TIM DRAKE + BOYFRIEND TEXTS.

hardcore launches with the boys

in which neither of you take a… soft approach, to announcing your secret relationship

todoroki didn’t expect for it to go the way it did. it was a normal training day when suddenly he turned only to see you straight on your back, air knocked out of you from the move bakugo had just pulled on you. he lost his shit.

suddenly there he was, right next to you as bakugo found himself as a human ice cube. he gently pulled you up and dusted you off.

“you okay, love?” he gently placed his hand on your cheek.

“shoto, while i appreciate the gesture,” you slowly pushed his hand down, “we’re in training and it’s bound to happen. you can’t ice anyone just because they’re doing their assignment.”

“i know, but i dont care. you’re my girlfriend nobody has the right.” he simply shrugged.

a few gasps were heard, they turned their heads to find an unintended audience. the entire class.

“you’re together?!” everyone yelled.

“HALF AND HALF BASTARD!”

◡̈

bakugo wasn’t exactly discrete, especially when it was agreed you guys weren’t going to hide it anymore. it was a nice sunday morning when he came down,

only to see you wearing his favorite shirt and sweatpants that had been missing for days.

there you sat next to mina and tsu, they took took notice of the shirt but decided not to say anything.

that was until mina couldn’t hold it anymore, “aren’t those bakugos clothes?” you looked down, taking notice that you forgot to change before coming down, “uhhh-”

“yeah, aren’t those my fucking clothes?” you heard from behind you. you jumped up and darted for an escape, only to be grabbed by the hips and pinned to his front.

“you know i’ve been looking for my shit for days now, right?” he whispered in your ear.

you wordlessly shook your head, words gone and heart beating a million times a second. he knew exactly how to get a rise out of you.

your cheeks flushed as he turned you around to face him, before he could see your face you quickly shoved your face in his chest.

he chuckled, “you’re so fucking lucky you’re pretty.”

“EEEEKKKK!” they both looked over to see mina and both squads starring at them with wide eyes, “YOU GUYS ARE DATING?!”

◡̈

sero would do it in a funny way, you’d be arguing about some stupid shit in the common room. you, mina, and jirou would be ripping their asses for doing some dumb shit.

the girls were too heated to even realize you were yelling at sero, except for kaminari and kirishima.

they looked at you both strangely, which caught the attention of the girls. and shortly enough it was only you yelling at sero.

“you’re so fucking dumb! i swear you give me a headache every single goddamn day, yet i-” you were soon cut off by lips touching yours gently, all anger seemed to diminish and your brain went fuzzy.

when you both pulled away his hands still remained on your face, “y’know you’re so pretty when you’re angry?

“oh my god?!”

◡̈

denki would find it fun to mess with everyone, he’d go on and on about this mystery girlfriend.

“she’s soooo pretty”

“i want her so bad right now”

“she thinks i’m funny”

“guys where should i take her for dinner?” he whispered, hoping not to attract your attention from the girls.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP DUNCE FACE WE KNOW SHES NOT REAL!” bakugo screamed, getting everyone’s attention.

“YES SHE IS!” denki yelled back.

“THEN WHO WHOM?” he paused, “HM?”

“me.”

everyone snapped their head towards you, full of shock.

you lazily walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, laying a small kiss on his cheek.

“WHAT?!”

◡̈

kirishima would do it completely on accident while admirning you.

everyone was stuck on their own task of the day, beating their opponents ass.

you specifically were never one to back down, something kirishima absolutely adored about you. you were a hardass and stubborn as a mule, sometimes biting him in the ass.

you were now going up against mina, and odds weren’t in her favor, bless her soul. you were a tough girl. and as of right now you had her in a chokehold on the ground.

kirishima stood there in awe.

not because his friend was getting her ass beat, but because his girlfriend was so, manly.

“damn, that’s my girlfriend.”

everyone snapped their heads to him,

“what.”

◡̈

midoryia wasn’t very sneaky about it in the first place.

so when the class woke up one sunday and found you two cuddling on the couch after a failed movie night, it really was no surprise.

instead of being abrupt and waking you guys up (like bakugo offered) they layer a blanket on the top of you two. nicely and gently.

“they’re a cute couple.” tsu commented.

“oh for sure,” sato started, “they’re both hard working and very very sweet.”

“this is unacceptable on school property though-”

a joint “shut up iida” ensued.

BATBOYS’ reaction to you asking to paint their nails

NOTE: I’m dumb as hell and forgot about Duke on this and the other one just give me a sec.

Bruce Wayne:

- You’re doing your own nails when he walks in.

- Clearly you’re bored, or something, because he can easily pay to get them done professionally.

- He approaches you, gently lifting your hand to inspect.

- “Pretty,” he murmurs, followed by a kiss to your knuckle.

- You grin. “Can I do yours?”

- He considers, even though there’s already a denial on the tip of his tongue. But, it doesn’t come out, because you look really excited at the thought.

- He agrees. And it’s lame.

- A clear top coat. That’s all he’ll let you do.

- Bruce Wayne can’t be seen with sparkles on his hands, even if he doesn’t care what the media thinks.

- He believes it’s too feminine for him.

- They’d probably be chipped immediately given how handsy his nighttime life is, anyway.

- Still, it’s something—you’ll take what you can get.

- He actually comes to you every few days so he’s able to keep it on.

- He does try on black at some point. It looks odd on his large, calloused hands. That’s just him, though.

- The top coat is too unnoticeable for anyone to comment, but his kids are smart, observant.

- “Why are your nails shiny?”

- “Because it makes them happy.”

Dick Grayson:

- He really likes watching you do your nails and is very satisfied when you do a color he recommends.

- Said color most of the time is blue.

- You’re waiting for the polish to dry when you ask, “You want me to do yours?”

- Grayson is open-minded, but he’s also utterly in love with you, so obviously he agrees.

- You’d both have black on your thumbs and pinkies, with that iconic vivid blue on the rest.

- Unfortunately, colliding his fist into jaws and his training does get in the way of keeping them nice.

- Which means he gets spoiled with your attention even more as you fix them. Yay!

- He’s lowkey cocky when he takes down criminals with it on.

- “LOL I just kicked your ass with nail polish my partner put on” ahh mf.

- He’s incredibly defensive if anyone teases him.

- They’re basically insulting you, too.

- They eventually stop because he’s dead serious.

Jason Todd:

- “You look better with it,” he would say upon the offer.

- But he’s equally bored. He’ll agree.

- Black. Pure black. Black hole black.

- He’d make an edgy comment about how it’s his “soul” or whatever.

- He actually kind of likes it. It fits his aesthetic.

- Beats people a little harder if they happen to chip it.

- He’ll let you add a small, red matching heart on a finger.

- Preferably middle. It’s his favorite one.

- He would make snide comments when he’s fighting.

- “They did my nails so pretty, don’t you think?” (Morseo his “fingerless gloves” era.)

- Not that they’d notice. His knuckles are being too personal with their face.

- He’d be like Dick. Why is simple nail polish just so fuckin’ funny?

Tim Drake:

- He won’t necessarily be interested in polish, but rather small designs.

- Like a little flower, or a heart.

- Super simplistic stuff that has him smile when he looks at it.

- You did, as cheesy as it is, a Red Robin one time.

- May or may not have taken forever.

- He’s genuinely sad if they get ruined. You worked hard on them.

- He’d probably apologize because clearly it’s his fault—heavy sarcasm, by the way.

- You remind him that it gives you an opportunity to do more.

- He probably would ignore whomever made comments that weren’t compliments until they apologize.

- He hasn’t talked to Jason in a while.

Damian Wayne:

- “Don’t you have your own nails?”

- You’ll offer to bathe Titus for the rest of the year, and suddenly he’s sitting on your floor while you put a tacky hot pink on him.

- He lets you do whatever, because he doesn’t keep long. He’s just not into it.

- But if he isn’t doing anything, he won’t take it off until he has to.

- Him texting Jon about how stupid he is with cunty ass nails.

- No one finds out. It’s his little secret.

- And then Bruce forgets to knock one time during a session.

- “Father,” he greets flatly, not looking up.

- You’ve never seen the Batman so…confused.

doing their makeup

—LO۷ESTⱤUCK F𐌀N

contents damian wayne x fem!reader, youtuber!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc. synopsis now that you've started accepting fan mail, damian jumps at the chance to send you something (though, honestly, he’d send himself if he could). pt 2 of "unexpected crush!?" (@liabiamiakiawia hope you like it 🫶🏻)

No. Freaking. Way.

Was this a dream? A hallucination? Some cruel trick of the mind?

There was no way she actually posted her address. But as he blinked at the screen, rereading the words for the hundredth time, the reality hit him like a Batarang to the chest:

"Accepting fan gifts/letters! Address & city number: xxxxx. Can't wait to see what my luvies gift me :)"

His heart stopped. Then restarted at double the speed.

He. Was. Ecstatic.

Well—ecstatic in a very Damian Wayne, son of an assassin and the Dark Knight, kind of way.

A normal person might be pacing, grinning, maybe even screaming into a pillow. But Damian? He just sat there, staring at the screen, his grip tightening on his phone as his brain raced a thousand miles per second.

This was huge. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The only chance he’d ever have to send her something, something meaningful—something that would make her smile.

Immediately, he started skimming through her videos, mind buzzing with possibilities. What did she like? What did she need? What could he give her that would stand out from the rest?

Something perfect. It had to be perfect.

After intense (possibly obsessive) research, he finally settled on three things:

1. A Beauty of Joseon skincare set—not that a face as flawless as hers needed skincare. If anything, the skincare needed her.

2. A cute hairclip set—he remembered her gushing over some in a video. Hers were old, but she hated overconsumption, always mindful of her brand collaborations (another thing about her that made his heart do weird things: her caringness for the planet).

3. Some top-tier Chinese makeup—only the best for her.

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he saw the total.Just a casual $1K. Nothing much for a Wayne.

Then again… if she asked, he'd get her the moon and stars. Nothing was ever too much for her. Ever.

By the time he finalized his list, it was nearly noon. And by the time he finished hunting everything down in-store, it was noon.

Now, back in his room, Damian sat cross-legged on his floor, staring at the disaster zone of wrapping paper around him.

He exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up as he crumpled yet another piece of pink wrapping paper—now a casualty of way too much tape—and chucked it aside.

This was so new to him. He barely ever gave gifts, and even when he did, Alfred was the one who wrapped them.

With a sigh, Damian pulled out his phone and searched, How to wrap gifts (EASY and pretty).

Following the tutorial with painstaking precision, his thoughts started to wander.

It wasn’t like he was an idiot. After a full week of stubborn denial, he’d finally accepted it—he had a crush. A real, actual crush on a girl he’d never even met.

And honestly? That annoyed him. Apparently, there was some illness where people obsessed over their favorite celebrities or internet personalities.

But he wasn’t sick! Sure, there were plenty of things wrong with him—a packaged deal that came with being the son of his parents—but this? This wasn’t an obsession. And he was definitely not a stalker.

He just... really liked this girl.

Pausing mid-task, he set down the half-wrapped package and reached for a pen and paper.

"Dear ___,My name is Damian Wayne. I'm a teen from Gotham..."

Hours passed—writing, re-writing, crumpling papers, fixing the bow on the package that would soon be crossing oceans.

Finally, Damian collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He sighed.

Please let this work.

Sitting up, he picked up the now perfectly wrapped gift box, his fingers absentmindedly tracing along the frilly bow.

And then, without thinking, he brought the box to his lips, pressing a light kiss against it.

Oh. Oh.

A wave of déjà vu hit him— reminding him of the air-kiss he tried to catch through his laptop screen a week prior.

For a second, he just sat there, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips before he scoffed softly at himself.

Damian Wayne had officially lost. He liked her. Like liked her.

And now, all he could do was hope—pray—that this box, this dumb little package of gifts, would somehow, someway, connect them.

Maybe. Just maybe. Something real would come out of this stupid crush.

"Tch… emotions suck."

He laughed under his breath, though there was no real bite to his words.

Setting the package on his bedside table, he turned off the light and crawled into bed.

Tomorrow, he’d send it.

And then? He’d wait.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

© — ggυɱi '25

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

FAMILY, FAMILY DEAR BATS 🦇

synopsis : What happens when a normal reader enters Batfamily. Not by getting orphaned or saved but rather just visiting her uncle for the first time ( it's Bruce ). Now somehow she's become the unofficial therapist of this family and for unknown reasons the only one with enough common sense.Also why is everyone so Overprotective?

Or

Normal reader X Platonic yandere Batfamily

Chapter 2 :-

Your eyes twinkled open all while you took your surroundings into view. This most definitely wasn't your room. It was too large yet had a tiny elegance to it. Your mind raked where you were -- seconds passed before you realised you were indeed at your uncle's place. 

Getting off the bed, you made your way to the bathroom and freshened yourself up. Your eyes which were in a daze snap open sharply. You smile at your reflection before coming out. 

Walking out you passed through the large and bright hallways and made your way to the kitchen. Mr. Alfred, you remember, was busy making breakfast. " Good morning, Mr Alfred." He greeted you with a smile. The man had a stern yet soft look in his eyes when he glanced in your direction. 

Passing you an eloquent smile he pushed the seat back for you. " Good morning, Miss Julia. You've woken quite early. " You nodded, " I'm an early wake. Also-" You said turning your head left and right. " Where are my parents?"

" They informed me they had to leave early due to an emergency at work. I was told to inform you when you woke.. " 

Wow, your parents really just left you. What happened to spending a few days there? Really- still you couldn't blame them, they always made time for you but sometimes the work got too heavy or an emergency arrived. " Seems like them. " You sighed while taking a seat. 

Mr. Alfred placed breakfast in front of you. You gasped at the amount, it looked like it could feed ten people. Looking back and forth you asked, " Will my cousins or someone else be joining us? "

Mr. Alfred blinked before a smile found its way on his lips. " Master Duke will be joining us." You had a hard time believing he could eat this much. But hey! It's not like you were familiar with how much a young adult ate. 

As if on que you heard a voice from behind, failing to prevent himself from yawning. " Good morning Alfred. What's for breakfast?” Alfred motioned him to look at the table. You heard a gasp, “ Wow, you really prepared a lot! Is everyone coming back already?”

“ They should arrive by evening. Also-” Alfred coughed, his eyes pointing to you. “ You ought to greet our guest.” The boy's eyes finally scan and spot you. 

You slightly turned your head and looked at him. He was really handsome you thought. His skin was practically glowing but the dark circle near his eyes told you he barely slept. 

He came closer and took a seat next to you. Extending his hand and a smile bright on his lips, he greeted you. “ Sorry about that. I was kind of sleepy. Nice to meet you uhh-.” You shake his hand and smile right back. “ Julia..” You reply, “ A pleasure to meet you too.”

“ Duke.” He says and takes a seat. You don't notice him examining you while you eat. He follows your movements and begins to eat. 

So this is Y/n Julia. 

You look so ordinary, practically so small. He scans you with his eyes and powers and finds you to not be a threat. You turn to him confused as to why he's been staring at you for the past five minutes. 

He places some more eggs on your plate. “ Eat more.” You nodded. “ You have some more too.” You passed him some ham. Both of you chatted with each other and despite him being at least six years older, you were able to enjoy yourself. 

Duke was really good at talking. 

“ Do you want me to give you a tour through the city? We can visit the hospitals too!” Wow he really was nice. You practically grinned, “ I would really like that!” Duke smiled back. 

He was feeling like a big brother right now. A real one. 

He's always wanted a little sibling he could take care of and spend time with. He remembers begging his parents for some. They laughed nervously and told him maybe in the future. 

Then they died and he lost every chance of it. 

When he got adopted by Bruce, he was scared. His new siblings were nice but they all kept their distance. Though with time he'd gotten closer to them all. Even Damien. But his relationship with them all was nothing more than a convenience. To each of them, every single one of them was but a teammate. Just a small part in their great mission. 

Duke had changed in the eight years he was under Bruce's roof. He got more cruel, more efficient and more…emotionless. He had lost any desire for love and care. He couldn't even be brothered anymore. 

Now talking to you, he felt hope brimming. Bruce had already told them all about your family's existence. When he read your file, after it was passed around among his siblings who for some reason just love to mess with each other. He remembers not caring. 

He wants to hit his past self right now. Even if it was him from an hour ago. 

Also

Your picture did not do you justice. 

You look lots more livelier than the picture shows. His eyes have gotten soft in just an hour. That's something none of his siblings would ever believe. Him being kind and smiling with someone? That's practically unheard off! They'll probably try to run some rest on him later. He can already feel a headache coming. 

But he feels they would understand him. They're all the same kind of monsters after all. He can already see you meeting them and them taking a liking to you instantly, just like he has. 

“ Duke, are you listening?” 

He turns his attention back to you. Your bright eyes stare at him with full attention and kindness. He smiles. 

“ I am..” you go right back in for your live of medicine. 

 This is perhaps his first time talking to someone normal. Someone who isn't a vigilante, someone who isn't traumatized. 

Just a normal, bright kid. 

His ears sharpen in edge and his eyes slightly flicker when he hears the footsteps. Bruce is doing it on purpose to not freak you out. He sees Bruce make way to the living room, where you both have taken a seat and are talking. You of course see him and greet him with a smile. 

“ Good morning, Uncle Bruce.”

Bruce pauses before smiling. “ Good morning Julia.” He takes a seat next to you. “ You're quite an early riser. I've never seen any of my children ever wake so early.” He sighs under a smile. 

“ Really?”

“ Yes. They all love to sleep late, when they are home that is.” You wouldn't know but his last bit is meant for someone else.Duke inwardly scoffs. “ They must be home often then.” Bruce freezes and you feel his smile falter before returning to his face. “ They come when they wish.”

You nod. 

Duke already wants to leave. Despite all that Bruce has done for him, he can't make himself stay in his presence for long. Especially if it's not related to vigilante work. He gets up and your attention turns to him. “ Duke?” You ask. 

He smiles and pinches your cheeks. “ I've got some work to do. Let's hang out later, ‘kay?” You nod. Duke shoots Bruce a stare before leaving. You don't notice since it's very quick and subtle

Once Duke disappears, Bruce turns your attention back to him. 

“ It's nice to see you get along with him.”

“ Duke's nice so I wouldn't take the credit.” You reply. You have no idea how cruel and emotionless he is. Bruce would say he was surprised when he saw you both chatting and smiling earlier. Duke has never been this open in front of anyone. Not even his siblings. 

“ I wouldn't put myself down there. You're good at socializing.” you blush. “ Thanks…” 

He smiles. “ So I heard you love medicine. Are you planning on pursuing it?” 

“ I am. It's been a dream for me forever!”

“ That's nice.” He doesn't realise when his hand moves closer and ruffles your hair. He starts and pulls back quickly. “ Sorry.. I didn't realize-”

“ It's fine uncle. You can do it again.” You allow him to pat your head. He smiles at the warmth you give. 

“ So uncle Bruce, when are the others coming? I would love to meet them!” especially if they are nice like Duke. 

“ Right ! They should arrive right-wing” suddenly there is a loud bang and the ground shakes. You about to fall is steadied by Bruce and he helps you get stable. “ You alright?” Bruce asks seriously. “ I'm… fine.”

“ What was that!” Bruce says nothing, just points at the direction of the sound.

“ Master Damien and Master Jason. What are you both doing?” You hear Alfred's voice. He's scolding someone. Bruce and you walk out and you see two men getting scolded by Alfred. 

“ It was Todd's fault, Pennyworth. I have done nothing wrong. “ You see the shorter one trying to defend himself. His face has a big blue spot forming. Probably due to a punch. 

“ Don't put the blame on me Demon brat! Alfie I'm telling you! It was all him. “ The taller one argues back. You see blood falling down his arms. 

Your glance at Alfred who looks like a tired dad ready to bamg his head on the wall. Bruce takes his place next to you and pats your head again. 

“ Here they are.” You hear Bruce sigh holding his nose bridge like a tired parent. “ Welcome to our Mansion Julia.” 

Damn-

TBC…

Coming chapters will be uploaded slowly, also if anyone wants to be added to the tag list, kindly message or comment.

All our batfam has a dark and cute side. So look forward to it ^⁠_⁠^ Also to everyone wondering why I gave reader the name Julia. It's a Nickname I thought would be cute. ( I don't know what it means but it kind of rhyme with jewel. So I wrote it in that context, since she's going to be like a jewel to them.)

Still if everyone wants I'll use y/n or name ( tell me what u all prefer) in the coming chapters ≧﹏≦

Thanks for reading 🩷

this request ! fem ! reader , reader has bpd , self harm mention

when you told katsuki about your bpd, his first reaction was to learn as much as possible about it in order to help you. katsuki, despite his brash and loud persona, never once judged you for who you were, and he wanted to be by your side through everything, especially things in which he could help you.

during your mood fluctuations, katsuki never once lost patience with you, as he knew that you couldnt help it. he stayed right next to you, but also listened and complied when you said that you needed some space. he never wanted to overwhelm you, and he always did his best to accommodate how you were feeling.

katsuki understood that people with bpd had a fear of abandonment and that this fear can lead to anger due to the struggle of regulating emotions. thats why katsuki wanted you to know that he was never leaving you, and that he would stay by your side for as long as you want him to.

one thing that does frighten katsuki is the fact that people with bpd often display reckless and endangering behaviours, and that self harm tended to be an outlet. although he knew that you couldnt help it, the thought of you intentionally hurting yourself made his heart hurt and his head spin. katsuki never wanted you to be in pain, and he did his best to provide you with a healthy release of emotions and pent up anger through therapy sessions that he would happily attend alongside you if you need him there.

despite all of the ups and downs within your relationship, katsuki was always there to help you cope with your bpd, and was willing to spend hours watching over you if you want him there. although he hated to admit it, looking after you made katsuki feel as though he was needed and that you appreciated his efforts, even if he will never truly understand the condition, no matter how hard he tried. katsuki's seemingly unlimited patience helped you to seek his help more often, and to find him whenever the symptoms worsened. having him by your side made it all just a bit easier to bear.

†  pebbling : various.

♦ request: not really, just fighting burnout ♦ beta’d: nope ♦ a/n: someone on here reminded me of this draft i had

𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 —

dick immediately lights up, his blue eyes brightening with surprise and delight as he takes the tiny pebble from your outstretched palm. he laughs softly, warmth blooming in his chest as he gently brushes a thumb over its smooth surface. "this for me?" he teases softly, but his eyes soften instantly when you nod. he carefully slips the pebble into his pocket, patting it fondly. from that day onward, he keeps it close - sometimes spinning it thoughtfully between his fingers, always smiling warmly when someone asks him why he carries around "just a rock."

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 —

jason stares at the small pebble in your hand, momentarily bewildered. “you giving me rocks now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, though the softness in your expression quickly clues him in. his playful smirk fades into something gentler, a quiet realization settling over him. carefully, he takes it, feeling oddly touched. jason might not immediately admit how much he appreciates it, but from that moment onward, he keeps the pebble safely hidden in a small compartment in his gear; an unexpected token of affection he secretly treasures.

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞 —

tim initially blinks, confused, clearly trying to analyze exactly why you're handing him a tiny pebble. but when you quietly explain its meaning, his eyes widen, cheeks dusting pink with warmth. he takes it from you carefully, studying it as if memorizing every line, every curve. tim quietly places the pebble beside his computer, right in view - an ever-present reminder of you. every so often, when he’s stressed or stuck in thought, you catch him absently running his thumb over the stone, grounding himself in the gentle reminder of your love.

𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 —

damian pauses, staring at the pebble resting in your palm with quiet intensity. his expression is unreadable at first, carefully guarded as always - but then something in his eyes softens, revealing the quiet awe he feels at your small gesture. wordlessly, he accepts the pebble with unusual gentleness, closing his fingers protectively around it. later, you'll notice it carefully placed in his room among his most treasured possessions. he'll never say a word about it, but it's always there, a silent acknowledgment of the fact that you chose him and that he chooses you right back.

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 —

steph immediately squeals in delight, practically bouncing with excitement as she takes the pebble. "oh my god, we’re penguins now!" she exclaims, grinning widely. without hesitation, she finds you the brightest, cutest pebble she can locate in return, excitedly presenting it to you as her own heartfelt response. it quickly becomes a tradition between you two - exchanging pebbles regularly, filling a small jar together as a gentle, joyful symbol of your love.

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐧 —

cass accepts the pebble with quiet reverence, her dark eyes wide and filled with curiosity and warmth. she doesn’t say anything, simply turns it carefully in her hands, studying it with focused intent. but soon afterward, you notice she carries it everywhere - kept safely hidden but always close, held protectively whenever she needs comfort. to cass, the pebble is more than just a symbol; it's proof that love can be quiet, gentle, and unconditional.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐧 —

barbara’s smile softens instantly, warmth radiating from her as she carefully takes the pebble from your palm. she immediately understands the meaning, eyes sparkling with gentle affection as she says softly, "it's perfect. thank you." barbara places it carefully on her desk beside her computers, a silent companion through long nights of work. it becomes her touchstone; an unspoken reminder of you and the quiet, comforting love you share.

𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 —

bruce pauses for a long moment, genuinely caught off guard, before gently taking the pebble from your outstretched hand. his fingers close around it protectively, his usually guarded expression melting into something deeply vulnerable and grateful. he doesn't speak immediately, instead carefully placing the pebble in a pocket close to his heart. later, you find the pebble placed reverently on his bedside table - a private acknowledgment of how deeply you've touched him.

Okay okay okay but like imagine loving Jason and helping him with the stuff that he neglects at home. Like he just doesn't take care of himself and will live off of take out and noodles. Even though he's an excellent cook, he just doesn't cook for himself the way he does for you when he spends the weekend with you. So you make sure his fridge is stocked with ready meals that you cooked for him when he's fully expecting to open it and find a half loaf of moldy bread and a single babybell cheese. Like he goes to grab a shirt from the closet after showering from a particularly rough patrol and he's just like fuck I forgot to do laundry but then turns around to a basket full of folded laundry. Or he makes a mental note in the morning to buy toothpaste and after the longest day ever he gets home and remembers he needed to stop at the store, so when he's thinking he's gonna have to cut the tube open and try to salvage whatever he can for the night, he finds a new tube on the counter and an extra in the drawer. He's just so thankful to have someone double checking him, having his back. Knowing that he's not alone in this.

hi, anon! i am imagining all of this, and i will write it in a cute-sey, demure rambling style for you hehe

it begins with small mercies, the kind you never ask for but somehow find waiting in the quiet.

jason stumbles into his apartment, the weight of the night dragging at his bones, sweat, and grime etched into his skin, the stench of gotham’s streets clinging like a second skin. his body hums with exhaustion, with the memory of fists and bullets, and the kitchen light flickers like an accusation. the fridge, he knows, should be empty—half a loaf of bread with its corners curled in defeat, a forgotten drink that’s long past its prime. but when he opens it, there it is. rows of carefully packed meals lined up like soldiers in their neat containers. fresh. waiting.

your handprints are everywhere.

the meals are seasoned just the way he likes, a balance he never manages when it’s just him. he stares at the containers, a strange tightness rising in his chest. the noise in his head—the endless static of violence, of guilt—quiets, just for a moment. he was prepared for the empty fridge, for the grim prospect of takeout or ramen, but this... this is something else.

he knows it’s you. it has to be.

and then the laundry. after a shower that does little to wash away the night’s filth, he pulls open the closet door, fully expecting to find it empty, clothes scattered across the floor, a pile he’s been too tired, too reckless to care about. but instead, the basket is full—clothes washed, folded, and waiting for him, like a kindness he doesn’t deserve. his breath catches, stuck somewhere between disbelief and something that feels too much like gratitude.

you. always you.

there’s the toothpaste, too. he makes a mental note in the morning; one of those fleeting thoughts he knows will slip through the cracks by the end of the day. he’s spent the whole night in the belly of gotham—the kind of night that leaves you hollowed out and aching. he’s forgotten, of course. forgotten until he’s standing in front of the sink, squeezing the last remnants from the tube, prepared to cut it open and scrape together whatever’s left. but there’s a new one sitting on the counter. and another tucked away in the drawer.

it’s the small things, always the small things.

he’s lived so long by the law of survival, by grit and blood and the ferocity of his own will, that this—your care, your quiet attentions—feels like a foreign language, something he can barely wrap his hands around. you’ve managed to slip into the spaces he’s long neglected, filling the gaps without him asking, without him realizing he even needed it. there’s a simplicity in it that cuts deep, a kindness that feels like a betrayal of the life he’s chosen, the violence he knows.

and yet, when he sees those small acts—the meals, the laundry, the toothpaste—there’s a warmth that spreads slow and thick through him, something he thought he’d forgotten how to feel. you’re there, always there, double-checking him, keeping an eye on the things that would otherwise slip away.

for the first time in a long time, he feels the weight of what it means not to be alone. to know that someone has his back, even when he’s too far gone to ask for it.

and it’s that, more than anything, that undoes him.

Guys I am cooked

stay cool it’s just a kiss—

oh, why you gotta be so talkative?

college trackstar!wally west x reader

a sequel to this fic

18+ content, MDNI.

readers can expect: hijinks in both the shower and locker room, an undefined relationship. wally being a lovable ass.

your heart pounds as you wait for the shot to go off, your mantra banging out a steady beat in your thoughts in comparison.

runfastrunfastrunfastrunfastrunfastthey’reallwatchingrunfastfasterthanthemrunfastfasterthanthepeoplebehindyourunfastrunfastrunfastrunfastrunfastrunfast—

it plays out the same way it always does, your body in high alert while your brain defaults itself down to its most basic level of function: move.

it’s just practice, but races are always the same in your mind, no matter the time or place. it’s probably bad to always put the pressure on yourself like you do, but, who cares if it helps you run the way you do?

wally whoops, yelling the name of a different girl in position next to you at the blocks. he cheers her on before the race has even begun, clapping loudly.

suddenly the stream of your thoughts breaks like they’re hit by a bomb, fractured, exploding and ping-ponging to every different part of your brain.

there’s no way.

a burning feeling makes its way into your chest, burrowing in under your ribcage to settle next to your heart.

what the fuck is he doing?

the shot goes off, and you burst into a sprint, the wind whistling in your ears as you pass the girls you’re racing, feet flying beneath you.

you hear some of the other guys cheering, coach exclaiming with his hand on his head in disbelief.

you run past the finish, slowing and stumbling into a jog, a walk. you turn in surprise, the rest of the girls still sprinting towards you.

wally laughs, and it’s all you can hear: a smug cackle that seeps into your skin and pisses you off.

“10.58,” coach yells out, and the team erupts into shocked sounds and chatter. another girl pats you on the back, smiling warmly at you.

it takes a second to remember you’re at practice.

you do the cool down stretches with the team, refusing to look towards wally or the storage shed.

coach dismisses everyone, but you linger, watching everyone walk out. you still feel weird. not right. that nasty little burning feeling is still sitting pretty in your chest, and you intend to sweat it out.

your shoes hit the ground, the rough pounding unbelievably therapeutic.

you run sixteen laps around the track, or four miles if you’re counting, the spring sun harsh when you’re under it that long.

you wipe sweat from your forehead, stalking towards your bag. you sling it over your shoulder, trudging to the locker room on tingly legs.

you walk in, a little surprised it’s still open. coach is pretty quick to leave after thursday afternoon practices, citing poker night. usually he has someone lock up for him, but the locker rooms and surrounding hallways are like a ghost town.

you look sweaty, properly worked out, your face flushed and the muscles in your legs in high definition from such an intensive workout.

your shorts have ridden up, and when you close the locker room door behind you, locking it, the glimpse he gets of your ass sends all his blood straight to his cock.

he steps out from where he’d been standing, bracing for when you turn back around.

“shit, wally!” you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping your bag in surprise.

“sorry, sorry,” he smiles, not looking the least bit apologetic. he stoops down, folding his long frame to pick up your bag for you. you snatch it from him, sliding it back over your shoulder.

“what are you doing in here, anyways?”

“waiting for you.” he replies, simply. he leans against a bank of lockers, crossing his arms as he watches you.

“creep.” you say, spitting the word at him. he shrugs, his eyes twinkling.

“some would say, yeah.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing.

“that's not a good thing, west.”

“never said so, babe.”

you sigh, about to walk past him. you must be too tired to wipe your expression, because he stops you.

“what, gorgeous? what’sa matter?”

you stop in front of him, looking up into his ridiculously blue eyes.

you couldn’t bear to let him know that around lap 9 you realized what you were so upset over. it’d be too embarrassing.

“c’mon, please? talk to me.” he says, tentatively placing a hand on your waist. his thumb rubs reassuring circles on your still burning hot skin, and it feels like all the tension in your body is slowly sapped by his touch.

you sigh, resigning yourself to it. he’s not gonna let up unless you say something.

“why were you cheering for her?” you ask, cringing at yourself. you feel like a turtle on its belly, weaknesses out for the world to see. for one particular redheaded boy to see.

“‘cause i knew you’d respond well to a little motivation, quicksilver,” he says, smirking.

you blink at him.

“and you did.”

you stand rooted to the spot, mouth agape.

“you’re the worst, wally. i can’t believe you!” you snap, shoving his hand off as you walk towards your locker. you throw your track bag in, about to grab the stuff for your shower when you feel him behind you. you whirl around, fire in your eyes.

“you are so annoying!” you say, poking him in the chest for emphasis.

wally’s matching your look, but his has a different undertone.

“do something about it then, babe.” he says, his voice going deeper as he runs his eyes up and down your body. you’re hit with the realization that your underwear is soaked, and you roll your eyes, stepping closer.

“just shut the fuck up, west.”

he nods, happily, meeting you halfway when you rush in to press your lips on his.

you’re nothing but fire, heat barely contained under the surface of your skin as you mash your mouth to his. your tongues intertwine, dancing in a fight for dominance. you bite his lip, and he smacks your ass with a firm hand. you feel his smile as he kisses you, his body melding into yours as you press into him.

his aggressively hard cock presses into your hip, the length of it positively mouthwatering.

you tug at his hair, running your hands past the shorn sides to grip into the mane pluming across the top of his head down to his neck.

he moans into your mouth, and you pull away, yanking his shorts down.

you drop to sit on the low bench running against the lockers, pulling him so he stands between your open legs.

he brushes your sweaty hair out of your face as you tug his boxers down, his at-attention cock springing free.

it bobs, twitching as he watches you bite your lips. the hair it’s rooted in is a little darker than the hair on his head, freckles sprinkled across it, the tip a mesmerizing shade of pink.

a bead of pre glistens in the harsh fluorescent light and you swear your mouth waters.

you pump your hands over the length of it, moaning around it as you pull him further into your mouth.

“unbelievable,” he says, his eyelids fluttering. you brace your hands on his hips, his tip touching the back of your throat, but he pats your hand, shaking his head.

“gonna make me finish, pretty girl.”

you pull him out of your mouth, pumping the wet mixture of your spit and his pre over his tip, the shaft.

“and?”

you blink, and he’s maneuvered the two of you, spinning so that you’re in front of him, facing away. he pulls your shirt until your tits are exposed, bouncing as they snap out of the constraints of your bra. his hands are pulled to them like magnets, kneading and teasing your nipples as he suckles on your neck, grinding his cock into your ass.

“and maybe i’m not done with you yet,” wally says, gritting the words out. he pulls your bottoms down, and they fall around your ankles, your underwear stuck midthigh.

he presses a hand onto your back, and you bend down, touching your toes.

wally swallows hard at the view, your heart-shaped ass facing up at him. he slots himself at your entrance, and you wiggle your hips to pull it in further, earning a groan from wally.

“oh, just like that, pretty girl, that’s right,” wally says, mumbling and hissing as you sink down onto his cock. his eyes are closed, the look on his face worshipful.

he lets you take your pleasure, his hands steady on your hips as you rock back and forth. his eyes are glued to the connection between you two, the way his cock looks as it’s disappearing deep into you.

“use me, babe,” wally grits out, and you take him on his word, pulling forward to slam him back into the lockers. the stinging of his back just adds to the building pleasure, and you hook your hands onto the back of his thighs to better brace yourself.

you’re relentless, your feet planted as you slam your ass onto his cock again and again, wally’s groans just fueling the fire you feel threatening you burn you up as pleasure ignites all over your body.

you’ve been eerily quiet, like you’re depriving him of his favorite sounds on purpose, but now you’re panting, moaning and gasping as you clench around him.

“walls, i’m—”

your eyes roll back, and you lose the end of that sentence into pleasure as you shake against him, his arms swooping in to pull you upright. wally supports you, your back to his front, his hand snaking around your side to rub your clit.

your body racks with tremors as he pulses his fingers against the little bud at the crest of your pussy, your breathing labored as you lean against him.

“good job, baby,” he says, voice soft in your ear. “took me so well, i knew you could.”

the praise makes you shiver, his hands running up and down your torso as he tries to memorize the way you feel pressed into him like this.

you’re in a daze, exhausted and overwrought, pleasure still pulsing through your nervous system. you’re vaguely aware of wally pulling your shirt and bra over your head, slipping your shoes off, your shorts and underwear after. he piles them on the bench together, setting his clothes next to yours.

wally picks you up like you’re as light as a feather, slinging you over one shoulder like nothing.

you gasp, surprised, and pound a fist into his shoulder.

“what are you doing??” you ask, and he replies with quick slap on your ass, not bothering to respond.

he walks you to the shower, carefully setting you back onto your feet and standing in front of you. he turns on the water, blocking you from the cold spray as it warms up, kissing your neck.

he squirts a huge pile of body wash into his hand, lathering it with the water until it’s a soapy mess.

he runs his hands over your arms, your neck, your armpits, your chest, dutifully washing away the sweat, the tension from your body, even crouching to get your legs as he leaves no square inch of you unwashed.

he quickly washes himself, and once he’s rinsed, he turns back to you, pull you in for a kiss.

it’s not long before he’s hard again, and you wrap your hand around his length as you suck on his bottom lip, pumping hard. you twist your wrist as you pull up, and he’s moaning into your mouth, kissing you harder.

his hips buck him further into your hand, and he grabs your wrist, making you let go.

“not yet,” wally murmurs into your mouth, and you nod, cupping his face with your hands while you kiss him.

“not still mad, are you?” he asks, and you break the kiss, sighing as you settle into his embrace, leaning your head onto his chest.

“no, wally.”

“good.” he replies, his tone positively gleeful. it causes a giggle to rise in your throat, and you smile up at him. his cheeks turn red, and you blink, butterflies swirling in your stomach.

“‘cause you’re my little quicksilver, huh? so fast, aren’t you?” he says, recovering.

you nod, and he kisses you sloppily, water mingling with spit as you breathe each other in, slick skin pressed together. he nudges a knee between your thighs, and you rock your hips, grinding your pussy on his freckled skin.

“faster than you,” you moan out, and the incredulous look on his face makes you cackle.

“never,” wally says, walking you backwards. he picks you up again, pressing you against the wall.

you smile at him lazily, hooking your ankles around his back.

“need more already?” you ask, your fingers lacing through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“with you, it seems like i can’t get enough,” he replies, hoping you’ll be just sleepy enough that you won’t put too much stock into his words. he needs to bide his time. get his act together.

wally slots himself at your entrance, the wet warmth that hits his tip already threatening him to go overboard. he holds his breath, seating himself to the hilt, watching you close your eyes.

he keeps the pace light, but he feels his speed starting to course through his muscles as he calls to it, using it to snap his hips into yours.

your mouth falls open, your eyebrows furrowing, and he knows he’s got you again, sliding his hand up your thigh until his thumb hits your clit, vibrating against it. your eyes are squeezed shut, but his body is a blur, his whole being moving to give you pleasure as quickly as (in)humanly possible.

you sob as he pulls you to the edge again, your whole body shaking as he holds you against the shower tile.

“west,” you moan out, barely able to form words still. “so good, please—,” you cry, pleading like wally wouldn’t give you everything and more without you having to ask.

and he does, coming inside of you as you come apart around his cock, the physical evidence of your combined pleasure obvious in the white ring of fluid on his shaft.

you fall into him, and he slips himself out before setting your feet back onto the ground, stretching his arm out. his elbow had begun to ache from the awkward position, muscle mass and endurance no match for an old break.

you pass him your towel to use after you finish drying off, a content smile washing your features in a glow. he has to fight the urge to ask to keep it, using it to dry himself off instead.

he watches you get dressed, apply deodorant, a spritz of perfume.

wally can’t look away, admiring your still-drying hair, the way your sweats and tank top hug your figure, feet in a pair of comfy post-practice slides.

luckily, wally had a new change of clothes in his own locker, a fresh team t-shirt that shows off his muscular torso, fighting to stay together over his shoulders and biceps.

you make sure everything’s to rights: bag in locker, wally in clothes, shower off, soap in locker.

you turn to him and nod, and have to swallow down your surprise at the look in his eyes.

his pupils are huge, his gaze full of warmth. but oddly enough, he says nothing, just smiles at you.

wally holds out an arm to you, and you loop your hand up to hold onto his bicep. you’d seen the way he was nursing his elbow earlier, and you weren’t about to put more stress on it.

he glances to the locker bank you’d fucked him against as he walks you out, his head whipping around for a double take. the locker he’d been leaning against had a dent the size of his back in the door.

he blinks, his eyebrow cocking. how the fuck had you done that?

did you..

no. wally smiles to himself, shaking his head.

there was no way you had super strength.

post divider courtesy of: @enchanthings-a !!!

･:*+..:+

this fic is dedicated to mimi’s old track elbow and vee’s dented lockers.

to my girls @yeet-ya-chickenstrips and @cottage-worm you were the lifeblood of this fic and i can’t wait to see what kind of idea y’all help me come up with next. thank you so so much.

･:*+..:+

also a/n..

disclaimer: the comic panels used above are for the fact that he has a mullet. wally is 15 in those comics but he is college aged and in his 20s in this fic. i in no way endorse writing or reading explicit sexual content about minors and again, absolutely promise i used those pics solely for the fact that he has a specific hair cut. if anyone wants to find me other comic panels where he’s mulleted and over eighteen, be my guest 🤍

･:*+..:+

𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙔 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙄𝙍 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀

𐙚🧸ྀི 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂: Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Ejiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki, Denki Kaminari

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ 𝙏𝙒/𝘾𝙒: nothing scary, just fluff. pet names, all characters are in a relationship with afab! reader, love languages with the core 5

an: thank you for over 100 notes on my last post!

Katsuki Bakugo: He isn't good with his emotions. No surprise to anyone, but he lovess giving gifts. Without a doubt, he would buy you the whole world if he could. He'd burn it into ashes if you asked him to. He would notice what you pick up in stores, then in secret, would buy it for you later.

"oi, I got you this or whatever." He handed you the stuffed animal you picked up earlier. You smiled and accepted his gift. Both of you blushing, you managed to get up and hug him. He insisted you let go, but he accepted your touch like he craved it from the start.

He also appreciates quality time. It doesn't matter what you two could be doing. It could be training, watching him cook, or even sitting beside each other in silence while being on your phones. As long as he knows you're safe with him, he's able to relax.

Izuku Midoriya: I think Izuku would show his love by showing acts of service and quality time. Without a doubt, Izuku would do anything for you. He appreciates the small tasks/favors you ask him to do, like tying your shoes, helping with homework, etc. If it makes him feel included in your life, he'd do it.

He dies every time you ask to hang out. He gets so overwhelmed when he's the one planning. I mean, where do I start? The poor boy goes into a spiral with the amount of date ideas and what he should wear- other stuff as well, but he goes crazy. However, if you were to plan the date, he'd be fine with anything. As long as you're with him, it doesn't matter.

Ejiro Kirishima: His love language is for sure physical touch and words of affirmation. I picture his s/o to work out a lot or have similar motives to become "manly", so you two would practically be touching up each other every time you two train. Despite training, he loves your touch. If you forget to hug or kiss him that day, he might actually die. Physical touch reassures him that you're there for him and you're here to stay.

On the other hand, he loves motivating his girl and what's better motivation than one's words?

"Good job!", "You're doing great baby", "Atta' girl!"

Shoto Todoroki: I personally think that Shoto is 100% on board with quality time with a hint of physical touch. He's not used to it but once he receives it, there's no going back. I mean, he's never gotten the love he deserved so when you came along, you finally filled that open wound.

Like Katsuki, he wouldn't mind some quiet quality time. Where the two of you remain in your own corners, doing whatever, while being in the same room. He would probably study your movements. Peeping over your phone to see what you personally find funny, sad, happy, etc.

With the help of his siblings, he buys meaningful gifts for you. Like something poetic y'know?

Denki Kaminari: I lovee writing for Denki so this might be long. His love language is everything on the scale. He'd want to do things for you, to please your needs and emotions. he values how you feel so much that he's probably put your needs over his but you have to remind him to himself first despite being his girlfriend.

Who can forget quality time? He wouldn't want to spend the day without his baby. He's hovering over you 24/7, waiting for your next move. When you're not with him, you can hear his cute whiny voice asking "where's [reader] :("

He never misses a moment to make you feel loved. Compliments is a major requirement. This obviously goes both ways, but he definitely does over do it sometimes.

If you're not in reach of him, he'll make sure to run towards you, arms wide and everything. It's even worse during y'all's alone time. Imagine cuddling and trying to use the bathroom but your stupid boyfriend won't let you go because he'll "miss your touch"

Finally, he loves giving you things he makes/finds. He'll even pick up flowers from the ground and put them in your hair because it reminds him of you. He's the type of boyfriend to go on Instagram or Pinterest for "homemade gifts" because he probably spends his money on food or his personal interests, but if he has extra money, he makes sure to get something for his loving girlfriend!