#especially teens and vigilantes the same age as him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aealzx · 6 months ago

Text

_______________________

Prologue Next

_______________________

“We’ve secured the suspected meta.”

“Copy that. Red Hood, do you have eyes on the last of them?”

“Not yet, but I’m pretty sure she’s in this apartment.”

Several months ago a group of unpredictable rogues had popped up in Gotham. Nothing unusual for the city, other than they appeared to be a group of teenagers who were both criminals and heroes. Stolen goods of various types ranging from common camping supplies, food, and clothing, to an odd assortment of medical supplies and technology. Assaulted police, other heroes and vigilantes given the slip. And yet there were also many criminals dealt with that hero teams couldn’t account for who was responsible. The main lead they had gotten was the suspected meta human. A girl with white hair that could fly, phase through walls, and various other super human feats. She had been the first lead they could latch onto, and from there they had built profiles on the other three. The oldest girl appeared to be in her late teens, another girl just a few years younger, a boy the same age as the second girl, and then the metahuman, younger than all of them. They had been more of a curiosity than a serious threat. Until they had stolen something from the wrong people and painted a target on their heads. Now they were in a cross between a rescue and capture mission as the team only known as The Phantoms were being raided by pissed off crooks.

The three youngest had already been caught by the rest of the team sent by Batman, it was only the eldest girl that remained. And unless Tim could pull off a miracle Jason only had ten minutes to find her before the planted bomb destroyed the building they’d been hiding in.

With Barbara’s help he and a few of the others had searched the entire apartment building, checking each room for the remaining Phantom and placing eyes where they’d been to make sure she didn’t give them the slip and run to somewhere they’d already been. Jason had just slammed through the front door of one more apartment when he’d answered Barbara’s question, a scattering of food wrappers in a trash pile, a small cook top, sleeping areas, and other items for basic needs betraying recent habitation. It was a good hint that this was where the Phantoms had stationed, especially with the scrabbled together computer workstation setup off to one side.

There were only three other doors in the apartment, and Jason moved to the first one quickly. A closet near the front door. Empty. A bathroom across from the front room. Also empty. Which meant the last room, the bedroom, had to be where she was, if she was there.

Jason flung the door open and promptly caught the crowbar that was swung at his face, accompanied by a near frantic screech from the girl he’d been looking for

“Got her,” Jason announced to the comms, deftly yanking the crowbar out of the girl’s hands and tossing it to the side. “Begin evacuation, I’ll be out in - ….. Shit.”

As Jason spoke to Barbara and the rest of the team he decidedly ignored the girl’s demands for him to get out, having to block a fist thrown his way. He’d noticed she was obviously distressed, tears marking her dirty cheeks and a fierce glare directed his way. It wasn’t unexpected considering she was the last of her team they didn’t have in custody; she must have felt any myriad of emotions ranging from despair at failing to fear that they would hurt her. Yet Jason quickly noticed something that made him cuss mid report, and realize the girl's actions weren’t out of defiance, but protectiveness.

“There’s five of them,” Jason reported, finger pressing to his comm and eyes locked onto the new figure that hadn’t been part of any of their intel. And for a good reason. The lad was unconscious on a cot, one of the stolen items in the team’s list, and he didn’t look good. If it weren’t for the shallow, shuddering breaths from him Jason would have thought he were already dead, his skin ghastly pale other than fever flushed cheeks. “There’s another boy, heavily injured. I’m bringing them both out, have someone standing by.”

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

Of course the girl heard his report, and renewed her efforts to fight Jason, blocking him from reaching the fifth member. They didn’t have time to converse gently though, and so Jason grabbed her arm and yanked her forward. “Listen! I’m not going to hurt you, I’m trying to rescue you. There’s a bomb! We have to get out of the building, and get him to a hospital.”

The girl was smart. Or at least not dumb enough to ignore Jason’s words completely, for she froze the moment he mentioned the bomb. “...What?” she asked, wide eyes locking onto him, daring him to trick her.

“Look, you guys trying to steal Lazarus water pissed off the wrong people. They planted a bomb, and my team and I are here to rescue you. We can talk about your crime runs later, alright?” Jason explained a little more, really not wanting to have to knock the girl out too just to get the two to a safe area if he could help it.

The way the girl’s eyes opened, a horrified gasp escaping her, told Jason she wasn’t a bad person. Or at least reinforced what their actions aside from theft had suggested. That was the reaction of someone who realized they’d made a mistake, and felt the weight bearing down from the mess that had been caused because of it. She stopped trying to fight Jason now, pulling away and rushing to the 5th member’s side, grabbing his limp arm and hooking it around her own shoulders to try and lift him up.

“Is he safe to move?” Jason asked, stepping forward to help. Even though the lad looked fairly small, he was still too heavy for the girl judging by how she was struggling to even get him upright. “His spine isn’t hurt? No broken bones?” he asked to clarify when the girl looked at him with a question half voiced.

“No. Nothing broken, just the-” she confirmed, cutting off when Jason reached forward and effortlessly scooped the frail teen up.

“Hold onto my back. We’re going that way,” Jason directed, ignoring the way she tensed, holding herself back from demanding he not touch her friend, and nodding towards the window.

“WhAT?” the girl sputtered, hands jerking as she internally wrestled with being obedient to him or her own sense of self preservation.

“We’re out of time. Just grab on,” Jason half snapped, roughly kicking the window to shatter the glass, twisting his frame to shield the lad in his arms as well, just in case. “One minute,” he added, repeating what Barbara announced in his comms to reinforce his directions.

It was enough. Pursing her lips and giving a soft whimper the girl rushed forward to throw her arms around his shoulders from behind, clinging to him with a death grip. Jason wished he had a better way to carry both of them, but he hadn’t been expecting there to be two of them in the first place. So he could only hope the girl’s grip was strong enough to hang on as he shot a zip line towards where the others were gathered. After getting the other end secured to the building they were in, Jason latched the clip on the rope and swung over the fire escape, curling his legs up to make sure the lad he was carrying had plenty of support. He could hear a muffled, drawn out squeak from the girl on his back, but didn’t comment.

“Wh- Ja- DANNY! LET HIM GO YOU-” the mid teenage girl caught sight of them first, snarling and trashing against her restraints when she saw who Jason had. Cass refused to let her go though, pulling her back to kneeling and considering pushing her down further if necessary. She didn’t get to finish her protests though.

“HEADS DOWN!” Dick shouted after Barbara announced a second to detonation, and those who had capes were throwing them over their targets and each other, hunching over to bodily protect them from the cascades of blasts ripping through the apartment building the Phantoms had been stationed in. They were far enough away that they shouldn’t get hurt from the collapsing rubble, but there was still the possibility of smaller debris getting thrown at them. So they remained huddled on the ground a safe distance away until the rubble settled, and only when it stopped shifting did they stand again.

“Oracle, status on the inbound units?” Dick was the first to speak, the others giving sighs of relief and partially relaxing.

The two middle teenage children had quieted significantly after the explosion, the boy looking at the rubble in shock as he realized they would have been caught in it if it weren't for the group of vigilantes that had captured them. And the girl held a similar period of stunned silence before she started kicking at Cass again. “Get off me! Get your filthy hands off Danny!”

“Sam, it’s okay.” The eldest girl spoke with a shaking voice, slipping off Jason’s back and leaning her head against him in a moment of despair. Cass’s hand froze where it had been about to knock out chop her feisty captive, blinking and looking up instead. So the middle teen’s name was Sam? And the unconscious lad was Danny?

“The meta is waking up. Should I dose her again?” That was Damian, keeping an eye on the youngest Phantom. She was starting to stir, but the eldest Phantom spoke up before the others could.

“Don’t. Please. They’ve been through enough. Just please bring her over here, I’ll manage her,” the eldest girl directed. Her voice was still shaking, but it had steadied somewhat after Jason had turned slightly while remaining crouched to allow her to sit next to their 5th member, her hand resting on his cheek as she was gathering the breaking pieces of her determination.

Stephanie and Cass only exchanged looks with each other, and also Dick and Tim, before Jason spoke up. “Just bring her over. She might be more docile when she’s near this one.”

They didn’t seem completely convinced, but Stephanie at least complied, moving to crouch on one knee with the youngest girl while Damian hovered nearby with another dose of sedatives.

“You’re doing the right thing kid. When the cops get here with the paramedics they’ll get Danny taken care of. You don’t have to worry,” Jason encouraged the eldest girl, grateful that she was getting her team to behave.

“They can’t take him,” she rejected, catching the rest off guard.

“What? Look if it’s about money don’t worry, it’ll be taken care of,” Jason insisted, hoping it wasn’t because of a different possibility he was quickly starting to consider. He’d thought it was just his imagination, but Danny was unusually cold to the touch. Almost like ice. There was another common reason he knew people avoided hospitals despite being this injured.

The eldest girl shook her head again. “It’s not that it’s….” she paused, seeming both reluctant to tell them but also not sure how to tell them what was going on. She wasn’t even sure what was wrong. But when the youngest teen groaned and started to shift the eldest looked at her and found her answer. “Danny is like Danielle. Doctors can’t help them. They’re too different.”

That’s what Jason thought, but it didn’t mean he wanted to hear it, and it earned an understanding but frustrated groan from him and some of the others. “Shit. Alright,“ Dick took charge of the situation, hissing slightly and reaching to his own comms. “Oracle, where’s the nearest safe house? The 5th member is another potential meta, unconscious, and heavy bandaging over the whole torso. Can you contact home and have Penny-one or The Doctor on standby?”

As Dick took care of directing the team, Jason took care of keeping their tentative ally willing to listen to them. “We might have some contacts that can help. We have friends that also need more attention that the regular doctor can give them. Do you kids have names we can use?”

It was more of a lead than they’d had since they’d gotten stranded there, so the eldest teen seemed hesitant but hopeful to grab onto it. After a moment of thinking, her other hand reaching out to Danielle as she started to blink her eyes open, she responded. “My name is Jazz. This is my little brother Danny, my little sister Dani with an I, and our friends Sam and Tucker.”

“... Your parents gave your little siblings the same name?” Jason couldn’t help asking after hearing the relationships. That also explained a lot about why Jazz had been so frantically protective of Danny, aside from her being the oldest of the group.

“It’s… a long story,” Jazz admitted, grimacing a little. “Danielle… was unexpected.”

Looked like Jazz didn’t quite trust them enough. That was fine, they didn’t need a whole backstory right off. Oracle could probably figure it out easily now that she had names and relations. “Fair enough,” Jason dismissed with a grunt, ending his conversation as Dick approached them.

“Hey. There’s a whole mess of stuff going on, I know, but right now we’re going to focus on making sure everyone is taken care of, and then we can figure out the rest of the mess later, okay?” Dick started, leaning low with his hands on his knees and speaking gently. “The police and paramedics can take care of the criminals that were hunting you, but since he’s a special case we’re going to move to a different location where we’ll give everyone a check up. Sound good?”

Jazz didn’t jump at the offer, but they could see she saw promise in it, and hesitantly nodded. “My friends and I stay together at all times. Got it?” she demanded.

“Sure,” Dick agreed, not seeing any issue with that. “But we’ll keep the restraints on if necessary, alright? You all still have charges of assault after all.”

It was easy to see Jazz’s expression fall significantly at the reminder, as though her soul had been slightly crushed. “Yeah… okay,” she agreed, swallowing some nausea that had churned her stomach at being reminded they were criminals. Then, before Danielle could fuss too much, Jazz turned to rest a hand on the small girl’s arm. “Dani, these guys have agreed to help us. So behave and don’t pick any fights unless I say otherwise, alright?”

The fist that Danielle had prepared to punch her holder didn’t move, and after a moment Danielle groaned in reluctant relent. “Guhhhh can I at least punch the guy who drugged me? I feel awful.”

The comment earned a weak chuckle from Jazz, and she patted Danielle’s arm. “I’ll think about it. Just rest for now. We’re moving to a safe place.” She hoped she wasn’t lying to Danielle, and that these people would actually, finally give them the help they needed.

________________

I guess I go here now =v=;;;

Partially inspired by this post. But not including everything because there's a lot of stuff I don't understand. |D This just got stuck in my head so hard I couldn't work on anything else.

#my art #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #I dunno what to tag this with #do people get mad if the main tags get crossover stuff in them?#phantom rogues #nervous about posting #but yolo

3K notes · View notes

acid-ixx · 2 months ago

Note

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

1K notes · View notes

nixwriteschaos · 6 months ago

Note

(BNHA)

hey there! i'd like to request a story about a male/gn vigilante reader (teen), and they eventually get caught by the pro heroes. from there, they are basically forced into UA, class 1-A (reader has been a vigilante for a few years back and has quite the skills to become a hero, and reader does relatively well academically). everything from there will be up to you!

this is actually my first time requesting, so im not exactly sure if this will go through, I've read the guide and everything. no pressure, I hope you have a great year, bye!!

Little Rebel

CLASS 1A x Male!Vigilante!Reader Summary: Y/N, also known as his vigilante name, V/N, was sadly caught by Eraserhead. His punishment, due to him still being a minor, was to attend U.A as a student for his rehabilitation, with Eraserhead as his supervisor.

★☽A/N: I see! It’s your first request! Not to worry, your request is perfect and it aligns with my guide! I really appreciate that you read my guide first! I hope this is a nice first time!

Contents: FLUFF

Quirk: Similar to Inumaki from JJK, the user has the ability to make anything happen according to what he says. But unlike Inumaki, the user is able to control when he uses his Quirk.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“Y/N L/N, is it?” A massive mutant dog read. He looked away from the papers and down at a young boy, frowning as he sat crossed on his chair from across the room. He scoffed and turned his head. “Considering you’re still a minor, your punishment won’t be severe. According to your records, your Quirk is quite controlled and your academics are actually quite impressive for a drop out…” The mutant read off the papers for the boy, who didn’t care at all.

“Very well, I decided your punishment.” Y/N couldn’t help but scoff and smirked. He dealt with worse when he started at the age of 13. What could possibly be so bad about this “punishment” ?

“You will be joining U.A as a full-time student.”

“Huh?”

“HUH?!”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

From that day forward, he became a student at U.A. He didn’t expect himself to be in the hero course, especially Class 1A. He had only heard rumors about them, about how they were attacked by villains during their trip to the USJ and a few mentions of some 1A students on internships.

To be honest, he was a bit nervous. He dealt with people, but not in a friendly way. He was scared, slightly, at the thought of being in the same class as some hero in training students.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

During his first meeting, he was still pissed by the punishment, especially the fact that Eraserhead, the one who “captured” him, was his supervisor. He stood outside of the class, his waist tied to a part of Eraser’s scarf to prevent him from running away.

After waiting for a while, he heard his name getting called out, but he didn’t respond. There is no way in hell I’m standing in front of a bunch of hero trainees! He thought to himself.

He didn’t have much of a choice, as he was pulled by the waist by the scarf into the classroom, his whole figure on display to 20 students. They all looked at him with curiosity, except a blonde boy.

“Are you saying a damn weak villain is going to study with us?! Fuck no!”

“That’s enough, Bakugou.” Aizawa groaned. Bakugou was ready to say something, an insult, but was stopped by one word.

“Shut up.”

His mouth suddenly closed up. He clawed at his own mouth, trying to get it open, panicking and angry at the situation. Y/N had to cover up his snicker with a cough. “How pathetic,” he commented with a smirk. Another struggle of words came from the blonde who was ready to throw a bunch of insults but couldn’t due to his forced closed mouth.

Y/N’s snickers couldn’t be stopped. His snickers were clearly heard by the blonde. He suddenly stood up and walked over to the H/C with heavy stomps. Before he could get his hands on him, he was stopped by Aizawa’s scarf.

His growls were like an angry dog, a chihuahua. He eventually got back to his chair and sat with a grumpy look on his face.

“As I was saying, Y/N L/N is going to be your classmate for this remaining semester. Please treat him with respect.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Now, how does this work out for Y/N?

I’m going to be honest, readers, it did not go well in the beginning!

Y/N, during times he wasn’t supervised thoroughly, would tease Bakugou into attacking him. He thought that if a hero trainee would harm him, he could act his way out of his rehab. Unfortunately, it did not work. Aizawa, being the smart hero he is, figured out his little act, and did not let him off the hook. (Lectured him for hours).

With time, he eventually got to know the students well. They were some he greatly disliked, (A certain purple grape boy..), some who he respected, and those he enjoyed spending time with.

It’s mostly believed that he respected Yaomomo, Tenya Iida, and Todoroki for their smart brains and analytical thinking. He mostly spends time with Jirou, Tokoyami, and Ojirou, who seems to be fine with him and didn’t care that he was only in U.A for rehab.

He would listen to music with Jirou, read poems with Tokoyami, and combat training with Ojirou. He truly enjoys his time with those three.

As for his academics and “hero training,” he has been doing well, almost excellently, with his academics, usually marking A’s and B’s and the occasional C’s, but his grades were much better than some students in Class 1A.

In terms of his “hero training,” he already has some experience of his own which helped him greatly when it comes to situations where he had to fight against other students. He was actually much more advanced than his “peers.” He was smarter, faster, and powerful in terms of Quirk use and combat.

Although he hoped for the principal to realize that he doesn’t need this rehabilitation, he knew the stubborn smiling “mouse” wouldn’t agree to his suggestions. Not to mention, he was a bit afraid of the rat… Something in his eyes just— creeps him out.

A lot of the students respect him greatly! Like Tenya Iida, Yaomomo, and Midoriya, who recognize his great skills and quick thinking! Of course, Katsuki Bakugou was the only one who seemed bothered by the vigilante. You could feel the anger radiating off him! Honestly, it’s hilarious to see his grumpy face whenever Y/N walks by him. After the amount of teasing Y/N did, it was without a doubt that Katsuki Bakugou hated him with all his guts! (But secretly respects Y/N, hehe)

Overall, I can say that Y/N L/N is having a nice time at U.A in Class 1A.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

334 notes · View notes

yvtro · 2 years ago

Note

imo the more interesting tim&jason dynamic /is/ the "they're only like 2 years apart" one (esp wrt "jason was tim's robin"? seems (to me) to have more potential if it's like "this kid who is my age is doing cool shit, I want to do cool shit like them, because they're my age and that hits close to home") personally am genuinely unsure why "tim is a poor little meow meow" seems to be more popular despite how it fucks both their characterizations lol

i will answer to both of you here, as it's related to the same post!

just in case i want to say that there's plenty of aspects of tim's storyline that have lots of potential. and there certainly could be an interesting one involving jason too. alas.

i think in general fanon tim is just a poor little meow meow. it's really ironic how when he was introduced, the writers wanted to make him more "likable" than jay, and they didn't want batman to play a full-time dad, so in place of jay's insecurity and need for parental love tim gets two living parents and is, for the most part, self-assured. there's some canon progression which disturbs this status quo of course, but it's fanon that turned his storyline into one about neglect.

so apparently all writers should have done to make the new robin a fan favourite was keeping jason's struggles and just making tim wealthy. real "what's cool when you're rich but trash when you're poor?" moment. having attachment issues, apparently.

and don't get me wrong, there is place for meta about tim's parents being neglectful, even if the creators originally wanted to achieve the opposite. but i find the extent to which fanon pushes this idea and makes it his sole source of personality a bit astonishing, especially that canon tim, for the most part, doesn't share any of these issues. and personally, his initial motivations that stem from his fascination with vigilantism seem much more appealing to me.

as you said: "this kid who is my age is doing cool shit, I want to do cool shit like them, because they're my age and that hits close to home." maybe it's a bit simplified, but tim being just a child who gets himself into something much bigger than himself without really realising the consequences – and essentially both traumatising himself as a result (while also finding family, one does not exclude another) is a pretty fascinating concept.

and like. canon tim is plenty weird about jason, okay. so i think their confrontation at some point would be interesting. and probably awkward.

btw we don't actually get to see jason and tim's first interactions after jay's resurrection. i said it before, but for christ's sake, the teen titans tower incident is no longer canon, and for a good reason, especially that in that era jason is portrayed as having a psychotic break and tim hates his guts and calls him deranged?

how do you derive an enemy to caretaker trope from this is beyond me tbh. it sounds good in theory, right, because it refers to jay's inherent kindness, but you do have to make them "enemies" in the first place, or at least jason the aggressor – which you need to follow the ableist storyline for (i really doubt jason would actually care about tim much if he was more stable, and he definitely wouldn't want to hurt him), and all i can ask is: why. find something new.

i don't know, if there's any actually interesting tim & jason fanfics that don't follow these cliches you should let me know, because the majority of the tag definitely isn't for me.

#answered #okay i will tag it as #anti tim drake #just in case #jason todd #dc comics

81 notes · View notes

zyukan · 2 years ago

Text

Wouldn’t it be funny if in a Reverse!Robins AU, the adoption order is still the same.

Dick, 9, just lost his parents was taken in as Bruce Wayne first adoptee. Now here is where things get a little more. Sketchy.

Maybe a year into getting Dick and having Robin, Bruce stumbles across Jason, aged 13 and decides to take him in as well as per the usual storyline. But now that Dick’s the younger brother, he’s not too psyched about getting an older brother, especially one who looks like would be a replacement. This would create tension between the boys, but since Jason is older, he makes the first move and probably put in effort to get to know Dick better and would also be more tolerant of course. He’d probably also be hyper-vigilant against Bruce for the first couple of days since he’s seen things on the streets and rich men don’t take in young boys so easily, with no strings attached.

Dick warms up to him eventually, and they become great friends. Of course, soon enough Jason is clamouring to join the crusade, and cites that since ROBIN is so much younger, shouldn’t Jason also be allowed to help? Batman capitulates as per usual and thus comes in Hood cuz he let Robin name him and Dick wanted matching names. Get it? “Robin” and “Hood”. XD

Dick still starts the Teen Titans, while Jason mostly sticks to himself, going on occasional missions with the titans and stuff. The team finds it hilarious how Robin bosses his big brother around cuz he’s “more experienced”.

A few years pass and Dick is now 12, Jason is 15, when 19-year-old Tim Drake knocks on their door and starts talking about Owls of all things and how they’re gearing up to kidnap Dick to be their “Gray Son” whatever that means. Batman is put on alert, Dick is benched/sent to the Teen Titans. Tim starts laying out all the evidence and it’s as they are finishing up the arrests that Batman offers (ofc he knew Tim’s home life but since he’s technically legal, can’t really do anything about it), to let Tim stay at the manor for the foreseeable future. Tim rejects it, but eventually, over time and Dick’s persistent curiosity, Tim starts spending time at the manor and now Dick has 2 older brothers. Tim becomes maybe Drake? Idk but he’d probably more a tech specialist rather than fighting front lines since he’s had less time to learn how to fight, even if he’s taken a few self-defence classes when he was younger.

Of course, another couple years, Dick is 14, Jason is 17, Tim is 21, and suddenly Bruce is confronted with his 23-year-old biological son, Damian Wayne, who’s been on the run from the League of Assassins for the past two years and had managed to finally reach Gotham where the league would not be able to touch him. And in tow, is Cassandra, who is 18, and had helped him escape. They met as teens and both decided that the assassin life wasn’t for them. It took a years of planning but they managed to escape and reach the Bat. Damian, on principle, hates both Tim and Jason for usurping his rightful place. He wants to hate dick, but dick reminds him of all the small animals he had taken care of and then had to ruthlessly dispose of so he has a soft spot for Dick; Dick, of course, takes ruthless advantage of this and acclimated Damian to surprise hugs and the like very quickly. Cassandra takes a while more, but with her expertise in body language, she trusts them much quicker than Damian did.

Dick is so smugly satisfied that now he has so many older siblings to boss around since he’s still the “most experienced” in the vigilante business…

Might continue this thread, but pls someone, write me a fic of this idea. I’m begging. If not I might have to resort to feeding myself… TnT

#dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #reverse!au #but not what you think

6 notes · View notes

uncouth-the-fifth · 3 years ago

Note

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

#damian wayne smut #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x you #robin smut #robin #dc smut #dc comics #dc #user uncouth

3K notes · View notes

sleepy-writes-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

(Possible continuation to writing prompt #8: Radio Silence. This doesn't have to be what happens, it's just an idea I had)

(#) = Answered questions

← previous

✦

What if Clockwork saw what the Justice League was doing and decided to toss Danny into the DC Universe ™ right after the JL left to go to his. They just missed each other.

Danny is so lost and has no idea what's going on. He walks up to the first person he sees and asks them where exactly he is. The only thing is that Danny's voice is so well known and his radio station is so extremely popular that his voice is immediately recognizable to people.

"Oh my gosh! You're Danny Phantom the ghost hero, aren't you?!"

He's asked this on a crowded street while he's still in his human form. No one should be able to recognize him but before he can fully process the situation he's suddenly swarmed by nearly everyone on the street asking him questions about his life that no one besides his closest friends should know. Now Danny is both confused AND freaking out. Like, how do so many people know about his secret identity? Where was he? Was he in danger? What if the GIW or his parents heard??

Danny is full on having an anxiety/panic attack and now a whole crowd of unbelievably kind and friendly people are trying to talk him down and get him doing breathing exercises while someone explains the whole ordeal to him. The one trying to calm him down and explain everything could probably be one of his vigilante fans. What happens after that could either go the wholesome route or the darker route in the previous post's reblogs. Or any other way really.

✦

@lenacraft @captain-krow-drozdov

Answered Questions:

(1) Does this count as ancient of space! Danny?

Sure! I don't see why not. It kinda fits, imo, especially with how radio waves work in space.

(2) Do they hear him all the time or just in his ghost form?

They can only hear him if he's in his ghost form or his ghost powers leak through to his human side while emotions are running high. Other than that, they can't hear him the rest of the time. They only hear him when he's a ghost either battling other ghosts, patching himself up cause pain, or when his emotions are influencing his powers.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #everyone in the multiverse heard danny as he died and was brought back half alive #danny is the voice of the universe now #everyone can still hear him #his voice shows up on unused radio frequencies #later he gains an entire radio station dedicated to keeping people updated on his condition and everything else he goes through #he gains a dedicated fanbase too #especially teens and vigilantes the same age as him #the justice league make it their mission to punch a hole in the very fabric of the universe just to make sure he's okay #what would happen if danny discovers that all the times he thought he was alone in his struggles #he had an infinite amount of people cheering for him #danny is ghost king #dp crossover #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #writing prompt #prompt #sleepy-writes-stuff

324 notes · View notes

gravity-barbie · 3 years ago

Text

Being the sibling closest to each of the Hargreeves HCs Pt 1

(Separate)

Part two

Set season one

Sparrow version

Masterlist

Luther Hargreeves

-Reginald often tried to separate you two as you grew up but your bond stays strong

-Luther’s very protective of you, especially during missions

-You’re uniquely grossed out by his relationship with Allison

-Between Diego’s resentment for Luther bleeding onto you and your instinct to defend the brother you’re closer to you and Diego tend to bicker

-You’re the only one who can convince Luther to bend the rules

-He’d never have any fun if it weren’t for you

-You’re the only one who knows about his body transformation, having been by his bedside the whole time worried sick

-You had a hard time leaving the academy because he wouldn’t, ultimately you didn’t until Reginald sent him to the moon- which you are so furious about and you literally bring it up more than him

-The way Reginald’s treated you has made you act crazy before so you understand where Luther’s coming from during his break down and try to help him through it

-Even you can’t condone what Luther does to Viktor but you’ve seen the best of him and wholeheartedly believe he can be redeemed

Diego Hargreeves

-You two are each others strongest allies (especially among the other Hargreeves), sticking up for, helping and all around prioritizing each other

-You hear most of Diegos venting about Reginald because Grace won’t listen

-You constantly try to assure him Reginalds number system is ridiculous and he’d make a great leader

-He talks you into quitting the academy with him

-Occasionally you offer him backup in his vigilante work but mostly you try to talk him out of it

-You often bail him out of jail and all kinds of trouble really but you know you could count on him to do the same

-He still has an attitude with you sometimes but you’ve seen beneath it and know better than to take him at face value

-He’s sweeter than anyone would believe in private moments

-You back him up over his anger towards Viktor because you know how much his book hurt him but you still gently encourage him to forgive him

-He won’t readily admit it but he values your connection and your loyalty more than anything else in the world

Allison Hargreeves

-Your friendship was the closest thing to normalcy either of you had growing up, for brief moments you got to do cliché teen things like gossip and makeovers

-She often rumors people on your behalf which you loved as a kid but as you’ve matured you try to talk her out of using her power so much

-Supporting her acting career, you’ve been her plus-one to enough events that the media keeps up with you by association

-You were her maid of honor, helping plan her wedding and pestering your other siblings to come to little success

-You’re the only other Hargreeves’ Claire knows and she misses you almost as much as she misses Allison

-When she quits using her power you kind of become her ‘sober sponsor’ talking her out of slip-ups and reminding her what she’s working towards

-Trash-talking Patrick together

-You can’t help but wonder if she’s rumored you which is heartbreaking for her to hear but she understands your perspective

-Admittedly you’re a little jealous of Allison’s newfound relationship with Viktor

-You had always been a bit competitive with Luther but after what Viktor does to Allison against your better nature you can’t blame him for his actions

Klaus Hargreeves

-You were very protective of Klaus from a young age and that never goes away

-You’d get in trouble for snapping at Reginald over his treatment of Klaus

-Klaus has always helped you find the fun in the mundane- or the downright awful you were often exposed to at the academy

-It was agonizing watching him be haunted by ghosts growing up just for him to get into drugs and all kinds of risky behavior that stresses you out to no end as an adult

-He does try to ease your nerves, even attempting sobriety for you but most the time he just ends up lying so as not to worry you

-You can feel like his caretaker sometimes since he’ll come to you for rides, shelter, clean urine for a drug test, ect... but he does try to carry his weight in the friendship and offer you his support where he can

-You’re the only one to notice when he’s kidnapped, trying tirelessly to find him and then later getting up your other siblings for not noticing

-He tells you all about Dave and life as a soldier while you try to console him

-The other Hargreeves come to you when they need him to do something, you’re kind of their Klaus-whisperer

-You and Ben are usually so in sync and you have no idea, on that note Ben often warns Klaus not to take you for granted, not that he would

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy preferences #tua x reader #tua x you #luther hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #hargreeves reader #viktor hargreeves x reader

813 notes · View notes

brucewaynehater101 · 5 months ago

Note

Tim, at first, tries to make it back. He'll help out with Bruce, but he really really needs to get back to his own universe....

The technology doesn't quite support that yet. There's no Flash, no papers on quantum theory time traveling that's been proven true, antique-like technology, and overall lack of support from heroes. Tim's only option is... magic.

Magic is unpredictable, and most magicians are hidden at this point. How can Tim find someone he can trust? Especially one experienced with dimension travel?

So... Tim's stuck. If his calculations are correct, with the shoddy equipment he has (Gods does he miss his Nest setup and wrist computer), the time being spent in his own universe is infinitesimal. If it took him a century to return, and Tim sincerely hopes it doesn't take nearly that long, that would be equivalent to a week in his home dimension.

It, at the very least, affords Tim time. He won't miss anything.

His second concern, after returning home in a timely fashion, was aging. Luckily, for some confound reasons, his telomerse were not reacting as they should. He is essentially immortal.

Tim has time.

With this time, he slowly earns both Bruce and Alfred's trust. He came from nowhere, has no history to find, and nobody to vouch for him. He was a mystery, and he was dangerous to the unstable position of Bruce's teen years. If the two of them put their trust in the wrong person, Bruce didn't have the same power and authority an adult would. Alfred had power of attorney, but his decisions can be contested. They need to be careful.

Tim takes his time. He cultivates a relationship with the two of them, introduces healthy and open discussions of boundaries, and slowly becomes integral to the Wayne Manor dynamics.

It is weird watching Alfred stumble over the responsibilities of parenthood while trying to maintain an employee professionalism. Tim carefully influences Alfred to show more affection towards his ward. After seeing the positive outcomes of such actions, Alfred, when within Wayne Manor, offers Bruce hugs and ample praise.

It is a weird change, but a welcome one in Tim's eyes.

Bruce... it's strange. Tim has never seen the man he considers his son so young. He's never been older than him either. He has to teach Bruce so much it's wild. The child is smart, but he hasn't built up the decades of knowledge Tim is used to him having.

He's also so angry. So so angry at the world, at his peers, at Alfred and Tim, and at the man who killed his parents. He's lonely, grieving, and lashing out. He despises being treated as a child, as naive and dumb. He's not trusted to make his own decisions about his future, his family's company, or his parents' property. He's a child, and it feels so limiting.

Tim is patient as he explains everything to Bruce. He allows the kid to make important decisions, to know what's going on at Wayne Enterprises, and teaches him any legal information he wants to know. There's certain non-debatable restrictions (like Bruce going to school), but Tim will explain why to the kid as many times as he needs to.

Alfred makes all final decisions, but he concedes some of the parental responsibilities to Tim.

They become friends who are like family to each other as they share the honored burden of raising Bruce and the Wayne legacy.

Tim, for ease sake (and with Bruce's permission), creates his identity as Timothy Wayne: the bastard child of Patrick Wayne. Bruce's biological uncle.

He assumes a role at W.E. until he can become CEO. It'll be a while before Bruce or Lucius can step up to the role.

As the vigilante he grew into, Tim couldn't stop himself from helping people.

He initially tries to curb this desire with Wayne Enterprises. After confirming with both Bruce and Alfred, Tim sets up charities and organizations to help Gotham. His policies for W.E. workers were a hot controversy, but the rapid increase in productivity quickly quieted most dissenters.

Despite this, Tim couldn't help but long to do more. He itched to fly Gotham's skies again.

He didn't want to drag Alfred or Bruce into his mess or mission. If Tim wants to be an idiot who fights people at night, that's on him.

Alfred finds him one morning stitching up his side in a guest bathroom.

The man refused to speak to him for a week.

Eventually, they come to an agreement. Alfred can't stand to watch Tim put himself in danger, but he can't stop him either.

When Bruce finds out, he begs to help Tim. The older man, knowing how saying "no" resulted in Robin, came up with compromises and conditions. Bruce can help Tim, but he can't be in the field until he's at least 16, finishes training, and beats Tim one time in a spar. In the meantime, he can help with cases, out of field research, coming up with strategies, etc.

Bruce doesn't sneak out because Tim has already established a communicative relationship with him. If the kid feels frustrated or as if he's not doing enough, they'll chat. Tim will be frank with how much Bruce helps and other avenues the teen can do to help while still being safe. Tim will explain his rules, his reasonings, and will listen to Bruce's counterarguments. They'll bring Alfred into it and hear his concerns, input, and beliefs.

They discuss important matters as a family.

The first time Bruce calls Tim "Dad," the man is stumbling into the cave with a heavy wound. Tim is so shocked and ecstatic that he promptly bursts into tears.

Years and years later, Alfred and Tim are sitting on the porch in the backyard. They are both watching their grandchildren they all try to tackle their father into the mud pit. It's a mess, mud is being flung everywhere, but they are happy. They can't hear them from this distance, but the grandfathers cherish the sight.

Alfred continues to watch the shenanigans as he addresses Tim.

"When you first came to us, Master Tim, you claimed you were looking for a way home."

The seemingly forever twenty year old hums. A fond smile is on his face as Cass manages to plop a giant pile of mud on Dick's head.

"I was. The first few years were rough. I ached every single night to see my family."

Jason trips Steph as Duke uses his powers to distract Damian.

Tim turns towards the oldest member of the Wayne family. His eyes crinkle with the pure content and joy in his expression. "I stopped searching years ago, Alf. This is home."

Alfred clears his throat as he struggles to keep the tears at bay. "I love you too, old friend."

Like some cruel twist of fate, it's not too long after that when Tim gets chucked back into his old universe. When he lays his eyes upon familiar but cold faces, the now aging twenty year old nearly collapses under the weight of his grief.

He wants his kids back. He wants to go home.

He wants Jason's gruff tone as he fondly calls Tim "gramps."

The rare moments, when it's just Bruce and Tim, that his son son calls him "Dad."

Cass's affectionate head bumps and the way she lays on top of all her family members.

The surplus of drawings Damian gave to him.

Dick to have his smile lines.

The blueprints he started with Duke.

Babs hanging around the Manor.

Steph dragging the other kids into annoying Bruce.

Tea with Crystal and a glass of whiskey with Jim.

He wants his old friend, Alfred, to share a fond look with as they thank the gods for their family.

Meanwhile, Tim's family, the one he's spent decades with, is pissed. Someone took Grandpa Tim, and they're willing to tear their universe apart to get him back.

Just time travel, tim is bruce's dad AU.

There's so many ways this could go.

Whatever got tim in the past. wether killed the Drakes or they ended in the future.

Tim with 20, kinda lookin like his grandfathee took his persona. And adopted little bruce wayne recently orphaned. Tim stayed a month or a year, make your take.

The bats manage to get tim back, and little Bruce ends alone again.

Older bruce only have vague memories from that time.

Tim remembers everything and it only reinforces his thinking about seeing Bruce as his son.

Oh!

Tim, who's used to taking care of Bruce anyways and kind of seeing this older adult as his son, ends up in the past. He finds a depressed, angry, and bitter child who's lost his parents and ultimate alone.

Alfred doesn't trust Tim at first, but eventually, Tim manages to become a staple older figure in the household. He talks to Alfred about emotional bonding, where he should involve himself in Bruce's life more (instead of being on the outskirts like an employee), and overall Bruce hacks (Tim is and isn't surprised that the hacks he's built up for adult Bruce work for child Bruce as well with minor adjustments).

Overall, Bruce starts to come out of his grief of losing his parents.

He even considers calling Alfred or Tim "dad."

Then Tim disappears.

#Extra tidbit: Tim uses makeup in public to give himself wrinkles. He still looks young but in the way some rich people do #tim drake #dcu #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #hopefully this makes sense cause im not editing it

427 notes · View notes

bigskydreaming · 3 years ago

Note

You think when Jason first went to Bruce’s him and Dick had an interaction that went like this,

Jason: you don’t know what it like

Dick: Bitch I’m sorry which one of us went to juvie

LOL I get the joke and all but see, I do wanna be clear:

(And this is just in general rather than aimed specifically at you or this ask, anon).

I spend a lot of time talking about being anti-Trauma Olympics and that extends both ways. I don't want Dick perceived as more traumatized or having had it harder than anyone else in his family, just that his own traumas and hardships aren't erased or invalidated in favor of propping up someone else. At most, I'll talk about something like the Forever Evil situation and how he was 'more' the victim there than they were, but that's because that's a specific situational thing where both he and other characters' feelings and hurt in regards to the exact same set of circumstances are being compared, and I'm like, well if you're GONNA do that, you kinda gotta look at who was most directly impacted by events versus had feelings about what HAPPENED to the first person in the first place, just....conveniently leapfrogging over that dude's actual feelings about those exact same things.

But ultimately, although I'll spite-LOL about this sorta joke in response to other fans Doing the Most in the other direction, like.....tbh, I wouldn't be any more in favor of this kinda interaction in fics or canon.

What I WOULD love to see is rather than the kids being pitted against each other in a kinda pseudo competition, see them use traumas and parallel situations as a basis for common ground and building stronger bonds. Like, how much more powerful would it be if what we got instead was Jason finding out about Dick's past experiences with juvie in order to make Dick someone he feels DOES get certain things. I mean, Dick never DID experience various things that Jason did living on the street or earlier living with Catherine and Willis....but like I've always posited that in the early years Dick had a primal fear of fucking up and being sent back to juvie by Bruce, Dick absolutely would be able to understand the fears of a kid who was caught committing an actual crime by Bruce in their first encounter and feared what might happen if Bruce ever decided he wasn't worth giving the benefit of the doubt and ultimately would never be more than a criminal.

Part of what bums me so much about the direction most fics and headcanons take towards Dick and Jason's earlier interactions, is there's a huge chasm in experience, perspective and privilege between Bruce and BOTH his two eldest. That chasm is not nearly as vast between Dick and Jason themselves. Where they diverge in prior experiences tends to have a lot to do with specific situations and circumstances rather than axis of privilege. (Especially when you consider - and god I'm tired of this - how often people default to being like 'well Dick at least had loving parents' when ahem, HOW OFTEN has Jason made clear that he has very affectionate memories of Catherine because she was at times a very loving and attentive mother, and that's WHY her addiction and death hit him so hard, not unlike how the murder of Dick's parents hit him so hard BECAUSE they were loving and nurturing? Like, how often do people throw characters' own stories and canon away JUST to make the case that they have it harder than another one? Can we stop this? Forever preferably?)

But point is, there are tons of areas where Bruce just fundamentally didn't relate to Dick and never was going to be able to, because Bruce was never in a position of being at the mercy of various institutions. Bruce never had to worry about being thrown out by his guardian, Alfred, who technically worked for his family even as he raised Bruce. He never had to deal with peers looking down on him because of who he WAS rather than giving him shit for specific circumstances or events. He never had to worry about his parents or past being demeaned as worthless, he never had to balance trying to retain a sense of self without being subsumed into Bruce AND the Waynes' larger than life shadows, history, and perception in the eyes of the public.

However all of these and more are areas where Dick and Jason absolutely overlap and this could be greatly of benefit to each other, if it was ALLOWED to be. For Dick, Jason's arrival can be an opportunity for him to finally have someone who gets various aspects of growing up with Bruce that will just fly over other peoples' heads as being a problem or them having issues with at all. For Jason, Dick can be an opportunity for him to have an easier time understanding Bruce when these gaps in perception and experience appear, or making himself understood by Bruce, by drawing upon and learning from Dick's own experience trying to navigate those very same gaps between Bruce and himself in years prior.

And even where Dick and Jason's experiences diverge, there's still plenty they could learn from each other that they STILL couldn't have in common with Bruce. Like yeah, Jason - even with a loving relationship with Catherine factored in - didn't ever have the benefit of Dick's history being part of a huge communal family in the circus, and around people who were open and generous with their affection and all that.....and frankly, Bruce never had this either, even factoring in his own relationship with HIS parents. But its something that Dick could definitely impart wisdom in, that would be helpful to Jason in learning to be part of a larger community of superheroes overall, and how to interact with a bigger family that wasn't limited just to himself and his guardian or guardians....as well as helpful after their family grew to include more siblings.

And Jason did have a ton of experiences and perspective born of living on the streets and being entirely self-sufficient from a young age, with wisdom he could share with Dick there, who was MORE likely to get the benefits of that than Bruce even, because Dick did have experience with a closer mindset to what Jason had had at the time, and even if Dick's own experiences running from juvie or in Robin Year One were far more finite than Jason's ever were, there's enough of a foundation there for them to build a common awareness of major events in each other's past and like....thus be able to talk about them, unpack them with each other and not have to worry about being judged by someone who just fundamentally might not get it or understand where they were coming from when they made certain choices based on those mindsets.

And then back again, part of why it bugs to so often hear Dick's years growing up in the mansion talked about as wholly a good thing when there's no separating them from the years he spent as Robin, is because Dick has knowledge and awareness of the streets and crime that's predicated entirely on his years as Robin, that's still broader than Jason's in the sense that Jason's knowledge is limited just to his personal, more contained experiences, whereas Dick as Robin interacted with all sorts of crime and criminals and victims. And who better than Dick to learn from in regards to what its like to even BE a teen vigilante, because for all Bruce's experience as Batman, he debuted as an adult, he'll never be able to relate specifically to the fears and finer points of taking on people who are older, bigger, more experienced than you, when you're that young and small. But again, all of that requires like, ACKNOWLEDGING that Dick went through some SHIT when he was younger, and that doesn't have to TAKE AWAY anything from Jason's own hardships, but it has all the capacity in the world to ADD things to Jason's toolbox for dealing with his hardships.

But yeah, ultimately, like....it annoys me to see Dick's own experiences so often glossed over or romanticized in order to act like he's so oblivious to what someone like Jason's life was like, but more than that, it just bums me because its a waste of so much potential material and just.....erases the opportunity for so many stories that could explore actual new, uncharted territory rather than just retread the same old beats about how oh Dick is just oblivious to what REAL hardship is like but Jason gets it, see.

That's gonna get a yawn from me, lads.

54 notes · View notes

fluffywings13 · 3 years ago

Note

Hey! I love your stories with Keigo and his Dad Kettie, they're really adorable and fluffy but I had a question to ask you about Kettie...

Like we know he wrecks Keigo all the time *lol* and while its absolutely adorable, I wanted to know if Kettie himself was ticklish ;) for scientific research purposes...

I think it would be adorable if he is; I think in one story his grandpa actually wrecked him too so I was curious about that! And do you have headcanons for Kettie in general if you don't mind me asking? I love him so much.

Hi! Thank you! Kettie is my baby! My beloved ruthless villain avian who comes home and is the most domestic soft dad the world has ever seen (like All For One *wink wink*)

Kettie actually was inspired by my own dad (the softy tickle monster part) and Takami Shinyo (I can't remember the exact spelling of their blog name and i can either use my laptop or phone because I use my hotspot as i have no internet and cant really use both at the same time to look them up). I wanted a ruthless villain who will do worse for less (especially when it comes to a certain someone) and brutally murder someone and an hour and shower later he's showing up at the house where Keigo and his mom stay and is the biggest softie the world has ever seen (only for Keigo though)

I'm so happy you asked because @hawkslove I can gush about Kettie for ages.

Okay okay, to answer your question (the very first one lol): Yes. Kettie is ticklish. He's actually very ticklish (who do you think Kei got it from) and is one of those people who will shriek and jump if you touch the right spot even with the lightest touch. Given his lifestyle though he's very in tune with his surroundings and knows everything (especially something that's moving) within at least a 30-40 foot distance from him which makes him especially hard to get to and tickle him to death. His death spots are his belly, feet, and wings (those are nearly impossible to get to but people *cough cough* have managed to get to them).

When it comes to being tickled, he really only let's those he trusts beyond measure to get him to that point of vulnerability, his grandfather is one of them, his brother, and Kei.

Kentaro and Keitaro are able to get him on their own.

He allows Keigo to get him and the tables usually turn rather quickly when he's had enough and he destroys his baby bird in turn. Tickle fights were quite common in Kei's early teen years, Kettie called it 'training' when he found out his son was running around acting the part of a vigilante (it was really an excuse to tickle him to death tho--for the most part--it did help teach him to be lighter on his feet and more evasive).

Kettie has the habit of using tickle punishments when the action that requires correction isn't something worthy of a whoopin' (spanking--its controversial and I dont think its considered abuse as long as you dont cross a very fine line--please dont flame me because i respect your opinion if it differs or agrees with mine) because he was extremely abused by his own father as a child and doesn't want his son to fear him like he feared his own father. He doesn't want their relationship to be a broken one. For example, when Kei was younger, and he'd raise his voice at him, he'd hold him in his lap and tickle his neck and ears until he was a giggly pile of Babyfeather goo under the guise that if he wanted to raise his voice then he'd give him a reason to raise his voice.

Kettie is a ler for the most part just because he's so hard to get and we all know Kei is usually his victim for the most part (lets be honest Kei needs it most of the time too)

In regards to headcanons about him in general:

Kettie hums. He hums under his breath when he's in the middle of doing something. Washing the dishes, folding laundry, watching his son play in the living room, he's humming, he's always humming under his breath. He hums lullabies to Keigo when he was younger (and now when he needs that kind of help).

Kettie is incredibly intelligent (Kei got his brains from him--not his mom--fuck her) and hides it behind his accent/speech patterns. He speaks in a broken southern english kind of accent (i know its really japanese dont @ me please) and it's very good at deceiving anyone he's up against because they automatically assume him to be on the dumber side of the spectrum because of the way he chooses to speak (most of the Takamis speak this way for the same reasons). He uses peoples assumptions about him to his advantage.

Kettie is (over)protective of his son. Keigo is his world. That baby is his everything. He'd willingly turn himself in and cut off his own wings if it meant his baby bird was safe. His boy is his life force, the only thing that keeps him going, it's a tad on the codependent side if you look at it in a certain way, but it's more so that Keigo gives Kettie a reason for living. Before Keigo, Kettie was toeing a very fine line with Death and or Life Imprisonment. After Keigo, Kettie's villainous activities tone down considerably in their ferocity. Everything he does, every move he makes, is with his son in mind. Tomie is a liability to his freedom and if it werent for Keigo needing someone to watch over him when Kettie cant be there, she'd be dead.

As most avians, he has avian traits, meaning chirping and nuzzling and cooing and nest building. His father tried to beat them out of him when he was a young child ("You may have broken my body but you ain't break my soul") and somewhat succeeded. Kettie only really got back to using them when Keigo was born and chirping and cooing was the way he communicated when he wanted something.

Kettie, given the obvious, has an extreme distaste for anyone who would harm children. Abusers, pedophiles, molesters, etc. As shown in one scene when he found out his son was being raped by a man who was fucking his wife while he wasn't around and in turn he raped him with the handles of a brush and mop.

The most important thing is that Kettie isn't afraid to get his hands dirty (see above) and anyone who crosses him (or harms Keigo) learns this the hard way. Kettie will do anything to anyone (except Keigo obviously). He's a notorious murderer, he's a hitman, he's a rapist (only to those who deserve it though--mainly pedophiles and child molesters), he once scalped a man for simply taking one of his feathers. He's in the same league as All For One in the villain world (I personally headcanon them as being friends and Kei and Izu growing up together sometimes) and he's worked hard for that position and will beat down anyone who thinks they can take it from him, even when he 'retires'.

Kettie doesn't really care that Keigo decided to become a hero (I have 2 separate universes where it was still through the HPSC and another where it was done through less.....Wrong ways) the only thing he put his foot down on was on the matter of Keigo being a villain. As someone who comes from a long line of notorious villains, he didn't want his son to follow in his family's footsteps, he didn't care what Keigo wanted to be he just couldn't be a villain.

He does eventually get arrested by Endeavor, that hasn't changed, and there's multiple different universes of what happens to Keigo when he does (most of them usually involve Inko) and we once again come back to his intelligence, because he allows himself to be caught so he can serve his sentence and get back to raising his son. Kettie leaves no trace evidence linking himself to any crime he commits, it's all mostly speculation, and guess work from crimes he was caught in (he wasn't caught but the link between said crime and him was present) when he was first starting out in the Villain lifestyle and hadn't gotten his villainous groove yet, and he waits until the statutes of limitations runs out for most of his crimes they can possibly charge him with so if he does get prison time (big if--Inko's a shark in the courtroom--but he does serve some time) its not too heavy of a sentence.

Once again, incredibly intelligent.

I could go on forever. Don't get me started. Or do, if you want to lol, but I'll stop here because this is already super long!

#kettie takami #takami the thief #Hawks Dad #Parental Takami The Thief #asks open

31 notes · View notes

woahajimes · 4 years ago

Text

One of my favourite issues of comics ever is that one issue in The Brave And The Bold (#83) that’s from the late 60s and in which Thomas and Martha have this family friend or business partner and they signed this legal document in which if they [family friends] were to die, their son (little boy named Lance Bruner) would have to stay with the wayne family. And so one day, the Bruner couple dies, and their son is left orphan. And of course, the document didn’t say Thomas and Martha, instead it said Wayne Family, which is at this point, Dick, Bruce, and Alfred. And Bruce of course can’t say no, and he doesn’t even want to (which tells you a LOT about Bruce’s character towards children and just people in general).

So it turns out that this Lance kid is around Dick’s age (who is with the teen titans, with Roy, Wally, Donna, and occasionally Garth) is a complete troublemaker. He vandalizes police cars and does other stuff, and guess who takes the blame. Dick.

And he [Dick] tells the teen titans that he does it because Lance needs a friend, which could be true, and they all decide to befriend Lance, to see if he like ‘straightens out’.

As you may guess, that did not go well. Lance flirted with Donna, in quite a disrespectful manner, and he was a literal jackass.

And then Lance pulls this thing with a great amount of money, and THIS brings Bruce’s attention, because the police came to the manor, and Bruce is just talking to Lance in the living room, and Lance is just lying over and over, saying how the money was from his parents, that they had left the money for him, in cash, you know the drill. And literally in the basement, the hang-out place for the teen titans, Dick and the titans are there and they’re listening through a vent and they’re like ‘oh my GODDD how is bruce FALLING FOR THIS?!”

and this just gives me a lot of happiness overall because you can see their characters, and for someone that reads rebirth comics or new 52 (especially new 52), they’ll look at it a bit funny and go ‘well this seems out of character, no?’ and NO! because bruce actually loves his kids!!! and the whole idea of the batfamily, the FANON IDEA OF THE BATFAMILY, in which they’re all getting along and being a FAMILY, would actually be CANON if ONLY dc hadn’t massacred their characters so much. So yeah, hang on to those headcanons.

At this same time, there’s this thing going around in Gotham with the oil supply I think, and Batman has this deadline to like,,, solve the case. Whatever

I just paid attention to how beautiful this issue is for all the domesticity and the writers actually writing Dick having a BROTHER, and Bruce adopting another kid. It’s just so fascinating and disappointing because how on earth did ANYONE let this happen, Bruce now hitting his kids so often, being such a dark and angry person. ‘Broody’ some say. Because let’s face it, Bruce has that whole ‘dark and gloomy’ persona, because of Gotham. It’s been said so often, that ‘Bruce is Gotham’ ‘Batman is the night and he only wear black’ and all that thing (Also keep in mind that Bruce’s uniform/costume wasn’t even black, it was blue- purple in other runs- with yellow and gray).

(also can i please bring to attention that Bruce has actually- here, look at it.

Don’t tell me this bruce is completely different from the ‘hrn’ bitch we have now)

As I was saying, there’s the oil case in Gotham, and nobody wants that, and Lance is begging for forgiveness, that he’ll ‘be good’, he says.

And he IS. For a while.

Now bruce is fighting with some guys that have a lot to do with the oil thing, and in that one, Lance is like “wow Bruce and Dick do leave the house quite often, eh?” And then -catch this, it’s literally my favourite thing about comics- Lance finds a button in the elevator, and he goes “WOW! a super-secret button that leads to a super-mysterious place??? wack!” and then he finds out Bruce’s and Dick’s identities.

Not such a great boy after all, right?

Long story short, and I’m summarizing it because I actually know little of the actual vigilante plot, but Robin gets shot.

“that boy meant more to me than anything in life” Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you? Just let that little line sink in for a little, just... let it sink in. Bruce has just seen Robin get shot. And this happens.

Later, though, we find out that ‘Robin’ had actually been Lance, so in the end, Lance died, in the same literal issue he was introduced.

This was Lance as Robin, but Bruce didn’t know this. Bruce was convinced that Dick was dead. And did you hear what he said? God...

#dick grayson #the brave and the bold #lance bruner #bruce wayne #donna troy #teen titans #roy harper #batfamily #robin #batman #batman and robin #detective comics #batfam #is this a meta #no this is an analysis #i wanna make more of these

276 notes · View notes

tonystarkissist · 3 years ago

Text

“Didn’t know where else to go”/ Revenge - Villainous July

Part 11 of “Oh Sweet Child, The Things I’d Do for You...”

Summary: Tony's out of his element. He’s ignorant to many things in relation to offering someone else comfort, but closure and vengeance is one thing he’s damn good at.

Rating: Teen (For language and Thematic Material)

Warning: Self-loathing and lack of care for life, mentions of abuse, and slightly graphic dialogue towards the end (maybe too graphic, but I got caught up in the moment; sue me).

Word Count: 4.5k

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist ~ Read on Ao3 ~ Next Chapter

Peter’s there for days, maybe weeks, he couldn’t keep track at this point. He’s glad he had the foresight to warn Ned of his absence. His friend would definitely be the leading cause behind filing a missing persons report, because he knows Beck wouldn’t do it, content to mooch off of CPS as long as possible. And Peter really didn’t need anyone out looking for him. He didn’t even want to think about the turmoil and stress that would ensue. He didn’t want to deal with it. Ever.

He just wanted to lie here on this couch forever, stare at the fire crackling in the fireplace and watch the orange light bleed through the darkness of Mr. Stark’s home. It reminded him of that night he’d followed Mr. Stark here… he missed him. Still.

He wasn’t afraid to admit it anymore at all; not even ashamed. He missed him. And he felt so incredibly guilty for turning the man’s world entirely upside down. If Peter hadn’t acted so carelessly none of this would be happening. Tony wouldn’t be on the run, Beck wouldn’t have found out about Spider-Man, and Peter wouldn’t be slowly starving to death, lying here on Stark’s couch, the licks of flames dancing up from the fire cradling him in a hypnotic trance.

There was food in the kitchen, he knew there was, but just the thought of food made him sick, and he knew if he did try to stand he wouldn’t have a chance at making it that far before passing out.

He’d long since accepted the fact that he’d die at a young age due to his vigilante hobby, but he must admit he never expected it to happen this young, especially not since Mr. Stark started showing up every moment he needed him. He hadn’t failed him once… until now. Now that Peter needs him… he’s not here. He stares down at the shattered face of the watch he’s been clutching in his hand since he arrived. Mr. Stark wasn’t coming back, and that was something Peter would have to accept. How could he come back, with all these people looking for him? It’d be impossible and probably the stupidest decision the man could make. But of course Peter’s still clinging to that childish hope that he’d see him again. Preferably before he wastes away here on this very couch.

Though at this rate, it didn’t seem like that was likely to happen. He didn’t even feel the pangs of hunger anymore, and he could feel his body slowly shutting down. It felt almost like a relief to be ridded of that constant ache in his stomach.

He’s been living off of that one school lunch meal for a week, and Peter could feel the definition of his bones when he ran a shaky hand over his ribs, or along his shoulder and arms. It wasn’t healthy by any means, but what did he care? There would be no “long run” to worry about, just the next couple of days before he peacefully slipped off to sleep into a gentle void of nothingness. And if this is what those last couple of days felt like… then he had nothing left to worry about.

He drifted off, muscles and body aching from lying in the same position he had been for days. He had nice dreams, most consisting of finally being with Aunt May again, and his parents. They were waiting for him when he arrived and he was so, so happy to see them, it brought tears to his eyes. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of doing this before. No one but Ned would’ve missed him… and Ned would get over it-- will get over it.

Something draws him out of his dream just before he falls too far, and at first he thought it was the usual convulsing of his stomach urging him to vomit up some bile, or perhaps the heat of a fever and a throbbing headache, but it was none of those.

Instead, it was a soft, light pressure against the side of his face. A small, calloused pad of warmth slowly stroking along his cheek, beneath his eye. It made his nose tickle, and his nostrils flared in response to the touch. His ears slowly cue in, and he’s hit with a sudden cacophony of noise. From the light sound of traffic several blocks down, and the small crackling of the dimming fire in the fireplace, all the way to the soft words belonging to a voice all too familiar, yet entirely unidentifiable.

“Pete?” The voice cracks with anxious distress. “C’mon Pete, wake up.”

Then there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, and all feelings along his skin and limbs begin to return. He’s being shaken back and forth, head lolling from side to side, but his groggy mind confuses it with… he didn’t know what it was. He just knows that everything feels numb and sensitive all at the same time.

The warm embrace against the side of his face disappears, and something scratchy and pokey is pressed gently against his lips, urging them to part. “C’mon Pete,” the voice begs again.

His tongue felt heavy and thick, weighed down by congealed saliva, but the pressure broke past the barrier of his lips despite it. He still couldn’t force himself to open his eyes.

The potent taste of salt hits his tongue and it sends a sudden shock through his whole system, like it finally realized it was in the waking world. The groggy convulsion alerts the voice of his slight awareness and now his body is manhandled into a sitting position. Even though his eyes are beginning to peek open he has no strength left in his limbs to try and fight the external force. He’s leant up against a warm cushion-y surface, a heavy weight settling over his shoulders as the culprit for the salt is pushed past his lips once more.

He bites down slowly, crumbs falling off at the corners of his mouth and the voice from earlier is quick to praise him.

“Good job, kiddo. C’mon, just a little more.” The taste sits heavy in his mouth and it slowly grows soggy atop his tongue, which urges him to swallow it. And, it seemed that the moment it slid down his throat, his body remembered all that it was missing and he was hit with a sharp pang in his abdomen, and he’s quick to take another bite.

His head lolls to the side, the cracker pushed back against his mouth, and his forehead pressed against something warm, engulfing him with a strong whiff of aftershave and alcohol. And slowly he’s able to piece together the warm shape he’s pressed against: an arm around his shoulders, a solid body sitting beside him, and the sharp outline of a jaw propped atop his head. Meaning the warmth bringing life back to his frozen nose and face must be the neck and shoulder.

His mind can only conjure one person to picture with him in this scenario. However unrealistic it was.

“ ‘ny?” Most of it’s a groan, but it must’ve been articulate enough for the voice to understand, and he’s instantly blanketed in more warmth and praise, pulled even closer to the warm body.

“Yes! It’s me. It’s Tony, kid.” The jaw resting on his head moves slightly in a way he couldn’t fully discern, and it’s followed by a soft but strong protrusion pressing against the top of his head, warm air passing over his scalp in short spurts before the jaw returns to its place.

It makes Peter smile. He’s not entirely sure why yet, but the warmth that blooms across his chest enlivens him in a way he never thought he’d experience ever again.

He eats more crackers, and he sips water through a straw regularly pressed to his lips as well. He doesn’t know how many he eats or how much he drinks, but soon enough the feelings begin to slowly bleed back, urging life back into his limbs and his brain. His stomach wasn’t very happy, but that didn’t come as a surprise to him

“You feeling better kiddo? That’s almost the whole pack.” A heavy hand is pressed to his face, then migrates up to pet his hair. “I don’t know what’s good to feed ya when you’re like this. You gotta help me out here.”

“Mm,” Peter groans. He knows it's unhelpful, but his belly felt stuffed and now all he could think about was how cold he was. The penthouse was warm and cozy, but it seemed ever since he arrived, Peter still couldn’t shake that chill that had settled in his bones. The thought alone made him shiver.

“Are you still thirsty?” The voice sounded nervous. “Yeah, you’re probably still thirsty. Lemme go get some more water.” The body begins to move away, which meant so was the warmth.

A strong tremble travels along Peter’s body with nervous anticipation, the muscles in his fingers spasming to grip at the person desperately before they could leave him alone.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” A strong hand grabs his fingers, gripping them gently between their larger ones. “You with me? You okay?”

“Mm,” Peter replies unhelpfully once more. He may not be able to reason or ruminate just yet, but he does know that he’s cold. He grabs the fingers around his and holds on tight, searching out warmth once more by diving his head back towards the warm cushion-y barrier from before and rooting himself there.

“Okay, okay.” The arm around his shoulders moves to rub warmth into his other arm, encircling him completely in the embrace. “Why’d you do this to yourself, Pete?” The voice whispers, a palpable despair in their tone. “You scared me.”

“Mm,” Peter hummed, eyelids pulsing open and closed with a firm determination to remain awake. His vision was blurred with soft orange light and the hard blackness of shadows. A sight he’s come to find as quite familiar and ironically comforting.

He feels better this time when he is pulled to sleep. Not so much on the brink of death anymore, but he feels he’s still teetering precariously close to that cliff. Though despite the nonsense the thought made, he knew the voice and the warmth would hold on tightly, and they wouldn’t let him fall.

***

He wakes up, warm and comfy in a nice big bed. He rolls onto his side with a groan, stomach screaming with hunger, and he lifts a hand to rub his fingers over his burning eyes. His entire body felt like it’d been wrung through a trash compactor. And he didn’t know how he ended up in a bed… He opened his eyes and looked around the room, then cursed under his breath. He was in Tony’s bed. In all the time he’s stayed hidden away in this penthouse, he’d stayed on that damned couch. He didn’t know what had occured last night to result in him crawling his way into this room.

His muscles felt weak and very unsteady, but he forced himself out of bed anyway. He needed to get out of that room, he needed to get back to the couch. He struggled opening the door, and he clutched at the wall as he stumbled and tripped his way back towards the main room. It didn’t even occur to him to question the light bleeding down the hall via the opened curtains scattering around the place. This morning wasn’t making any sense anyway, it didn’t matter.

He was a little more than halfway there when he collapsed, his left leg giving out first, tripping up his balance and toppling him to the wooden floor. He lands with a heavy bang, and he winces at the dull throb that resulted in his side.

“Peter?!” Loud footsteps follow the exclamation, and Peter’s entire body seizes with shock.

Was that??

It was.

Tony appears from around the corner seconds later, crouching in front of him with bulging plastic bags draped from his arms, hands reaching out towards him to help him off the ground.

“What in the world are you doing out of bed, kid? I told you to stay put.” And before Peter could even put up a protest, he was being lifted into the air and led back down the hall the way he came, back into Tony’s room.

It was like he’d just returned from the dentist, cotton stuffed in his mouth, tongue paralyzed, and brain conjuring weird loop-de-loops because he was still high on the pain meds. Because Mr. Stark was here. Carrying him.

If he wasn’t so startled and shocked by the man’s sudden appearance, he’d surely be mortified, but all he could do was stare dubiously at the side of his face as they walked. Then he was being lowered gently back into the bed, and as soon as Tony released him he dropped the bags from his arms and they hit the floor with muted thumps. Giving the man the freeness to meticulously tuck the sheets and cover back over Peter’s frailing body.

Any semblance of flesh had withered off his bones, thanks to his recent lack of appetite.

There was a harsh line molded between Tony’s brows as he messed anxiously with the sheets, and then turned his fixations towards the bags he’d just dropped. Peter didn’t speak a word during the entire ordeal, still unsure if this was just some weird dream or not.

“I picked up some stuff from the convenient store down the block. This’ll do much better than those Saltines from last night.” He lifts up the bottle of red gatorade to show, cracks open the lid, then plops a little bendy straw into the opening. “I would’ve gotten the ones with the sippy cup caps, y’know,” he rambled, sitting down on the mattress beside him and holding the straw up to his lips with shaky fingers, “but this was all they had. I’m assuming your favorite color is red, but I got all the other colors too.” Just as Peter takes a tentative sip, Tony pulls it back looking as if he was in the midst of a panic. “Damn, I should’ve asked you what flavor you wanted. Do you want blue instead? I can get the blue one,” Tony bends down so quickly it almost gives Peter whiplash, hand and head disappearing beside the bed, the rustling of plastic bags sounding during the frantic search. Then Tony sits up to brandish the blue gatorade,offering it towards him instead. “Or I've got green… and the white one.”

They stare at each other for several moments, and Peter’s not entirely sure what Tony expects him to say, so he settles with something simple.

“I-I like red.”

The straw is back at his lips and Tony’s nodding a little too feverishly. “Yeah, yeah, see I knew that.”

Peter sips on the drink, Tony watches him, and that little worried crease between his eyebrows doesn’t go away.

When he’s finished, he pulls away from the straw and leans back against the pillow, finally feeling a bit refreshed. Just as Tony begins to insist he drink more, Peter asks his question. “What are you doin’ here?”

Tony scoffs at him, an offended frown coming over his face. “This is my house. I should be the one asking you that question.”

And really, that was a good point. Peter didn’t know why he was here either. He drops his gaze to stare at his lap. He didn’t mean to worry the man, or get in his way… he just wanted someplace warm to stay.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled softly, a heaviness overcoming his eyes with the pressure building behind them.

“Shit, kid, I didn’t mean-- I didn’t mean it like that.” Tony’s hot palm presses against the side of his neck, thumb dipping under his chin to force his gaze back up. “I’m just worried ‘bout you. I came home and found you on my couch, passed out and-and small as a twig, pale, and I didn’t know what to do.”

Peter leans into the touch without thought, absorbing the tender affection like he was starved for it.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Peter whispers, tears finally beginning to fall from his eyes. The thumb tucked beneath his chin quickly moves to soothe over his cheeks, brushing the fallen tears away. It forces a smile from Peter, a bittersweet, desperate smile, formed with quivering lips.

Tony rips his hand away, suddenly and violently, like he’d only just realized what he was doing, stumbling away from the edge of the bed. He shook out the hand that’d been against Peter’s cheek like it had been infected with an abhorrent substance, and the man turned his back to Peter, other hand lifting to run through his hair while he cursed under his breath.

He avoids Peter’s eyes when he does turn back around. He points towards the gatorade sitting on the bedside table and clears his throat before delivering his instructions. “Drink all of that. I’ll be back soon.”

He shuffles from the room, grabbing one of the plastic bags on his way, and Peter can hear his distant mutterings under his breath as he leaves the room. It left an odd sense of emptiness in him, and he turned to look at the small bottle of red gatorade.

He didn’t reach for it, opting to watch the door. Awaiting Tony’s return.

Tony reappeared after several minutes, looking much less perturbed than when he had left. He came bearing soup and he set it down beside the empty bottle. He kept his distance this time though. The worried line between his brows were gone, taking upon an unperturbed expresion… simply gesturing with his head towards the steaming bowl.

He pulls up a chair, and when Peter still hadn’t made a move for the soup and Tony remained under his unyielding stare. After several more moments, and Peter had yet to move, Tony reached over to place the bowl gently in his lap. It wasn’t full by any means, so Peter didn’t worry about it spilling.

“Peter, you have to eat,” he nods down towards the bowl again. “And while you eat, I want you to tell me everything that happened while I was gone. Everything that got you to this point.” He waves his finger in a circular motion in gesture to his body, fixing Peter with a stern look, and Peter drops his head shyly.

“Can-can I eat first?”

“Sure.”

Peter eats as slow as possible under Tony’s watchful eye. Sadly, however, there was only a finite amount of soup and when Peter was finished, Tony was ready to talk, taking the bowl from his hands and putting it to the side.

“Alright, kid, spill.” Tony had his serious frown on; the same one Peter remembered he wore during the couple lectures he gave in the past. “No skimping on details.”

Peter turns his gaze away from him, skin prickling with anxiety. “My foster dad found out I was Spider-Man… an-and he thought I was working for you. I just… it made him really angry and I just wanted to get away! So, I came to look for you, but you weren’t here and I thought you were never coming back…”

He’s bowing his head to hide his tears, meaning he didn’t realize Tony had gotten out of his chair until he was settling beside him on the bed, and Peter’s head snapped up to look at him when he felt the matress dip. The man sat right beside him, shoulder pressing up against his, and the worry line making a reappearance.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“I-I’m not your responsibility,” Peter argues, “you shouldn’t feel sorry. I’m the one that screwed everything up and ruined your life.” He felt the trembling in his lips begin once more and he turns his head to hide it. “Everything that’s happened… to you… to me. It’s all my fault.”

Strong fingers grab his chin and force his gaze back, and Tony’s glaring down at him. “No, none of this is your fault.”

“Are you stupid?!” Peter bites, cheeks heating up with both frustration and embarrassment. He shakes off Tony’s grip on his chin. “You told me to stay away from those weapons, but I didn’t listen! And then I end up getting into trouble, and you felt the need to come rescue me!” He grips his hair, pulling at the curls in frustration and turning back to his lap as he continues to ramble. “And-and it’s my fault that I left my suit on my floor before bed. So it’s my fault when Beck found them,” he turns his gaze back up to Tony, tears now flowing freely from his eyes, “and it’s my fault that I didn’t fight back. I’m Spider-Man… it’s-it’s, he should have no power over me and-and he only has it because I’m scared.”

Tony’s grip is softer this time when he grabs his chin.

“Hey,” he soothes, lifting his other hand to wipe away the tears, “don’t you ever blame yourself for this. You’re a kid, I’m an adult, and it’s my job to keep you safe.” His gaze turns steely, and Peter feels his grip tighten slightly on his chin. “I just need to know one thing Peter… did he hurt you?”

The silence and the immediate influx of tears was apparently enough confirmation for the man, and he instantly releases Peter, a tight growl rumbling through his chest as he pushes himself off the bed. Peter sees the orange flareup appearing above the man’s collar, climbing up the veins of his neck. He knew well enough to know Tony’s intentions.

“No,” he chokes, diving after the man. He grabs a strong fistful of his shirt before he could get too far, and Tony turns to look down at him, his blue eyes vivid as ever. “Please don’t…”

“Peter,” Tony growls, a tight rumbling passing through him. “He’s not getting away with this. He’s not getting away with laying his hands on you.”

“Please…” Peter begged desperately. “Please don’t kill him… Please.” He’s crying in earnest now, and Tony takes pity.

He grabs Peter’s hand, gently prying it from his clothes to hold firmly in his palm. “Pete.”

“Please don’t leave,” Peter tries.

He couldn’t stand the thought of being responsible for Beck’s death, because then the world’s point would be proven. Spider-Man was just as bad as Iron Man. Any notion of ‘hero’ was dead.

He knows Tony will kill him. He can see it in his eyes. The rage.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Peter…” Peter’s tempted to label the sound that emits from the man as a soft whine as Tony slowly sits himself back on the mattress, never releasing his hold of Peter’s hand.

“Stay.” He tugs Tony closer. If he was close enough to hold onto, Peter could keep him from leaving.

“Okay, okay,” Tony relents, scooting back up beside him. Peter doesn’t risk doing anything more than pressing his shoulder against him. The touch was enough to draw him comfort for the moment. Just enough to lull him back into a peaceful sleep.

***

Beck’s seething, fisting the red cloth in his hand. Peter was gone… and he was in deep shit. There was no way CPS wouldn’t investigate him after this. He stares at the undecorated Christmas Tree standing lifelessly in the corner as he downs another swig from his bottle. He grimaces. He didn’t usually go immediately for the hard liquor, but the week had been particularly difficult for him. After his Boss found out about Tony Stark being alive… it had been chaotic. And it never failed to construct a headache waiting just for him at the end of the day.

There were two sharp knocks at the door, and he flinched in surprise, eyes darting to the clock hung on the wall. 10:48. Who the hell was at his door so late at night?

Before he even had a chance to stand from his easy chair, his door blew in.

He leaped from the chair, dropping everything in his hands during his frantic stumble. The bottle shattered on the floor, and the suit soaked up the spilt liquid. He shouted in surprise and stared at the man standing in his doorway.

“S-Stark?”

The man in question steps past the threshold, onto the fallen door. His eyes glowed, his entire body illuminated like he was under the light of a strong fire. He doesn’t say anything, but Beck thinks he knows why he was here.

Beck slowly moves himself away from the room, backpedaling as quickly as possible, tripping over his own drunken steps. Stark moves closer.

“Hey, Stark. What are- what are you doin’ here?”

“I think you know.” His voice was gravelly and strained, and Beck shuddered.

“I-I really don’t,” he lies. He crashes into the decorative table set up at the beginning of the hall. A potted plant and several books crashing to the floor.

Stark steps closer, chin dipping to his chest which only highlights his sharp, shining glare, his head tilting only slightly to the side.

“I reeally think you do.”

Beck falls to the ground.

And as Tony begins to gain on him, he starts his rambling. “Whatever that kid told you was a total lie, I swear. He makes up all kinds of stories! I’ve been nothing but hospitable--” Tony grabs him by the throat, lifting him clean off the ground with nothing more than his human arm. Then he squeezes, bringing their faces close as Beck chokes desperately around his hand.

“It’s too late,” he whispers into his face, voice calm and soothing, “I remember you… how much trouble you were back in the day.” A dangerous grin flitted over Stark’s face. “Nothing you say will get you out of this. I’m going to make you feel every bit of pain my kid suffered at your hands. In fact, if it wasn’t for that kid, I’d slit you open and splash around like a child playing in a puddle, and string your guts around that tree like decorative garlands. You best be glad I’m a man of my word...”

***

When Peter blinks awake, his head is lying on the pillow, blankets pulled up around his shoulders and Tony sat beside him. Head thrown back against the headboard, mouth open, snoring, and a discarded tablet hanging loosely in his grip atop his lap.

Peter smiles, snuggling further into the pillow and pulling the blankets tight around him.

He didn’t think to pay any mind to the small splatter of red on the cuffs of his shirt.

Next Chapter

@multiverse-irondad-july

#Villainous July 2021 #VillainousJuly2021 #villain tony stark #extremis tony stark #dark tony stark #protective tony stark #insecure tony stark #fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt peter parker #sad peter parker #irondad #protective dad mode #villain appreciation

30 notes · View notes

batbirdies · 3 years ago

Link

The evening was quiet, slightly subdued, especially in comparison to what it had been like once. But Bruce could tell Dick was a little worn out, not quite his boisterous self.

He didn’t blame him, Bruce was fairly exhausted himself and Dick had even more important conversations than him over the last two days. He couldn’t deny how nice it was though, to have him there. Both his sons in the house together, actually getting along.

Perhaps they had gotten off to a rough start the evening before, but Dick was a natural with Jason, now that they seemed to have straightened things out. Bruce was a little jealous, even, seeing Jason come out of his shell so quickly with Dick. It had taken months for Bruce to see the same. But, he told himself, it was a good sign, not that Bruce was bad at this—though perhaps he was—but that Jason was growing more comfortable in general with his life in the manor.

Bruce couldn’t quite stop thinking about what Dick had told him, about all the things Dick had told him, but especially over dinner—that Jason said he loved it here.

It wasn’t as though Bruce thought he hated it, but he often worried over Jason; that he didn’t feel comfortable here, that their lack of shared life experience was too much of a gap to bridge at times. Bruce could try to understand, but he had lived such a different life from Jason as a boy. As hard as he might try, some things were impossible to fully comprehend from the outside.

And Bruce was far, far outside.

As they sat around the dinner table, and Alfred ignored his ‘no downstairs talk upstairs’ rule just for Dick, so he could regale them with stories from the Titan’s that he’d been saving up for months now, Bruce remembered that conversation. The one he had talked to Leslie about, that she encouraged him to have with Jason, many weeks ago now. He needed to. He knew he did. Jason’s anxiety surrounding money was not something Bruce wanted to leave unaddressed; he simply…felt unequipped.

But he could only put it off so long, before he was reminded of the problem again, and again.

The next day was Saturday, and finally an opportunity to sleep in with no obligations, and without the chance of missing Jason before he headed to school. Bruce woke around 10am and laid in bed a little longer, checking his email and perusing the various social media accounts he followed that either had eyes on Batman or Bruce Wayne. It was always good to keep up on public opinion of both.

Eventually he levered himself out of bed and forced himself into a quick shower. It was more to wake up than anything, since he always took one when he got back from patrol.

It had been a late night though, the first shared patrol between Batman and Nightwing in months—their first patrol just the two of them in even longer. Bruce had been mildly concerned that Jason would make a fuss about being left behind but he seemed chastened still and hadn’t complained.

Jason was doing admirably, as Robin, and always put his all into the work, but it was refreshing in a way, to have Dick at his side again. His confidence and skill were truly unmatched and Bruce had nearly forgotten what it was like to have a partner who could match him. He found he missed it, but in the same way that you miss the past. It would always be there, and he cherished it, but he knew this wasn’t where Dick belonged anymore, not in the long term. Even before he’d taken on the Nightwing mantle Bruce had known he couldn’t stay Robin much longer, it was clear he had outgrown it.

He might fear the danger Dick was in as a solo vigilante, but he had no doubts in his ability, nor that he would become something great, given just a little time. Bruce was not proud of many things in his life, but he was proud of Dick Grayson, even if he had little right to be.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, reaching forward to turn off the water. He felt continual waves of relief, and not a little regret over everything they had talked about in the cave two days before. Bruce had come into it knowing he needed to apologize and to make things right, but he was still blindsided by some of the things Dick told him. Things he hadn’t considered. Oversights on his part that Batman never allowed himself in other circumstances.

Only with his kids did he seem to make so many mistakes.

He reminded himself as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel as he went, that guilt helped no one at this point, especially not Dick. They had talked, things were on the mend if not 100% better, he just had to keep moving in the right direction.

Part of him still insisted Dick was too young, most teens did not leave home right at 18. But most children didn’t become vigilante sidekicks at age nine, either. Every time Dick insisted that he wasn’t a child anymore Bruce wanted to laugh, just a littlet, at the irony. Because looking at things from his current position—Dick was so young. But Bruce had left home at that age as well, needed to go and be on his own and figure life out, and he’d lacked nearly all of Dick’s experience. So perhaps he was still very young, but he was also right, he wasn’t a child, and letting him find his own way would be good for both of them.

Start from the beginning here

#Fanfiction #batfam #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Hurt/Comfort

28 notes · View notes

valleyrunearchives · 2 years ago

Text

Weightless (The Leap of a Jade Rabbit)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Pairings: Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Chapter 12/?

Midoriya Izuku stopped believing in heroes when a tragedy occurred in his life. When at the tender age of 11, he lost everything that was everything dear to him, everything that was worth living for. Yet he doesn’t give up. He can’t give up. He decides to make a choice instead. No longer will he stand around and wait for the heroes to arrive while a crime goes down. He’ll be his own hero and a hero to those who are just like him. Those waiting for help that will never arrive. In order to do that, though, he’ll have to fight to survive and lie through his teeth. It won’t be so bad!

After all, it’s not like they can bring him in for vigilantism and Illegal Quirk Usage when he doesn’t even have a quirk, right?

<=Previous First Next=>

Click here to Read on AO3

Shouta’s patrol the next night is horribly bleak in comparison to how it normally is. The news that Tsukauchi had given him still weighs heavy on his mind. Not to mention how Hizashi reacted when he told him. His poor husband had cried and whispered ‘I knew it’ to himself over and over again for an hour; He was nearly inconsolable. That was the thing that people didn’t know about Hizashi. Most thought that he got overly loud with every reaction, especially when upset. When in fact, he gets very quiet in his grief. He was so distraught he had to call out at the radio station for the first time in nearly five years. Several things were also clear when they finally got through all the info Tsukauchi sent them. One: Midoriya Izuku was now probably drastically underweight and undersized for the age that he is. Two: Midoriya Izuku clearly had a huge distrust for most adults considering his teacher situation but still had some marginal trust or at least respect in heroes if he talked to Hizashi without issue. And three: Midoriya Izuku was almost assuredly homeless.

No, not almost assuredly. Definitely. Definitely homeless. Where else would a child who’s only family member passed live? If he had been living with a friend or a family friend, then he wouldn’t have been marked as deceased. He wouldn’t have been reported as dropped out from the school due to an untimely death. It just wouldn’t have happened if he had somewhere to live. If he had somewhere to go. If he had someone who cared, who would’ve kicked up a fuss at the mere mention of the falsified report.

Shouta sighs and rubs his face. He’s running himself in circles over this. He has to focus. He reminds himself that Nedzu and Tsukauchi are looking for Izuku as fast as they can. One of them should be able to find him. Hopefully. The only saving grace that he’s heard thus far is that Tsukauchi was pulling for the highest punishment possible for the officer who marked Izuku as deceased without checking if he actually was or reporting it and that Nedzu was looking in the clearly corrupt comings and goings of the school district the boy went to. People like that make him sick. He hopes they all burn in hell after Nedzu and the detective are done with them.

He continues on his patrol route as his thoughts turn to his bunny instead of Hizashi’s bean. He had gotten a lot of answers about the not quite vigilante when he last spoke with them. He had given his own answers too; Didn’t feel fair to ask the kid to reveal things about themselves without giving the same courtesy. He could have lived without the kid’s snarky comments about his choices.

When asked about their favorite drink they said Green tea. Shouta said his was coffee. “Figures. I probably could have guessed that myself honestly.”

Favorite book genre? “Um… Aside from the hero books I used to read? Historical fiction I guess. It keeps my attention and is just so interesting." The amused snort and giggle he got when he told them that his was romance novels stuck in his brain. "Unexpected yet hilarious." Shouta blames Nemuri for that one. You accidently bring home her library book one time in high school and that's it, you're hooked for life once you’ve decided you're bored and might as well read it. They've kind of made something of a two person book club with it. Hizashi refuses to join.

Favorite food? Katsudon. "Like my mom used to make." Keywords there: Used to. Another strike in either the horrible mother or the dead mother theory about Gyokuto. He told them that his favorite were jelly packs. "Wh- That's not food! That's a snack, at best!" Snack, food, same thing. When Gyokuto insisted repeatedly that it's really not, he amended it to be his husband's Tonkatsu. "Better. And who knew you were such a sap!"

Shouta almost chuckles out loud at the memory. The kid was a snark master that's for sure. At the time, he had to remind himself that Gyokuto was just a child and that he couldn't kill them. But now he just thinks it's funny. Hizashi himself died with a screech of a laugh at their responses. So that's a win in his books. Anything that makes his husband laugh like that is worth it. This kid is clearly worth it.

Shouta just touches down on the next rooftop when his phone starts ringing. He picks it up instantly, "Eraserhead."

"Eraser, it's Blacklight!" The other underground hero sounds completely out of breath, "Listen… I saw the kid!"

That immediately sets his nerves on edge. There's only one kid she could be talking about, "Gyokuto?"

"Yeah! They were… they were running through my district patrol in plain sight… It looked like they were in a hurry. I… I followed them to the edge but they slipped into another district and I don't have clearance to… to pursue since they're not committing a crime or a part of my active cases," She pants.

"You did good calling me. Which district did they run into?" He knows she's in district Xi tonight. Right near where they think Gyokuto lives.

"Gamma. They ran into Gamma district then hung left towards Iota," she responded. That checks out. Gamma district is directly beside the Xi district and is one of Gyokuto's outlying active districts. They must've spotted something or know something going on in that district. He relays to her that he's on his way and thanks her for the tip.

Since Gyokuto is one of his active cases, he has the clearance necessary to give pursuit. He sends a message to his agency to have a backup hero take up his district for the time being since he's giving chase. He leaps across three rooftops before the affirmative comes in from the agency. He's got to be swift. If the kid makes it into the Iota district before he can spot them, he'll lose his tracks!

He takes as many shortcuts as he can to get to Gamma district as fast as possible. He sees a petty crime happening on the street below but beyond pinging the location to the hero patrolling this area, he ignores it. Gyokuto is his top priority right now. He can't afford to waver in his chase.

He crosses into Gamma and redirects his path towards Iota. His eyes start tracing the streets and alleyways below. He nearly skids to a stop as he catches a splash of red in one of the alleyways. His breath catches as his mind immediately associates the color with blood. He shakes his head to clear it and remembers that Gyokuto wears bright red shoes. He moves to the edge of the rooftop and watches as the kid sneakily peers around the corner of the building their back is pressed against. Shouta's brows furrow. It's just abandoned buildings that way as far as he knows. What are they watching?

He quietly jumps down in the alleyway behind them. He approaches as loudly as he dares, trying not to scare them, "Kid, what are you doing?"

Even though his steps clearly weren't silent, the kid still jumps and whips around to shush him insistently. Shouts jolts and blinks in confusion before raising an eyebrow, whispering, "What? Why are you shushing me?"

The kid makes a motion with their fingers for him to peek around the corner as well. He carefully approaches and does so. His eyes widened in shock. There's about three people standing at the entrance of one of the abandoned buildings. "What are they doing?" He asks.

"So far, nothing," Gyokuto replies, "But that's why I'm watching. I'm fairly certain it won't be that way for long."

"And why do you say that?"

"I passed by the tall one with the spiky hair on the streets yesterday, almost a hundred percent certain he's got some kind of sea urchin mutation quirk," They point discreetly to the taller of the three. Sure enough, the man has spiky, needle-like hair. Kid's probably right about his quirk too. "He mentioned to one of his buddies that 'Ichiro-san' got caught by the cops for attempting to kidnap the kid with bright red hair that they've had their eye on for a fighting ring. Sound familiar?"

Indeed it does. Ichiro Kirai was the name of the attempted kidnapper of Kirishima. The fact that they said they had their eye on Kirishima is also concerning. It means one thing and one thing only. "Quirk traffickers," he murmurs darkly, anger pooling in his veins.

"Bingo," Gyokuto confirms.

"We need to call in back-up."

"There won't be time," the kid says gravely, "I'm fairly certain they're the receiving crew and this is the meetup point. Their people bring them whoever they grab then they pay them what they think they’re worth. If we wait for backup, we might not be able to save whoever they've grabbed tonight."

"What makes you say that?" He asks.

"I've already been here for almost ten minutes. They probably won't wait beyond fifteen and they'll make the - ugh! - ‘Transaction’ as fast as possible. They're too out in the open for them not to be noticed by a hero swiftly if they just stand around for too long."

Kid’s got a point, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, "Dammit… I would send out a call for backup but you’re right, they won’t get here in time. We’ll wait and see if their lackeys show up. If so, I'll engage." He pulls out his phone and sends a notification for possible crime in progress for his current location with a note that he’ll update as soon as he has more info before putting it away again.

"You mean we'll engage?" Gyokuto asks sassily.

"No. I will engage. You will stand back here and not get kidnapped or killed!"

"But I can help!" They insist in frustration before muttering under their breath, "Not like they'd want me anyway…" He decides to unpack that statement later.

"Kid, no!" He leans down to look Gyokuto in the eyes sternly, placing his hands on his shoulders, "I cannot stress this enough; you are a child. It is not your responsibility to fight the bad guys, it's mine. I will not let you be a part of a fight with quirk traffickers. You'll get hurt if you do and I can't live with myself if something happens to you!"

The emotion in their eyes is wavering determination, "But-!"

"No buts. If any of the other heroes show up, you have my permission to tell them to not focus on you and direct them my way but that is it. You will stay here. And for the love of God, you will be safe, Gyokuto!" He insists firmly.

The fight leaves them in a huff but not happily, "Fine…"

He sighs in relief, "Thanks, Bunny."

"Bunny?" He ignores the confused question from Gyokuto. There's no time to give that mile long answer about how this little vigilante has somehow wormed their way into his and Hizashi’s heart. He takes a quick look around the corner and sees that the traffickers are still waiting then turns back to the kid, "That thing you did with Present Mic's quirk the other night, about knowing that he would need extreme control and awareness… How did you figure all that stuff out?"

"I just watched him in action and made observations about it," he tilts his head in question, "Why?"

"Can you figure out some things about their quirks just by watching them? Even if it’s just something small that could give me an advantage on them? Like you could with his quirk?"

"Not definitively since they're not actively using them but I can try to make an educated guess based on actions or movements they make or have made."

"Better than nothing. Let's see what you've got, kiddo," he backs off to give Gyokuto room to look and maneuver as much as possible.

"Okay so…." Gyokuto takes a second to scan them, "Sea urchin head is obvious. Quirk type: mutation. Change is the sharp spines that grow out of the cranium instead of having hair follicles. Based on the coloring and spine length, it seems to be a non venomous urchin type; Getting stung will hurt but it won't affect you in any way unless you're allergic to stuff like that. Try not to get stung either way though. It’s not a comfy feeling. Unlike regular urchins, I think he has the ability to shoot them at people before regrowing them. Might be a possible secondary part of the mutation but unknown for sure. It should take some time to regrow them so you may have a bit of a window there to get some shots in."

They point out to the guy next to Urchin Head, "That guy's got an Emitter type that lets him manipulate rocks and stones. I’ve seen him use it. Seems like he's got a weight limit to how much he can move. The others were mocking him on it after he tried it on a larger piece when he was flicking rocks at a nearby can. More than likely it's based on the density of the rock type as he was able to pick up pebbles of both concrete and asphalt but not one of the larger chunks of concrete that's fallen off one of the buildings. It seems to be limited to rocks and other types of ground based items since he hasn’t tried to move any of the steel rebar around. Also, unlike the hero Cementoss who can manipulate the shape and size of cement like materials, he can’t change the shape of the rocks or change their size, only cause them to float or change their inertia quickly to make them projectiles. Use his weight limit to your advantage if you can't erase his quirk but I recommend taking him out first since he's also a ranged fighter."

"Now the last guy," Gyokuto's finger moves to the third, standing off a bit to the side from the other two, "I'm fairly certain his quirk is Emitter as well. Possibly a mutation but there's nothing overtly differing about him on the outside that makes it so I can tell. I originally thought some kind of intelligence quirk but the guy's clearly not the front man, the brains of the group so to speak, which he would be if he had one. Watch out for him. It's internal, whatever it is, but I don't really know what kind of quirk or how it works. He hasn't done anything to even give me any clues and none of the others have mentioned it either. Something tells me he’s not around for being a heavy hitter. He’s with them because of something else. A last resort, kind of deal."

"Better than nothing," Really better than anything Shouta's ever heard from a split second analysis without all the obvious facts, "I'm going to wait until the exchange is made. Better chance to catch them off guard, especially if they want to protect their 'goods.' Kid, you call the cops."

"Can't," Is the swift reply. It causes his head to whip around to stare at the top of the kid's head. The kid tips their head up to look them in the eyes, "What? I don't have a phone, sue me!"

What child doesn’t have a cell phone in this day and age? This kid is an enigma sometimes… He pulls his phone back out of his pocket and tosses it to the kid. The kid fumbles the catch a bit but luckily recovers enough to grab hold of it without dropping it. Good. He really didn't want to have to explain to Hizashi how his phone got broken by him tossing it to their kid. As soon as they have it, he goes back to watching. Gyokuto makes a grumble sound and a near inaudible comment about how they still think they could help. Shouta ignores them. He can't afford to lose focus right now. He waits for what feels like an eternity.

Just as he thinks that whoever was expected to show up won't, an all black car pulls slowly up the street. Too slow to just be passing by. That must be it. Sure enough, the suspected traffickers smirk at the sight of it and wait for it to pull to a stop beside them. One of them opens the door and reaches in the backseat as Urchin Head leans in the driver's side window with something in his hand. Must be the cash payment. Not like traffickers would risk a check or a bank card transaction after all. He keeps his eyes on the scene in front of him but sees Gyokuto out of the corner of his eye raise his cell phone up. A quick glance shows that they’re using the camera function to take a picture of the car’s license plate. Smart. It’ll help the police track them down later.

A young girl, maybe no more than six, is dragged out of the backseat, crying her eyes out. Shouta clenches his fist as the guy who has her smirks. Bastards, he thinks as he fixes his goggles onto his face. He moves his hand up to grab his capture scarf, whispering to the kid without looking away, “If I can get the girl away from them, think you can keep her safe until police arrive?”

“Duh,” Is the immediate response. Shouta will take it. They wait in tense silence as the car and Urchin Head are finally satisfied with their talk and money exchange. The car drives off, swiftly but not too fast to be suspicious to any outsiders. Urchin Head and Unknown Quirk gather close together to discuss their next course of action as Rock Flinger keeps ahold of the girl. Shouta knows he’s not going to get another chance beyond this one. He takes a running start at them, activating his quirk just as he reaches the girl and her keeper. Rock Flinger jolts as he realizes that his quirk has been erased but Shouta doesn’t give him time to process before he performs a jumping kick to the guy’s face. It hits dead on and knocks him clear away from the girl.

He blinks and quickly reactivates his quirk on his two comrades behind him. He knows it probably won’t have any effect on Urchin Head but it doesn't hurt to try. He stoops down into a defensive position and whispers to the girl, low enough that no one can hear him but her, “There’s a kid in the alleyway a few meters back. Run to them. They’ll keep you safe until help arrives.”

He hears her make a sound of understanding before her footsteps retreat behind him. He doesn’t take his eyes away from the three in front of him though. Urchin Head makes a comment on his goods getting away and how a pro wasn’t supposed to be here. Obviously he wasn’t supposed to be here. No one knew what was going on until a super smart kid figured it out. Rock Flinger attempts to use his quirk to engage him but it fails. His friends look at him in confusion. Unknown Quirk makes a comment about how he needs to stop fucking around. “Dude it’s not me!” He cries back to them, “I can’t use my fucking quirk! I don’t know why!”

Shouta doesn’t wait any longer. He flings out his capture scarf and wraps it around Rock Flinger’s arm before using his strength to throw him off balance into his friends. Urchin Head is the first up again. He tips his head down and shoots out several spines towards Shouta, just like Gyokuto said he could. He figured his quirk wouldn’t affect him. He easily dodges the projectiles as clustered in a group as they are. Either the location of the spines throws off his aim or he hasn’t practiced with it enough. Regardless, it makes it easy to bob and weave the spines until the guy has to back off to let his ammo regrow. Seems like it takes him a minute or two instead of being immediate. Good, that buys him a bit of time to go on the offensive. His eyes are starting to burn though. He really needs to blink. He also really needs to at least get Rock Flinger down and out before he does though. He sees his chance as the idiot rushes him. He ducks the punch he throws before grabbing him at the collarbone and slamming his knee into his chest. A quick punch to the face has the guy face down on the ground, groaning in pain but not getting up. Good. One down, two to go.

He takes the opportunity to blink. When he goes to reactivate his quirk again, Unknown Quirk, in the smartest move he’s seen all night, ducks behind his compatriot just in time to be out of his line of sight. Dammit. He can’t erase his quirk if he can’t see him. He gives a soft growl. Fine, he’ll just have to take down Urchin Head first. He works on slowly moving his way towards Urchin Head. He remembers Gyokuto’s warning that he needs to be careful of the other guy but he should be fine as long as he’s cowering behind his friend. Urchin Head continues to try and shoot him with his spines. It’s only marginally working and mainly just in forcing him to keep his distance more than he wants. When he has to pause again to regrow his spines, completely out of them, he throws out his capture scarf again to grab the guy around the waist; Yanking him up and over his head, he throws him hard to the ground. He places his foot on his chest and delivers a swift hit to his vagus nerve to knock him out. Two down. Now for the last one.

“Look out!” Gyokuto’s voice causes him to whip around. He sees just briefly as the kid slams their whole body into his side. The way he was standing over Urchin Head, it caused him to be knocked off balance and tumble a few steps away. He rights himself immediately to try and assess why the kid did that. There’s a sickeningly wet sound and then a muffled scream. When Shouta looks over with eyes wide behind his goggles, he sees Gyokuto kneeling on the ground with one of Urchin Head’s spines stabbed in his shoulder. Unknown Quirk has a hold of the end of it, brandishing it like it was a knife, hands now covered in some kind of viscous substance and a bit of blood. From his kid.

Shouta sees nothing but red.

#bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #bnha #mha fanfiction #vigilante izuku #aizawa shouta #izuku midoryia #homeless izuku midoriya

2 notes · View notes