#delinquent!reader

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

SKIPPING CLASS WITH MALE WB!READER

Your not a bad influence on your younger brothers you swear you just need them to live a little (platonic!batboys x wb!reader)

School’s almost over, and somehow all three of my little brothers have managed to go their entire academic careers without skipping a single class. Not once. Not even a harmless “oops, I missed math because I was totally in the library” kind of skip.

Take Tim, for example. He’s the perfect student smart, polite, and way too considerate for his own good. With all his medical conditions, he could easily get away with sneaking out of class. All he’d have to do is say he’s going to the nurse, and no one would question it. But no, not Tim. When you suggested it, he said, “What if someone actually needs to go to the nurse and I’m already out just wandering around? It wouldn’t be fair.”

A solid retort to that? “We have like four different nurses, Tim. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Then there’s Duke. Poor guy’s terrified of breaking any rules. He’s genuinely afraid to walk around the school because he thinks his coach might see him or someone might ask, “Why aren’t you in class?” or “Are you skipping?” or “Didn’t I see you last during track and field?” He’s so scared of being caught that trying to turn him into even a slightly rebellious kid is a full-time job.

Damian, on the other hand, is the easiest to sway. When there’s a substitute teacher, all it takes is grabbing him by the collar like a bear cub and saying, “Hey, can I borrow this one from you?” Before the teacher can even respond, we’re already gone. Damian doesn’t even get mad civics class is boring anyway. You take him to all my favorite skipping spots and hideouts around the school. One day, when he’s a senior, he’ll need a good place to take a break.

Eventually, You manage to rope both Tim and Duke into it with Damian’s help, of course. Duke’s rambling the whole time about what’ll happen if we get caught, while Tim’s trying to embrace his inner rebel. “What if we get detention?” Tim asks, half excited, half horrified. Duke’s practically shaking behind you, terrified someone with any authority might notice him.

“Relax,” you tell him “We can just skip detention too. Don’t worry—I’ve got the perfect hideout.”

"Remember my rule, boys: y'all better not snitch!" They nod their heads eagerly.

Honestly, you might be the worst influence on your little brothers. But at least they’ll have some stories to tell when school finally ends.

[bnhascenario]

Not sure if this was done before but could you write an Iida x delinquent reader, just this rebellious chick he can’t stand and she just likes to break the rules to mess with him?

Sorry, she’s not exactly a delinquent?^^;; but I tried my best!

~~~

“(R/n)-Kun!”

A booming voice resonated throughout the classroom, heads turning to the source curiously in wonder as to what was going on. A bespectacled young man carried a stern expression, his limbs that formed in a chopping motion directed accusingly to the female beside him, her appearance a strong contrast to his own self.

“Please do not rest your legs on the table when sitting! It is rude to the seniors who once occupied these places! And your posture is slouched! Also, your tie is crooked!”

Their peers watched from afar, sweatdropping at the scene unfolding before them, overwhelmed yet unable to help their fascination at how intense and rapid the words seemed to leave his lips. She, however, was completely unfazed. Her figure sank further into the comfort of the seat, a sulky pout spread across her cheeks, her orbs moving focus over to his form.

“Ehhh~ Iida-san, it’s fine~ it’s more comfortable like this, you should give it a try sometime!”

“You shouldn’t do that! It’s rude and disrespectful to—“

“You already said that~”

Cutting him off mid-sentence in an airy tone, she stretched her arms out and yawned lazily.

“Hey Hey, Iida-san?”

The corners of her lips lifted innocently, though a mischievous glint unmistakably flickered in her gaze.

“Then…would it be rude if I liked you?”

His stance freezing stiffly, his movements were immediately halted, unable to move a muscle. His eyes were enlarged with stupefying shock and his skin was slowly but surely tinting with a deep shade of red. The air was silent, pairs of eyes intently observing the situation with blatant transparency, holding their breaths in suspense and they waited for more development.

“Pfft—“

A muffled giggle exploded into the still atmosphere, breaking the momentum of tension that had been built-up. The (r/h/c)-haired girl’s frame was shaking, a barrage of laughter bursting out uncontrollably as she wiped a tear away. Looking up to the still stunned male she grinned cheekily, her fingers shaping into a peace sign in victory.

“Iida-san, you really are fun to tease aren’t you?”

His mouth was already forming another lecture for her impish teasing, yet her light footsteps had beat him to the punch, racing her to the doors of the rooms with inhumane speed, her self not forgetting to flaunt a playful wink before promptly disappearing off into the halls of the huge structure.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Delinquent would accidentally give Damian a contact high like he's up in his room watching old anime reruns, hitting a blunt with a monster in hand. Just to hear a little cough coming from his bed, it's Dames chilling in his bed with his eyes completely bloodshot. He looks high out of his mind, but he didn't even take a drag. "How the fuck did you get in!" You're freaking out, stomping over to your door to see that the little slugger picked the lock like a cat burglar. And the worst thing is, the windows aren't open, so he probably reeks of the shit. Looking down at Damian, who can't help but giggle at your upset glare, "Bro," he makes grabby hands at you. That's how you know it's bad; your relaxation time was cut short. Opening the windows and spraying air freshener in the air, hiding the stash, and then forcing Damian to take a cold shower, still, it didn't wear off. Let's just hope Bruce doesn't realize his son is half alive after this. (Dinner was so awkward you had to stop Damian from giggling into his mashed potatoes, and that day you lost your stash.)

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Delinquent reader who holds a meeting with all of the gangs in Gotham, converting them to Team Katana, preaching that if they all come together, they can stop the disgusting rat that is poisoning Gotham City. The young boys trying to commit crime help their families join the Penguin or the Ventriloquist and his stupid puppet just to make ends meet. The boys who died before even seeing 19 – you have to help them. You have to save them. You have to protect them. You're doing better than whatever Bruce Wayne has in mind; just picking up kids from the street and putting them in traffic light costumes doesn't make him a hero. It makes him a fraud, a fraud who let your mother die, a fraud that you once looked up to, a fraud that left you in poverty, making you scrape garbage bins for food. He's a fraud in every way possible, but it doesn't go as smoothly as you planned or as you thought. As you're ready to give your leather jacket over to Bastion, one of your friends who has now decided to join Team Katana, you hear the sound of a gun as it ripples through the air, shooting your friend right in the chest, right in front of you. Time slows down; you didn't have a moment to react. You didn't have a moment to push him away from the bullet or do anything. This was supposed to be an initiation, not a gunfight. You made it clear that there were supposed to be no weapons. Everybody who came, you checked, you double-checked; you did everything right. So why is this happening now? Why is there blood on your face? Why is your black shirt stained with red? Why is there a rip in your leather jacket? And why is Bastion convulsing on the floor? All the gang members that you finally got to rally up together for this meeting that you held now look like rats as you see that tall, dark figure emotionlessly leading the "little helpers" to bat. You're hearing screams and cries, people running from all directions, mass hysteria from just one single gunshot. You finally stop the ringing in your head to get down on your knees to see Bastion; he was the youngest person you had ever recruited. He was like a little brother to you. You couldn't let him die like that, let him bleed out like that. You couldn't let him – no, you just couldn't. You couldn't save your mother's life, so why are you struggling to save another? Ripping your leather jacket, you wrap it around his gunshot wound, cradling his head as your bloody fingers touch against his tan face, leaving handprints. You promised yourself never to cry after your mother's death, but tears are falling like a waterfall, hitting the boy's face. His eyes are closed; how come he looks even younger now? He's practically like a baby in your hands. The other friends are urging you to run, that they'll take Bastion to the hospital; we just have to leave, but you can't – completely emotionless as you cradle his head in your arms, holding him close to your chest. You don't even hear punches in the background as your left and right-hand man fall to the ground, bloodied and beaten up. Bruce stands before you with his little lackeys; they were the ones who did this, who orchestrated this plan just to take you down to their level. This is foul and disgusting; it makes you feel dirty. How could they do this to you? How dare they do this to you?

“Good job, Jason,” your father says, speaking through one of the intercoms.

“Welcome, old man,” Jason blared through Bruce’s right ear. So it was Jason who shot him; you’ll make that fat bastard pay.

“Stop playing these games, [Name]. Running Gotham like your own; you’re not a crime lord, you’re a little boy.” His voice was so dark and condescending as he steps forward to you. You scoot back, still cradling Bastion in your arms.

“He'll be fine; the bullet went straight through him. We can give him the best medical treatment Gotham has to offer.” He comes closer, kneeling down in front of you, just for Nightwing to pop up over his shoulder with a cheeky smile, making him look like the devil under the night light.

“All you have to do is be a good little boy and come to us. Not so hard, is it?” Tim appears on Bruce's shoulder. “Or you could let him die here, like the rat he is.”

The rage that emitted from your body was so strong you could feel it. “So what will it be? Your choice, son. You can let him die here on the pavement, or you can come back with us.”

The truth is, you couldn’t let Bastion die. It was an awkward drive home. At the manor, Duke's fingers run through your curls. “I knew you were going to make the right decision, lil bro.”

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Delinquent!Reader pulls mad bitches but it's with autistic loser rizz(not to be confused with loser autistic rizz) and now I want twin Delinquent and Loser!Twins

LOVE THE IDEA OF DELINQUENT TWINS THATS OUR BOTH LOSERS!!!

Delinquent reader has zero game—like none at all. Sure, he does have a handsome mug; thank his mother for that (he'll never credit his looks to Bruce, even if he does look more like his father). But overall, he has no game. A little charm and charisma go a long way, and his charm comes from rambling on and on about his motorcycles or the tiny things he was into when he was younger—maybe his favorite snacks or the things he finds absolutely amazing. The delinquent reader is very passionate, so whenever he goes on his little rants, yapping about whatever, you just can't help but listen to him, even if that rant is a little lame. The way he talks with so much conviction and care about those small subjects makes you develop a little crush. Not to mention his problems with gals; Mr. Delinquent is a pretty boy. Like, seriously, he's out at a gala, and he really needs a lighter for his cigarette. Don't worry; men and women are flocking to him like vultures with lighters in hand, just for him. He can't help but blush and get all nervous; he can't even tell when someone is flirting with him—he just thinks they're being playful. How silly is that?

Think about this: the Waynes are at another party, showing off how many numbers they got, just for the delinquent reader to empty out his pockets like it's cheap change. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all this stuff!" He even got a phone number of a rich older woman in Gotham. Another thing: Conner bought himself a motorcycle just so he could see you fix it up. I mean, of course he can fly, but he raps to you all oiled and sweating, fixing up a cycle that doesn't even need to be fixed up.

Bruce is going to another parent-teacher conference because the twins got into a fight. I caught them prep-beating on some of the preppy boys, making sure their pretty little faces were bleeding, with bloody noses and bruised black eyes. He's having to deal with parents shouting and boys crying over the fact that one of the twins had chipped their tooth, while the two boys sit there unscathed, not a single scratch on their heads. You can't really say they started a fight if not one of their knuckles were bloody. The only bit of evidence was that one had a bit of blood on his shoe, but that's only because those rich boys were bleeding on it; that doesn't mean he did it. After that little brawl, the boys get off scot-free thanks to Bruce and his bribing, of course, saying he'll give these boys a special spot at Wayne Enterprises and maybe even throw in a fancy little party too.

The car ride back home is definitely filled with scolding, but come on, they’re old-school kids from Gotham Public School, so you can't really blame them. They'll put on their best little puppy eyes and promise to never do it again, and if that doesn't work, they'll guilt trip Bruce into forgiving them. "You can't really blame us, can you, Dad? I mean, growing up in the dirty part of Gotham, it's not our fault," one says. "Yeah, if you hadn't abandoned Mom and left us all alone, you wouldn't be acting like this, pops," turning the guilt meter up to 1000. He'll let them both off the hook this time. It doesn't really matter if the twins were neglected by the rest of the Batfam; all they need is each other, and all they had was each other before living in the manor, the two of them against the world, and it's always been like that. They go out of their way to get someone else's affection, and all they need is one another. Plus, people bore them anyway; why have a friend when you can have a twin? The boys quite honestly think alike—it's like they share the same brain cells, finishing each other's sentences and talking in unison. It's honestly cute. You should see their family photo when they were dressed up as peanut butter and jelly for Halloween. They were little; even then, you couldn't separate the two of them.

But when the Bat started the yandere tendencies, they really couldn't care less; all they wanted was to find a way to exploit them better. "All right, how much did Dick give you?" their brother asks, nudging him. "Only 200! What a cheapskate! Jeez, we kind of need to up the ante to 2000." The world is their sandbox—whatever they want with it.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Delinquent! reader is a bottom; all those rough, rushed words and angry face hide a bottom waiting to be dominated. He gets really embarrassed when Conner starts complementing him; he can barely think and gets all shy around Jaime. He refuses to get any closer to them. People think he's good with girls, but he is genuinely so scared of them that it hurts. He can barely form a sentence around a pretty girl. Once, he started blabbing to Rose about motorcycles because he didn't know what else to talk about. This man is getting dominated in the bedroom; he has hardly any backbone.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"BIG BROTHER?"

Bio: Neglected delinquent male!reader who is kinda a mean older brother x yan!Batfam read the first post

Delinquent reader is like those cruel older siblings that you can't help but want to think you're cool. He's very mean and cold, considering his background of being bullied. When he was young, he had trouble getting close to people, even being near them, in fact. He's so nonchalant that not even the slightest bit of emotion really shocks the bats. If there was a nonchalant war, he would be the soldier at the front lines. For some reason, Damian and Jon find that super cool how he just doesn't care. How he's sneaking out of the window to have underground gang meetings, fighting daily at school, being out on the Gotham night streets without a care in the world, fixing up his motorcycle, and smoking cigarettes—yeah, they find him cool. He lets them do things that other authority figures they wouldn't normally allow. They seriously look up to him, even though they shouldn't, and he tells them they shouldn't. But telling a kid not to is like telling a kid yes; they're going to do it regardless.

Reader has this bad habit of tearing people down with him, even if they're his best friends. He just can't understand how someone could love him or like him or want to be around him. Instead of bettering himself, he usually tears other people down to be on the same street rat level that he is. He once pressured Damian into smoking as a small joke but the fact that his younger brother actually took the cigarette. It kind of shocks you; he didn't even persuade him that hard—he just did it instantly, coughing afterward after one drag, scrambling to get him some water. But when you asked, he did it without any thought.

He did the same with Jon at one point when Conner was hanging around the manor. "You're a big boy, right, Johnny? You want a beer?" Just to see him instantly grab your bottle and then throw it back down his throat. He looks like he’s about to gag after just one sip, but he swallows it down just to impress you. Conner’s instantly pissed at both of you, but you just didn't expect it. Those boys would do anything for you to think they're cool, that they're interesting. Saying "you're big kids now" rings in their minds, making them think they can do almost anything you can do without a second thought.

In the back of your mind, you really do want to drag these kids down to the worst of themselves, but then you realize you don't want to end up just like you. You're not so someone to be praised or looked up to as a father figure; that job isn't yours. So you always tell those brats to leave you alone, but the more you do so, the more they come back. You might have to put up a sign under the mansion's garage: "No brats allowed," because they’re seriously scrambling their way into your bedroom any chance they get.