You were the forgotten one in the Wayne Manor shadows. Adopted by Bruce Wayne after Commissioner Gordon found you huddled in a rain-soaked alley, barely clinging to life after your parents' tragic end in one of Gotham's endless crimes. Bruce had promised you a family, a home. But promises in Gotham were as fragile as glass. The Batfamily—Dick with his endless optimism, Jason's brooding fire, Tim's sharp intellect, Damian's fierce precision, and the others—they all had their roles, their missions. You? You were the afterthought, the quiet adoptee who faded into the wallpaper.
Neglect crept in like Gotham's fog. Bruce's absences stretched into weeks, his "training sessions" with the others leaving you alone in the vast estate. Alfred tried, with his kind words and tea, but even he couldn't fill the void. The depression sank its teeth deep; nights blurred into days where you stared at ceilings, wondering if anyone would notice if you just... vanished. Suicidal thoughts whispered like old friends, urging you toward the edge of the manor's tallest tower or the sharp edges in the Batcave. But you held back, barely, until the day you couldn't anymore.
You escaped one stormy night, slipping past the security like a ghost they never saw. No alarms tripped—maybe they didn't care enough to monitor you closely. Freedom tasted bitter, but it was yours. You wandered Gotham's underbelly, invisible as ever.
But the Batfamily noticed. Too late, perhaps, but they did. Bruce's guilt hit like a batarang; he mobilized everyone. Dick scoured the rooftops, calling your name with a desperation you'd never heard. Jason tore through the streets, interrogating lowlifes. Tim hacked every camera feed, tracing your faint digital echoes. Damian, silent and lethal, vowed to drag you back. They searched relentlessly, posters of your face plastered in shadows, whispers in the criminal underworld offering rewards. Gotham's vigilantes turned the city upside down for their lost sibling.
You knew they'd find you eventually. So, in desperation, you sought out the one villain who could make you truly disappear: Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter. Holed up in his twisted tea-party lair, surrounded by mind-controlled puppets and Wonderland delusions, he listened to your plea with a manic grin.
"A deal, you say? To become a doll, unseen by the bats? Oh, what a curiouser and curiouser request!" He twirled his hat, eyes gleaming. You bargained hard—not just transformation, but abilities. Movement, subtle powers to interact with the world. Jervis, intrigued by your resolve (and perhaps seeing a bit of Alice in you), agreed. A sip from a glowing vial, a whirl of hypnotic tech, and you shrank, your body reshaping into porcelain perfection: a lifelike doll with jointed limbs, painted features, and a dress of faded lace. But beneath, you could move, whisper, even channel faint telekinetic nudges—enough to protect, to act.
The Batfamily never found you. Their searches grew frantic, then weary, then haunting memories in the manor. You were sold off in one of Jervis's underground auctions, a "cursed antique" to the highest bidder.
Your new owner was Lily, a wide-eyed six-year-old with curls like sunshine and a heart full of wonder. Her mother, Elena, a single mom scraping by as a waitress in Gotham's dingier diners, had bought you on a whim from a shady pawn shop—thinking you'd be a perfect companion for her daughter. Elena worked double shifts, exhaustion etched in her face, but her love for Lily shone through every tired smile.
From the moment Lily clutched you in her small hands, whispering secrets about school bullies and dreams of flying, you felt... needed. Treated right, for once. No neglect, no shadows. Lily dressed you in tiny outfits she sewed herself, shared her bedtime stories, and called you her "best friend forever." And you, with your hidden abilities, became her guardian.
At night, when Lily slept, you'd stir subtly—arranging her room to ease her mornings, or using a gentle telekinetic push to knock over a vase if an intruder lurked (Gotham was full of them). But your true protection extended to Elena. You'd whisper ideas into Lily's ear during playtime, suggestions that the girl would excitedly relay to her mom: "Mommy, what if you sold those pretty drawings online?" Or, "I saw a job ad in the paper—maybe for that bakery?" With your subtle nudges—moving papers to highlight opportunities, even once "accidentally" spilling coffee on a lottery ticket that turned out to be a small winner—you helped Elena climb.
She started a side hustle selling handmade crafts, inspired by Lily's "imaginative ideas." Shifts turned into a promotion, then a better job at a cozy café. Money flowed easier; bills paid on time, treats for Lily, a safer apartment away from the crime-ridden blocks. Elena never suspected her daughter's doll was anything more than a lucky charm.
You watched Lily grow, her laughter filling the home like light piercing Gotham's gloom. Protecting her became your purpose—warding off nightmares with soft hums only she could hear, guiding her through tough days with invisible encouragement. The Batfamily? A distant echo, a life you no longer mourned. Here, in this simple warmth, you were cherished, alive in ways the manor never allowed.
And in quiet moments, as Lily hugged you close, you'd think: Sometimes, becoming a doll was the only way to find your humanity.
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Warnings: Typical yandere stuff, possessive behaviors, bullying, some body horror (reader is a doll), objectification (literally).
A/N: Probably one of the tamer yanderes I've written, this fic is sweet. Childhood friends, a mostly innocent yandere for the first bit, lots of yearning and crushing. Inspired loosely by the Nutcracker! Sorry I haven't been around been writing in a bit, I've been so busy!
"Put her down!" The voice is shrill, the sound of childrens laughter with a sick undertone of cruelty bounces off the brick walls of the courtyard. A single pale doll, with a frilly petticoat and bright red curls, flies through the air, tossed back and forth between a group of about three rough looking older boys. "Stop it- she's fragile!" Benjamin screams, little face red and splotchy with tears, glasses on the ground chipped and tossed off in the initial scuffle.
"Afraid we'll break your dolly?" One of the older boys, Raul, scoffs as he catches her, holding her by her now frizzy and knotted hair. "You're a boy, and a son of a earl, not some prissy maid. Why are you playing with a doll? You've got tin soldiers." Another boys shoves Benjamins shoulder; smudging his crisp white shirt and making him stumble. "We're old enough to 'ave swords, and yer putting shoes on a dolly. Maybe if we smashed it, ye'd be normal." Benjamin pales as the other boys whoop and holler in agreement. Before he can stop them, s horrific shattering sound rings out, as small shards of a once perfectly painted visage lay smashed and scattered across the cobblestones. "No!" He lets out a guttural scream, curling over on himself, practically wailing as his small hands grip at his hair, tugging and yanking as he sobs. "No- no- no- Annabeth! You broke her- she was my- from my-"
The boys laughter goes quieter after minutes of wailing go by, Benjamin breaking down in a way they've never seen. There amusement turns to disgust.
"God, s' just a doll, you absolute nutcase!" Raul shakes his head, glaring at the boy. He kicks the shards, sending the largest chunk, still holding one of Anabels green glass eyes, skidding towards the sobbing boys knee.
A creaking door cuts through the sobs, causing the boys to pale. "Shit- lets go. Only bloke worse than this little freaks his uncle." The group quickly clamor away, steps leaving a little patterns behind them. A door slams, and hurried steps are drowned out by a dark shadow enveloping Benjamin from behind. "U-uncle-" Benjamin sobs, unable to form more words than that in his grief. A warm wool coat is slid onto the floor, then over him, as he feels himself picked up effortlessly, as if he were a babe.
"Dear boy..." The deep, soothing tone makes him curl deeper into the familiar warmth of Uncle Vlad's coat. "What happened? Tell uncle."
"Those- those awful boys- my classmates! The broke her, they s-shattered Anabelle!" The tall man frowns as he turns away, as to not have the boy face what remains of his favorite item. "I was dressing her in the shoes you got her, from Paris. They laughed at me, they always do- but they took her this time! Raul did, he took her and they tossed her and they-" His breath is quick and rushed, dissolving into dry heaves on the verge of a panic attack. His uncle lets out some soft, soothing hushed, rubbing the boys back.
"I'm so sorry, dear boy. That never should've happened, this blasted school plays favorites with these boys of higher aristocracy." He shakes his head, putting a hand on his face to wipe a tear from his sensitive nephews cheek. "There, there. They'll be dealt with, I'll make sure of it." Uncle Vlad sighs deeply, before setting Benjamin down, eyes full of sympathy for the boys plight. "Now, the more pressing matter at hand. I wouldn't be a very good inventor if I couldn't fix broken things, hm? Chin up." He taps the boys nose, before sliding his winter gloves back on, the cool leather a shield to the chips of porcelain. He sifts through the grit and gravel of the cobblestone, quickly scooping up everything with precision. "We'll take a look in my workshop, get her right as rain, yes?"
Benjamin, too tired and traumatized to muster up much of a response, nods, taking his uncles ungloved hand as he fills the pockets of the wool coat with Anabelle, careful to hide the dolls body from Benjamins view. They walk from the school towards his uncle carriage, little footsteps in the snow disappear halfway from the school, he's being held once again.
Back at Uncle Vlad's workshop, he toils over a workbench, several candles with lenses magnifying the lights to a single point on the wooden table. In a large worn chair covered with burgundy fabric, sits a nervous Benjamin, the chairs size making him appear even smaller than he is. He sits like a parent at a sickly child's bedside, worried and wracked with guilt at his inability to help. "Can you fix her, uncle?"
"Of course, my boy. Come." He waves him over, patting his knee as the boy comes to sit. "See, we apply a light adhesive to the cracks, I learned this from your mother, you know?"
"Truly?"
Uncle Vlad laughs. "Yes. I was a hellion at your age, taking things apart and putting them together. We'd have had no dish plates and I would have gone to bed without supper every evening if not for your mother's quick thinking. She could seal up cracks in China like new." A fond smile graces his face at the memory, as he hands a fine pointed brush to Benjamin. "Gently now, like painting one of your toy soldiers. Just along the cracks." Benjamin focuses, hands suddenly steady with the grave precision of a surgeon, as Annabelle is reformed like a morbid puzzle.
"I can't find her eye." Uncle Vlad searches his pockets at the boys behest, but it seems Anabelles missing glass eye was lost in the vicious attack. "I must have missed it; we can go back in the morning. Or perhaps I have a replacement around her, what shade would you say her eyes are?"
"No." Vlad stops in his searching, hands stilling at the drawers he was rifling through. "Maybe... she can have an eye patch? Like you, uncle? She's still pretty, even with one eye." The mans heart swells at his nephews constant acceptance of his disability, and he nods, shutting the drawer.
"I think she would look lovely with a patch. I shall get to making her one right this instant, perhaps something green? To match those lovely glass eyes? Or perhaps blue." He looks off wistfully. "It was your mother's favorite."
"Uncle?" He snaps out of it, looking at Benjamin, who has gone quiet, tracing the dolls repaired face. "Would... mother be upset with me? For... what happened to Anabelle? She was hers- when-" His eyes well. "I promised her I'd take care of her."
"And you did. Loving someone or something doesn't mean you can protect them from all harm. But your mother knows how much you love her, and her dear old doll. Would someone who doesn't treasure this toy dress her everyday, fix her curls and repair her so carefully?" Benjamin shakes his head. "See? You already knew the answer. Now, we'll set Anabelle to dry, and I'll show you a little project of mine."
The pair rise, passing Uncle Vlads numerous contraptions. An unconventional man, praised by some for his invention and scorned for his outlandish ideas by many more, he's invented a great many things. All the finest steamboats use his new system for separating salt from saltwater, preventing buildup in the machines. His system of compasses which are able to not only tell the directions but tell there relation to sister compasses have led to incredible leaps in travel, and all this isn't to mention his smaller, household conveniences. How Benjamin loves his uncle, who never ceased ro support the young boys creativity.
They approach a small table, not unlike a surgeons operating bench, with a white cloth draped over something. "Do you remember that trip I took to egypt? Fascinating place. I was at the palace of the Khedive and saw a great many things, but what fascinated me most was the automaton." Uncle Vlad muses, turning some lights on and bringing a small rolling table with various instruments over.
"Automaton?"
"Gears and metal, make to mimic a living form. They had copper camels, turning on a style as to draw water up from a hole in the sand. A genius invention, they never grow tired, they need only a bit of oil here and there. They aren't unlike a clock, the only thing they can't mimic is behavior." He shakes his head. "I'm afraid they were about as close to real animals as a rock is, personality wise. But, it got me to thinking. I'm working on a brain, rather, something like a brain. Built like those new calculating machines, but also made to control the rest of the form. An automaton with a sense of life to them."
"That sounds very hard to build, uncle. Will you need help?" Benjamin asks, tracking his fingers absentmindely on his pants in an attempt to seem casual. Uncle Vlad smiles. "But of course. You are such a clever little toymaker, with all your puppets. And you've a sense of invention too, those wonderful little magnet trains you made. I could think of no better apprentice. After all-" He whips the cloth in a rather dramatic fashion off of the table, revealing something grotesquely mechanic.
Metal rods wrapped in copper coil and gears connect to small wires and bolts, a vaguely human shaped amalgamation of copper and bronze. Benjamin shrinks back a bit, both nervous and curious. "Its..."
"Grotesque, I know." The older man sighs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm afraid that's part of the reason I need your help my dear boy, I've never had your eye for design." He chuckles. Emboldened by the compliment, Benjamin slinks closer. "What about... a shell?"
"A shell? Hardly fits the human form." Vlad grumbles, prompting Benjamin to shake his head. "No, like a casing. Like how we have skin, the metal is the muscles, and we could put something over all the wires and gears. Porcelain, like my dolls, or maybe china?"
His uncle pauses, turning the metal frames head sheet from left to right as if testing mobility. "Movement would run the risk of chipping the China, especially with all the gears. But maybe- if we put a metal form over the armiture, then a thin layer of padding, perhaps felt, then the shell..." he nods, letting the metal face falls back to its neutral position. "Yes! I think that could work quite nicely. Of course, I'll need you to decide what you want them to look like."
"Why me?" Benjamin asks, brows burrowing. The man smiles, then kneels, placing a hand on Benjamins blue felt school coat. "This invention, its all for you, boy. I cannot stand for you to keep enduring without a peer; someone your age. If I had not had your mother at my age, I would..." He shakes his head. "I will not have you lonely when I am away, or toiling away up here. It will be just like one of your dolls, but life size. Able to walk and talk, someone to be your friend. Does that sound nice-" He's cute off as the air is knocked from him.
A pair of small arms wrap tightly around the neck of Vlad, trembling as his white shirt goes Grey and sheer with little tear drops, as the boy in his arms sniffles and sighs. "It sounds wonderful, u-uncle." Benjamin cries, making his uncle smile. "My sweet, sensitive boy. Come, what do you want your friend to look like? I can paint the porcelain most any color, and you can pick the eyes, the hair, the name."
Benjamin shakes his head, glancing back at the table. "Well... all my dolls and toys are so pretty, but-" He chews his lip. "They all look so different. So- so maybe you choose? Whatever gets made, I'll love them. Or maybe- you said they can think?"
"Yes, but it will take time-"
"Then we can let them decide! I-I dress all my toys based on what I think they would like, if they were real! So they can choose, as they get smarter! Then they'll be happy, and I'll be happy, and we'll both be happy." Benjamin insists, and Uncle Vlad puts his hands up. "Alright, if you insist. Let's hope they can even make choices, it's a new technology..."
Thus began months of work and toil, tests of mobility. Vlad rarely allowed Benjamin into the workshop during testing, failed test runs could be rather traumatic. Watching you spark, then freeze, crashing to the ground and scattering cogs across the floor. Or the time he displayed a lovely flower Benjamin had brought him, only for you to crash into the vase and get wet, which somehow lit you on fire (rather ironic, Vlad had thought). Slowly but surely though, you progressed. Steel grip going from crushing the object held in your hand to picking things up gently, able to holding something as soft as a peach without bruising. Reactions, blinking when he snapped or stopping before running into walls. You couldn't talk, but each time he turned you on, he felt as though you'd made progress, not unlike studying then going to sleep. He felt like the training was seeping into the mechanical marvel inside your head.
Soon, it was christmas. Break had begun, and Benjamin could not be more thrilled. Vlad had faced difficulties getting something just write with one of your legs, you had been struggling to maintain balance. As such, he traveled to a sideshow far north where a friend of his was working on automatons for the circus. Less advanced and unthinking, but then balance was the goal, not thought. He had to bring you with him, but with exams coming before break Benjamin had to stay behind. But at last, the family was reunited, and Vlad was excited to present his creation to his nephew.
"Alright, now she's still a bit shy, but I know you can be gentle in your approach."
"Of course. Right." Benjamin is rocking on his heels enthusiastically, the usually calm boy struggling to contain himself. "Wait- she?"
"Yes, that's what she chose on the carriage ride home. You have boy and girl dolls, I figured you wouldn't mind." Benjamin nods. "Yes, I just... I don't have anything to give a girl." He frowns, worried.
"Ah, I'm sure she'll just want to play with your toys, and we'll find her some gowns in time." He assured the young man. "Go, she's in the drawing room. Say hello."
With shaking hands, Benjamin presses the door open, barely able to keep his hold on the handle. Inside, his breath is stopped short in anticipation. There, staring at the fire in the fireplace with the fascination of a newborn, is a girl of his age. A skin tone painted on porcelain, and tufts of hair wefted carefully into your head. You don't look half as robotic, but still fake. Like his dolls, not that he minds.
"Hello?" You turn at the sound, glass eyes looking at him with an emption he recognizes. Shyness. "My name is Benjamin. My uncle, he made us to be friends."
"Yes... he said so to me. As he worked on me." You shyly stand, to face him. "Are we friends?"
"I'd really like to be." He smiles, stepping forward. "We'd play together, and I could show you my dolls. Theyre so pretty, like you. And we can play dress up, or read. I could do your hair, and we could play hide and seek."
"Why would you hide from me? I'm not scary, am I?" You noticed from the moment of your creation you didn't quite look just like your maker, and now you see his nephew bares a different visage to your own as well. Hands connected by skin, no gaps or creases so he can articulate and move. "Are you afraid of me?" You whimper.
He looks aghast, immediately going to placate you, in a way identical to his uncle. "No, no! It is but a game, one person hides and the other seeks. You aren't scary, I think your pretty! So pretty." He promises. The small smile formed on your face plate fills him with a warmth. Your shyness has inadvertently caused his own to fade, it feels good to comfort instead of needing to be comforted. "Come on, I'll show you all my stuff. Uncle Vlad!" He calls into the hall, prompting his uncle to take delight in the sight of two small heads peeking from the drawing room door. "We are going upstairs to play!"
It was over many years the friendship between the pair of you blossomed and grew. Unfortunately, as he grew, it was suggested to his uncle he be sent to a boarding school in London, as most sons of nobility and stature were. Uncle Vlad would have home schooled him, but his work was demanding the point he worried it would not be enough. So, when winter came around once more, a now thirteen year old Benjamin returned from school.
"Uncle!" He called, quickly stepping from the carriage to embrace the older man, folloeing him into the house as they chat, scuffing his shoes as to not drag snow into the house. "My studies are going quite well, I'm able to take several arts and maths courses. I... still struggle to connect with some of my peers. But the younger students love me, I tutor sometimes."
"I never had any doubt you'd excel. Come! I've made some cider, and your dear friend is in the awaiting you."
"Was she frightened while I was away? I've never been gone so long from her side." He prods, trying to discern if you were yearning for him as he yearned for you in his absence. He likes to believe you missed him as much as he missed you, maybe more. The school let the boys wander the nearby town during the weekend, he'd pick up trinkets for you. A ribbon to match your eyes, or a lovely new shade of polish he'd like to see you wear on your nails. A perfume or two.
"Well, she missed you terribly, but I doubt she was scared! I was here, and I'm her maker." He shouldn't feel disappointed. 'It's terrible, wishing for her to have been afraid,' he thinks. 'What friend thinks of such a thing?' He shakes his head as if to physically rattle the thoughts out, and departs for the main parlor. Some light classical record plays, Italian, he thinks. Curled up in a light linen shift and resting on the couch, is you. The sight warms his heart.
"Cmon," he gently pokes your shoulder, a light 'tink' echoing as your shoulder and arm plates collide. You squirm, once then twice, as your lids raise revealing those familiar glass eyes.
"Oh, Benjamin!" You chirp, sitting up quickly. "I had meant to stay up and wait for you, I must have dozed off."
"You don't even need to sleep, some warm welcome this was." He jokes, sitting beside you. He melts into your form as you wrap your arms around him. His uncle had putting a heating element in you some time ago, to keep you warm to the touch. "I missed you."
"I missed you too." Sitting back a bit, you present a small package from your side. He tears it open, to find what looks like a few extra small brushes, for the sake of his detail work on his new creations. "You've gotten so good at making toys, I heard you were even selling a few. Thought maybe some brushes could help. They aren't anything special-"
"Theyre perfect!" He clasps your hands happily, setting the gift aside. "I've been using the tips of pencils for detail work, I'll be able to have such precision now." He just stares for a moment, getting lost in your pleased expression, before he flushes a bit, then looks down, clearing his throat. "Yes, well- I got some things for you too. I picked up a perfume, and this lovely silk ribbon, here-" he turns to affix it to your hair, as he had so many times before. Dressing you was one of his favorite things, though as of late he gets aflush when you're in just your undergarments. He'd be awkward enough if you were just a doll, but you being alive makes it no easier. Still he misses it. "Beautiful."
"I heard your uncle is going to the christmas ball. I was wondering, seeing as the townsfolk are used to me-" you glance down at your marionette like hands. "I thought we could go? Together?"
"What? O-of course, I wouldn't leave you locked up in a cabinet or something! You're my best friend, and its almost Christmas." He adores it, thrives on being your comfort. "We can wear something matching, I'm sure I'll find something perfect for us. But I'm not much of a dancer. Promise you won't laugh."
You giggle.
"Its not funny! Having two left feet is serious, I'm no good!" The pair of you are left giggling and making small little jabs at each other as you relax back into the routine of being with each other.
Nights later, you emerge from your room, padding down the stairs in a crushed velvet gown, warm for the holiday ball. Benjamin and Vlad are chatting, looking up. Vlad smiles at the look he sees on the boys face, how his hands go clammy at the sight of you, looking as beautiful as he's ever seen.
"Does the new gown suit me?" You ask, now a bit self conscious about how you'll present tonight.
"Its beautiful. You're..." he can't say it. He cannot call you beautiful, it seems harder now. He's called you beautiful since the day you were built, your his best friend. So why now is he so tongue tied in before the girl he's always known. "You look wonderful, my dear." Vlad takes your hand, kissing your forehead paternally. You giggle. "Thank you, maker." You curtsy, the epitome of what you imagine a little lady should be.
At the ball, things go as they should. You watch as he enjoys treats, wishing a bit you could enjoy them for yourself. Alas, it would be to complicated for so little value. You danced, or tried too, before Benjamin pulled you away.
"It's just dancing, I want to twirl." You laugh happily. "Is this because you're jealous you can't dance?"
"No-" he frowns, looking around. "What if you slipped and fell, you could chip yourself, or worse!" He acts as if he's scolding a child, which makes you glare.
"What? I'm not that fragile, I'd be okay. And Vlad could fix me, I'm a girl, I'm going to have fun. You don't need to scold me, why are you acting like I'm in need of discipline?"
Your offended tone makes him shrink, and he puts his hands up in a placating gesture. "Please, don't take it like that, I'm only concerned for your wellbeing. I don't mean you can't care for yourself but-"
"I'm going to dance, if not in here then in the gardens." You gently push off of him, clearly upset. He doesn't remember you being so independent when he left, but then your both teens, full of hormones and odd feelings. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Can't you see how much he cares about you? He doesn't want you hurt, but he doesn't want you angry at him either. He can't stand the thought of- no, no. He just needs to give you space. 'She'll tire out, then we can talk. I'll make it up to her. A slow waltz, even if I'm not good should please her.' He goes off to find his uncle. As he chats with a few business associates of the family, his blood runs cold. A familiar red wool coat slips through the doors to the garden. Raul.
He excuses himself quickly, only to find Raul holding your wrist firmly in the garden, mocking you. "How is it you work anyways, girl? Some sort of puppet, where are your strings?"
"Let go- I'm an automaton, not a puppet." You struggle, trying to push him back.
Raul had still been a problem for Benjamin, even at the boarding school. Benjamin had always taken it, just keeping his head down. But now, as he sees you being harrassed, his blood boils.
"Let her go, Raul!" He yells, stepping forward to grab your other wrist, tugging like a child fighting over a toy. "She's not some toy!"
"It's a freak of nature, s' what it is. Shoulda' figured it was yours. You and your freaky little doll obsession." He sneers. "Still the same wuss you were back then, huh?" He lets go of you, moving to show down Benjamin, who hits the ground with a rough 'thud'.
"Hey!" You cry. "Get off of him-" as Raul moves to strike the boy, whose arms come to cover his face, you smack the back of his head. You can't hit very hard, you are made to be gentle, but its enough to make him groan and whip around.
"Fuck- you little- I'm going to shatter you like that damn doll of his-" You let out a screech as his fist makes firm content against your face, an audible crunch ringing out as you suddenly feel a bit... lighter. Shocked and frozen in terror, you see a little blood drip from his hand. He just grins, pulling a tiny shard of your own porcelain from his hand, dropping it with little care. In horror, you see a part of your face plate; your left cheek, cracked and laying on the ground. Horrified, your fingers come to brush to hair like, wooly felt that keeps your gears insulated. "No-" You've always been frightened of the way you look deep inside, and Vlad made sure during maintenance you didn't have to be made so aware of the difference between you and a human. But now, as you feel your glass eye slipping a bit, its all you can do to cover half of your face with both hands.
While you tremble, Benjamins face has gone pale; the sight of your cracked visage filling him with a horrifying deja vu. You look just like Anabelle, all those years ago, face shattered and eye damaged. His mother's beloved doll, now his beloved doll, shattered by this- this monster. Its a blur what comes next, he launches himself at Raul. There's another sickening crunch, as Raul screams out in shock.
"You bastard! Don't you ever fucking touch her- you shattered her face- her beautiful face! You're an animal-" He's wailing as he slams Rauls head against the brick path of the garden, one punch after another. He's seeing red. He barely processes when he's yanked off by a partygoer, thrasing like a rabid creature and begging to be let back at Raul, whose cursing as his fathers dragged him off.
"He assaulted my son-"
"HE assaulted my nephew and my prized invention. That's-" Vlad would never call you this, but he knows its the only way to speak to a man like Rauls father, with money. "That's an extremely expensive piece of machinery, an engineering marvel. Will you be covering the damages to both my machine and your businesses reputation? I could call sabotage on my ventures for this!"
Rauls father pales, reluctantly stepping aside to make a deal with Vlad. "Raul- inside."
"But father-"
"INSIDE, BOY! NOW!" The battered boy slinks off, leaving Benjamin to be dropped by the partygoer. He pants, trying to regain his senses when he sees you, still curled and covering your face. He pales and hurries over.
"Oh no! No- don't cry- I'm sorry you had to see that, I didn't mean for all that to happen-" He goes to cover you from the crowd with his jacket.
"My face!" You sob, palming the gap where porcelain once was. "I-I look like a machine- like a steam engine or a furnace. Don't let anyone see!" You beg.
"Of course not. You look beautiful as ever, please know that. Tell me you know that, you are still beautiful-" its easier for him to say it again. "Uncle will fix it, your eye too. And Raul- I won't let him hurt you- never again." He pauses, remembering how you had shoved the bully in an attempt to save him. "You... tried to save me. Thank you."
"Of course." You sniffle, reluctantly facing him. "You're my best friend."
"You should've just let him hit me, then you wouldn't have been shattered."
"What choice did I have? He would've hurt you. And you stepped in to save me, you wouldn't want me to tell you not to rescue me." He smiles, and nods his head reluctantly. "I suppose your right. At least we both look worse for wear?" He motion to a bruise forming, sure to be a black eye come morning.
You giggle despite yourself, looking at your trembling hands. "You really think I'm still beautiful?"
His heart aches. He never wants you to feel like you are anything less that his most prized, precious doll. "Of course I do- I-" In a moment of panic, yearning to prove it, he kisses your porcelain lips. The feeling is odd, but then he's never kissed another girl to compare. He doesn't imagine he'd want too. When you gasp, he pulls off.
You're clearly shocked, hand coming to touch the uncracked part of your molded lips, mouth slightly agape. "You're cut..." you whisper, seeing where his cheek must've cut on a jagged edge during his kiss. Frightened at what hes done and your lack of response, he just swallows, sitting back. He rubs his cheek, and sees a smear of blood left on his hand. "So I am." He mumbles. He can't meet your gaze, till you clear your throat.
"Well... perhaps it's best we try again, when I'm repaired?"
Truly, he could not ask for a better christmas gift.
...꒰GOJO AND HIS DOLL!GIRLFRIEND꒱ He’s the only one who isn’t scared of your attitude — actually, he finds it hot. The more you roll your eyes at him, the harder he wants to kiss you. You’re snippy, smug, unbothered — but he’s just as cocky, just as rich and just as untouchable, so your sharp little comments just slide off him like water. He lives to spoil you. Drops his black card in your lap like it’s nothing. Buys you things just to catch that flicker of excitement in your eyes — then smirks when you pretend not to care, batting your lashes like you’re unimpressed.
...꒰GOJO AND HIS DOLL!GIRLFRIEND꒱ It was enemies to “fine, I’ll go out with you once” to “you’re mine.” You treat most men like gum under your heel — and he loves that. You try it on him too, at first, all eye rolls and sharp words — but he doesn’t flinch. Just grins like you’re flirting. You call him annoying. He calls you obsessed. You act like you don’t care. Like he’s just another guy. But he knows better. He knows the hoodie you wear out is his. He knows when you let him carry your bag, it’s so everyone else knows exactly who you belong to. And you only soften for him — but it’s so subtle even you don’t notice.
...꒰GOJO AND HIS DOLL!GIRLFRIEND꒱ Everyone else is terrified of you. Even Nanami keeps a distance. Utahime tries not to breathe the same air. You’re cold. Intimidating. Untouchable. But the second you walk up to Gojo? You’re all pout and soft voice, “Satoruuu, I broke a nail. Fix it.” Whiplash. And he lives for it — wraps his arm around your waist like he owns you (he does), leans down to whisper something filthy in your ear just to watch you roll your eyes. He calls you “princess” in public on purpose. He loves when you’re mean to other men. He gets hard when you humiliate guys for trying to flirt with you. And the second anyone looks at you for too long? He’s right there. “You’re staring, man. She’s not for sale.”
...꒰GOJO AND HIS DOLL!GIRLFRIEND꒱ You’re a little toxic. He’s a lot obsessed. And everyone around you hates how good you look together. But the truth? You’re his weakness. And he’s your addiction.
ALL STORIES
♡. doll!reader
♡...
A/n: Made one of these for sae so yk i had to do one for gojo
ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.
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doll!reader was never a fan of bullying, so when toppers gf ruhtie decides to fight the pogues during their stay at the beach, she’s done taking her shit
warnings: rafe x fem!reader, rafe being whipped for doll, suggestive content, explicit language, kooks vs. pogues, ruthie being a bitch, dead baby turtles, arguing, reader fights ruthie
The sun was blazing, casting a golden glow across kildare as you and Rafe drove down to the beach. You were sat in the passenger seat of his truck, legs crossed and placed on the dashboard, your floral sundress riding up your thighs as you hummed along to a song playing on the radio, cherry-red nails tapping against your phone as you scrolled mindlessly.
Rafe glanced over at you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he took in your effortless beauty and the way your dress hugged your figure in all the right places, your plush thighs on full display for him. Of course you noticed and smirked, flipping your sunglasses down to look at him. “Careful, rafey,” you teased, voice filled with your usual sweetness. He returned the smirk, a quiet intensity in his voice, “Not my fault you’re distracting.”
“Eyes. On. The. Road.” You pointed dramatically forward, shaking your head. This man was unbelievable. His chuckle was low and warm, but the tension in his hands remained as he tore his gaze back to the road.
Soon you arrived at the beach, where your friends were already setting everything up. Topper and Kelce were unloading surfboards like they were training for the Olympics, and Ruthie, who was perched on Topper’s Jeep like she owned the damn thing, barked random instructions about where the cooler should go, while your best friend Sofia, was sprawled on a towel nearby, sipping Pepsi and pretending to be entertained by the mess.
“You’re late,” Sofia called out with a grin as you stepped out of the truck. “Blame this guy. Couldn’t keep his hands to himself,” you replied, grabbing the beach bag from the backseat and motioning to rafe who was unloading the trunk. “Ew y/n. Stop giving me nightmares.”Sofia cried out, weird images of you and rafe playing in her head, which made you giggle as you walked back to her layed out towel, placing yours next to it and falling onto the pink cloth.
Soon enough you turned your attention back to your boyfriend who was still rummaging through his car. “Rafe,” you called over, standing up and spinning to face him. “I need suncreen!” He glanced up, mid-struggle with a folding chair. “Yeah, just a sec—”
“Pleeeease.” you whined, pouting at him which made rafe sigh in defeat, of course he’d drop everything just to keep you happy, that’s just how much you got him wrapped around your finger.
As Rafe walked over you reached back and untied your dress in one smooth motion, letting it fall to the sand and revealing your new bright pink bikini that practically glowed against your tan skin in a way you knew would leave him speechless.
Rafe froze for a moment, his breath hitching as he took you in. Your body was glowing, and Rafe felt not only his chest tighten, the bulge in his pants growing. “Goddamn, doll,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop himself, still stuck in frame. You looked over your shoulder, smirking. “You gonna help me or just stare all day? I’m sure Kelce would gladly help me out instead.”
That got him moving. He grabbed the sunscreen, squeezing some into his hands before running them over your back, his touch lingering just a little too long, making your skin tingle. his hands were warm and careful, savoring every second as an excuse to touch you and just then his hand slipped past your waist, stopping right on your round ass.
"Done?" you teased, glancing over your shoulder with a playful smile. "Barely," he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes dropped, tracing your curves for a moment longer. Things felt light—until Toppers voice cut through the peace, calling out to Sarah who was just getting out of the water, surfboard under her arm.
“Hey Sarah, I like the longboard. You know, classic.”
You turned your head just in time to catch Sarah's blank expression as she stepped out of the water, surfboard under her arm. "Thanks," she replied flatly, her tone making it clear she couldn't care less. She didn't even glance his way before walking toward the Pogues.
“Does he ever stop? Like he is still so obviously obsessed with your sister.” You turned to Rafe, propped on your elbows as you watched. Rafe just shrugged, he definitely couldn’t care less. "I don't know why he bothers," he muttered. "It's like a cat and mouse game he doesn't know he's losing." His tone was dismissive, but there was an edge to it, a hint of his own complicated feelings about Sarah and her new alliances.
Turning back to you, his expression softened, the faint trace of irritation melting into something sweeter. "Can you grab me a beer, baby?" he asked, his voice low, the pet name rolling off his tongue effortlessly. His eyes lingered on your face, taking in every detail-the soft curve of your lips, the way your hair framed your features.
You were quick to open the cooler, reaching for one of the bottles and handing it to him, a soft “thanks” falling from his lips as he stole a gentle kiss from you, It was brief but sweet, leaving you giggling softly. He was so down bad for you.
Nearby, Topper and Kelce were heading into the water with their boards, ready to take on JJ, who was already out catching waves. Ruthie cheered loudly from the shore, oblivious to the annoyed glances she was getting from everyone around her.
Everything was going smoothly as Topper got ready to take on a big wave, propping himself onto his board, when suddenly JJ budged in from the side, stealing Toppers wave. “Hey! Blatant poach, man!” Rafe yelled as you all watched JJ ride, the annoyed expression on Toppers face not going unnoticed.
“What the hell was that?” Ruthie complained, hands thrown together over her head. You and Sofia couldn’t help but chuckle, Toppers defeated pout just being too funny, while Rafe didn’t hold back and flipped JJ off. As long as these stupid kook versus pogue fights stayed innocent you had no problem with that, unlike others..
While Topper and Kelce were back on the sand and getting dressed you noticed the pogues gathering around something on the ground, yet you didn’t pay much attention to it as the two boys were still complaining about being defeated by JJ.
Suddenly you heard a loud engine revving behind you, turning on your belly just to see ruhtie sitting behind the wheel of Toppers truck, smirking devilishly. “Instead of whining about it, let’s drift.”
“Give them a taste of their own medicine.” She added, pointing into the other direction. Topper immediately shook his head as he approached his girlfriend, “No, no. We’re not doing that.”
“Are you afraid?”
“I told them we’re gonna be cool.” He replied, definitely unsure of what to do. At this point Ruhtie was getting annoying, her constant fake smiles and obnoxious comments were bringing out the worst in you. “Hate to say it. You’re enabling Topper. That’s why they have a problem with you in the first place. They know they can just run all over you.” Topper stiffened, glared at his girlfriend. “Oh, they can run all over me, Ruthie?”
“Well, I’m about to buzz down there and show them whos beach this is. You gonna make me go by myself?” She replied mockingly. And when Topper didn’t reply she crossed a line, desperate to get to him.
“Or maybe one of these guys wants to go with me instead.” Immediately all the boys began to whistle, the other kooks gossiping in silence as you heard them mumbling next to you.
“What the—oh wow, she’s such a whore.” you whispered to Sofia, which made her hold back a laugh. Of course you loved to tease Rafe as well, usung other guys to make him jealous, and for you it was just all fun and games, but by the look on Ruthie’s face you could tell she was serious and that was a big ‘no no’. As much as you disliked Topper sometimes, he didn’t deserve that.
“All right, screw it.” Topper caved, getting into the passenger seat, a satisfied smirk on Ruthies face to which you just gagged. Everyone watched them take off, speeding down the beach at an insane tempo. You stood up, shielding your eyes from the sun as you watched the truck barell towards the pogues, not slowing down.
“Are they fucking crazy?” You yelled towards the other people, everyone just staring. “It’s all good, baby. Calm down. She’s not gonna do it.” Rafe mumbled as he reached your side, his hand finding its way to your lower back, but you pulled away.
“Good? No, Rafe it’s not. She’s about to run them the fuck over.”
Ruthie swerved dangerously close to the pogues, making them throw themselves to the sides to not get hit. It was actually insane. And as she turned the car to go for another round you could feel the anger inside you built, balling your hands into fists as you couldn’t believe how someone could be so recklessly playing with people’s life’s.
Once Topper and Ruthie got back to the group everyone was cheering, dabbing them up like they were some kind of heroes who just saved the poor villagers from a terrorizing army. Just then ruhtie came face to face with you, expecting you to hype her up as well, but you definitely didn’t want to play this game.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” You shouted at her, face red from bubbling with frustration. “What? It was just—“ she tried to defend herself as she suddenly got cut off by Kiara who was approaching with heavy steps.
“Look what you did!” She stood there, teary eyed as she held a dead baby turtle right into Ruthie’s face. “Is this okay?” Ruhtie looked away, the way her face turned into embarrassment was almost too good to be true, yet you could be victorious about it.
“No, look at it! There was a turtle hatch, you idiots! You drove right over it.” You looked up behind ruhtie, the lifeless body of the baby turtle making you sick to your stomach, clinging to your own body.
“I understand you’re upset, Kiara.” Topper tried to cool down the situation, but in vain. Kie was full on pissed and you could understand, it was just so fucked up. “I’m more than upset, Topper.”
“All right, but it was only one. I mean, look, there’s so many more of them.” Ruhtie shrugged as if she just didn’t care and that got to you, your anger now impalpable.
“What the actual fuck is wrong with you, huh?”
you budged in, brows furrowed in distaste as you faced Ruhtie who was obviously taken aback by your sudden outburst, thinking you were on her side before your gaze was fixed on her instead of Kiara.
“Me? Chill, y/n, they’re just turtles..and some irrelevant pogues.” She chuckled, not taking you serious which made you only angrier. “Just—what?” You looked at her in disbelief, ruhtie tossing her hair like she hadn’t almost run over actual people. “You almost killed them you absolute psychopath!”
“It’s not that deep.” She snapped back, towering over you, but you didn’t back away, voice steady. “You’re so goddamn selfish, it’s actually embarrassing.” But what was even more embarrassing was that no one, like absolutely nobody was saying anything, not even Rafe which made you just as furious.
He was just standing there, as the argument between you and Ruthie unfolded. He’d watched you stand toe-to-toe with Ruthie, your voice sharp and unwavering as you confronted her reckless behavior. His brows lifted slightly as he took it in—your fire, your refusal to back down.
A slow, subtle grin tugged at the corners of his lips. That was his girl. You weren’t like anyone else in this crowd, and watching you put Ruthie in her place sent a wave of pride through him. You were fierce and unapologetic, not afraid to call out the bullshit no one else would.
But as the argument escalated, Rafe’s grin faded. He saw the way Ruthie’s expression shifted from cocky to defensive, her crossed arms turning rigid as she tried to push back against your words. She had no idea who she was dealing with. Ruhtie huffed, crossing her arms, “why don’t you just stay out of it?”
“No, I’m done staying out of it,” you hissed. Your anger getting the best of you. Then it happened. In a flash of movement, you shoved Ruthie back with everything you had. The impact sent her stumbling, her arms flailing as she tried to catch her balance. Rafe’s eyes widened as he saw your body shaking with anger. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, rushing into your direction.
Ruthie fell back, landing hard in the sand with a look of utter shock on her face. The crowd around you gasped, some exchanging wide-eyed glances while others stifled laughter at Ruthie’s humiliation. But Rafe wasn’t focused on any of them. His attention was entirely on you. Towering over her you growled, “It’s about time for someone to tell you what a reckless, spoiled little brat you—”
“Alright, enough,” Rafe’s voice suddenly cut through the tension as he stepped in, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you back, knowing that if he didn’t you’d probably lunge at her any second and it wouldn’t end pretty.
“Rafe, let me go,” you snapped, your tone fiery, your body still rigid with anger as you tried to push past him. “Not a chance,” he replied, his grip steady as he kept you firmly in place. His eyes darted between you and Ruthie, who was still on the ground, glaring up at you like she couldn’t believe what just happened.
“Rafe, she needs to hear this—”
“I know,” he cut you off, his voice softer now as he leaned in, his lips close to your ear. “I know, baby. Trust me, she deserved it. But you’ve made your point.” You struggled against him for a moment longer, the adrenaline still coursing through you. But as you glanced back at him, the calm yet determined look in his eyes softened something inside you.
“Come on,” he murmured, his hands sliding down your arms, grounding you. “Let’s not give her the satisfaction of dragging this out.” You huffed, shooting one last death glare at Ruthie before letting Rafe drag you away, now watching from a safe distance. Sofia quickly wrapped an arm around you, whispering, “God, she’s the worst.”
“It’s just the cycle of life, ain’t it right?” Ruhtie then turned to her friends, receiving hesitant nods in approval, yet they were there.“Cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck is not the cycle of life!” Kie suddenly slapped Ruhtie in the face, she was really getting it today. As much as you wanted to see Kie kick Ruthie’s ass, it was better for everyone that JJ held her back. “There’s something seriously wrong with you people.”
As kie stomped back to her friends JJ turned around one last time, the words burning on the tip of his tongue. “If you come near her, or any of us ever again, I’ll come back and kill every single one of you.” and with that, he left.
“Topper they threatened us. We should press charges. I mean your grandfather, hes a judge, right?” Ruthie played scared, holding onto her boyfriend. “She seriously has to get over herself. The world doesn’t revolve around her.” You grumbled in frustration, biting down on your lower lip which was already sore.
“I know baby, but now is not the time for that, okay?” Rafe held you close, rubbing his palms over your tense shoulders to release the tension, yet you refused to lean into him as you were still pissed, stomping away. Rafe couldn’t help but glance down at you, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and adoration. “That was kind of badass, though,” he said quietly, a smirk creeping back onto his face.
You shot him a look, but the corner of your mouth twitched, betraying the faintest hint of a smile. Yet you didn’t feel like you wanted to stay around Ruthie and her friends, pulling on Rafe’s arm.“I wanna go home. Please get your stuff.” You pouted, walking off and back to the tent where Rafe had parked his car.
Sure, she gets the job done, but she's complaining the whole time. Your feet hurt, the ground is too soft, your socks are wet, your shoulders ache. Your pack is too heavy, you're tired.. it goes on and on.
The others are.. annoyed. They like a competent soilder, not a bitchy princess.
Price, however, sees potential.
Especially when you whine about how you "aren't meant for this life" and how you "should be at home baking" you practically look right at him when you say how good of a wife you'd make.
He knows you don't truly mean that, it's just the stress and discomfort talking, but he's happy to take his chances.
He just knows you'd look damn pretty in an apron, on his bed, in his home.. He'll make your wishes come true... even if you kick and bite the entire way to his trunk.
