#Cass has never learned what money is

[dragonpyre]

The batfamily can actually be evenly divided into two categories. Those who grew up in middle to lower class America, and those who have never learned the concept of money

[rhysazriel]

Smoke & Light: Part 3 [Plug!Az]

SUMMARY: A run in with the cops is another reminder of the horrors Azriel faced through his childhood. Maybe one day he'll open up about it, but not today. Today, he's solely focussed on helping you out of a bad trip. (8.2k)

WARNINGS: swearing, reoccurring themes of use of recreational drugs (weed), greening out, teasing, flirting, kissing, dirty talk, use of toys hehe, slapping/spanking, spitting, dom!Az, mentions of Az's abusive childhood.

A/N: firstly, I want to massively apologise for not updating this in sooo long. Life has been busy and I've been reading so much lately that writing slipped my mind. To make up for it, there is some filthy smut in this chapter and I am hoping to be a bit more consistent with the next updates. Thank you for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Azriel was a young boy, he dreamt of becoming a guitarist. It didn’t matter to him then if he was famous or not. Just so long as he was good enough to be able to replicate famous rifts with his own spin, and create his own music, too. 

For his fifth birthday, his mother bought him a children’s guitar, complete with the plastic pics and a leather strap with his initials etched into the fine fabric. He knew, even at that age, that the gift had cost his mother a small fortune. But she didn’t care how much it set her back. The look of pure shock and excitement on her boy's face was worth every single penny she spent. 

He could still remember the untold amounts of sleep he would forfeit to learn a new chord or finally string more than three together at once. By seven years old, he could recreate the first half of Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd—albeit choppy and slightly out of time—and memorise the chords by heart. 

His half-brothers had never liked that about Azriel. His talent and passion for music and the guitar. Even at the ages of five and four, they did not like Azriel. More often than not, they’d plant broken vases and stained cushions for their parents to find, and blame them on Azriel. They knew their father would take away his guitar for a few days to a week as punishment. 

But even then, a week wasn’t long enough. Their hatred for Azriel stemmed long before his love for guitar had grown. From the moment his half-brothers learned how to talk, Az was on the daggered end of their spiteful tongue and manipulative masterminds. As young as he was, Azriel wasn’t blind to the cause of it. He wasn’t blind to his step-father’s hatred for him, that he then instilled in his own blood sons. 

Being what they called a ‘blood traitor’ would always be their main justification for what they did. Azriel had never admitted to anyone the second reason his brothers set his hands alight. But the other thought behind it—the more vicious and calculated thought—was to burn not just his hands, but his dreams, too. 

For months after the incident, Azriel’s hands remained bandaged. He could hardly use them for everyday tasks like dressing and washing and eating. And when they had finally healed enough for the bandages to be permanently removed, he couldn’t play his beloved guitar. 

The strings were too harsh on his sensitive skin. It hurt so much just pressing down on the chords on the neck, let alone pinching the pic for longer than thirty seconds at a time. Azriel had to learn how to play all over again, covered in blisters and burnt flesh. And then his marred skin began to harden and callous and every strum was more painful than before. 

He often wondered if this would still be his life path had the burning never happened. If he would have still met Rhys and Cass, if he would still be selling drugs. He knew he wouldn’t be this well-off financially, but at what cost? What did all of this money mean when it was just him? When he wouldn’t be able to fulfil his biggest dream in life? 

He mostly thought about it all in times like this, when he was spontaneously pulled over by the cops for what they called a “random stop and search”, though they had never given a plausible cause for it. And today would be no different. 

“You stalking me again, Reynolds?” Az asked in a rugged tone as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette. 

Officer Reynolds, one of the few officers that continuously pulled Az over and searched his vehicle, leaned against the open window with his arms crossed. His blue eyes gleamed with hope of catching something on him this time, though Az knew Reynolds would walk away with another few grey hairs to add to his collection. 

Reynolds was a strange looking man. Not in his features, but in the glint of his eyes and the disturbing tug of his lips whenever he offered a grim smile. He radiated nothing but offsetting energy, one that stunk of noncy behaviour and less than ethical tendencies. 

His iced eyes darted quickly across Azriel’s lap and the passenger's seat, coming up short and settling his gaze on the man again. 

“Random stop and search, nothing personal.” He grinned that awful smile but Azriel paid no mind to it. “Step out of the car, licence and registration.” Azriel was already reaching into the glovebox for his paperwork before Reynolds could even speak. 

He handed them over, opening the door as the officer stepped away, and stood with his hands on the hood of his Mustang. Azriel knew the drill. He’d been patted down and had his car searched more times than he could count in the past six months alone. 

And each and every time, Reynolds always came up short. 

“Got any weapons in the vehicle?” 

Azriel rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder as Reynolds began to pat down his stomach and thighs. “Do I look like the type that needs a weapon?” 

A dry chuckle slipped from the officers lips as he patted harder down Azriel’s calves and ankles before turning to his full—albeit short—height. “What about narcotics? Any drugs that I should be aware of?” 

Az grunted with another roll of his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Officer Reynolds didn’t offer a response. Instead, he bent his body into the driver's side of the Mustang and began stifling through every nook and cranny that his swollen hands could reach. 

Azriel’s foot tapped impatiently as he waited and waited for the search to end. They wouldn’t find a damn thing, especially because of the new addition Azriel had recently added to his modded car. 

But that knowledge of the secret compartment didn’t stop his muscles from tensing just slightly when Reynolds wrapped his puffed fingers around the foot mat and peeled it up. 

Azriel’s stash was well hidden; wrapped and locked in an extended box beneath his footwell that managed to also keep the scent out. He knew it was a matter of time before they started bringing a K9 with them on their searches, so Azriel had to be prepared for that well in advance. 

Especially with how strong the new strain smelt. 

With a huff, Reynolds haphazardly threw the foot mat back down and struggled to clamber out of the car. And just like Azriel suspected, he came up short. 

Reynolds handed him back his paperwork and rested his hands back on his belt, fingers itching for his baton to give Az a taste of the frustration he caused him. Azriel didn’t so much as bat an eye at it. He knew Reynolds wouldn’t touch him. Not if he wanted to keep both his stumpy legs in use. 

“You know, this is getting pretty old. How do I go about filing a harassment charge?” 

Reynolds scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

//

If there was one thing Az liked about having his brothers home, it was the lack of talking his mind did. There was no silence for his brain and thoughts to gang up on him, to have him question every thought and decision he’d ever made. 

Music and guitar usually helped to quiet those demons—the shadows that he had no control over—but the frustration from his earlier encounter with Reynolds had the desire for playing at the bottom of his list. 

Instead, he settled for Nesta’s demand to braid her hair. She knew him better than she let the others know. Since they first met years ago, he became the brother she never had, that she never knew she needed. She was quick to learn his quirks and mannerisms; what they meant and how he felt. 

And he learnt the same for her. 

“You’re doing it too loose,” Nesta huffed, picking at her nails from her seat on the carpet between Azriel’s parted thighs. He huffed, flexing his fingers and undoing the braid. 

“Last time you told me it was too tight and it gave you a migraine,” he retorted back with an exasperated huff.

They argued like real siblings, too. 

“Just do it a little looser than last time.”

Azriel split her hair into three sections once more and slowly started to braid, overlapping the sections and tugging a bit tighter than his previous attempt. Nesta hummed in approval.

They didn’t pay much mind to the others. Rhys and Feyre were cuddled on the loveseat opposite them, Cassian on their left with a bulky pair of headphones on his head as he smashed the buttons of the gaming remote beneath his fingers. 

He was growing frustrated that he was losing, but it didn’t help that his hands were so massive that the pad of his thumb was big enough to press all the buttons at once. 

“Hey, Az… there’s this girl I know…” Azriel’s grunt cut Feyre off before she could say anything else. He tied Nesta’s braid and tapped her shoulders, signally he was done. 

“Not this again, Fey,” he groaned. 

A sheepish smile sat on her full lips, a gentle tint of pink blushing the apples of her cheeks. “I really think you guys would get along, though. She’s super laid back and so gorgeous.” 

Nesta moved from between Az’s thighs on the ground and clambered back onto the sofa, reaching for her tumbler of gin and tonic. Azriel was used to this, to Feyre trying to set him up. Each time, he’d always shut her advances down, but that never stopped her.

Feyre considered it a challenge, and she wouldn’t stop until Azriel agreed to go on a date. Just once, and she’d back off. She was fairly confident that one date would be all it would take for Azriel to fall for her mysterious friend. 

“I don’t need to be set up,” he spoke, finality in his tone. 

Rhys cocked a brow at how quickly Az dismissed his girlfriend but said nothing. He knew Feyre could get a bit too much with it sometimes, but Rhys himself still had hopes that maybe one day, Az would bite the bullet and just agree. 

But Azriel had no plans to do that. He didn't want to be set up on a blind date, and he most certainly did not need nor want his friends involving themselves in his love life—or lack thereof. It wasn’t that he struggled with girls, Mother, no. Not once in his life did Azriel ever have a shortage of pussy.

If he wanted it, he would get it. On his own. Without his brother's girlfriend’s self-involvement. 

His phone chimed from his back pocket, and not bothering another glance at Feyre, Azriel retrieved it to read over the message. 

You: you weren’t kidding. This shit is strongggg x

His heart rate quickened as he read the text again and again. Azriel hadn’t heard from for three days—since that kiss—and now he was reminiscing on the taste of your mouth on his. 

Azriel: I did warn you

You: maybe next time you could write a reminder on my baggie?

A grin stretched across the expanse of his lips, eyes glittering at how quickly you responded. The act didn’t go unmissed by Nesta, who grinned against her staw and wiggled her toes against the side of Azriel’s thigh. She knew that face—that look. 

“Azzy doesn’t want to get set up because he already has a crush on someone.” 

All eyes snapped to Azriel and Nesta at her words, eyes so wide they almost bulged from their heads. They all knew Az was a ladies man, that although he kept his sex life private, he was well endowed in that aspect. But what they had never really seen was Azriel with a crush. 

With someone who was more than a booty call or a fling.

Az narrowed his eyes at Nesta, a hard expression removing his previous smile. The phone in his hand began to vibrate and a quick glance at it had your number filling the screen through an incoming call. 

His heart stammered. 

“I don’t have a crush. It’s just a client.” He stood from the couch, his scarred thumb hovering over the answer button. 

Nesta grinned maniacally, taking another sip of her gin. “A lady client?” Azriel’s response was a pillow launched at Nesta’s face before leaving his family and shutting himself away in his bedroom. 

Az took a deep breath then swiped his screen to accept the call. “Hey,” he greeted, bringing the phone to his ear. “You doing okay?” 

There was a pregnant pause for a moment before your airy laugh breathed down the line and Azriel’s throat began to close up at the sound. “I think I’ve greened out a little,” you giggled, almost painfully. “Everything is spinning and heavy and when I close my eyes, I get seasick… is that normal?” 

Az pursed his lips, biting back his own smile. The fact that you’d managed to text full sentences and then call him suggested you hadn’t greened out too badly. And by the light self-deprecating laugh at your own situation, he knew you weren’t falling in too deep of a hole. 

“It should pass soon, it shouldn't get worse than how you feel now. Where are you?” 

“I’m at home so I’m okay. I just didn’t know what was the best thing to help.” 

Azriel shouldn’t have let your words affect him the way they did. They shouldn’t have warmed his heart and sent it soaring in his chest. But in your slightly vulnerable predicament, out of everyone that smoked in your life and would understand, it was him that you called for advice. 

Not your friends, not your ex. Him. 

“Honestly? Food and water.”

Another pause of silence had Azriel thinking a bit too much again. If you were calling him for advice, this was likely your first time greening out, and he wondered if you’d even be able to handle making yourself food alone. 

After a moment of consideration, he spoke again. “Want me to stop by?” 

Azriel could hear your soft breath through the call. “Isn’t that crossing a line?” you asked in a gentle voice. 

He frowned, brows pinched. “What line?” 

“I’m your client, you’re my plug,” you reminded him, and something about it sent a sour taste to the back of his throat. 

“You’re my friend,” he offered. 

He wondered if you considered that or not, and by the pause of silence once more, he got his answer. 

“I am?” The soft tone of your question hurt him more than it should’ve. It shouldn’t have hurt him at all. 

“Am I not yours?” 

You were considering it, though. In your book, he was definitely your friend. He’d comforted you just a few nights ago after the fiasco with your sister's secret wedding, had bought you food and then… He’d kissed you. Or had you kissed him? 

You supposed he was your friend, but you didn’t think you meant anything more to him than being just another client. Clearly, you were wrong. 

“Yeah… I guess you are.” 

The corners of Azriel's lips tugged upward slightly. “Great, so send me your address and I’ll stop by with some food.”

Perhaps you should’ve told him no, that it truly wasn’t necessary and you could just pick at a couple of leftover cookies you’d baked yesterday. But you didn’t. You wanted to see him again, wondered so desperately if that kiss had meant anything at all… if it would happen again. 

“I have a spare set of keys in a security lock outside. The code is 4369, let yourself in.” 

// 

You didn’t know how much time you had to try and sort yourself out before Azriel would arrive. But as hard as you tried, every time you raised your head you were met with an onslaught of nausea and dizziness. 

You spent around five minutes attempting to regulate your breathing to rid those feelings, but your body remained stomach down on the couch with your face squished against a pillow. 

If you could stomach the feeling of your eyes being closed for longer than five seconds at a time, you probably could’ve fallen asleep. But alas, the sound of a key entering the lock of your front door had your eyes widening a little further and heart stammering against your ribs. 

“Knock, knock.” Azriel’s voice dripped with honey as he spoke into the expanse of your open plan living-kitchen area. 

Though you couldn’t see him from your position, you could hear the faint rusting of a takeout bag in his hand as he closed the door quietly and kicked off his shoes at the door. 

You didn’t need to call out to him for Az to see you. Sprawled on the sofa, just off to his left, he grinned comically, ignoring the unfamiliar swell in his chest. His feet padded closer to the couch, settling the food on the coffee table and the smell of hot, fried chicken wafted through your senses. 

Azriel helping you sit up and handing you the same meal you ordered the last time you saw one another was a bit of a blur. But the second the food hit your tongue and your tastebuds exploded in delight, the nausea slowly dwindled from your senses. 

“You are my saviour,” you moaned around the food, eyes fluttering closed and none the wiser to Azriel’s growing blush. 

Sat in comfortable silence, Azriel didn’t want you to focus on anything other than feeling yourself again. Within a few minutes, you’d both finished your food and your face didn’t seem so sunken and pasty. 

Now, you looked wonderfully blitzed, skin a little brighter than before and a sparkling sheen to your bloodshot eyes. Yeah, you were out of the woods, your body warm and relaxed. 

“You feeling okay?” he finally managed to ask, shoving the last fry between his lips as you nodded at his question. 

“I feel perfectly baked now.” 

A laugh spluttered from his lips at your words as he wiped his scarred hands clean on a paper napkin. For the first time in the past twenty minutes, Az allowed his eyes to gaze across the expanse of your rather cosy living room. 

Soft, golden lighting that warmed the room, plants of varying shapes and colours tucked into every corner and crevice available. Mismatched furniture and draping vines. 

It was cute, all of it. Very you. The wall facing the couch was hidden beneath tall bookcases that were filled to the brim with every type of book he could imagine. Even with squinted eyes, he could make out a few familiar authors amongst your shelves. 

“Have you read all of those?” He threw his gaze to you, wonder and slight adoration in his eyes, though you were sure you imagined the latter. 

“Mhm,” you hummed around your drink. “Some more times than I can remember.” 

You watched him stand from the couch, his tall frame approaching your collection. He was dressed in black again – his simple jeans and sweater combo – and his hair was perfectly tousled and swept down his forehead. 

Eyes on him, his finger traced the spines of your beloved possessions, settling on one in particular that made your breath still in your chest. Azriel gently pulled it off the shelf, hazel eyes examining the near-pristine cover. 

“Careful,” your soft voice warned him. “It’s worth three grand.” 

Azriel’s eyes almost bulged from his head as he turned to you with the most bewildered expression you’d ever seen. It took every ounce of control not to burst into laughter. 

“What?”

“It’s 134 years old. I restored it the best I could. You should’ve seen it when I found it.” 

Azriel’s brows pulled into a confused frown. “Restored it?” 

“Yeah, that’s what I do for work.” 

When his frown didn’t ease, you cleared your throat to continue. “I work between an auction and a museum in the city. I find the old books and restore them, then sell them through the auction, or they go to the museum.” 

His once furrowed brows raised, his eyes darting back to the book in his hand as if he was inspecting the eighth wonder of the world. Azriel finally turned back to you with a smile that borderlined a smirk. 

“That’s actually pretty cool.” 

A satisfied yet sheepish smile found its way to your lips, cheeks warming under the intensity of his gaze. Azriel slid the book back onto the shelf and continued his observations. 

If you were being honest, it was a little too intimate for your liking. No one in your life had ever taken such interest in your books, not your friends or past lovers. It wasn’t like your love for books was much of a secret, but no one had taken the time to get to know them. 

To know your books was to know you. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised that Azriel was the person to do so. In the short time you’d known him, you realised he was full of surprises.

“What about you?” Your voice greeted his ears softly as you cleaned up the trash from your food. Azriel casted barely a look over his shoulder, eyes caught on your limited edition fantasy book set. A part of you begged to take Azriel’s attention off them. “What do you do for work?” 

That seemed to earn his full attention, causing him to turn to face you fully. With an amused smirk, he followed you a few feet into the open kitchen. “You know what I do for work.” 

Ah. 

“You don’t have anything…legal…to keep on the books?” 

He tried to hide his amusement at your words, but to no avail. Azriel’s smirk only grew and he found himself wondering if his answer might make you think differently of him. 

“If you wanna talk…legalities…then I’m an investor in the stock market.” 

It was your turn to hold the raised eyebrows – a look that Azriel was quick to mirror. “What?” He asked. “You don’t think I could work in stocks?” 

“Do you?” You pressed. 

Azriel’s grin widened slightly. “I do. And I’ll have you know that I’m very good at it.” 

You didn’t want nor need to know any more. You weren’t about to outright ask how much money he had, and if he told you out of his own desire, you were certain it would only make you feel like pure shit. 

Your apartment and belongings weren’t much but they were yours. Everything you had, you worked for. You could do without knowing how many thousands he had sitting pretty in his bank. 

Azriel noticed that distant look in your eyes and took a seat at your island. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable. And if he was being perfectly honest, it was appallingly refreshing to speak with a woman about his side-hustle without them swooning or prying for more details. 

And it appeared that it was only now that either of you were realising how different things were the last time you saw one another. When your lips pressed against his and he kissed you back with just as much want and vigour. 

As if remembering that searing moment, your face and chest began to warm. You were quick to turn away from him, needing a moment to compose yourself and the tight feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

You tried desperately to ignore the ache between your thighs at the memory, instead opting to focus your attention on the half empty box of cookies on the counter. Flipping the lid, you offered one to Azriel who took it without much prompting. 

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line, but if you make enough money investing in stocks, why do you still deal?” 

Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed as he took a bite out of the chocolate chip cookie, and you found your eyes zeroed in on the way his plump lips moved and his broad shoulders slacked slightly. 

His eyes opened to focus on yours. “These are incredible.” You offered a smile, waiting. “Dealing is what got me the money to be able to invest. Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at it, but I lost a lot to get where I am. Dealing is steady income for now. It’s not something I plan to do forever.”

You didn’t probe any further, satisfied with the answer he provided and not wanting to push your luck. Your eyes were drawn to his mouth again, flashes of memories littering your mind as your body warmed once more. 

Clearing your throat, you desperately tried to blink away the haziness he seemed to make you feel. 

“You can smoke out on the balcony, if you want.” 

Azriel finished the last of his cookie and leaned forward on the counter. “I didn’t bring anything.” 

Your head tilted slightly to the half-smoked joint on your counter, stubbed out and back in your open tin. “Smoke the rest of that. It’s too strong for me and I know your tolerance is higher than mine.”

Azriel laughed; hearty and rich and deep. It tickled up your spine and reached around your neck and jaw to tug the corners of your lips into a smile. The effect he had on you was growing to be a slight problem. 

“You wanna come? Fresh air will help.” 

He watched you pinch the joint and lighter from your tin and lead him through to your bedroom. It was decorated similarly to the rest of your apartment–twinkling fairy lights and books and plants–and out on the small balcony, you’d managed to cram a rattan loveseat and table with vines wrapped around the short iron guard rail. 

“Here.” You handed him the joint and lighter. “I’ll be back out, I’m just going to change.” 

Azriel sparked up the joint between his lips, taking a long drag as you returned to your room. The smoke hit the back of his throat sharply, almost knocking him sideways. Even he hadn’t smoked a joint this packed and strong in a while. It was no wonder you’d had a wobble with it. 

He took a seat on the rattan furniture, admiring the little view your balcony offered. The summer air kissed his skin, even as late as the evening was. The warmth of it had him shrugging off his sweater and throwing it over the table, taking another deep pull. 

If Azriel was honest, he was quite thankful for the moments reprieve from your presence. He needed to take a second to calm himself down. Az couldn’t remember the last time he partook in something like this with someone who wasn’t his brothers or their girls. 

This was more of a common thing with Nesta, smoking and eating together. Never Feyre, she always preferred a glass of wine, and occasionally Mor would smoke with him when she was passing through town. Never a random girl, never a new friend. 

But that moment's reprieve was ripped away far too quickly, because you were sauntering back onto the balcony and stealing the breath right from Azriel’s smoked lungs. 

He was fucked. Comepletly and utterly fucked. He’d never seen you look so relaxed, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of mismatched socks. Your hair was thrown up lazily and stray pieces fell out to frame your face. 

Your legs, however, he couldn’t stop gawking. Soft skin and a whole lot of thigh. Azriel forced his gaze to your face again as you took a seat beside him on the loveseat, leaning your back on the armrest and bringing your knees up to your chest. 

Mother above, he could feel his cock begin to strain in his pants, his eyes begging to sweep your body once more to see what lay between your slightly parted legs. From his peripheral vision, he could see you cross your ankles, effectively shielding yourself.

But Azriel was good at reading people, and by the slight flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes grew more hooded by the second, he was more than certain you knew what you were doing and the affects your actions had on him. 

He took another pull of the joint. “You weren’t kidding,” he mumbled, “this shit is strong.” A bubbly laugh fell from your lips at the way his eyes squinted when the drug settled into his lungs. 

“I did warn you.” 

Azriel offered it to you, watching your inner turmoil as you weighed out your options until pinching it from his fingers. “One pull will be enough to keep me buzzed for the night.” 

He watched your lips thin as they clamped down on the roach. He watched your chest rise as your lungs filled with the thick tar until you pulled the joint from your lips and exhaled slowly. You handed it back to him, cutting yourself off completely for the night. 

Azriel took it between two pinched fingers, keeping his eyes on your slightly flushed face as he took another few drags before stuffing the cherry out in the ashtray. His gaze found purchase on your lips again as he mirrored your position on the loveseat, though Az didn’t tuck his knees to his chest. 

“Are we gonna talk about it?” He asked. 

You blinked at him, head tilted slightly to the left. “Talk about what?”

The way his taunting smirk grew made you shift uncomfortably. You had an inkling as to what he meant, but you hoped if you played dumb, he would drop it. Clearly not. 

“About the last time we saw each other.”

Yup. There it is. 

That familiar warmth spread across your face and chest again in waves of anxiety and embarrassment. You couldn’t handle this type of conversation right now. You were mortified enough as it was, you didn’t need to reminisce about your stupid mistake, nor the way he kissed you back as though his life depended on it. 

You let out a long sigh. “I was kind of hoping you’d forgotten about it.” 

Azriel quirked a brow. “Forget about it?” he asked. “You expected me to forget a kiss like that?” 

It felt like all the air had been completely sucked from your lungs. You could hardly breathe, struggling to string a coherent reply together. Azriel continued to smirk at you, bathing in the way he clearly made you feel. Like he was getting off on your flustered state. 

The state he put you in. 

“It’s been replaying in my head for days.” Azriel’s admission sent your mind into a frenzy. You had no idea what to do with that information or how it was supposed to make you feel. 

What you did know, was that familiar burning in the pit of your stomach, that daunting ache between your clenched thighs. And the way Azriel's eyes darkened and slowly traced the silhouette of your figure, you got the hint he felt the same way, too. 

“Yeah?” Your words came out as barely a whisper, lashes fluttering as the weed you’d just smoked began to settle into your bloodstream. 

Azriel inched a hand tentatively toward your ankle, the tips of his scarred fingers brushing against your cotton socks. The touch had your body keening for more, your legs twitching as he slowly wrapped a large hand around your lower leg. 

“Yeah,” he replied, almost breathless. 

He was testing the waters, desperate to get a feeler as to what you wanted from this interaction. Azriel watched you closely, cataloguing every response your body gave his touch. How goosebumps broke across the silky skin of your legs, how your cheeks flushed slightly and lashes fluttered at him. 

“Is that all you’ve been thinking about?” Your husky voice finally broke through the silence. Az raised a brow at your boldness. “Or do you let your mind wander to what else could’ve happened?” 

If it weren’t for the stifling warmth in the air, Azriel was sure he would’ve come in his pants from your words alone. Because he knew that meant you’d been letting your mind wander to something more. 

You allowed him to gently tug your leg down, resting the back of your calf across his thigh. Your covered cunt was surely exposed, but Az didn’t look. Not yet. A sneaky peek wouldn’t be enough to satiate the appetite he had grown for you. 

He needed to bathe and bask and bury himself in your scent. Mould his body to body, meld his soul to your soul. Even then, he would never be able to feel you as closely as he craved. 

“You want me to tell you what places my mind has wandered to?” His eyes were glued to your mouth, watching as your tongue slid out to wet your lips before tugging the bottom one between your teeth. 

It was with a surge of complete arousal and haziness that had you uttering, “I want you to show me.” 

Azriel’s lips were on yours not a moment later when he surged forward to trap your small frame beneath his large one on the loveseat. You could barely make sense of where you ended and Azriel began. 

His scarred hands cupped your face, his tongue massaging hotly against your own. Your legs had wrapped around his waist, ankles locked across his back to keep him close to you. 

It was unlike any kiss you’d experienced before. Passion and need and desire. Pure want and carnage. Like nothing could ever stop him from tasting you again. Like he was savouring every single piece of you. 

“If you want me to show you…” he muttered against your lips, “I suggest you let me take you inside.” 

You pulled away just enough for your noses to bump and make out a blurry picture of him before you. Swollen lips, mussed up hair that you hadn’t realised you’d been running your fingers through. 

“Worried someone might see?” You panted in a teasing tone. 

His eyes shadowed impossibly darker. “I don’t like to share.” 

Squirming beneath his thick body, your fingernails scraped across his broad shoulders, scratching at the cotton of his t-shirt. “It’s not sharing if they’re just watching.” 

Azriel nipped your bottom lip. “Well, I’m a greedy man, and I don’t want anyone else watching you come on my cock but me.”

A breathless moan tumbled off your tongue like hot honey, your eyes fluttering closed at the words he spoke. You hoped this was just the tip of the iceberg with him. Prayed that he was as filthy as he was gorgeous. 

Without another second to get lost in your thoughts, Azriel was gripping your hips, lifting you as he stood. Your legs around his waist tightened as your arms snaked to circle his neck. 

Even in the dark, he moved swiftly, settling your body onto your mattress without missing a beat. He crawled back between your thighs, the moonlight kissing his tanned skin through the cracks of your window. 

His lips were on yours again, searing and eager. Azriel poured every ounce of need and desire into it, massaging your tongue and licking against the roof of your mouth. He tasted like the cookies you’d baked, a hint of smoke and a tang of bud. 

It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. 

Your fingers tugged at the curled tendrils on the nape of his neck, ushering him impossibly closer. His body flattened atop yours, the grooves of his abs pressing deliciously against your stomach and chest. 

Gods, he was solid. Built like a fucking Greek God and your fingers itched to trace the delicate intricacies of his golden skin. 

“Azriel,” you panted against his lips. “If you don’t touch me right now I’m going to burst into flames.” 

A dry chuckle left his throat as he dragged his mouth across your jaw and down to your neck; kissing and licking and sucking. He nipped at a sensitive spot, begrudgingly tugging himself off your frame. 

Sitting on his knees between your open thighs, he was a fucking sight. His chest heaved as he took a breath, his eyes dark and hair an unruly mess. Excitement was getting the better of you. So much so that when his scarred fingers looped in the neck of his shirt and tugged it up, you all but foamed at the fucking mouth. 

An unexplainable sound squeaked from the back of your throat. He was fucking beautiful. His skin was flawless, abdomen toned with divots of muscle, and dark ink of swirls that adored his chest. 

You could physically feel your arousal seep from your cunt, could feel your clit throb in desperate need for him. You could hardly breathe, your lungs almost crushed by his sheer beauty. 

You could stare at him forever. 

“Are you going to be good for me?” His rugged voice broke you from your trance. You blinked at him. Once, twice. 

Gone was the flirtatious Azriel who once made you blush from teasing. Gone was the light warmth in his smile and cheeky glimmer in his eyes. 

The Azriel before you was cold now. Calculated. He oozed power and dominance and your pussy clenched in anticipation of the pleasure he might inflict on you. 

The Azriel before you held all the control. And you’d gladly surrender whatever you had left to offer. 

“Yes,” you whimpered in response. 

He didn’t reply. Not with words. Azriel’s large palms flattened on your inner thighs as he pried your legs further apart. The calluses of his marred fingers scratched at your silky skin as they inched closer and closer to your core. 

His fingertips grazed at the soaked fabric of your panties. “Look at you, pretty girl.” 

Your lashes fluttered closed, lips parted open, head rolled back. Gods, you wanted his voice on a loop in your brain for the rest of eternity. If he was going to continue talking, you wouldn’t last long. 

“Look at your dripping little cunt.”

You couldn’t hold in the whimper, nor the way you clenched on nothing—so desperate to be filled by him. 

“I’m going to take my time with you.” You knew it wasn’t a threat, but Christ did it sound like one. You were far too pent up to be touched in any way that wasn’t with a cock buried deep inside you. 

Foreplay could come next time, you’d let him spend hours devouring you if that was what he truly wanted. Not now, not when you were borderline going to sob. 

“Fuck me, Az.”

He stilled, eyes on you as his hands halted on your inner thighs. “Please,” you whimpered, “I need you to fuck me. You can do what you want to me next time.” 

Azriel cocked a brow, the familiar hint of him returning to his face for a brief moment. “You promise?” 

Neither of you allowed yourselves longer than a few brief moments to bask in the vow of a next time. Not when he ghosted his fingers across your cunt and you nodded your head quickly, desperately. 

“There’s condoms in the drawer.” Your words came out a breathless pant as Azriel’s toned body leaned over yours. He rifled through your nightstand, blindly reaching for a foil packet when his fingers grazed against something else. Something silicone.

His eyes found yours in the night, a mischievous glint that darkened his honeyed hazel iris’. Your lips parted. “What?” 

From your angle, you couldn’t see what he held in his hands. Not until Azriel leaned back on his knees between your parted thighs, and the moonlight bounced off the hot pink toy in his palm. 

Oh, fuck. 

Without breaking your gaze, Az gently stroked the tip of the six inch object against your panty-covered cunt. You were soaking through the fabric, your thighs trembling on either side of his legs. 

There was no way this was happening. No way he was going to–

“I think I wanna fuck you with this instead.” 

You couldn’t argue with him, couldn’t even muster a single word to leave your lips. No one had used a sex toy on you before, much less a fucking dildo. And yet here Azriel was, eager to please you in the dirtiest ways possible. Even if it denied him his own pleasure. 

“Az—“ 

He held his free hand in the air. 

“Let’s call it a compromise.” His tone suggested there was no room for argument. You clamped your lips shut and continued to take deep, ragged breaths through your nose. 

“If you’re a good girl with this toy, I’ll reward you with my cock later.” 

Later. As in, he wasn’t planning on making you come just once…

You nodded once more, vigorously. 

If it was down to Azriel he would’ve tied you up and taken his time with you anyway. He would’ve told you not to be a spoiled brat and to take whatever he gave you like a good girl. 

But he couldn’t do that, not yet. 

He couldn’t deprive you of the one thing you desperately wanted. But he could take away the thing to cause the most pleasure. Replace his cock with a toy. Watch you come all over it. And then ruin you until you creamed all over him and sobbed from overstimulating. 

Azriel’s cock leapt in the tight confinements of his pants. He was desperate to free himself, touch himself. Have you touch him. He’d imagined the feeling of your lips around his dick for days, let his mind wander to what you’d look like on your knees for him. 

He needed to be patient, he’d be able to stuff your throat full soon enough. He was sure of it. Then he’d let you sit on his tongue and suffocate him until you were both seeing stars. 

“Please, baby.” 

Your pleading voice broke him from his trance and Azriel wrapped two fingers around your panties and pulled them to the side, baring yourself to him. 

And what a sight you were. 

Swollen and soaked. Your pussy glistened under the moonlight, your hips rolling lazily as if trying to chase the touches he wouldn’t grant you. Az wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your warmth and stay there all fucking night. 

But he didn’t touch you, at least not with his own body and skin. Azriel motioned the toy to your heat, teasingly sliding through your slick folds to collect your arousal. You jolted at the sensation, shuddering beneath his touch. 

Azriel leaned over your body, one arm supporting his weight beside your head, the other coaxing the toy through your head, nudging the head against your pulsing clit. 

“You’re gonna keep your eyes on me, and you’re gonna imagine it’s my cock fucking your tight little pussy.” Your chest arched into his, nipples pearled beneath the thin fabric of your t-shirt. 

“Do you understand?” There he was again, that dominant and overpowering Azriel you saw just moments ago. 

You nodded, lips blubbering slightly. “Yes.” 

He cooed you softly, his head dipping down enough to brush his nose against yours. Azriel lined the dildo to your entrance, teasing your hole deliciously before gently pushing through your tightness. 

Your lips parted, brows knit as your body grew taut. His honey gaze dripped into yours, melding you to him as Azriel rolled his hips to mirror what he would do if he was the one fucking you. 

“Such a good girl, taking that cock.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed at his praise, head rolling back into the pillow until his weight shifted above you and a briefly sharp sting met the side of your cheek. Your eyes flew open again, wide and confused. 

Azriel looked down at you, his hand now gripping either side of your cheeks, his gaze much darker than before. 

“I told you to keep your pretty eyes on me.” And then he sheathed the toy deep in your cunt. 

A shriek of pleasure tore through your throat, hands reaching for the warm skin of Azriel’s shoulders. Your nails dragged across the muscles that rippled beneath your touch, scratching at the surface with a cry. 

“Fuck!” 

Azriel began with slow thrusts, allowing you a few brief moments to accumulate to the intrusion. Not much time, but enough. Because after the fourth thrust, he picked up the pace. 

The noises were obscene, your high pitched cries and moans and the squelching of the toy that fucked your sopping cunt. 

Everything was too intense to comprehend. The fullness you felt, the lack of control you possessed. And the way his eyes bore into yours, as though he was claiming your soul to melt with his own. He was hauntingly beautiful, even in his dark demeanour. 

In your hazy state, it looked like even the shadows curled around his figure. As though he was their master, too. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he praised. “Taking that cock like a good little girl.” 

His voice dripped with sex and arousal, and when he shifted his hips once more, you could feel the thick and solid bulge of his length in his trousers. You wanted nothing more than to feel it, taste it. 

You clamped tightly around the toy, dragging scratches and marks down Azriel’s golden skin. “Please let me come.” You had never begged to come before, had never even asked. But you felt no shame in pleading to the God above you for your release. 

You’d give him anything he wanted. 

Azriel’s own breath grew shaky, unready. “Open your mouth,” he commanded. You listened and complied immediately, eager to please him. 

He leaned closer, pinching your face harder before spitting into your mouth, onto your awaiting tongue. Then he was kissing you, biting you, claiming you. 

Your entire body felt like it burst into flames, hot fire licking at you from the inside out. You couldn’t breathe. Your entire being completely locked and consumed as you came around the toy with a frantic sob of his name. 

Azriel couldn’t cope, couldn’t handle the sound of his name on your lips as you came around something that wasn’t him. Every ounce of self control was crumbling down at the sight of you—of your eyes still fixed on his, your jaw slack and your supple body arching to meet his. 

He’d never seen anything so fucking sinful yet heavenly at the same time. Never felt so connected to someone without even touching them. He couldn’t take it, needed to touch you, feel you, taste you. 

Az pulled the toy from your pussy, dragging it up between your bodies as you desperately attempted to catch your breath. He held it to your mouth, and without command, your tongue swirled around the length of it, tasting your own release with your eyes still boring into his soul. 

And now he had an even more vivid image of what you’d look like sucking his cock. 

Before Azriel could get a taste for himself, that cursed blaring of his phone broke through the heaving silence. He didn’t hear it at first, not until it stole your attention from him. 

“You’re phone,” you muttered breathlessly, barely coherent. 

Azriel dropped the toy to the side of the bed, his hands gentle on your body and face now. “Ignore it,” he breathed softly. 

His lips met yours in a taunting kiss, one so stark opposite to the way he’d treated you just moments ago. The versatility of this man was going to give you whiplash. 

But the phone blared again. And again. And suddenly, neither of you could ignore it anymore. His forehead rested against yours, a frustrated sigh tumbling off his lips. 

“You should go.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to. 

“You don’t wanna come with me? Do some drop-offs?” He was tempting you, desperately wanting to spend more time in your presence, especially if it potentially ended like this again. 

You hummed, considering it. But your body was spent and the idea of being in his car and not being able to have your hands all over him at any moment you pleased sounded like torture. 

“Next time?” You posed it as a question, though the hope in Azriel’s eyes proved that he was more than happy to not only fuck you again, but to spend time with you, too. 

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He nosed at your cheek, planting a teasing open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, nosing back up to your ear. “You look fucking breathtaking when you come.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed when he pulled away, your thighs trembling as he knelt and then clambered off your bed. Azriel watched your spent body for a moment, the way your thighs rubbed together as you squirmed, no doubt still horny. 

It pained him to leave you like that, wanting more. But if he didn’t leave now, he likely never would. And that wasn’t something he could afford to do right now. 

So without another word, he bent down to press a kiss to your mouth, and then he left—still high on both the drugs and you. 

Thank you for reading and I apologise again for such a massively long wait for this chapter!!

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[rad-batson]

The Batkids and The Arts (Feral Edition)

They’re all musical theatre nerds. Every single one of them. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, Tim, Duke, Damian. They go see Broadway shows together then don’t stop talking about it for like a week. It is the one bonding activity they will never pass up.

Jason and Steph once entered a ballroom dancing competition and won after some pompous rich kids insulted their moves during a gala. Since then, they’ve entered a competition every month or so just for fun. (And for the prize money :P)

Tim is an avid believer that Culinary Art is one of The Arts. (Can he cook? Absolutely not. It was Bernard that convinced him, but he stands by it.)

Duke talks through every single movie he watches. He always promises to be quiet at the beginning, but then he gets too excited and whispers commentary to the people around him. This habit has since bled into the entire family. They are no longer welcome at the local AMC.

Every single one of them is pretentious about something.

Dick is pretentious about any and all performance arts featured at the circus. Once, someone made a joke about going to “Clown School” and Dick screamed at them about how not even their pinky would have the privilege of being admitted into clown school.

Jason is pretentious about classic literature. They can no longer tell if his jokes and references to Shakespeare and Jane Austen are correct or if he’s just fucking with them.

Cass gets pretentious about martial arts being a performance art. She is also pretentious about ballet being a martial art. She could kill a man in fifth position without losing her balance, and that’s a fucking fact.

Stephanie is very good at acting pretentious about the arts. She absorbs everything she’s learned from the rest of the bat family’s interests then pretends to be pretentious about it to mock them while sneaking in just enough correct information so no one can call her out on it. (Her true interest is graphic design.)

Tim has no professional experience with photography, but he will be pretentious about it like he knows everything. (Bruce: Tim, why is there a filter on this evidence photo you took? Tim: I thought it looked nicer that way. Really makes the blood splatter pop.)

Duke isn’t exactly pretentious about writing, but he will lay down his life for the Oxford comma. (Bruce didn’t use it until Duke called the punctuation in his mission reports “insulting.” He now uses it.)

Damian is pretentious about studio art. If he ever hears his family or friends say, “I don’t get it,” at an art museum, he will make them look at it for five minutes as he explains in painstaking detail what’s so revolutionary about it.

The kids decided to take an improv class together once for their undercover work while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. It was so fun that they still play improv games when they’re bored.

Cass is secretly a metalhead.

Whenever one of the younger kids needs to write an English paper, they will just walk up to Jason, riddle off a dumb opinion about the book or poem they had to read, and record whatever Jason ends up lecturing them about. The most recent incident resulted in an award-winning paper about how the theory that William Shakespeare never wrote his own work is deeply rooted in classism.

Damian always has paint under his nails. It just never comes out.

Dick has personally taught everyone in the family how to do The Perfect Backflip. They all get a little ceremony once they’ve mastered it. There is cake.

Whenever Cass is standing around with nothing to do, she’ll practice her foot positions for ballet. The others always notice and follow her lead.

Jason: dramatically recites a poem in the living room Steph: starts beatboxing

Steph is always the first to find typos or continuity errors in a book, play, or movie. She doesn’t intend to; it’s just second nature to her. (She is now Duke’s official proofreader.)

Duke: So how’d you like the movie? Damian: I really loved the mise-en-scène, especially during the breakfast scene and that one shot near the end with the warehouse doors. Duke: *nods thoughtfully* Everyone Else Leaving the Theater: wtf is a meez on sen?

When Duke is finished writing something and wants to share it with his family, he’ll give it to Jason and Cass first.

Jason and Duke have frequent passionate arguments discussions about who is the best poet. Never bring up Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare, Hughes, Plath, Wilde, Kipling, Sappho, or Angelou in their vicinity unless you want to start it up again.

Damian is surprisingly good at acting. Too good.

Dick knows your music taste before you do. He has a carefully curated playlist for every single family member, every possible combination of family members, and every possible mood at the ready.

They can and will correct anyone who mistakes Gothic architecture for Victorian or Gothic Revival and vice versa. (It’s really a Gotham thing.)

Tim: How dare you call The Grand Budapest Hotel the best prison break movie when it’s clearly The Shawshank Redemption! Jason: Well, as someone who’s BEEN TO PRISON, I think I should know! Dick: It’s clearly Chicken Run! You’re all just Chicken-ist. Duke: But what about Midnight Express?! That one’s so good! Steph: Has anyone mentioned Toy Story 3 yet? No? Damian, watching from the sidelines: I liked Escape from Alcatraz. Cass: Same.

There are several art pieces in the manor that have been positioned directly over top of bullet holes and other suspicious damages.

Damian and Duke made an animated short film once for the Gotham Film Festival. Dick and Cass were their models for the concept art. Tim did historical research. Jason helped Duke edit the storyboard, and Steph was the continuity supervisor. It was about a British super spy working for MI6 that saved the world in the late 70’s. It was titled Agent A.

[brucewaynehater101]

It really gets me so mad that in Batman: The Animated series when all Joker Junior happens they let Tim go. Just like that. WTF???

That's your boy Bruce, the one you drive in your limo, the one that gets an allowance, the one that impersonates you so good because he's your son. And the minute he goes through the worst experience of his life you just let him go.

Like, I get my boy Tim, him been there just reminds him of his trauma, and if being away helps him, then go away, no one's gonna judge you.

BUT 40 YEARS OF SILENCE

Like. Man. Wtf.

And I get the series has other problems (Bruce and Babs together- yuck )

But Tim, hurt Tim forced to go through it alone.

It hurts me so much, it haunts me.

Fuck. I need to watch that series. I was a wee bit scared cause I thought, at first, that Tim got stuck as Joker. I couldn't handle that, tbh. I heard he doesn't, though, so I'm down to try.

However, that's so fucking tragic. Just Tim handling that trauma alone when Bruce is aware of it. I've seen some cool AUs where Bruce and the others aren't aware, but somehow it's worse where Bruce just ignored Tim (or that it happened to him).

40 is fucking bonkers though.

I kind of want an AU where Tim reaches the 10 year anniversary of the JJ incident. The only person who knows is Bruce (maybe Alfred if you want to make him guilty/bad). The age Tim is can vary (from like 19-24), but it'd be hella cool to see the fallout of everyone else learning that Bruce has been a dick to Tim for that. This would be cool if Tim was RR at this point.

Counter AU:

JJ happens when Tim is Robin, and Bruce fires Tim "for his own safety" or whatever. No one else, not even Barbara, knows about this incident. All they know is that there *was* a third Robin, but now there's not.

Other people rein Bruce in until Damian comes along. Maybe Cass helps or something (for plot purposes, Steph isn't Robin. She does get vigilante-adopted by Oracle, though, and joins the Birds of Prey).

Either way, Tim is no longer Robin and basically ignored by Bruce due to Bruce's guilt/fear (not an excuse. Bruce is a huge colossal asshole for that. This is just his reasoning).

The only people who know who the third Robin was are Bruce, Babs, Dick, Alfred, Leslie, Jason, and Talia (technically Ra's too). No one but Jason and Talia know that Jason knows who the third Robin was.

Bruce, once again, is the only one who knows about JJ and why Tim stopped being Robin (maybe Alfred too, but fun drama if Alfred finds out what Bruce did to Tim).

Anyways, Jason never attacks Tim because Tim wasn't Robin by that point. Damian doesn't either. They don't have favorable opinions of Tim, but he's not really important to them in the grand scheme of things.

Dick and Babs initially kept in contact with Tim, but they slowly stopped checking up with him due to the shitshow of their lives (like Jason coming back).

Tim moves out of Gotham for a few years. He was never adopted at this point and keeps up the fake uncle thing. He's pissed at Bruce for firing him (that man can not tell Tim to stop being a vigilante. That's so fucking hypocritical and that man isn't Tim's father), but he can't do anything about it. Bruce can't stop him from being a vigilante if he isn't in Gotham, though [Tim also gets the opportunity to heal while he's not in the same shadow of Gotham].

While Tim isn't Robin, he does maintain some communication with YJ. It's more distant, but they still go on missions together (as long as word won't get back to Batman). Tim is also more of a traveling vigilante who steals money from Lex or other billionaires to fund Tim's night job (he, begrudgingly, doesn't attempt to steal from Bruce. Babs would catch him). Tim also pockets some of the cash from crimes (particularly if the cops are corrupt and the money wouldn't go towards good causes regardless). Maybe Tim remotely manages DI as well, maybe not.

Anyways, years later, the batfam is slowly starting to heal. Jason is starting to forgive Bruce. The old man is putting in the effort to heal their relationship. Damian is healing and bonding with all of the family members in his own way. Dick has a much better relationship with Bruce, and Steph feels accepted by them.

Then Bruce "dies."

Tim stumbles upon proof of Bruce through his travels. He doesn't trust the Bats (especially after at least a year of no contact with them), so he tries to tell them about his proof as a not well-known vigilante. Red Hood has worked with him when The Outlaws crossed paths with him, but they aren't at the stage where RH trusts him. Tim doesn't trust RH due to a conversation or two about the man's hatred of the third Robin.

The Bats, drowning in their grief, push Tim away and deny him.

It stings, but Tim convinces himself to just shrug. What would he expect from the Bats anyways?

Tim goes through the effort of bringing Bruce back by himself. He then tries to dip immediately afterwards. He wants nothing to do with the Bats.

The Bats become curious about why a vigilante who seems to dislike would risk and sacrifice so much to bring back Bruce. They, like the nosy shits they are, try to investigate, charm, and stalk Tim.

Tim wants nothing to do with those fuckers. He wants to be left alone, fucking hell.

This dissolves into Tim trying to stay the fuck away from the Waynes as they chase him. He also can't help the fact that he cares about them, even if they piss him off.

More secrets unravel. Tim, wanting them to just go the fuck away, admits he knew the third Robin and that's why he doesn't like them.

Tim has changed a ton (personality and looks [he's taller and changes his appearance with makeup/wings]) so they don't immediately think of him as the third Robin. Tim also maintains a spotless civilian cover.

This cues the other Bats starting to question each other and Bruce what the fuck happened to the third Robin to make someone else hold a grudge against them.

I got so distracted. Oh well. Imma have to watch that series to feel the pain you're chatting about ^^ I wanna immerse myself in it, lmao

[strawbuddy-luv]

Tim Drake would love video games sm tho, and I do not see that represented enough.

He'd be a total nerd about it to. He'd rant and rant and rant about all the games he's played and all the cheats and the secret cut scenes and the hidden lore. He'd be a game theorist for sure, probably has a YouTube account dedicated to it since he's such a little detective. He knows the true lore of FNaF.

He'd definitely speed run minecraft, rp to probably. First person shooter? How about first hand experience. FNaF fanatic oh my God he'd LOVE that game so fucking much. Absolutely a Sonic kid, like you cannot convince me otherwise. Mario less so but you knows hes probably played every single game anyways. Pokemon? Every single one memorized down to their exact coloration. Stardew valley? Do i even have to ask. Animal crossing? Perfected his village, villagers and all. Zelda? I cannot prove it but he has a lino Cosplay somewhere and he's worn it for under cover missions. He'd slay in DTI, have like 5 different mansions in Bloxburg, defiantly played Royal High until the capitalism became to close to the real world, probably has hundreds of avatars to. An expert at games like fnf has played half the mods to ever be made for that game. He's been playing fortnite since it's release. He'd have one of the top scores ever in subway surfers. He'd download those "complete your restaurant" type games and finish them in two weeks and it'd only take that long because the game forces him to wait sometimes. Candy crush is his bitch 100%. He'd download mobile games and finish them in a day and then keep redoing them till he's perfected his method. He has played and replayed countless driving based games, can learn almost any new one in 6 minutes. Going back to the speed run thing I think he'd just enjoy speed running games in general, and gridning. He'd love minecraft so much omg-. Last of us? Played. Iron Lung? Played. Cuphead? Played. Detroit Become Human? Played. Kindergarten? Played. Sallyface? Played. Splatoon? Played. He'd love small games to I just am not that into video games to know any to list- :').

I mean think about it. Going off the "Tim's parents are never home" version of him, he'd have so much time to just sit around and play video games. He has the money to buy them and the time to spend getting ungodly good at them. He'd have amazing equipment, and it'd give him some sort of community even if he doesn't really interact with it personally. Like if he's not out stalking Batman or at school, he's playing a video game. Even after he starts working for Batman, he'd overwork himself to the bone and he'd STILL find a way to go pro gamer in-between. Probably for like 0.5 seconds whenever he's got to stand up to get himself another energy drink.

Like please, video game nerd Tim Drake on my knees begging you add this to your stories and headcanons. Have him introduce other batfam members to video games. HAVE HIM INTRODCUE BRUCE TO CANDY CRUSH AND MAKE THEM GET INTO A COMPETITION ON WHO CAN GET TO A HIGHER LEVEL FASTER. He shows Damian animal crossing. He gives Jason a gaming console and like 50 different shooter games and one copy of stardew valley as a joke and did not expect Jason to get so into it. Him Cass and Steph would love those Roblox horror games. He'd force the whole family to start having game nights and they'd have a world on Minecraft that has the most insane lore you've ever heard. Like please give me more video game nerd Tim and tell me your headcanons on what games he'd like and what he'd introduce different batfam members to in the comment I am begging you.

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

People who complain that Bruce Wayne is a bad person cause he "doesn't do enough" are so annoying fr.

"He just dresses up and punches mentally ill people" yeah and sends them to a facility to help them (of which many HAVE gotten better [see Waylon Jones]). A facility that has had the corruption ripped from the roots up purely for the sake of helping his own enemies. No matter how many times they break out and try to kill him, he sends them back to be rehabilitated. He only fights them because they have ice rays and mind control and all that. But even in fighting them, he usually only goes all out on the clown. He canonically tries to be soft with Harley and even temporarily gave her a job.

"He doesn't do anything with his money" bitch?? What do you think Wayne Enterprises does?? What do you think the Jason Todd Foundation is??? Why do you think he's poured his money several times into fixing Arkham Asylum??? Like bro there's literally an entire cult of other billionaires who unironically spend their time and money dismantling Bruce's efforts. He's doing the best he can with what he's got.

"He brings children into his war" Dick, Jason, Barbara, Harper, Stephanie, Duke, and Lance all either did or tried to do vigilante work without Bruce's help. Other characters like Tim and Damian refused to accept a no. He instead gave these kids a support network to do vigilante work safer and more efficiently and have them people to call family.

"The kids die or get hurt" Jason died after being betrayed by his own mother, Stephanie "died" after directly going against his orders, Tim was blown up by drones controlled by Steph's dad, Barbara was paralyzed in an attempt to upset her father, and Lance died after taking the costume and getting shot all without Bruce's knowledge (hence why it's important he takes the kids under his wing).

"He doesn't affect crime rates" in Gotham maybe, but see the Court of Owls mentioned above. He works with the JLA and JSA to take down crime all across the world and galaxy. He founded Batman Inc, a network of Batman ripoffs across the world who keep in touch, use each other's resources, and get backup from each other to fight crime in their corners of the world.

Hell, even "he's a bad father" is just bad writing. He's actually a very caring father, even if he does maybe struggle. He gave Jason his own damn library and he allows Damian to keep a whole army of weird pets (including a literal demon). He took Damian in upon learning about his existence, allowed him to express himself as Robin, sent him to school, taught him morals and compassion, and LITERALLY WENT TO HELL TO RETRIEVE HIS SOUL WHEN HE DIED. He took in Cass despite knowing Shiva would retaliate. He taught her to speak and he encouraged her to learn ballet. He even officially adopted Dick, Jason, and Tim in 3 separate emotional moments. And also bro literally adopted a piece of an alien hivemind (Jarro best Robin).

Like he was raised by Alfred-motherfucking-Pennyworth. There was never a chance he would turn out as corrupt.

[bomber-grl]

Hiii, I was wondering if you could writ Hiro with a really fem reader, like having a bimbo style, except she's not actually dumb, and it would be perfect if she worked at his aunt cafe

Thank u!!

Hiro x “Bimbo”!Reader ❤︎₊ ⊹

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x f!Reader

A/n: Might’ve made the prompt get out of control w the SFIT stuff but I’m a sucker for the “proving them wrong”/ looks dumb actually smart “sorta trope

Look, I love Hiro but let’s be honest… he probably didn’t think much of you

And by much, I mean about how smart you are

Yes, I’m basically saying he and everyone else (probably) were overtaken by the stereotype and your style didn’t help much.

Not that you didn’t look cool or pretty, you did

It’s just that the impression Hiro had of you really overshadowed anything, until you of course started talking to him.

You started working at the lucky cat cafe about a week ago and that’s when you first met Hiro.

He was off to SFIT one morning when you were introduced to him by Cass

Partially because you worked there and just usual introductions

But also because you’re around the same age and an extra friend or two wouldn’t hurt Hiro

At first he just says hi and is pretty dismissive plus I’d say he doesn’t expect much

But then he sees you one day on your break and your sitting by on a table doing some work on your laptop

He peaks over and sees some pretty advanced math (?) equations

Even for him..

Then you notice him and that’s when he flusters

He’s pretty embarrassed by his previous actions and gives a sincere apology through his actively reddening cheeks

Then you just say it’s fine and it’s not unusual

From then on he’s always stopping to talk to you when he’s on his way off to SFIT in the mornings

You two get pretty close and more often than not Hiro “lectures” or better yet, rants about robotics and more technical stuff

But that’s not the end

One day it’s a celebratory day

Sort of like a festive mixed with robotics kind of celebration

So obviously the friend group is there, Gogo, Fred, etc

They know of you pretty well, hiro told them about you and his admittedly embarrassing actions (in which he was teased for)

Then he spots a familiar figure

It’s you!!!

He’s so shocked like seriously then you make eye contact and you approach him

Surprise surprise you go to SFIT!!

How did he not know?? I mean he was forced to interact with Karmi because of the close ages

But turns out that you usually go on campus when he’s not since you have special permissions

What’s more? You do most stuff on your laptop or at your home and because of that might as well make money by working.

Double homicide for Hiro

He was basically mansplaining ranting about things you were more than well versed in

How many times does he have to embarrass himself before he catches a break (???)

Anyway you two become like this 🤞(that is to say, close/dating)

He learned his lesson (never underestimate ANYONE)

And also made sure to always assume you know something because god forbid he embarrasses himself any more

Plus atleast now he has someone to talk about his school stuff with and appreciate their style

Win win although it took some serious character development to get here 🤷

[bunnyathy]

my favorite and funny silly headcannons (not rlly) and ooc ideas about the batfamily:

Damian Wayne:

- has a dedicated social media accounts for his pets. he gets income and sponsorship from luxury pet brands all the time because of it. he doesn’t really care about the money he’s just happy his pets get to have free stuff that give them a better and spoiled life.

- bro’s a gen alpha he’s probably a brainrot humor kind of kid but he hides it well but it comes out at random times

- he’s a dedicated hater, he loved kendrick lamar’s drake diss songs

- his personal/ official Damian Wayne tiktok account is literally just a hate page for his brothers (but in an endearing way he still loves them)

- prefers watching reels over tiktok bcs of the funny comments and the unhinged reels that come out there

- Damian Wayne is a weeb… he was absolutely there during the Anime tiktok lockdown era (if he was even born yet idk) so he knows all the cringe weeb shit.. he quotes it at random times….

- Damian was strictly shoujo mangas and anime but Jon showed him My Hero Academia and he LOVED it. he respects Koda and likes his quirk. MHA was one of the only mangas he read that’s not shoujo lol. (lets ignore the part where there was official damian wayne art where there was a chainsaw man manga with him (i dislike csm))

- he probably did one of those kpop pc decora things out of a printed picture of his fave anime character cough bakugo and tamaki suoh cough (he got influenced by flatline nika)

- he most likely listens to Twice bcs Flatline suggested it to him (this is not bcs I am a once (yes it is))

Batfam:

- to be able to keep up with Brucie Wayne’s diva it boy appearance he occasionally does those derma clinic facials and time to time he invites his kids. Stephanie absolutely is always with him, Cass as well but she’s only there because Steph seems to love it so she’ll always do what Steph loves. It came to a point where Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Duke Thomas started to become pretty boys (Jason is not there he could not stand Brucie persona)

- there has been rumors of Brucie Wayne having a bbl and to prove them all wrong Brucie posted a gym workout where his focus was his ass. lets just say BRUCIE JUICY ASS?? on twitter was trending and the kids HATED it. maybe haha certain heroes liked it a little more than others lmfao

- Damian got hyperfixated on into the spiderverse and across the spiderverse he forced his whole family to rewatch it with him

- Jason got asked to come over to the manor by one of the siblings and took a sneaky pic of his whole body just to put it in one of those “dance if you love your family” ai dancing thing on tiktok. he never came back to the manor….

- Tim and Damian have this online feud in tiktok where they comment unhinge and insulting comments to their public official account each other but ofc its filtered so it can cross the tos. Damian once commented “I hope to see you hanging in the streets” and almost got banned from tiktok

- whenever any of the fam asks something from Cass that she doesn’t wanna do she goes “sorry I’m mute” (she takes advantage of her not so disability) Stephanie taught her that she said it would be funny. it works sometimes bcs the other was probably too tired to notice or just goes along bcs they think Cass learning gen Z humor is funny.

aight ive ran out of ideas they were just mostly damian and batfam AHAHAHAH

[mnemosyne-nyx]

✨ Bruce Wayne Headcanons that haunt me but I refuse to elaborate on even if they're utterly wrong Pt. 2✨

Going feral over this man

Hal and Bruce almost share a birthday and it fucking infuriates Bruce for no reason.

My guy was a rebellious teenager growing up, you know, trauma baby tings but also wanting to distance himself from the elite society (I mean rich Gotham really is a different cesspool of evilness lmao who can blame the poor guy.) Not to get deep but the beginning of his crusade was him wanting to seek a life and identity beyond the Wayne name right and witness Gotham from all angles. However, after realising he can both honour and build upon his legacy, Bruce destroyed any proof of this phase as he associates it with his turbulent and troubled coming of age. Little does he know there's a box filled with Polaroids within the 73288199 attics of Wayne Manor ready for his kids to find plus his detailed knowledge about the punk scene of Gotham makes them suspicious anyway.

Bruce learns a lot from his children. He may be their mentor but he's definitely learnt acrobatic tricks from Dick Grayson, combat and body language from Cass etc etc. Black Canary one day complimenting an acrobatic move of Bruce's only for him to have learnt it from one 11 year old Dick Grayson.

Bruce knows every nook and cranny of the watchtower. This guy designed, funded and helped build this fucking thing. Superman can hear him fuckin scurrying in the hundreds of boiler rooms, hidden corridors and storage rooms like a human rat. Flash doesn't understand how this man just teleports from one end of the tower to the other not knowing Bruce built trapdoors, hidden passageways, fake walls in this place. Bruce has a hiding spot in the upper levels of the watchtower where a small window gives view to Earth. J'onn is the only leaguer who can rival Batman in his watchtower knowledge.

He is the unofficial caretaker of the justice league. He makes sure all catering and quarters are fully equipped to people's needs. Overhears a leaguer saying there aren't enough vegetarian options? Bam, fully renewed menu. Barry complaining he can't sleep because his quarter is too cold? Bam, temperature risen. Small things like office supplies, medical equipment - he's always taking mental notes of. He knows what leaguer is allergic to what too. Lad keeps the watchtower STOCKED

The League never fails to wish a member a happy birthday. Somehow word always gets out and no one really knows how the date gets around. It's Bruce. He knows everyone's birthdays. Sometimes photogenic memory doesn't work in his favour. When it comes to respect, compassion and love - Bruce isn't the verbal type. He prefers to show it through action - I mean he crusades around Gotham to show his need to protect people for God's sake. Therefore, he sets like a reminder anonymously on the watchtower monitor for some random hero to find.

My guy HATES Asmr.

Bruce's hair is naturally thick and actually pretty darn curly. Superman is renowned for having the curls, but Bruce - with dirty, grown out hair - can give him a run for his money. His curls never show though as he keeps his hair very short and often has it sleeked back in public (as Thomas and Alfred always told him it was neater and more proper that way.)

He is a PERFECT mix between Thomas and Martha. Everyone who ever meets Brucie Wayne for the first time tells him he's the spitting image of both of them.

My man was a heartthrob in the 90s. Dick and Tim frequently Google "Bruce Wayne 90s" and bust a gut laughing at how their old man is like in every fuckin teenage magazine published in that decade.

[jaysgirlx]

❝ 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 ❞

❥ pairing: dick grayson x civilian f!reader (part 2 of a series)

❥ summary: dick has to find you after all he put you through you don't deserve what your ex is doing to you.

❥ warnings: moreee angst, fighting, acts of violence, many mentions of depression, anxiety and thoughts of death

❥ wc: 3.8k

"I think the best plan here may be to pay the price, Grayson," says Damian walking into the Batcave, nearly dragging a half-awake Tim.

"That's just dumb, for all we know he'll just use the money to take her away with him. Steph and I will get her back. This guy is clearly a coward" Cass says in an annoyed tone while leaning on Duke who kept quiet.

"What if he has used his own money to hire people to fight us, he can't be that sure that we would actually pay the price," Bruce says interrupting the conversation. "And I do mean "we", y/n is practically family Dick if you decide you want me to pay the ransom we will"

"That's quite a lot of money to risk Bruce," says Barbara "Cass may be right, he might just take her away once he gets the money"

"Stop it you guys, just let me think!" Dick nearly screamed, trying to hold himself together. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see that it was Jason, "I know you're not exactly happy with me right now. But out of all of us, we need to be strong Dick. In a situation like this, we need you as our leader"

Dick didn't know how to feel, of course he needed to be the leader but he couldn't even manage to be a good boyfriend to you. Could he even save you? Were you still even alive? The blood on that envelope had been dried for fucks sake. And Steph had told him she hadn't seen you in 2 months, not since you moved back into your place.

No wonder he couldn't track you, you had been kidnapped for 2 goddamn months, and was his fault. He fucked up and left you alone to heal, he didn't realize how stupid of an idea that was. But for now, he needed to let go of that, he needed to find you and rescue you.

"We're not paying the ransom, even if y/n is still alive…he'll most likely take her with him," Dick says, causing everyone to stop their chatter. "Babs I need you to try and locate them, I know it may be a lost cause but it is our only bet"

He pauses for a second formulating a plan. You had been kidnapped for an estimate of 2 months now and if you were still alive, that meant your ex was still here. Which means he needed money.

"Tim, could you do a background check on y/n's ex? Find out his patterns, if he doesn't get money from me he'll definitely be looking for other ways to obtain some" Tim who was half awake, nodded and opened up his laptop to work alongside Barbara. Dick kept silent for a while before asking the rest of them to try checking abandoned warehouses, or any other places they possibly thought you could be.

Bruce tried talking to Dick but he tuned him out. Over the years he learned how to pick out the bits and pieces Bruce wanted him to hear and ignore the rest but right now he was tuning him out completely. The thought of you being dead made him sick, things weren't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to protect you, he loved you that's all there was to it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and it was Jason. He didn't say anything and that's exactly what Dick needed. He needed a moment to breath and just think.

He knew you ex was crazy but he didn't really know anything else about him. He didn't know if maybe there was a past of crimes he overlooked or maybe your ex was even the man he claimed to be. For fucks sake, he wished he had listen to you more when you talked, when you had practically begged him to. He thought that he was doing you a favor but all he did was put you in danger.

He could only hope that you would forgive him.

It was cold and empty. The air felt harsh to breathe and you never felt so dead. You weren't sure if something was holding you down or if you just couldn't move.

Everything hurt.

There where flickering screens in the background while soft hum got louder and louder. You could barely make out what was happening around you and maybe you didn't even want to know. Your eyes searched the room, you were in a bed covered by what seemed to be a blanket. You were tied down, your body was just weak. Where were you? What time was it? When was the last time you had eaten food? Were you dying?

The flickering screens finally caught your attention and there you saw him standing in front of a bunch of TVs, your ex-boyfriend and all your memories came flooding back. He kidnapped you...how long ago was that? And where were you? Your mind could only think of one person: Dick Grayson. You meant it when you told him, you couldn't be with him any longer but that didn't mean you didn't still love him. You'd be crazy not to when you and Dick had met you not he was some flirty playboy who flirted with every girl until he showed you otherwise. After dumping your crazy ex and going to Divk for comfort, you realized how caring he could be. So you entered a relationship with him with high expectations that he'd always treat you so well and everything between you to have been perfect.

Then he'd started cancelling plans last minute and you knew something was up. Dick didn't like secrets and it was the biggest surprise when he confided in you that he was Nightwing. You were obviously worried, worried one night he wouldn't come home but you accepted him because you loved Dick Grayson, not Nightwing. You met Jason soon after and the two of you hit it off, Dick wasn't fond of the friendship but Jason didn't mind looking after you. Jason saw you like family. Yes, he was dangerous but he knew it would break Dick's heart if anything ever happened to you.

A quiet sob fell from your lips while you thought about Dick. You hadn't even realized your eyes were filled with tears and that your fingernails were digging into your palms. You wanted to cry and shout, but you knew that was dumb. You didn't know if anyone was coming to save you but that didn't mean you wouldn't try and keep yourself alive.

While you tried you calm yourself down, you saw a black figure walking over towards you. You knew it was Roman so you closed your eyes.

Pretend to be asleep.

He won't notice.

You steadied your breaths and allowed them to fall into a pattern while his steps grew heavier and closer. His hand gently stroked your face, making you mentally gag. "You used to be sooooo perfect for me...but then you put your nose where it didn't belong" You felt something cold and thin press across your face. A blade. If you hadn't been scared before you definitely were now.

The fear inside you wasn't just from the blade but more of what he was going to do with you after. You know he isn't going to kill you because he would've done that by now but no possible way he wants to stay in Gotham. Were you still even in Gotham? There were still so many unanswered questions, but all I knew was that this room was decorated with old TVs that it seemed that Roman had been using. Still, all that didn't matter, staying alive and staying put did. If there was any chance you were in Gotham and anybody was looking for you, all you had to do was just hold out a bit longer. Dick would come for you, if anybody would, it had to be him.

The cold feeling of the blade eventually left your face and after a couple sentences of mumbling and mutters, those heavy footsteps finally walked away and slammed a door behind him. A opened your eyes and your breaths became more frantic, you knew for sure now that you were alive and that you could handle this. Small bits of pieces of what you had experienced here popped into your head but you shoved it back down. Now wasn't the time. You need to calm down and think. For all you know staying put may not work. You wanted to still be angry with me but how could you be when all you wanted was to be in his arms again. You need to see him again, even if it's just to hug him.

You needed to see Dick one last time because you were still so hopelessly in love with him.

Dick is standing in front of your favorite cafe. It was on the verge of closing and he could never understand what appeal you found in it. You said the coffee was really good especially when you put a bunch of sugar in it but didn't that apply to most coffee? For a brief moment, he smiled at the thought of maybe being able to share coffee with you like that. Just one last time, if you'd still have him.

Dick had always been fascinated by you. You were so accepting of him and his family and there was never a moment where he doubted your love. He never meant to accuse you of cheating, if he could take it back he would. If he could re-do that entire night over, he'd do it properly. He'd apologize for canceling your date and explain to you how he had been feeling for your safety. He shouldn't even have let you go that night, he should have told you the truth.

For the last month, while Tim and Barbara endlessly searched Gotham's cameras CCTV, and public records the rest of the siblings spent their free time tearing through every abandoned warehouse in hopes of finding you but they failed every single time. Every day Dick contemplated paying the ransom and risking losing you if you weren't already gone. He needed you back and he wasn't the only one worried about you.

Your parents were worried sick, all they know is that you were kidnapped but it still hurts them. Your relationship with them may not have been the greatest but that didn't mean they wanted to lose you completely. They never liked Dick, they tried to be supportive but Dick once showed up. He knows now how badly he mistreated, how much he fucked up. All you did was love and care for him and he let you down time and time again but wouldn't this time. He was going to find you and never leave your side again.

He left the cafe and went towards the phone store nearby. Dick had bought you your latest phone but never got around to connecting it to Barbara's location system which tracks all of them including Bruce. Which meant he had to go to that store and see if they could track it using the information when it was bought. He even managed to find the box it came in in your apartment.

He was able to find out that your phone was either dead or broken because it was disconnected. He thought he had reached another dead end until the cashier said its last location was tracked which was supposedly a play near Gotham's most popular TV company's buildings. The only abandoned one is the former headquarters but just getting into there is difficult, there is no way you'd be there and no one knew right?

He left with that thought on his mind and a cup of disgusting coffee full of sugar.

The quiet hum of the computers and the small chat between his sibling filled the room while Dick tried to eat his dinner. He picked at the fried rice Jason had picked up for him and the rest of his family. All it did was remind him of you and the way you always wanted to order out instead of eat something home cooked. It wasn't cause you were bad at cooking but more because you loved trying new foods every once in a while. Dick bit down on his tongue hard, tasting a cold metallic taste that barely brought him back to reality.

It had been nearly a month since you had gone missing. Daimen thought you were dead. Cass and Steph kept going through your apartment, looking for something to stop them from giving up. Jason was silent. Bruce was angry, he saw you as the perfect fit for Dick. He had never seen his son happier. Babs knows you're a survivor, you wouldn't die on her like that.

"Dick, snap out of it", Barbara said slowly reeling him back into reality. You and her had always gotten along so well, especially after Barbara got shot, you were there for her like a sister. That when he knew, that's exactly when Dick knew he was in love with you and couldn't handle watching people he cared about in pain. "Tim and I found some stuff...we have good news and bad news"

"Just tell me" He grunted out, whatever it was he could handle it, as long as there was a chance you were alive. You had to be alive, you still loved him and he had so many apologies to give you once he had you back into his arms again.

"Once I hacked the CCTV of y/n's apartment I was able to get a couple of photos of this "Roman Jennings" guy and I had Tim cross-reference them with what we knew already knew about him.." she paused as if what she said next could break Dick "This guy doesn't exist in Gotham. Not only do no records tie to him...there's no information on him anywhere"

Dick knew that most of Roman's murders had been made look like suicides and hadn't been caught but he hadn't realized that maybe "Roman Jennings" doesn't exist and that they might've been following a false lead the entire time. How could he waste a month on this? What if she's really dead-

Calm down, Grayson.

Worrying will get you nowhere.

"I'm guessing that's the bad news?"

"Yup, the good news is that, on the cameras near that abandoned TV company's old headquarters, I found the same guy leaving and entering the building every day for the last 6 weeks. I'm not completely sure but I think that's our guy" Dick was sure he heard her completely but that didn't matter. Your phone had last been located in that area and it was the only lead they had. He knew you didn't have much time and there was no way he was just going to sit here and wait.

"I'm going to check it out, Babs sends me the coordinates," Dick said as he put down the food on the counter. The silence that was surrounding him, should've been a sign that for the words that come next but Dick just couldn't think about all that right now. He needed to get to you, bring you home. Bruce felt a need to interject but he felt that it wasn't his place. But Jason had no problem with interfering especially in this situation, "Y'know you're not going in alone right? And definitely not without a plan"

Jason grabbed onto Dick's arm, roughly pulling him away from the door. The tension between them had never been resolved, no matter how many times Jason tried to make it clear that he never had any romantic feelings for you. Jason saw you as family and tried to be there for you especially since most of the time you got upset because of Dick. Bruce was ready to step in now, seeing as Dick was now angry, stressed, and running on practically no sleep. Dick rips his hand away in anger and pushes Jason, "Jason I really don't need your opinion on this, y/n has been trapped for almost 3 fucking months now. If I don't go right now, she could die"

"If you go in alone and angry, you might just be the reason she dies. Do not fuck this up for the rest of us" It hadn't really occurred to Dick that maybe this wasn't just about him and that the rest of the family had cared about you. Dick had always seen Jason as a wedge between the two of you but he never really thought he actually cared. He thought Jason just did it to mess with him. Before Dick could even respond, Steph spoke up, "She's our family too Dick, we all want her home but we have to do this right"

"Y'know she's the only one, I can talk to about menial matters," Damian says quietly, "She made it easy to just talk about those small things even the stupid ones" Maybe the stress of the situation had caused him to forget how much of positive impact you had on his family and how much this was affecting them. "Look I'm sorry guys I just…

"Want her back?" Bruce says looking over at him "we all do, so just give us a couple more hours to plan how we're getting inside and what we will do?"

Duke who had been quite quiet finally speaks up, "I think you should rest Dick. If you're going to be the one to get her out of there you need rest. Proper rest"

"I second that!!" Cass says, appearing from behind Duke. All Dick could do was nod, he was tired and stressed and just needed a little bit of sleep. He left with a weak smile and found of the guest rooms in the manor. Once he hit the best he was out like a light. That night he dreamt of you, your smile, your cute hobbies, your contagious laughter, and more. While he slept he dreamt of you, kissing you, loving you and even marrying you. Dick Grayson was utterly in love with you and couldn't wait any longer for you to come home to him.

The next morning after that was stressful, to say the least. Barbara and Tim had calculated the best time to infiltrate the headquarters when Roman wasn't there. Except that was during daytime which meant no Nightwing. Attracting attention could only get more people hurt and Dick wasn't going to risk it. Jason, Cass, and Steph agreed to come along while Damian was on standby with Duke and Bruce. Tim and Barbara would be feeding Dick information through an earpiece and would be doing the same for everyone else.

Their plan wasn't perfect but it was the best they had. Dick would in with Steph, while Jason and Cass stayed outside to not only stop Roman from entering but also catch him. Jason and Cass had no problem being ruthless if they had to be but since there was still light out they would have to keep a low profile. Officer Gordon borrowed them police uniforms which they hoped would be enough to scare Roman away if he even sees them. If not, they were ready to fight if it came to that.

Dick and Steph quietly entered the abandoned building, they went through a back door Tim was able to locate after finding the building's original floor pans. The entire building was very old and quite huge so, Tim mapped out the building for them so it would be easier for you to be found. If you were even in there. Inside the building was extremely cold but it didn't seem abandoned. It actually looked like a home. Which was a good sign, it confirmed someone was staying here. It meant there was a chance you were here. "Did she talk about me?" Dick asked Steph, trying to break the harsh silence. The two hadn't spoken up since the two of you had broken up. Steph didn't take sides but she wasn't exactly happy to hear how Dick was treating you and behaving.

"Depends, what are you willing to hear"

"Anything at this point"

Steph was quiet for a while, the two of you had searched through about 2 offices and 4 other open spaces and nothing had come out of her mouth. Dick was just about to let it go just before Steph finally spoke up, "She hated loving you. Not in a bad way, just in a way that made her miserable but feel ungrateful. She thought that she was difficult to love especially since you had been the one to approach her. She hated fighting with you but she hated the thought of her not being enough more"

Dick knew he had fucked up at every turn of your relationship but he hadn't realized how much that really had affected you. how much damage he did. In his mind he was just hurting himself but this whole time you had been the one suffering. "We all have underlying issues Dick so not everything that went wrong was on you and believe me y/n really loved you. After she'd been done ranting, she'd always think of how happy you made her and how sweet you were to her when you actually showed up. There's no doubt she would have married you"

"Would have?"

"You accused her of cheating Dick, she loved you endlessly and you just threw it in her face," Steph said after checking another room that was once again empty. "You hurt her in a way that shouldn't be forgiven and you'd be very lucky if she did forgive you"

"I know, I know! I would do anything to take back what I said to her, what I did to her. Do you know what I would give to be able to restart our entire relationship from the beginning? Do you know what I would give to open this next door and believe she's in it?" Dick kicked open the door in anger, the room was filled with lit-up TVs that seemed to be surveilling the abandoned building and parts of Gotham.

Dick wasn't sure if was he hallucinating from all the anger, stress, and need but there you were in what seemed to be an air mattress with a blanket and a book. You looked weak, like you hadn't eaten much but you seemed okay? Like you weren't hurt physically because Dick knew the deepest scars were always mental.

"y/n?"

Your name barely left his lips but it was just loud enough for you to hear. You turn to look at him and first he can see the surprise on your face and the relief but that quickly changes to a soft smile. A smile that could break his heart and fix it in an instant. A smile that he hopelessly missed. Dick never stopped loving you and he could only hope you still loved him and maybe, just maybe in that moment that's all that matters.

❥ taglist: @meowkn, @kazzattack @chichinaylo, @yourlocalcringydaydreamer, @orchidsangel, @nia-jul, @mayfieldss, @millyhelp

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Searching for a Rainbow

Author: thefastestqueeralive

Artist: morla

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Claire Novak/Kaia Niaves, Jody Mills/Donna Hanscum

Length: 20000

Warnings: No warnings applicable

Tags: Bar AU, Bartender Dean, Depressed Castiel, Dad Castiel, Hurt/comfort, Office sex

Posting Date: October 23, 2024

Summary: Dean Winchester runs a cosy pub in Lebanon, Kansas that welcomes any and every sort of patron. He’s good at his job, he knows he is, and Dean prides himself on how he’s built this bar from the ground up, turning it into the successful business it is. One that can support not only himself but enables him to send money back home to his father to aide in paying the bills. Castiel Novak, looking for a new place to drown his recent sorrows, stumbles in one night and catches the eye of the handsome and charming bartender. When the blonde barkeep won’t take no for an answer, Cass has no choice but to accept the offer of a shoulder to cry on, an audience of one to listen to his pity party. Dean discovers he never needed to fear how his family would react to news that could alter one’s perception of his character. He is presented with opportunities to grow and occasions to celebrate, but before he can fully enjoy himself, he has to accept his truth. He leans on friends before family while he struggles to come to terms with who he truly is, but after he succeeds, Dean is rewarded richly with happy days on the horizon. Castiel learns how to grieve, how to accept loss, how to open himself up to new possibilities and learn to share his life and his love. He is thrust into a life changing situation, one where he is suddenly a parental figure with no prior experience in the field, and worst of all he has to deal with teenage mood swings right off the bat—no cute gurgling and baby babble to soften the coming blows. Set in the perspective of the homely tavern, Rocky’s Bar, witness two grown men and their vast (and complicated) families support one another through good and bad, thick and thin.

Excerpt: “Got this great IPA from Austin—Cosmic Cowboy. You’re gonna love it.” Castiel hears the bartender say when he steps inside. The man listens to the conversation between barkeep and patron as he drips his way over to the bar, footsteps heavy. When he sits himself on the endmost red stained leather stool, the sodden length of his trench coat slaps wetly against the wooden legs of the seating. Castiel grimaces at the noise, heard only by himself beneath the hum of chatter in the public house. The bartender, who’d introduced himself as Dean a few nights back, focuses his attention on Castiel now. “Hey again! What can I getcha?” The man’s chirpy demeanour grates somewhat on Castiel, who silently nods toward the tap in front of him. He’s been coming to this same bar for the past week straight now, ordering the same on tap lager; coincidentally the very one Dean was just selling to his previous patron. Alcohol isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, Castiel knows. It’s just… He’s having a hard time as of late, and this seemed the least destructive way to deal with his problems—at least in the short run. It’s merely something he’s using to help him through some recent issues and then he’ll go back to being a very casual drinker. In his defence, it’s not like he’s getting completely and utterly shitfaced every night—just enough to feel lighter, to feel the weight leave his shoulders and allow him a deep enough sleep that he won’t have nightmares. Castiel doesn’t know how to deal with loss, how to cope with the newly gaping hole in his chest. A few beers a night seemed the easiest and cheapest solution to forgetting his sadness; he worries if Social Services found out he was attending therapy or counselling that they wouldn’t see him fit for the role of parental figure/guardian. A glass slides its way in front of the rain soaked man, snapping him from his musings. “Penny for your thoughts?” comes Dean’s perky voice once more.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[sparkypantaloons]

Metronomics

Sometimes it's too much, Gotham. Too much putting his body on the line for a city that can't and won't change.

Bruce imagines what his life could have been, what his children's lives could have been, if things had been different.

~~

Sometimes it's too much. Gotham. Too polluted, too populated, to poor...

Morally poor, he should say. The money's never been more than a means to an end for Bruce and he's never cared who has or hasn't got it. Even if he knows that's evidence enough of how out of touch he really is. To not be, and never have been, the levels of desperate so many of his fellow Gothamites have. Are. But he can't change that now. Not after a lifetime of more money than he could ever hope to spend (and God knows he's tried).

And it's not that he thinks poverty equals moral corruptness. Of course not. But God, if it doesn't cause a rot that's hard to escape. An agony deep in the bones, like an atomic bomb. Almost a century since, but still poisoning the ground and the air and the lives where it fell.

It's too much, sometimes. Gotham. Decades of putting his body, his heart, mind on the line for a city that doesn't change and can't change and... Won't.

Part of his Brucie-rich-boy-bit has always been a pretend man of the people. 'Billionaire spotted on Chicago's L-train', a picture of him in $5,000 jeans, throwing a peace sign on the platform at Quincy. 'Bruce Wayne joins the commute on Bangkok's BTS Skytrain' sunburned and sweaty and grinning like a moron. Public transport is easy when you don't need it. The delays, the overcrowding, the cost. All part of the big adventure when you're rich and famous.

He's deliberate in his appearances. Shows up too big to be allowed and always lost. Asking fellow travellers for directions and breaking every unspoken, local rule. Stopping at the bottom of escalators and standing on the right and never having his ticket ready at the barriers... but he's deliberate in his anonymity too.

He's ridden the New York subway and Shanghai's metro and Vienna's U-bahn more times than he can count. Undercover, trailing marks and tailing suspects, slipping past local police and resident gangsters alike. Just another nameless face in the crowd.

But then there's the times he's just there as himself. Times he rides the lines as Bruce. Not the billionaire, not the Bat. Just Bruce. Grey Ghost fan, hates mushrooms, loves dinosaurs. Father, friend, son. Just another traveller amidst the millions. Nobody wanting anything from him, nobody talking to him, nobody even noticing him. It's freedom unlike any he's ever known.

It makes him wonder what his life might have been. If he hadn't been born in the South Wing's master bedroom of Wayne Manor. What his children's lives might have been, if their father had just been a man, and not this man.

Dick for sure, Olympic medallist. There's no doubt. Even without the money and the training and the classes, his boy was destined for greatness. Gold medals and podiums and adoration. Coaching and teaching and leading. And, Bruce fancies, probably the ESPN correspondent for major competitions. Team USA coach. International Olympic Committee. Whatever Dick wanted; in any life there's nothing he couldn't do.

Cass, Bruce likes to think, would have been an architect. If she'd ever been afforded a normal life, ever been given the tender love and care she so deserved as a child. She reads people with ease, drilled into her as it was by Cain; a skill as crucial as its learning was cruel. But given a normal life? Architecture, Bruce is sure. The way she navigates space, the way she uses it and understands it. What better way to make a life than creating in the space she so fully inhabits? Designing structures that change the way people live, challenge how they think. She'd have been glorious.

Tim, on the other hand... Tim. If Bruce thinks about him too long the guilt starts to set in. His brilliant boy, just next door; alone for so long. Bruce was intimately familiar with the experience, though at least he'd had Alfred when he'd been young. If only he'd just paid more attention, he could have— anyway. In another time, one where Bruce rides the subway and to work and Tim doesn't spend the first decade of his life by himself, surely he'd be some fintech billionaire wizz kid by now. He'd have created a Facebook or eBay or Venmo. But better. Kinder. Richer probably than Bruce, now. And he'd still ride the metro next to his old man.

Damian, Bruce's youngest, sweetest boy. Who knows what Damian could have been, in a life where Bruce and Talia kissed each other goodbye every morning and sweet dreams each night. He's a gentle soul, really, fierce as he is. Shows it in his affection for animals. Gives them the tenderness he never had as a child. Who knows what he could have been in a life filled with light instead of shadow. Warmth and love instead of the League's relentless dark. A scientist maybe, or an astronaut. A teacher, a vet, a nurse. Whatever he wanted. A gardener, a piano tuner, a cab driver. Happy, whatever it was. And safe in the knowledge he was loved.

And then... and then, Jason. Bruce thinks of his second son the most, as he rides the rails. Takes the Bakerloo south from Marylebone and the Tanamachi west to Hirano. What Jason could have been, if things had been different. It doesn't seem fair to dwell on it. To imagine the darling, sweet boy who had been Robin as anything but. To disrespect the incredible fucking gift he's already been given of a second chance, by imagining it as any different. So instead he thinks that Jason would still be Robin. Still Red Hood. Still saving people, still putting himself on the line to make the world better. Even if Bruce didn't love the way he did it, he still loved Jason. Gods did he love him. It's too much, sometimes.

Gotham. Sometimes she's too much. But most of the time, most of the time she was everything. His home, his children's home.

To see the sun rise from the east corner of the clocktower with Cass and swing between the crumbling art deco blocks of Coventry, Dick by his side. Racing down her labyrinth of alleyways and side streets with Tim and even negotiating her sewers with Damian. And Jason. Just seeing Jason's face, scowling at him though it usually is, as he waits outside the Collins Street station for Bruce to arrive.

"Your late." He grunts, as Bruce climbs the steps of the subway. He looks at his watch irritably. "If we miss brunch, you're paying."

"Of course," Bruce says, a warm hand on Jason's shoulder as they begin to walk. "Anything for you, chum."

She's too much, sometimes. Gotham. But most of the time? She's exactly where he wants to be

[kit04kat]

Ranking the batfamily most to least likely to become a supervillian. (Plus all my ramblings about why I put who where [disclaimer, i have not read the comics due to me not having that kind of money]) I started thinking about this while reading a fanfiction where Dick, Jason and Tim were taken in by villians instead of Batman and it got me thinking. Anyways, let's get to the rankings.

1: Tim Drake. Starting off strong with our resident boy-genius with stalker tendencies. This may shock some of you, but I look at this human disaster and see a plethora of supervillian potential. You take away this man's adult supervision and the world may never be the same. What was happening with the league of assassins? And the fact that he tried to clone his best friend out of grief? Also I feel like we all skimmed over the fake uncle shenanigans too quickly. I once saw someone say something like Tim's moral code is copy-pasted off a house rules sticky note on the fridge and I agree.

2: Jason Todd. Seriously, we all saw this coming. Now, you might ask me, "but Kat, why is Jason at number 2? Didn't Red Hood already do the villian thing?" And to that I say, Ha! I am ranking them on supervillianiousness(???) Jason had his whole revenge plot and crime lord thing in Gotham but after that was done, he kinda settled out a little bit. So no, I don't think Jason has ever been a supervillian, just a villian, and after that he was more like an antihero/vigilante. That being said, I don't think he is incapable of being a supervillian, which is why he is number 2.

3: Stephanie Brown. Ok, I'm gonna be honest, I was really wavering on the order of the people in the middle. Also, I'm not gonna claim to know a whole lot about the adventures Steph has been through. That being said, I feel like she is just a tad bit more unhinged than the rest of the people in the middle, and therefore more likely to go insane. And if she had the proper motivation, she could totally be a badass supervillian. (Kind of reminds me of Jason in that way)

4: Damian Wayne. Alright, here's the thing. A lot of Damian's character development has been about him overcoming his heritage and learning that the things he learned with the league of assassins were bad. That being said, I don't think he will ever leave behind those ideologies as thoroughly as Cass and Bruce did. I think he sees the world in a lot more shades of grey than they ever will, and because of that, I've decided to put him forth on our list.

5: Barbara Gordon. I'm putting Oracle right smack dab in the middle. Not because I couldn't figure out where to put her, but because that's where she belongs. Listen, do I think she would ever become a supervillian? No, not really. However, if for some reason she had to become a supervillian, she'd be able to do it. If she ever turned to the dark side, it would be completely thought out. Calculated. And my girl doesn't do anything half-assed.

6: Duke Thomas. Now, Imma be honest, I don't know a whole lot about Duke, and I didn't really know where the best place to put his would be on this lineup. I put him in 6th cause I don't think he'd turn into a supervillian but he's more likely than the last three. He probably deserves to go further up the list, but oh well.

7: Bruce Wayne. I know some people will probably say he should be further up the list, but here is my reasoning. Batman's whole kinda thing is that he's always toeing the line. He's doesn't kill because he knows he wouldn't be able to stop. He is Darkness, Vengeance, the night, all that stuff. (It's why Batman needs a Robin) If he broke, he'd be broken. I don't think he'd be able to come back from that (I also disagree with myself a bit, cause there's no way his kill count is 0. I mean, he's been beating people up at night instead of therapy for decades) Anyways, that being said, man is stubborn and has been doing this vigilante stuff for a longggg time. I simply don't think he's gonna turn.

8: Dick Grayson. We are getting towards the bottom of the list here, to the people I think are least likely to become a supervillian. Dick has been through so much. With Renegade, Red X, Spiral, whatever was up with Ric, he took up the cowel and became Batman when Bruce was gone (which is something he never wanted to do), he's had so many of his friends die, family die, and that's not even all! He's been through a lot, but he's also the light to batman's dark. He's been through all that and still chooses to be good. There's no way he's ever becoming a supervillian (even if it is a very interesting plot in fanfiction)

9: Cassandra Cain. Last but certainly not least, Cass. I personally think she is the least likely to become a supervillian. She was raised as a weapon and taught to kill, but she has completely overcome that. She won't kill at all, much like Bruce, but she's also more emotionally sound. Her morals are strict, and she doesn't have to fight with herself to keep them. I love her so much, truly one of the best of us.

I'm gonna put Alfred as a honorable mention. He doesn't get to go on the list cause honestly, if he ever became a villian, it's over. He's have the world in his clutches before the week is over. Gotta respect him for having the patience of a saint.

This was so long! Anyways, feel free to add to this or tell me how you would rank them differently!!

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 57 (Reaping Rewards?)

The morning after Heather and Conrad's trip to the lighthouse, he returned from an early morning run with Gord and checked the mail. (That mailbox came with the house in the gallery and I feel great leaving it.) Along with the usual collection of bills and flyers for the fish market down at the docks, a strange newsletter, advertising a so-called "Recipe for Life," had been delivered.

Heather put down the trifold from the Ambrosia Society. She'd never heard of it. "It's a little strange we were just talking about ghosts and unfinished business, and the next day a newsletter arrives talking about ambrosia," she mused.

They weren't sure whether to be intrigued or disturbed - perhaps a little of both - but they couldn't deny their curiosity. Conrad looked them up on his phone. "They look legit, and I can check them out on the police computers on Monday - but you're almost a master gardener and you're already a master cook. Sorta seems like a challenge you could meet without even trying."

"I could learn to make ambrosia treats along with the Recipe for Life, as the newsletter calls it. I've stuck to wellness treats so far, but lots of pet owners ask about ambrosia. Maybe ambrosia treats could help you track down that dog you heard at the lighthouse. And knowing how to make ambrosia could definitely come in handy if the Landgraab curse strikes again."

"What does it say we have to do?"

"We need to get this thing called a Grimophone, then plant a lily and a snapdragon. I should ask my mother for help but I think whoever sent the newsletter eventually wants us to graft and grow a death flower in exchange for the recipe. She harvests them sometimes and taught me how when I was younger; she can sell them for a lot of money, but we don't have a lot of indoor space and the plants are seasonal. We'd probably have to use the hall outside Ash's room."

"Not that I think it's a great idea to give a toddler a bunch of thorny plants, and you know what I think about the curse, but if you load up Ash with a bundle of death flowers, no curse would ever be able to touch him. He'd need at least nine lives," said Conrad.

"Maybe when he's older." She frowned. "I'd rather not scare him or lie to him about what they're for. But doing this could help keep him safe. That's all I want."

Despite their busy lifestyles, they were more attracted to the challenge set forth in the newsletter with each passing thought.

"I don't mind cooking more, learning the recipe myself. I meant it when I said I'd do anything to keep you and Ash safe, but we're a team, and you're not going to do this alone," he said. "It's dangerous messing around with death."

Visiting her family in Henford, Heather picked up some flower seeds from her expert botanist mother and asked her sister-in-law, a walking Simpedia on all kinds of topics, about the Grimophone.

"My mother has one," said Cass. "Anything paranormal, you name it. She bought it."

"What does it do?"

"It plays any music you want, but the real trick is it'll help you summon the Grim Reaper. If you go see my mother, she'd be happy to show it to you."

After work one rainy evening, Heather and Conrad stopped by to visit Bella Goth at her mansion in Cavalier Cove. Through her years spent obsessing over the supernatural, she'd collected various items that now took up space in her attic.

Heather was nervous. "And summoning the Grim Reaper will help us learn to make ambrosia? It won't do anything else...like unleash death and destruction?"

"From Grimmie? Hardly! He's just a courier. Jokes he wears bicycle shorts under all those black robes."

"You know the Grim Reaper?"

"He was the last person to see my brother alive, so I had to find a way to talk to him. But he was so kind. We struck up a nice friendship."

"According to the newsletter, we'll probably have to make friends with him, too."

"I bet Grimmie asked the society to set the challenge just so he could make a bunch of new friends! He knows plenty of people know how to make ambrosia, but he wishes people were less afraid of him. Culling sims all day can be a lonely existence, you know."

Bella led them upstairs and pulled out her old Grimophone, blowing off the dust to reveal a music player made of matte black steel. "If you want, I could pull out the seance table and you could ask the spirits about ambrosia. That should help you learn the recipe in no time."

Conrad stepped forward. "Is it safe?"

"I haven't used it in years so it might be a little shaky, but the spirits who stick around to answer simple questions are harmless. Mostly departed mentors who miss teaching."

She sat with Heather and Conrad at the small round table draped in purple and gold cloth. She blew away more dust, and Heather's allergies made her sneeze.

"Watcher bless you," said Bella. "It's especially important to say such a thing if you sneeze around a seance table. We don't need any spirits stealing your soul!"

"This is a bad idea. Heather, maybe we should think more about this."

"Conrad, it's okay. I still have my soul," Heather assured him. "We're here for Ash, so we might as well ask about the ambrosia."

Bella showed them how to convene with the spirits with their palms open on the table. She chanted a rhyme that sounded faintly Omiscan, and suddenly a blue flame flickered to life before their eyes.

Floating above the table, the flame bent it's shape into a hoop, like a tunnel for spirits and sims to commune on one plane. Heather seemed possessed, swaying with the pulsing circle above their heads as jumbled Simlish spewed from her lips.

"What's happening to her?" Conrad was frightened, but Bella smiled warmly.

"She's fine. They're just having a conversation."

"Make it stop!"

"They'll only be a few minutes. If I pull her out before they're finished, she might not be able to get in touch with them again. They think it's rude if you just leave."

"Is she even conscious?"

"In a way."

"Could she get...stuck?"

"Oh, that's rare!" She laughed while Conrad's heartrate quickened.

"Mrs. Goth, if anything happens to her in there-"

"What's going on?"

Bella's son, Alexander, walked nonchalantly into the room. The flaming blue portal to another dimension didn't phase him.

"Heather's travelling with some of my old gear, sweetheart."

"Is this that newsletter thing?"

"This was my idea," she admitted. "But Heather's fine."

"Do you think you'll be done before Lydia gets back from spin class? This might freak her out a bit."

Finally, disappearing as rapidly as it first appeared, the blue light released Heather from her trance. "Wow!" she breathed, lowering her hands and reacquainting herself with her surroundings. "That was nuts! How long was I out?"

"A few minutes, just like I expected." Bella shot Conrad a satisfied grin while his shoulders dropped in relief.

"I just went to school and learned about ambrosia for three days. I feel like I could make ambrosia treats in my sleep! They said we can only learn the Recipe for Life by following the instructions as they're given, and the next thing we need to do is summon the Grim Reaper on the Grimophone."

"Did you want mine?"

"You don't need it?"

"Grim and I are such good friends, I can just call him on my phone. Go ahead, have fun, but it drops a fair bit of soot in the air from the horn. Just a warning!"

When they returned home, Conrad held her close, still unnerved by what he witnessed. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Conrad, I'm fine," she insisted. "It wasn't a big deal. It was school. Nothing dangerous."

"If we use Mrs. Goth's table again, you're not travelling or whatever she called it. I will. I can't let anything happen to you."

She didn't mind his protective stance despite her independence. He always made her feel safe, and she wanted him to see where she'd been so he'd know the place was nothing to fear. But they were both exhausted by the events in Bella's attic, and they decided to wait to use the borrowed Grimophone.

For now, they'd plant their seeds and wait to see if the Ambrosia Society sent another newsletter. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: As a master vet Heather knew how to make ambrosia treats. She's had a couple in reserve for a long time, but I'm pretending they're not there yet. She hasn't sold or used one because I've been plotting this paranormal storyline and wasn't sure when to bring it in, but Reapers Rewards presented a great opportunity, especially with death on their minds so recently with Ash's accident, and Heather constantly trying to improve her clinic's rating. Yesterday's post was always meant as a soft launch, but it wasn't going to get this supernatural for a while!

The storyline is actually for Conrad more than Heather, but these two are an excellent team so I don't mind that I accidentally sent Heather through the flame portal and not Conrad. He was legit upset, raising his voice to Bella while it was happening, so that stuff wrote itself and proved he's as incredible as we all think he is. Plus Heather's the one with the skills that will hopefully make this challenge a breeze, let me collect quasi-free stuff and write while Conrad gets some skills up, so they're definitely going to do this one together.

[shelbgrey]

Being in a love triangle with Dean and Cas

Paring: Dean winchester x reader x Castile (not destile!)

Summary: headcanons about an angel and a hunter fall in love with you.

A/n: this won the newest voting thing :)

MasterList

“They're both in love with her” Sam sighed.

“my money is on Dean” Bobby said drinking his beer.

Okay... So, get ready for every single thing to be a contest. they're both extremely stubborn and even the simplest of things will be turned into a competition of who can do it better, even if Cas doesn't understand.

Since Cas is clueless about most human actions, he usually tries to copy Dean but ends up doing it in a more goofy or messed up way.

Cas wasn't supposed to fall in love with you, he's your Gardian Angel and the rules in heaven are pretty strict. He couldn't help but fall in love with your compassion and goofy personality.

You and Dean had always been on and off, he deeply cares about you and would even say he loves you, but with you both being hunters he's always afraid to lose you or he thinks he's not good enough.

Cas didn't know how to handle the feeling he's never had to deal with, every time he'd see Dean put his arm on you or flirt with you, cas would feel his fist clinch and he'd get so angry.

“I don't know what's wrong with me, my chest is heaving and... I just feel so pissed” Cas said to Sam one day.

“your either jealous or...” Sam stoped. “your not in love with y/n, are you?”

Cas didn't know, but he realized his change in adatued and thoughts. As your Gardian Angel he'd would often go with you to protect you beacuse that was his job, now he would literally push Dean to the side to go on a hunt with you.

Remember when I said you and Dean would often be off and on again? Well Cass has seen two break-ups, and this would be the only time he'd put his feelings aside. He's your best friend and he dose know when you need a shoulder to cry on.

Anyway, Dean would catch on quickly, he cares about Cas but he cares about you more. So challenge accepted.

He wasn't gonna lose you to a baby in a trench coat.

Dean is often very forward and flirty, you were used to his complements and dirty jokes. But when he realized he could use you to Cas he'd turn up the flirting to 100%, which would often make you uncomfortable... You weren't used to him acting like that.

But underneath all the flirting, he's genuine and what he's saying is true.

Suprisenly Cas would become very charming. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He loves he can easily express himself around you and learn about human life without being judged.

I also think Cas is good at knowing when to pump the brakes if he ever steps a line or goes too far. Dean sometimes doesn't and sometimes he forgets that he doesn't need to use the same tactics he used to use bar girls.

If you get hurt Cas will warp his coat around you and heal you up, if it's really bad Cas and Dean will literally start arguing.

One time it got so bad you probably wouldn't still be in this damn triangle if Sam didn't take you to the hospital.

That's when they realized that they really need to put their differences aside, it wasn't just about them, it was about you too.

“she means everything to me... I want her to be happy” Dean says to Sam. “and what if she's chooses Cas?”

“she won't... Just because he's her guardian angel doesn't mean he can make her happy”

Dean was so scared to lose you while Cass just didn't know how to express himself, there been many opportunities for Cas but he'd always chicken out.

What you hated most about this whole situation is that Cas and Dean were turning on each other. You knew they were best friends and you couldn't help but think this, no girl is worth losing your best friend over.

As it went on you got more and more attention, you didn't want that. Then Sam and Bobby's secret poll only grew more bets as time went on.

Jack was so confused, he saw you as a mom and Cas as his dad. So he really just wants you two to be together. He watched the parent trap and used some of the tactics, Sam gently told him to stay out of it.

If Dean would make you a mix tape, Cas would find an even more romantic gesture. During the time you and Dean did date he learned that you were a simple girl and didn't like fancy stuff.

Cas would go to Sam or Jody for advice. Sam would suggest flowers, expensive places while Jody would remind him to just be himself and remember the stuff your actually interested in.

He's been your Gardian Angel for years, so he knows your likes and dislikes. He was so happy when he found a copy of a novel you've been surching for, he loved the feeling of you wrapping your arms around him and cheering that you finally got the book.

“thank you Cas, your the best!”

Gabriel, who liked to stir the pot in the situation was on cas' side. He would sometimes mess somthing up for one of them or just watch one of their planes fail. This was a better love story than twilight in his opinion.

One day Cas found a ring in Dean's room, it's literally not what you guys think. Dean was his mom's and he just wanted to look at it.

Cas watched enough movies with you and thought it was an engagement ring. He felt his heart pounded, he also relized he's watched way too much TV with you. He remembered watching Grey's anatomy with you, he remembered you crying with Mark Sloan died and gave his 'if you love someone' speach.

“I wish I could experience that... A guy not caring about the consequences and just expressing he loves someone” you told him way back when.

That's when he had enough, he didn't care if Dean was there or not he's was gonna tell you. “I love you y/n... I love everything about you, even things I don't understand... I still love”

He told you to think everything through. As much as he loved you, he didn't want you making any hasty decisions or let what he said cloud your mind.

A couple of days later, Dean came to you with the same heart filled love speach after a rough hunt. “I love you... I know I don't show it much or express it, but belive me when I say your the best thing that's ever happened to me”

You had so much to think about and during that time you never felt so overwhelmed, your heart would always pound when you thought about them.

You spent almost three nights just laying awake in bed thinking about them, there was logic and there was reason.

The logical choice would be Dean, you could grow old with him and have a family. After Jack, Cas was terrified to have children with a human. Just because Dean was haman didn't make it a logical choice, but you guys been through so much. There been many night you guys spent patching up wounded parts of your bodies or cleaning up blood after a hunt.

Logically, Cas would be safer. Castile can protect you and heal you with just a brush of his thumb. Just because he was clueless doesn't mean he didn't know how to make a woman's heart pound in the best way possible. Cas knew your deepest fears and kept secrets for years, he knew everything about you.

Positive reasons would bring up the way Dean would make you laugh. Or how he could make you smile no matter how mad you were.

You though about how warm his bear hugs were and how good he smelled.

Dean was a worrior and he would take a bullet for you. You were always his main priority and you never felt that with someone before him.

Even if he didn't know how to interact with humans, he knew how to take care of you. He knew when you need to talk or need a hug. He would catch on to your Quirks, like how you'll nibble on your lip when your doing research or reading.

He'd notice the little wrinks on your forehead when your mad or laughing. He'd know all your different smiles and the meanings of them.

You love whem you hug him you'd feel his wings wrap around you.

What you might not know is Cas would give up immortality for you, he'd become human if it meant spending What humans thought forever was.

“I don't know what to do Sammy” you sighed.

“stop using your brain, what dose your heart say?” he asked. “you'll know the right decision when the time comes”

The next day you took a deep breath and walked down the bunker hallway, Cas and Dean's were right across from each other. Dean's door was beaten up and had band stickers on it. Cas was newer and had 'Cas' place' carved in it.

If you chose Castile:

If you chose him, you didn't go directly to him. You knew he was the one you just didn't know how to do it. When you finally got the courage, Sam interrupted with a paranormal case.

It was hard, you got whipped around like crazy and thrown through windows, the vengeful spirit wasn't gonna let up.

The spirit through your blade at you and it went straight to the gut. You were already bleeding and weak, so this wasn't helping.

You crumbed in Castile's arms and he started to panic. He used his trench coat to applie presher to your wounds.

“Sam! Dean! Help me!”

You coughed and placed your hand on his cheek making him look at you. His watery blue eyes looked at you with so much panic.

You smiled and pulled him closer to you. “I love you Cas... So much”

“I love you too... Hold still, I got you” he placed his lips on yours while his hands healed all your cuts and bruises.

Side note... You also adopt Jack, he finally had parents and he couldn't be happier.

-a week later...

“Balls! I lost $200” Bobby grumbled, you gave the boys a questioning look.

“you beted on us?” you asked Sam, He shrugged. “hey, at least you got $600 for your honeymoon” Sam joked, you took the notebook with all the bets written down and hit him in the head.

If you chose Dean:

You knocked on his door, he when whipped it open a smile immediately formed on his face. “hey, sweetheart”

“can we talk?” you asked softly. Dean nodded as his heart pounded, he didn't know what to expect.

“if this this about what I sa-”

“I love you” you said cutting him off.

He pulled you to his chest and immediately slammed his lips on yours, he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. “thank God... I love you too”

[not-eli]

Some peeps asked for Heather character analysis and that's literally what I live for so let's go

pay attention this is long.

Heather is portrayed since the very beginning like the perfect example of the word brat. Her literal first line is, "I'm calling my parents, you can't force me to stay here!"

Even though this could hint that she has a very close relationship with her parents, at the same time in the extra clips for the parents from home we understand that her parents aren't really so caring for her, since they were celebrating at the thought of her leaving.

Even if this can seem controversial, there's a perfect explaination for this kind of behaviour:

As an example, my cousin is a goddamn brat (so glad my family doesn't know about my blog), always whining and asking for my aunt's phone, even cussing in front of his parents, and he's about 5. The thing is, due the desire of not hearing him protest my uncles tried to please him in everything, giving him what he asked so he would stop crying.

i think that Heather's parents kind of did the same: They complied with her every request so as not to hear her complain, not because they cared about her but because they wanted her to keep quiet. Heather of course got used to this and that's literally all she knows. She knew that if she conplained, she would get what she wanted.

We also know that her parents used elettro shock therapy on her in order to "make her nicer" which also hints that they didn't have a goddamn clue of what to do with her.

Furthermore, in tda when she thought she was about to die she wrote her will where she left most of her possessions to her mother. Plus, when Chris offered the team a chance to talk to the person they were closest with, who was the person suggested to Heather? That's right, the mother.

When she "opens up" a little to Harold she asks, "do you think it's good to be hated by everyone?"

I think that her bratty behaviour, maybe even in order to gain a little of attention from her parents, led people to stay away from her and to cope she became even worse, trying to convince herself that it wasn't her, it was them.

In an extra clip (cannot find it) we learn from her younger brother that she was used to be seen as "unattractive" when she was younger, which adds to the whole "no one likes me but who cares" thing.

I have the feeling that she closed herself off for so long to avoid being seen as weak, someone who can't provide for herself. We know that her number one objective is winning and only winning, she wants the money and for what? To start a life of her own, show the world that she's Heather and she's so worth it.

However, we sometimes caugh some moments of weakness: When she broke down while teaming up with Harold, when she looked upset when Lindsay and Beth stayed away from her (who, to remember, were the only friends she made on the show), when she comforted Courtney after the whole cheating thing and lord, even when Sierra the creepy crazy girl got hurt she showed to care for her. Also, did you see how happy she looked when Cody called her "the good guy"? (well not exactly but you get my point) or when she won?

And when she fell for Alejandro, she probably thought that was stupid - why falling for a boy that will just slow you down, break your heart?

Heather is hated by everyone, it's true. But deep inside she's just a girl that never understood how the world really worked. She never got how she had to actually behave in order to be liked. When she and Alejandro had that lovey dovey honeymoon phase she genuinely looked so happy because he was treating her like a literal queen. In my opinion, she finally felt respected and that was enough for her. Until Chris mentioned the money that is.

She deserves to win again :(

@math-is-math

@cass-hector-simp