You couldn’t remember yesterday. The shirt you were wearing isn’t yours. Your pants are gone. Your stomach dropped as dread seeped into every crevice of your body as you started to cold sweat.

You couldn’t 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.

“Stop!” You yell, running over to your brother and trying to pull him off of Kyle with tears in your eyes. “Stop it! Stop hurting him!”

Dick stops punching Kyle to look at you with worry and startle in his eyes. “[Reader]..” 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 don’t 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 don’t 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 Bruce’s 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. “Why?”

You swallowed. “He made me feel seen.”

His arms tightened around you. If he wasn’t 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.

“Let’s go home sweetheart, yeah?” 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.