#cass being an inspiration for us all
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*SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*
@somerandomdudelmao you did it again!!!
I have no idea if it was intentional but the last update gave me so many thoughts and emotions. I also saw the ask about cutting the panels in the background and died in admiration
I know the whole kneeling motion was more to level the two. To stop Leo from looking up to F!Leo but... It seemed very symbolic. In the show the guys bow on their knees sometimes to show gratitude or respect.
The picture of THE HERO of that dead world bowing in front of our hero is such a strong punch to my guts. The selfforgivenes, understanding towards your past self... The mere fact he can be there to do that... The gratitude for making Casey's life normal. The opportunity to see his brothers again. To be with them again.
Hdhdhhdfjdjhfjf Cassss I watched the movie again because of youuuucbbcbbcbx
Anyway thank you as always for being amazing! First panel is a screenshot from the comic ofc.
#cass apocalyptic series#hear my crying ugly noises for the next week#THEY FINALLY HAD THE TALK#aaaaaaaaaaaaa#leonardo rottmnt#lineartcomic#rise future leonardo#luxtoony#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#unpause rise of the tmnt#leonardo hamato#cass apocalypse fanart#linear comic#cass being an inspiration for us all#taking me out of the grasps of art block
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And I'm Thinking About Your Lips
Pairing: Reader x Cassian
Summary: You and Cassian have been best friends since you were teenagers-- just friends. But one night at Rita's changes everything and now you cant breathe when you're around him and he can't stop imagining how you'd taste.
Warnings: 18+ SMUT! like porn with plot aka: best friends to lovers, sexual tension, alcohol use, drunken handsy moments, two dummies in love, male masturbation, unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk, sex sex sex! we love sex!!
Word Count: 19k (a biggie!)
a/n: heavily inspired by my fav song mistakes like this by prelow. give it a listen for the vibes ;) I was going to make this multiple parts but decided against it. lets imagine Rita's like a lil more modern club okay mwuah enjoy.
Part Two
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
Rita's was loud.
On busy nights like these, the place was a complete sensory overload– live music with thumping bass and swirling laughter. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, perfume, and the occasional waft of arousal, a delicious smell that often lingered in Rita’s. You loved nights like these, loved the energy that came with finally being able to let go. You let out a content sigh as you watched people dance across the dimly lit club, enjoying the music that vibrated through their bones.
You stood next to Cassian at the bar, leaning against the smooth surface as you awaited the drinks you had ordered. He was in the middle of telling you a story-- or at least you think it was a story. You couldn't tell.
"What?" you exclaimed loudly, leaning forward in a futile attempt to decipher his response. Frustration etched across your face, you took a step back, gazing up at Cassian. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you shook your head while gesturing emphatically to your ears. "I can't hear," you mouthed, hoping he'd understand.
Cassian's initial confusion gave way to realization, his mouth forming a distinct "Ooooh." Leaning down, he bridged the distance between you, his lips hovering above your ear to deliver his words in a loud whisper.
And then it happened—a giggling drunk couple bumped into Cassian, disrupting his balance. His lips, which had initially hovered near your ears, now made a brief but intimate contact, running along the shell of your ear.
Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, the warmth permeating your entire body. Or perhaps it was the pulsating energy of the crowded dancefloor. Whatever it was, you felt it—a shiver tracing a path down your neck, following the curve of your spine. Awareness dawned on you—his proximity, his breath on your ears, the almost electric closeness of your cheeks, the way his disheveled hair framed his face.
He pulled away, a smile playing on his lips. He mouthed something, but you were lost in a daze, barely registering that those plump, red lips were actually forming words.
"Y/n?" he called out, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "You got that?"
Blinking, you shook your head, dispelling the lingering traces of your thoughts. A smile curved on your lips as you replied, "Yup."
You had no idea what he said, hadn't caught a word of what he was whispering in your ear. But at that moment, it didn't seem to matter. Internally, you chastised yourself— it's just the alcohol, that's all it is. After all, Cassian had always been attractive. You just happened to be drunk and noticed it a little bit more. Appreciating the beauty of your best friend, completely platonically.
The bartender returned with your ordered drinks, placing them on the bar with a lingering gaze that hinted at an appreciation for more than just the cocktail he had crafted—one directed entirely at you. Your attention, however, was occupied by the lively atmosphere around you as you spared the bartender a quick glance, grabbing your drink. Cass, on the other hand, picked up on the admiration, staring at the bartender and tucking away the information in the back of his mind.
As you both turned to leave, Cassian's movements synchronized with yours and his arm rubbed against your own, sending a subtle brush of warmth through you. You paused for a beat. The warmth was still there. You hated it. A realization dawned – you needed more alcohol.
With a silent determination, you gave Cassian a "one moment" gesture, holding up a finger. Cass watched as you turned back toward the bar, leaning forward to catch the bartender's attention. When he turned to face you, you placed your hand lightly over his.
"Actually," you said with a smile, “Can we get two extra shots? Of your strongest."
The bartender gave you a smile back and nodded in acknowledgment. In no time, two additional shots, robust and potent, joined the lineup, arranged neatly on the polished surface. Cassian frowned, flickering his gaze between you and the shots. You felt his presence as he leaned in and instinctively took a step back, not turning to look him in the eyes.
“We’re taking another round?”
“Nope.” You said, popping the p. Without hesitation, you downed them both with a practiced ease. Finally, you looked up at him, making a face as the liquor made its way down your throat. “Those were for me.” Your voice came out in a croak.
Cassian raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk playing on his lips.
“Someone is getting hammered tonight."
You simply nodded, a nonchalant "mhmm" escaping your lips. The alcohol ignited a warmth that spread through your veins, momentarily overshadowing any reservations. With the edge taken off, you were ready to rejoin your friends– with the exception of Amren, who was “too busy” to join tonight.
Cassian led the way back to the booth, his hand finding its familiar place at the small of your back. Cass always did this when at Ritas, a gesture to ensure that you weren’t swept away by the sea of people. Yet, this time, it felt different. As he guided you through the lively crowd, you couldn't ignore the heat that radiated from his touch. Your heart quickened its pace. Its the alcohol-induced haze, you told yourself. Thats all.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
Two hours later, Rita’s was still pulsating with energy and you were absolutely wasted. The vibrant atmosphere seemed to blend seamlessly with the warmth of your intoxication and everything around you seemed to echo with life.
You, Mor, and Feyre slowly returned to the booth for a much-needed break, hands interlaced with one another and glasses still full, waiting to be enjoyed. In your inebriated state, you teetered back and forth as you made your way to the booth, plopping down next to your best friend.
At your arrival, Cassian sat up right, waiting for you to do what you always did—lay your head on his shoulder. And, like clockwork, you fell into place, your head finding its familiar spot on Cassian's shoulder.
"Look who decided to join the land of the living," Cassian teased as he nudged you gently. You felt him adjust his seating, his wings moving to accommodate your presence. The booths at Rita’s were large, the seats extra wide and spacious— for many reasons. You didn’t think too long about the ways people used the extra space.
Instead, you chuckled at Cassian’s comment, the alcohol-infused haze making everything seem delightfully amusing. "Jus' exploring alternate universes on the danceflooooooor."
The sound of your voice and the way you dragged out your words set Cassian into a small fit of laughter, a rich melody that blended with the music. The sound vibrated through his body and you felt his chest and his shoulders rise with it. The laughter resonated in your own as a result.
"Alternate universes, huh?” He asked, “That why you were grinding on Mor like a horned-up teenager?"
Craning your head slightly to look up at him, you gasped dramatically, feigning offense. He was already looking at you, his face tilted to the side to meet your eyes. There was a clear sense of amusement written into his face, the corners of his mouth turned up, a certain glow in his eyes.
"I was not! How dare you judge me?" With a determined glint in your, now narrowed, eyes you added, "I never judge how you practically dry hump every woman you dance with."
Your best friend's lips curled into a grin, and his eyebrows lifted for a moment. There was a playful roll of his lips before he nodded, slightly chuckling. You got him there.
"Okay, whatever."
You watched as he took a sip of his drink with his other hand, then lowered it to rest the glass on his knee. Leaning back a bit, a small giggle escaped your lips at nothing in particular. Then, you let out a laugh.
"You're wasted." Cassian stated matter of factly, turning his head to look at where yours lay on his shoulder. Your laughter continued for a moment, ending with a sound of content.
"Maybe." You replied as you leaned back a little, your head lolling backwards. Your eyes, framed by thick lashes, found Cassian's. You looked at him for a moment, taking in his face, his intense gaze focused on you.
"You're real attractive, Cass," you murmured, the words carrying a sincerity that caught him off guard.
Cassian didn't know why his heart leaped at your words. This wasn't something new. You had complimented him multiple times before. He knew he was attractive-- he knew you knew he was attractive. But there was something different this time, something in the way you bit your lip, gnawing at it with your teeth, the genuine look in your eyes.
"You think so?" he said. You wondered how his voice could be so soft, yet so husky. How was that possible?
You nodded lazily, not breaking the intense eye contact. "Mhm," you affirmed.
Cassian's gaze shifted, and suddenly he found himself studying your face. Your head tilted back, he took in the sight of your lips, the stunning makeup enhancing your features. You were gorgeous, he’d always known this-- everyone who saw you thought the same. But you were best friends, and the strength of your bond lessened the urge to explore thoughts of you that went farther than simple observation.
"You're not too bad yourself."
You perked up a bit.
"Yeah?" you asked eagerly.
Cassian gave a chuckle at your enthusiastic reply, noticing the way your eyes lit up behind their drunken haze. But before he could say anything more, Mor appeared, her hands outstretched, ready to pull you back onto the dancefloor.
"Y/n," She said, "Come danceeeee."
You looked up at her, your body slowly moving up right.
"But Cass and I-"
Mor whined.
"Feyre abandoned me for Rhys and Azriel is too busy being a gargoyle."
You snickered at her words, your gaze drifting over to where the Shadowsinger sat across the booth, a small grin on his mouth as he brought his cup to his lips. Then, you looked towards the dance floor, a sea of moving bodies with each person lost in the rhythm of the music. Sure enough, your gaze settled on Feyre and Rhysand, deeply entwined as they danced against one another, their bodies swaying together.
You returned your gaze to Mor, with her outstretched hands and a pouty face. You grinned, and she let out a small shriek of excitement at your wordless answer.
You placed a hand on Cassian's thigh, giving a small pat as you forced yourself up, the other hand in Mor's grasp. Cass held his hands up to stabilize you.
You turned to face him, your body slightly swaying.
"See ya later, Commander."
You gave him a drunken salute, the gesture slow and sloppy, before Mor whisked you away to the dance floor.
Cassian watched your figure as you retreated to the dance floor, unable to look away. He could still feel the lingering warmth on his thigh from where your hand had rested, as if an imprint of your touch had been left behind– he half-expected to undo his pants and find a charred handprint, a mirror image of yours. Your delicate hands, your soft skin, your slender fingers..... the thought sent a jolt of desire through him.
Stop it. Cassian's brain scolded him.
But still, his gaze drifted to where you were lost in the lively throng of bodies. The live music pulsed around you, guiding your movements as you moved with your usual demeanor of grace. The way you swayed to the rhythm, the fluidity of your gestures, it was mesmerizing. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to dance with you the way you were on Mor, without the barriers of friendship. To feel your body pressed against his, to lose himself in the rhythm and the heat that seemed to radiate from both of you.
His eyes trailed your body, taking in every curve and movement, and suddenly, he began to notice the way other males and females were doing the same.
He felt a growing anger stir within him, an emotion he had never felt before, not when it came to you. It was a possessive rage, a primal instinct that told him he needed to protect you from these observers. The bodies around you, their gazes lingering on your body, only fueled the fire within him. They shouldn't be looking at you like that. They weren't worth your time--- weren't worthy of being able to admire you the way they were. He should do some-
His musings were abruptly interrupted by a chuckle from Azriel.
The sound jolted Cassian back to the present, and he turned to find his brother looking at him with an amused expression. Annoyance crept into Cassian's features as he asked,
"What?"
Az's amusement deepened, and he replied nonchalantly, "Nothing."
Although Azriel's response seemed innocent, there was a knowing glint in his eyes, a small smirk that he covered by bringing his cup to his lips. Cass was well aware that Az was hinting at something, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to care. All he could focus on was the uncomfortable heat in his stomach, feeling as if he was suffering from intense heartburn. But funnily enough, the feeling only grew heavier when he looked at you.
Azriel down his drink before grabbing Cassian’s attention.
"Let's get you another drink."
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
The night had surrendered to the early hours of the morning, casting a dreamlike glow over the city as you and your friends stumbled out of the vibrant chaos that was Rita's. The streets, now filled with the remnants of the night's revelry, echoed with the laughter and inebriated chatter of others who were also bidding farewell to a night spent well.
You walked alongside Cas and Mor, Feyre and Rhysand a few steps ahead. Azriel had left an hour prior; a smug expression adorned his face as he escorted a striking male with brown hair and green eyes-- the very one who had generously bought him drinks throughout the night.
You looked at the mated pair ahead of you, Rhysand's arm draped casually around Feyre’s shoulder. You watched as he leaned in, whispering something in her ear. Feyre suddenly stilled and turned around, an evident blush lingering on her cheeks. Rhysand looked at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes, then he turned his gaze toward your group, mirthful mischief etched across his face.
"We're not feeling that well, so we're going to go sleep." Rhysand declared, his words dripping with a level of unseriousness that made you want to laugh. But, not even Rhys could take himself seriously, the corners of his mouth soon turning up to form a pearly-white grin.
Feyre playfully slapped his chest, but the grin on Rhysand’s face grew even wider, brightened by a child-like glee. With a final shared glance, the mated pair left. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how evident the couple’s love was and how much it made you want something similar.
Before you knew it, only you and Cassian were left. Mor, who had been walking side by side with you both, had halted abruptly. A smile played on her lips. "I've got somewhere I want to go," she announced cryptically, winking before disappearing.
The intoxication in your veins rendered winnowing out of the question – too drunk to focus, and Cassian couldn't fly without risking an aerial mishap that involved either vomit or an unexpected plummet. Both options were less than ideal, so you both continued walking, the cool night air beginning to clear the remnants of your alcohol-induced hazes.
Cassian watched as you moved with a certain lightness, the effects of the drinks still lingering in your movements. Suddenly, you spun around, catching him off guard. His hands flew out instinctively, prepared to catch you if you lost your balance, but you paid no attention to the movement. Instead, you looked up at him with a small frown.
"Hey," you began, your words still slightly slurred. "How come everyone's getting some tonight, and here we are, feeling left out?"
He watched you for a moment, your stature, your slow blinks, how intensely you were staring at him. Cassian grinned. His eyes, veiled by a layer of playful charm, fixated on yours.
"Well, I'm right here,” He declared, “Say the word, and I'm all yours, allll night long.”
Cassain ensured that his words were delivered with a teasing tone, a tone he prayed masked the underlying desire he felt. You didn’t notice. All you could focus on was the burning in your chest, the way your heart tugged at his response. This was nothing out of the usual, Cassian flirted with you all the time. Cassian flirted with everyone.
So you let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet night.
"Oh, please. You're such a pig," you retorted playfully, adding a mockingly dramatic eye roll. Then you swallowed, forcing your next words out. "Never. Could you imagine?”
You didn’t want to see his face as he answered the question, too worried that it would hurt you in some way if he reacted appalled and disgusted. So, you turned yourself around and began walking again, focusing on the cobblestone road underneath your feet, at the cold air starting to bite at you.
There was a quiet pause, and then you heard the small laughter of your best friend. He wouldn’t tell you where his mind wandered, now, when he thought of you, wouldn’t acknowledge the hurt that nestled itself quietly in the recesses of his thoughts.
“No. I couldn’t.”
Another pause. Despite being out in the open, breathing in the fresh night air, you began to feel stuffy. A sense of discomfort wrapped itself around you.
"How come you didn't go home with anyone?" You asked. You gnawed at your lip, waiting for his response, observing his reaction from the corner of your eye.
Cassian raised an eyebrow. He stopped to look at you, and you stilled, turning slightly to face him. When he gave you no response, you let out a small sigh.
"Y’know, like that one redhead giving you eyes back at the bar."
You did your best to disguise the subtle irritation lingered in your tone, but beneath it, you felt a sense of bubbling jealousy. How was Cass so unaware? How come you were so aware?
Cassian's eyes widened slightly as he scrambled to recall the moment. Panic briefly flickered in his eyes as he realized he hadn't even noticed anyone else, his attention consumed by you. “Ohhh, her?” He finally responded, “Nah, tonight was just about hanging out with all of you. Y’know, family time.”
You felt a smile tugging at your cheeks. Family time didn’t stop Azriel, or Feyre and Rhysand. In your gut, you knew that it hadn’t stopped Mor either, the look on her face as she left screamed of a sudden lustful advance. Cassian’s answer deeply satisfied a part of you, for reasons you couldn't decipher at the moment. Your smile widened when he gave you a fond smile of his own.
“Big ole’ sap.” You teased, affectionately nudging him with your shoulder.
You fell into another comfortable rhythm, walking alongside each other in silence as the echoes of night behind you slowly faded. Cassian could hear you humming faintly to yourself and a warmth filled his chest. You often hummed when you walked. When you were drunk, it was always a guarantee. Cass used to use it as a meter for your sobriety, detecting how drunk you were based on how horrible your humming was. Currently, it sounded angelic. But he wasn’t sure if he could trust his own judgment, not now, not when it came to you. Even as you walked side-by-side, he felt the urge to get you closer, made the effort to ensure your hands swung next to one another— that you bumped into his bicep every now and then as you walked. What was wrong with him? And why did you smell so good?
Cass cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly to look at you.
“So, uh, speaking of people, why didn’t you go home with the bartender?”
You stopped abruptly, caught off guard by question. Cassian, too, halted in his tracks, a subtle maneuver to avoid colliding with your shoulder. Turning to face him, your eyes sought his in the dim light. "The bartender?" Confusion furrowed your brow.
His gaze, laden with an unspoken curiosity, met yours. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
You paused, your thoughts weaving through the blurred memories of the night. Every image was muddled in your mind, a fusion of moving bodies and your hands picking up new drinks. God, how many did you take? You couldn’t remember. Your memory was hazy, unfocussed. There was only one thing in your mind that shone in perfect clarity– only one person. And it wasn’t the bartender.
“Guess I didn’t.” You shrugged.
Cassian thought back to the bartender, a handsome male with short brown hair and blue eyes. The way he had stared at you, the way he had smiled. Cass’s mind found the memory of you reaching over the bar, your hand over the bartender’s, leaning in to request another drink. A flash of your smile. He fought the urge to make a face.
"Yup,” He said, “Gave you eyes the entire night. Half surprised they didn't fall out and follow you home."
He didn’t intend to sound bitter, didn’t mean for it to drip from the words he spoke. He couldn’t help it. But, by the look on your face, you hadn’t noticed. Yet again. Cassian let out a breath. It took a moment for his words to settle into your mind, and then you let out a snicker at the image painted by them. He grinned at the sound.
"Well then, I'm really surprised I didn't notice."
And you were. You were usually good at these things, at recognizing advances. You picked up on lingering gazes and touches that were one second too long. If Cassian was referring to the bartender you were thinking of, then he had been very attractive. On another night, you would have definitely noticed— and definitely taken the opportunity. But not tonight. Tonight was different, felt different.
"Can't blame him," Cassian remarked, a touch of sincerity in his voice. "You are beautiful."
You blinked, your mouth parting slightly in shock. The words sent a flutter to your chest, and you could feel heat on your cheeks. You shook it off, letting out a sound of amusement and disbelief. It came out as a quiet snort. "Shut up."
"Not even mentioning all the males and females that were ogling you while you danced with Mor."
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You were sure that the blush on your cheeks was on full display and only hoped that Cassian would assume it was caused by the chilly night air. You couldn't look at him. Instead, you shook your head, your eyes looking into the distance. Then, you rolled them and scoffed. "Oh, please. Now you’re just lying.”
You felt his eyes on you, still. You slowly moved your head to look at him once more, watching as his expression subtly shifted.
"No, seriously. It's like some couldn't keep their eyes off you."
Cassian's gaze still lingered on you, unexpectedly soft and genuine. His features bathed in a tender glow, a small smile on his lips. His disheveled hair, tousled by the night's breeze, framed his face in a way that made you itch to rake your fingers through. For a moment, time seemed to pause as you stared at your best friend, your eyes tracing the contours of his shoulders and the majestic wings that adorned his back.
You found yourself taking him in for a minute too long, staring like he wasn’t right in front of you. The realization creeped up on you and you quickly looked away, finding somewhere, anywhere other than his gaze, to focus on.
"Well, whatever," You muttered, turning yourself around to continue walking forward. You heard Cassian’s steps pick up behind you. “I’m over being casual. I’m tired of being with lame males who never make me finish, males who are so boring and entitled, males that are so stupid I begin to question my life decisions. All of it.”
Cassian's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing as he tried to process what you had offhandedly mentioned. "Wait, what?" he said, his voice filled with confusion. "No one has ever made you finish?"
You weren’t paying full attention to what Cassian was saying, too caught up in your own thoughts and monologue about your new aversion to casual hookups. You waved him off, continuing to walk forward.
Cassian's mind raced with thoughts of you and the males you had been with. He pictured you together, each of them trying their best to please you, their faces contorted with effort, their bodies moving in a frenzy. He pictured some outright ignoring your experience, jackknifing again and again, rutting into you like wild animals. But in his mind's eye, you remained distant, your face bored and vacant, making noises for show.
He wanted to growl. He could do better, could give you the pleasure and satisfaction that those males had failed to provide. The thought was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be with you, to make you feel the way you deserved. Had they truly not taken the time to worship you? To explore your body, pray to it like it was sacred?
His mind painted a picture of you together, your bodies entwined, a room filled with the smell of sex. He saw himself looking into your eyes, his focus on your pleasure. You moaning underneath him, wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering his name. Cassian. Cassian. The image was intoxicating— he felt a stirring in his cock, a longing that settled heavy in his stomach.
But it was short lived. Quickly, a sense of guilt washed through him, flooding through his veins. Here you were, talking about your life and feelings, and he was imagining you naked, underneath him, your face contorted in pleasure. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be thinking of this. He should be listening to you, his best friend, and giving you advice. He aggressively shoved his thoughts away, putting a lock on the visions of you that were manifesting in his mind. With a deep breath, he told his deteriorating self-discipline that he could think of those beautiful images later, when it was just him and his hand in the solace of his room.
He found himself grateful that you were walking ahead of him, that the night air provided a distraction, a physical discomfort that could dampen his desires. It was cold out now, the breeze seemingly more nippy. It sobered him up, ridding the effects of the alcohol in his veins and his drunken feelings of lust.
It was cold out. His eyes snapped up to you walking ahead of him, rubbing your arms absentmindedly. You were cold. How had he not realized?
Because you’re a horny prick who can’t seem to remember your place in her life. His mind screamed at him. He knew it was right.
"I just want to find someone who can connect with me on a deeper level. Someone who sees me.” You said with a defeated sigh. You stopped for a minute, looking back as Cassian caught up to you, the war general having fallen behind, distracted by his own thoughts.
Finally reaching you, he gave you a look that you’d never seen before, and you slightly frowned from being unable to read him. But soon, his face softened, and he put his hand on your arm. The touch was tender, despite his large, rough hands, and it sent a warmth throughout your body that combated the cool air.
"Y'know, you could get anyone you wanted."
His voice, sincere and quiet, took the breath out of your lungs.
Well, not anyone. The thought flitted through your mind. You ignored it.
He smiled at you, a warmth in his gaze that set your heart on fire. “Lets get you home.”
Cassian draped his arm around you, his hand rubbing your biceps as you instinctively leaned into the comforting gesture. When his wings flared out and curled around you both, you felt the flutter in your chest again, a faint warm glow. This time, you let it sit.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
Cassian's ability to fly gradually returned with the waning effects of the alcohol, and the rest of the way home had been filled with comfortable silence. You felt the familiar comfort of home envelop you the minute you stepped foot inside, and your room called to you, to your aching body and pounding headache.
As soon as you entered, you didn't waste a moment – walking straight to your bed and simply falling face flat, a groan escaping from your lips. You could feel the throbbing in your head, every movement causing a reaction in both your scalp and deep in your stomach, where a growing sense of nausea was brewing.
"You're gonna be in pain in the morning." Cassian remarked with a chuckle, watching your less-than-graceful landing.
You groaned again, the sound muffled by your sheets. A moment passed, and you heard the sound of Cassian removing his shoes, soon followed by a dip in the bed as he settled in and made himself comfortable. He sighed.
"Gods. Your bed is so damn comfortable."
You lifted your head to look at him, his head leaning on your headboard as he breathed softly. He looked so peaceful, no tension in his face or his body, his eyes closed with the ghost of a content smile on his lips.
“You can sleep here tonight,” You said, “If you’d like.”
The offer felt charged with something you couldn’t quite name, and you felt vulnerable for proposing the idea. Sure, you and Cassian had slept in the same bed together before, but never when you were attracted to him, turned on by his lips touching your ear. Maybe it was a bad idea. You should send him on his way before he gets too comfortable... right?
Cassian's eyes opened, finding your own. "Really?"
Good ideas be damned.
You nodded. "Just don't hog the bed."
You watched as he smiled and settled himself in further, still clad in his button up and trousers. The pounding in your head had slowly calmed to a dull ache, a momentary relief that you knew was bound to end soon. Taking advantage of it, you made a move to push yourself up and get ready for bed, bracing yourself on your forearms. A wave of nausea ran through you again, and your mind began to conjure up images of every drink you had tonight. You groaned.
“Y/n?”
You let out a deep breath. “Yes?”
Cassian could hear the discomfort in your voice, and he sat up straighter, looking at where you lay at the edge of your bed, your head hanging, slightly tilted downwards towards your bed as your forehead resting on your hands.
“Whats going on?” He said, moving closer to you on the bed. You could feel his body next to your head, his thighs rubbing against your forearms.
“Lots of drinks.” You responded, squeezing your eyes shut. “Too many.”
Cass gave a small chuckle, his hand moving to rest on your head. You felt him run his hand through your hair, felt it settle near your neck, right by your shoulders. He moved it in circular motions.
“Let me help you.” His voice was calm and gentle. For a second, you wondered how he was perfectly fine, but then you remembered how well he could hold his alcohol and how quickly he could sober up, if needed. You felt grateful for the latter as you nodded against your hands.
Cassian stood up and slowly wrapped his arm around your back, settling his hand on your shoulder. Then, with the other, he gently took a hold of your forearm, guiding you up from your hunched position.
You didn’t think much as you let Cass guide you, you could feel him next to you, his arms stabilizing you as he helped you maneuver over to the other side of your bed. The whole world felt like it was moving too fast, as if you were the only thing in slow motion. You simultaneously cursed yourself for tonight while wishing you could teleport to four hours ago when you were wasted and the world was perfect.
“You think you can get out of your dress?” He asked you, as he helped you sit down on your bed.
You nodded, looking up at him with a faint smile. “Yeah. Can you…”
Cassian turned to the armoire your outstretched finger pointed to. He nodded. You closed your eyes for a minute, taking another deep breath as you heard him open a drawer and then close it.
“Here.” His voice was still as smooth as before, calm and gentle. It sent a shiver through your body, and you found your heartbeat quickening. Not now, you scolded yourself, you’re on the verge of vomiting. You needed to get a grip. You grabbed the soft nightgown from his hand and Cassian quickly turned around, giving you some privacy.
Your dress was easy to peel off, the small straps sliding off your shoulders with no resistance. You felt the cool air bite at your exposed chest, and quickly pulled the night stress over your head. Then, you carefully stood up, allowing your dress to slide down your legs, and your nightgown to fall properly on your body.
You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you looked at Cassian, his back facing to you, his beautiful wings flared out comfortably. A part of you felt so vulnerable with him now, with the way he was touching you, how you had looked at him tonight. Cassian always helped you when you were drunk, it was nothing new, but the feeling lingered nonetheless. You cleared your throat.
“Thank you,” You said, looking at Cass as he turned back around. He couldn’t help as his eyes surveyed your body, and he gave you a small grin.
“Oh, how cute.”
You gave him a small glare, smacking his chest with your hand. And then you slowly crawled into your bed, taking note of how Cassian’s hand hovered over your back until you were settled. He grabbed your covers for you, placing them on you.
“I feel like I’m taking care of a child.” He joked, and you let out a little scoff. He only laughed at your response.
“Just take off your clothes and come sleep before I kick you out.”
You could see the restraint in his face as he stifled his laughter. You could already hear it, a joke about you wanting him naked, a tease about taking him to dinner first. But, instead, Cassian let out a quiet laugh. “Okay.”
You burrowed yourself into your bed, closing your eyes and embracing the warmth of the covers, how nice the soft mattress felt on your aching body. Behind you, you heard the sound of pants and a belt falling to the ground, and within seconds, there was a dip in the bed. Cassian’s smell filled your nose and you welcomed it in, a scent that reminded you of peaceful nights and crackling fires.
“Cass?” You said, slowly turning yourself over to face him. You felt him shift, getting comfortable into the bed, and then he was turning to face you as well.
“Yeah?” He whispered, his voice low.
“Thank you.”
You closed your eyes, your nose still filled with the smell of your best friend, his heat radiating onto your skin. You were out within seconds.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
The air was charged with the metallic tang of sweat and the rhythmic sounds of swords clashing. It was a sight to behold, truly. Azriel and Cassian were both incredibly skilled in combat and their sparring matches were always your favorite to watch. Not only was it beautiful to see, with their fluid motions and strong forms, but it helped you pick up on things you wanted to practice yourself— and any weaknesses you could exploit when you practiced with them. Today, you observed Cassian with a focused intensity as he moved gracefully through his training routine, each motion deliberate and powerful. You found yourself unable to look away, suddenly feeling drymouthed and distracted, swallowing hard. You brought your hand to your mouth, your thumb wiping at your lip as you watched.
Were you attracted to Cassian?
No. The sudden heat you were feeling was due to the heavy sun above you, the strong rays hitting you and your slight dehydration. It had nothing to do with the sweaty, built, and beautiful body of your best friend. It definitely wasn’t the way his muscles rippled as he moved, or the way his sweat lined his abs…
"Enjoying the show, babe?"
You let out a small gasp in surprise, turning your head to the side as Mor approached you, a grin on her red-painted lips.
“You scared the fuck out of me.” You said, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm the quickened beating of your heart.
“I’ve never been able to catch you so off guard,” She mused. “Guess they’re real entertaining today, huh?”
You pursed your lips and looked back over to the two males sparring. They took a step back from one another, taking a momentary break to catch their breaths. Cassian looked over at you, his half-bun had unraveled during the intense training session, with strands of his tousled hair clinging to his forehead, glistening with sweat.
As he caught your gaze, Cassian grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he gestured toward Azriel, attempting to convey his strategy for the upcoming sparring match. You felt a smile pull at your cheeks as Cassian switched between hovering his hands around his neck to mimic an action of strangulation, and gesturing towards Azriel. Az stood unamused, wiping his forehead with his wrist before taking a large sip of water.
Beside you, Mor observed the scene with a raised eyebrow, a hint of suspicion crossing her features. Her gaze flickered between you and Cassian, and a look of realization slowly went through her face. She turned towards you with a slight gasp, smacking your bicep playfully.
"Y/n! Did you two…?"
You turned your head fast to look at her at a speed so fast that you swore you gave yourself whiplash. You looked at her with narrow eyes. “Did we what?”
Mor's grin widened as she leaned in conspiratorially. "Did you and Cassian have a little training of your own, off the sparring mat?" She teased with a wink.
You scoffed, waving her off with a gesture of your hand. You could feel a blush on your cheeks and you prayed that Mor didn’t notice— or if she did, that she attributed it to the sweltering heat.
"No, Mor! We didn't.” You responded, then you made a face of disgust. “We’re talking about Cassian. I could never.”
Mor raised an eyebrow playfully. "Are you sure about that? Because, darling, you've been staring at him like he's a piece of prime meat, and you're a starved vegetarian about to crumble."
Your cheeks burned brighter.
“Such a beautiful image, Mor, thank you for that,” You murmured, rolling your eyes before looking at her. “But that is not what I was doing. I was just… watching his technique. That's all."
Mor's laughter rang through the air as she nudged you. "Sureeee. Whatever you say. But you might want to consider admitting it to yourself before the starved vegetarian inside you takes over completely."
Flustered and unsure of how to respond, you excused yourself with a mumbled, "I don't know what you're talking about," before hastily leaving the training arena, leaving Mor's laughter echoing behind you as she followed.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
You and Cass hadn’t had time together within the past week and a half. You were busy running off with Mor and Feyre, and when you weren’t with them, Amren took your attention. Cassian himself had been busy, too, but he couldn’t focus recently, not as well as usual. The last time he’d been able to properly see you, as you observed him and Azriel training, you left before he had a chance to talk to you. You hadn’t felt Cassian's eyes follow you as you left, didn’t notice the way he traced your figure. His gaze had stayed trained on you until you were out of his line of sight, and only then had he felt the presence of Az behind him. But he was too slow, and the Shadowsinger quickly disarmed him, flipping him onto his back with a loud thud.
Cassian had let out a groan followed by a string of obscenities aimed at his brother, who quickly made a comment about him being too distracted. Azriel was right. He was too distracted. His mind was completely and utterly obsessed with you.
In fact, Cassian felt like a mad man. There was a deep ache that had settled in his chest, one that weaved itself through his ribs. He’d never felt so starved, so hungry. But his delusions, the dreams he’d been having, the fantasies that manifested in his brain, they weren’t sweet enough to satiate his hunger anymore. What he wanted was you. And he couldn’t stop picturing it, couldn't stop indulging in his thoughts. Not since that night at Rita’s.
He’d fallen asleep with you after he’d helped you get into bed, closed his eyes after you thanked him. It was the best sleep he’d gotten in months, made even better when he woke up perfectly rested, rolling over in your comfortable bed to see you. He won’t admit how long he was staring at you, at your sleeping form, your hair fanned out across your pillow. Even with your makeup slightly smeared– a fact that made him feel guilty that he had forgotten to help you wash it off– you were breathtaking. He wondered why he never really noticed it this much before.
Cassian tried his best tonight, laying in his bed after the long day. Restless, he tossed and turned. At one point he considered getting ready and flying somewhere, going to train and practice, or finding some beautiful female to replace the thoughts he had of you. Both options sounded nauseating. So, instead, he pulled himself out of bed and slowly walked around, letting out a yawn and rubbing at his eyes. The hallways were quiet, illuminated by the moon in the night sky.
When he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks, his heart quickly jumping. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the low lighting, and then readily took in the sight in front of him.
There you were, a vision of beauty, leaning gracefully into the fridge. The top part of your body concealed by the door, leaving Cassian with a tantalizing view of your legs. The silk set you wore clung to you in all the right places, the fabric catching the subtle glow of flickering faelight, accentuating the curves that commanded his attention.
Fuck. He couldn’t tell if this was a dream or a nightmare for him in his current state.
As he stood there, silently observing, you straightened up. Your hands, adorned with an elegant grace, held onto something within the fridge as you turned to close it. You turned your head slightly and your eyes met his. A wave of warmth washed over Cassian.
"Cass?" Your voice was quiet, the surprise in your eyes quickly replaced by recognition. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. You stood tall, a small plate of mixed berries in your hand. He wasn’t surprised, though, you always had such strange midnight cravings. Still slack-jawed and captivated, Cassian tried to find the words to break the silence. He watched as your face softened and your brows pulled together. “Cant sleep?” You asked.
He blinked. And then shook his head. “Nope.” He finally replied.
You smiled, a warm and inviting expression that made Cassian's heart skip a beat, and made a motion with your head to call him closer to you. You pulled yourself onto the counter, swinging your feet as they hung. Cassian settled next to you, leaning against the counter. The cold slight touch of the cold surface on his bare back sent a chill through his body. His wings nestled comfortably behind him.
Cassian watched you as you hummed quietly, bringing the berries to your mouth. He watched the way your lips wrapped around them, the way your throat moved as you swallowed. His thoughts went straight to his cock, feeling a stirring that had him fighting to maintain his composure.
Get it together. His mind echoed. He sorted through his thoughts, then he looked up at you. “I’ve missed you this week.” He confessed.
You paused, bringing a strawberry away from your lips. Turning to look at him, you gave him a dimpled smile. "Well, you didn’t have to wait until the dead of the night to find me,” You responded. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Cassian mirrored your smile and then let out a deep breath. Despite fighting back his intrusive thoughts about you not even minutes ago, his heart was steady and calm. He could feel a sense of relief wash through his body as he stood next to you, watching you eat. The silence was comfortable— your presence was comfortable. Something warm, something familiar, something that felt like home.
“Want one?” You offered, holding your plate towards him. He glanced at you, then at the plate, and then at you again. His eyebrow raised.
“C’monnnn,” You said, your voice light and amused, “Every healthy male needs to eat his fruits and vegetables.”
Cassian let out a chuckle. “At three in the morning?”
You shrugged casually. “I don’t think the time matters.” You popped a blueberry in your mouth, looking at him. Then you picked one up from the plate, reaching your hand out to his face, the fruit hovering in front of his lips. “They’re nice and fresh and cold.”
He couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were looking at him like that.
With a reluctant smile, Cassian moved to take it from your outstretched hand, but you intervened, a softness in your eyes. "Allow me," you said. He responded with a subtle nod. Holding the berry delicately between your fingers, you brought it to his mouth. For a second, your finger brushed against his lips, a small fleeting touch, the ghost of a sensation. An unexpected surge of electricity coursed through him, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake as it moved throughout his body.
His gaze locked onto yours, your attentive eyes and your mouth slightly parted. Like many other things, you’d done this before, had given Cassian food straight to his mouth. But in the stillness of the night, with the glow on your soft skin and your silk set, Cass struggled to breathe.
A slight grin played on your lips as Cassian, still entranced, tasted the berry you had fed him. He chewed slowly, deliberately, and then swallowed. "See?" you said in a soft, teasing tone, “And it probably tasted better with me feeding you it like some God. You’re welcome.”
Cassian, still under the spell of your touch, let out a small breath. "You're always right, aren't you?"
You met his gaze, a quiet confidence in your eyes. "It's part of my charm," you replied, the words carrying a hint of playfulness. He watched as you returned your attention to your plate, finishing the last of the berries that adorned it. You looked over at him. "It's getting late," you said, dropping down from the counter. "I should probably get some sleep."
As you stood up and stretched, Cassian's eyes followed the movement, taking in the curve of your ass as you arched your back. Your silk set rode up slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your stomach. He felt a surge of desire that made him both embarrassed and excited, like he was a 16 year old again, ready to fuck anything near him. Cassian allowed his eyes to wander back up, taking in the sight of your chest, the way the silk set clung to your breasts, the subtle rise and fall of your breaths. He felt his mouth water.
You rolled your shoulders, turning to look at him with a subtle furrow in your brow.
“You okay?”
Cassian cleared his throat, shaking off his thoughts. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that there was a blush rising to his cheeks, a heat he was suddenly aware of on his face.
“Yeah,” He responded, his voice huskier than intended, “Just tired.”
You shot Cassian a mildly unconvinced look with a subtle raise of your eyebrows, but gave him a half-smile, anyways. “Get some rest, Cass,” You said softly, “See you tomorrow.”
Cassian stayed still, eerily still, as he watched you walk away, watched your legs move and the way the fabric of your clothes rippled as you walked. When you were out of eyesight, he let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then he titled his head and let out a groan at the ceiling. He took a minute to compose himself, to attempt to regulate the blood in his body– blood that was moving straight to the heat collecting like a pool in his chest. Rubbing his hands along his face, Cassian slowly headed for his room. The quiet of the night that once soothed him now felt like a void, one that yearned for your voice again, for you.
By the time he made it to his room, Cassian’s mind was filled with images of you– of the silk material sliding across your skin, of the way your lips wrapped around the berries, of him bending you over the counter. Gods. Feeling the strain of his desire, Cassian reached down and started to stroke himself through his pants, the loose and thin material of his sweatpants doing little to buffer the friction from his palms. He felt a deep groan leave his mouth at the image of you in front of him, kneeling with your eyes wide and hungry, your lips parted, ready for him.
He slid his hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of his cock. He pulled his pants and briefs down his legs, letting his throbbing length fall against his stomach as wrapped his hands around himself. Cassian worked himself in smooth strokes, swallowing every time his thumb grazed the head of his cock. He let his mouth fall open as he imagined you, imagined your body moving beneath him, your eyes locked on him as he took you.
Closing his eyes, Cassian thought of the sound of your moans, fantasizing about how your breath would quicken, how your body would tremble with pleasure as he satisfied your desires. His hand moved faster, his grip tightening as the images in his mind grew more detailed— every sound you’ve emitted to him before, every laugh, every grunt as you trained, every soft sigh, all began to morph together into one beautiful melody. You’re moaning underneath him, desperate, all-consuming, so hungry for him that you’re forced to stifle your whimpers with the back of your hand.
Cassian felt the tension coiling in his body, the tightness in his balls, and the warmth spreading through his body. He imagined you writhing underneath him, your hips chasing his every thrust, your body arching beneath him, eyes filled with pleasure as he filled you with his seed. His orgasm hits him fast, his body trembling with the force of his release as he painted his stomach with the evidence of his desire.
Even after he’d cleaned himself off, after he’d submerged himself in a cold bath, Cassian’s mind still lingered on you, on your silk set, on your lips— on your laugh. And as he tossed and turned in bed once more, Cass realized he was completely fucked.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
"What's got you so flustered?" Mor asked, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.
Mor knew exactly why you were so flustered. Her, Amren, and Feyre had guessed it from the beginning— the subtle touching and lingering gazes. You liked Cassian, like-liked Cassian. And until now, you had refused to admit it.
As you remembered the moment with Cassian a mere three nights ago, a blush crept onto your cheeks. You ran your hands down your face and let out a groan. Feyre and Mor exchanged amused glances.
“He walked in shirtless!” You exclaimed, your voice still slightly covered by your hands running down your face. “Gods, I didn’t know what to do. I just kept shoving berries in my mouth. And then I kept trying to find a reason to touch him but I couldn’t.”
Feyre, who sat next to you with her legs to the side, comfortably nestled into the crook of the couch, leaned forward, looking at you with expectant eyes. “So what did you do?” She asked.
You shifted in your seat, avoiding eye contact by focusing on a loose thread on the couch. "I gave him a berry." Your voice was quiet. You spared Feyre a glance under your brow. When you saw her face crinkle in amusement, you quickly looked away, nervously twirling the thread between your fingers. It snapped quickly.
From in front of you, Mor stared, her brows furrowed and mouth slightly parted. “You gave him… a berry?” She leaned back, a look of intrigue on her face.
You nodded slowly, aware of how lame it sounded. “Yes. I fed him a berry.” You said, looking up at her.
"And?" Feyre asked.
You pursed your lips and glanced at her, and then bounced your vision around the room. There was a deep sense of embarrassment that bubbled in your stomach, a feeling that made you want to hide away. You were flustered, more than you had ever been, and it was due to your best friend shirtless in the kitchen. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush— and it was humiliating. But looking at both of your friends, so eagerly sitting, you let out a breath and word-vomited them the truth.
“And I’ve never been so aroused by someone's lips and the faint feeling of stubble! Gods, what do I do?” You lifted your hands up in exasperation, finding yourself sinking further into the couch. Crossing your arms, you huffed in frustration. Your cheeks flushed, and you could feel the heat radiating from them.
“I know what to do.” Mor said, matter-of-factly. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You do?" Your hands dropped to your lap and you leaned forward.
"Yes. You need to get laid." Mor's tone was casual.
Your eyes widened. "W-What?" Your jaw dropped.
Mor only nodded her head affirmatively, jutting her chin out towards Feyre next to you. “She agrees.”
You shot a look to Feyre, who stared at you with wide eyes. She gave you a sheepish smile. “I mean…” She trailed off, looking towards Mor for help. You followed her gaze and turned your head to the blonde once more.
"We’re going to Ritas," Mor declared. She stood up, a confident sway to her hips as she moved towards the door.
"But we went last week," You protested. Mor stopped in her place and turned around to look at you with feigned innocence.
"Oh, I’m sorry,” She said, bringing her delicate hand to her chest, “I didn’t realize it was illegal to go out two weekends in a row."
You tilted your head and threw her an unamused look, but Mor only grinned at you. When you let out a defeated sigh and shook your head, she knew she had won and looked towards Feyre.
“Amren will come, too. It’ll be a girls night. Right, Fey?”
Feyre smiled and turned to look at you, meeting your gaze. “Right.” She affirmed. She leaned forward, placing a soft hand on your bicep. “It’ll be fun.”
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
When the day began winding down, Mor returned from her apartment, arms heavy with dresses. She strolled into your room, Amren in tow, with the same grin from earlier. Looking towards where you and Feyre sat on your couch, she let out an excited squeal. “Tonight is going to be great.”
You glanced at Amren, who merely gave you a small quirk of her lips before planting herself down on the seat opposite of you, watching as Mor dumped her pile of clothes on your bed.
You casted a glance at the pile of dresses, each with their own gorgeous vibrant color and delicate fabrics. You looked over at Mor. “Couldn’t decide on what to wear?” You mused. You pulled yourself up and walked towards her, examining the dresses on your bed. You brought the fabric of one between your fingers, feeling the delicate silk.
Mor let out a laugh, bringing her hand to your arm. She looked at you with an amused glance. “Oh babe, these aren’t for me.”
You frowned at her, and then your face fell. “Oh, these are for me?”
She nodded excitedly. Looking behind you towards Amren and Feyre. “Tell her how beautiful these would look on her.”
You didn’t look back, instead running your hands across the pile of elegant dresses. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them. Each dress was gorgeous in its own right, and if they belonged to Mor, you knew that they would look even better on– sexy, even. But you frowned slightly at the idea of dressing up to go to Rita’s with the goal of getting noticed. Unlike times before, it didn’t seem appealing. But perhaps you were overthinking. After all, the past two weeks had left you in your head too much.
Feyre craned her head slightly, watching as you stared at the dresses. “They are beautiful, Y/n.”
You let out a small sigh. This was good for you. Mor was right, you needed to get laid. You hadn’t fucked in a while. With all the tension and stress you’d been feeling, the worries about Koschei and impending doom, it made sense that your desires would manifest in someone familiar like Cassian, right? You nodded to yourself at the thought and then smiled. “Tell me which to try on first.”
You eyed the first dress Mor handed you. It was a stunning creation, soft and open, with a low neckline that hinted at just the right amount of allure. The fabric shimmered in the faelight of your room. As you slipped it on, the dress clung to your figure, accentuating curves you didn't always pay attention to. But it didn’t feel right. The straps felt a bit too loose, and as you turned to check yourself in the mirror, you realized the openness that had seemed so alluring was now making you uneasy.
Amren’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
You nodded in agreement, tugging at the neckline. "Yeah, I think I’ll pass."
Feyre chimed in with a supportive smile. "Let's try the next one. Maybe it'll capture the right feeling. Yeah?” She turned her head to the side, motioning towards some dresses that Mor stood over as she sorted through them. Each dress was a different variation of red, Mor’s beautiful statement color and one that screamed confidence and grace. Surely Mor owned more than red, you thought. Why had she decided that you both were going to adorn her signature color tonight? You didn’t think too long about it, your gaze fixed on yourself in the mirror.
After a few more desperate tries, and Amren’s decreasing confidence in Mor’s styling abilities, the blonde reached into the pile of dresses and pulled out a final dress that had you releasing a small gasp. The fabric was a deep, rich ruby red that seemed to absorb the light around it. As you slipped into the dress, the material clung to your curves, accentuating your silhouette. The neckline dipped low, revealing just enough to be tantalizing without feeling excessive, and you appreciated how naturally your breasts fell underneath it. The open back was a work of art, adorned with delicate jewels that cascaded down like a waterfall, drawing attention to the graceful curve of your spine.
You took a moment before looking at your friends. However, it was Amren specifically that you turned to for a decision, meeting her gaze. She let her eyes run down your figure before looking at you. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards as she gave you a small nod. “This is the one, girl.”
Feyre and Mor watched as you turned to examine yourself in the mirror. The dress opened at the hips, showcasing your thighs and legs. The overall effect was breathtaking, a harmonious blend of elegance and desire. Mor's eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Gods, you look so sexy."
You met Mor’s gaze in the mirror. “No ones going to be able to take their eyes off you,” She gushed, “You’ll have your fair pick of females and males.” You let your mind drift off as Mor continued to babble, feeling Feyre’s hands running through your hair as she twirled the strands between her fingers, deciding how she wanted to help you style it. You took in your appearance in the mirror, eyes roaming over the dress once more, over how well it accentuated your body. It wasn’t until your gaze was drifting up that you noticed the figure in the doorway, your heart stopping.
With a smirk playing on her lips, Amren’s voice rang out. "Hello, Cassian."
You, Feyre, and Mor turned in unison to the doorway, where Cassian stood wide-eyed and still. He paled slightly and swallowed. You felt a flush creep up your neck, your hand flying to your collarbone in an anxious movement. Despite the confidence the perfect dress had given you moments ago, the presence of Cassian in the doorway had thrown you off balance. His eyes roamed your body, tracing where the dress fell at your feet up to its neckline, and all the skin it revealed. His wings twitched behind him, falling slightly. You rubbed at the spot that your hand lay at.
Cassian, still caught off guard, stammered slightly. "I... uh, was just coming to see if you wanted to hang out." You felt your face soften, giving him a smile. Before you could respond, Mor waved him off dismissively.
"Oh, sorry. She’s busy," she said with a tight smile. You casted a quick glance at her before giving your best friend an apologetic one. His gaze lingered on you, running up your figure once more– the heat in his gaze felt like it was lighting you on fire, and you bit the inside of your cheek.
"I can see that.” He said. He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what's going on?" His eyes darted between the dresses thrown across your bed and to the girls surrounding you, each wearing beautiful, elegant gowns of their own. He didn’t miss the way Amren looked at him in amusement, or how her gaze trailed to you as she did so.
Feyre looked between you two before answering. “It's girls night," she explained, “We’re going to Ritas.”
Mor, however, turned around with a large grin. "Y/n is getting laid tonight!" she announced with unabashed enthusiasm.
Cassian's eyes widened, and he blinked rapidly as if trying to process the information. A sizzling sense of jealousy formed in his chest and he breathed out from his nose. The room fell silent for a moment before he finally managed to sputter out “I thought you were over casual flings?”
You bashfully stuttered, feeling a touch of awkwardness in the tense atmosphere, a small lump in the back of your throat, "Oh, well..." Your eyes searched for the right words, and you caught Mor's gaze, her curious stare making you feel a bit more exposed than you'd anticipated. "I don't know. We'll see." You shrugged slightly, giving him a close-mouthed smile.
Feyre and Amren exchanged glances, their eyes bouncing between you and Cassian. You didn’t catch it. Mor wanted to laugh, but instead she pressed her lips together and circled you, taking in the image of you in the dress. "I bet she'll have to fight off people tonight," she mused, casting a sly look in Cassian's direction. "Wouldn't you agree, Cassian?" Feyre’s head swung over to Mor and she gave her a tight look, her eyes widening slightly. Unaffected, the blonde looked back at her with an innocent face. What? She mouthed.
Cass was staring at you, unmoving and chest rising rapidly. You took in his casual wear, how his hair hung loosely, some strands in front of his face. He was looking at you with an intensity in gaze that you’d never felt before, a heat that made you feel like you were on fire. You swallowed, and then bit your lip, watching as his eyes took in those movements too. Having not fully registered Mor's question, he stammered again, "I—uh, what?"
Mor's grin widened, and she feigned innocence. "Oh, nothing. I'm just saying that she looks so beautiful. Tell her how beautiful she looks."
Cassian casted a quick glance at Morrigan, but quickly his eyes settled back to the place they were at before– your face, your body, you. You blushed at Mor's pointed comment. His eyes ran down your figure once more, seeming to trace the lines of the dress. You continued to rub nervously at your collarbone, the heightened attention making you slightly self-conscious.
Cassian, finally finding his words, cleared his throat. "You do look... incredible," he admitted, his eyes still fixed on you. You wondered if your friends were suddenly feeling smothered too, if something in the air was making it hard for them to breathe. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears. You resisted the urge to gulp down another nervous breath. Mor let out a small sound of agreement before she looked over at the illyrian male.
"Okay, thats enough gawking, Cassian. We all know Y/n is hot. Now leave us be. Go find Az or Rhys or something," she declared. Your eyes widened slightly, and Cassian shook his head, his mouth slightly parting. Caught between embarrassment and amusement, he took Mor's words in stride. “Right.” He responded with a smile.
He turned around to leave, but before fully retreating, he stole one last glance in your direction. You noticed the subtle, lingering look on his face—an admiring gaze, accompanied by a fleeting lick of his lips. There was a certain longing in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed. Then, you watched as a different expression overcame his features. He walked out before you had a chance to examine it further.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
You let out a small laugh as Mor continued to compliment you, talking over her shoulder as you, Feyre, and Amren followed her, approaching the main foyer. Your laughter died as Mor stopped in her tracks and frowned slightly.
"What are you guys doing?" She asked, a mix of surprise and annoyance in her voice. As you caught up to where she stood, you were greeted with the unexpected sight of Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand standing in front of the door, seemingly waiting for you. Dressed in impeccably tailored suits, each of them exuded a distinctive charm. The realization hit you—the look on Cassian’s face as he departed from your room earlier, the sense of determination, the lingering cue of playfulness. He had gone and convinced them both to join.
You couldn't help but appreciate the attention to detail in how they looked, and Cassian, in particular, stood out. His wings, a symbol of his power and grace that you adored, were confidently spread, and his slicked-back hair added a touch of elegance to his rugged charm. He not only looked good, he looked absolutely delicious. You didn’t attempt to hide the look on your face as you took him in.
Finally ripping your eyes from your best friend, you looked behind him, to where Azriel sat, his face donning its usual cool expression, but you could sense it- the hint of annoyance that laid underneath it. Meanwhile, next to him, Rhysand sported a large, confident grin. A grin that Cassian mirrored, but with a touch less confidence, his eyes flickering between you and the others. Amren, observing the situation with her usual detached demeanor, glanced at Rhysand and deadpanned, "You're coming with us."
Rhysand's grin widened, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Girls' night, right?" He threw his mate a wink. You heard her stifle some laughter.
Cassian, scratching the back of his head, added with a sheepish smile, "Figured we'd join the fun. Tonight’s been a bit boring." He gestured around him. Then his gaze fell on you. For what felt like the millionth time tonight, his eyes raked over you and you blinked, catching his gaze when it fell on your face. “You don’t mind, do you?”
You didn’t mind. Not one bit, you thought. If he kept looking at you like that, with those eyes and that heated gaze, you wouldn’t mind a thing he did. He could ask you for anything right now, and you’d say yes. Yes, yes, just keep staring at me like that. Like you see me, like you want me.
Mor scoffed, "Yes, we do mind!" She turned to you, looking for support. "Tell them it's a girls night."
All eyes turned to you, and you felt a flutter of uncertainty. There was Cassian, his eyes locked onto yours, examining you, your every feature, your every move. The heat of his eyes had started to pooled down at your thighs. You clenched everything below your waist as you hesitated for a moment, still caught in the intensity of his gaze. Mor's impatience grew, and she raised an expectant eyebrow. "Well?"
You lingered on Cassian, and despite Mor's expectant face, you found yourself saying, "No, I don't mind."
Mor's expression shifted from annoyance to resignation, and she let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine."
Cassian's face brightened with a grin, "I promise, Mor, it'll be so fun." His attention turned towards you, walking to you with a soft, but charming grin. "Allow me." He extended his elbow, and without hesitation, you interlocked your hand with his. The touch was comforting and warm, and his scent enveloped you as he guided you towards the exit. You closed your eyes with a content sigh.
The fragrance that clung to him was intoxicating. Maybe it was a bad idea to invite him tonight, to let him join you and the girls. The dress you were wearing gave you an inflated sense of confidence that you hadn’t felt for a while, and as you walked alongside Cassian, you wondered if it would truly be so bad to indulge in your thoughts of him. To think of his hands, the some ones with you right now, and how they would trace your body the way his eyes had this evening. You felt your arousal bubbling up at the thought of it. It was all in innocent fun, right? You could think of him, enjoy this touch, fantasize about him, as long as that's all it was— thoughts in your mind, away from reality, an idea that you never let come to fruition.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
You had to admit, Mor was right. Rita’s was definitely the move tonight. Somehow it was even more lively than last week, bustling with people and energy. You weren’t as intoxicated as last time, not anywhere near it, but you felt drunk all the same. And you weren’t ashamed to admit, now, that your drunken haze was all caused by one thing: your extremely attractive best friend.
You and Cass had lost the rest of your group a while back, pulled into a drink off with a beautiful fae couple. Cassian and you had won every single round, leaving you standing at the bar now, celebrating with another round of shots.
Cassian was standing next to you as you both faced the bar, your arms touching, practically on top of one another. Cass craned his head to look at the crowd behind you, his hand wrapping around your waist as people drunkenly stumbled past you, making their way to the bar. On usual nights, Cassian’s hand would have dropped by now, returned to their position at his side, but not tonight. Instead, he kept his hand across your waist, keeping a heavy hold on you. You could feel the heat from his palm through the thin fabric of your dress, and you felt it as it moved straight to your core. You instinctively rubbed your thighs together in an attempt to ignore it, suddenly feeling grateful for the multitude of smells in Rita’s that covered your arousal. You turned your head to the side to look at Cassian, noticing that his gaze was on you, but not on your face. Instead, it seemed as if he was looking to where his hand rested on your hip.
“What?” You asked, your brows furrowing, leaning closer to him. He tilted his head slightly, and then you felt his hand lift. You felt a small tinge of disappointment, but it quickly dissipated when you felt his light touch hovering over your back, tracing where the delicate jewels of your dress cascaded down your spine like a waterfall. Your body shuddered. You watched him as his gaze deepended, as he took his lip between his teeth. His hands traced the ornate jewelry, landing at the base of your spine, where the fabric of your dress gathered.
“I like this,” Cassian said, his voice low. His eyes flickered to yours, “Beautiful.”
Your chest fluttered at his words— was he complimenting the dress, or you? You couldn’t ask even if you wanted to, the air sucked out of your lungs with every lingering touch of his. Your mouth parted slightly as he stared at you, as you ran your eyes along his face. You felt the brush of his fingers on your spine now. He wasn’t tracing the jewelry anymore, no, he was touching you.
“Here you go,” A sudden voice pulled you out of the moment. Both you and Cassian turned your heads to the bartender placing two small shot glasses in front of you. You had forgotten you’d ordered another round, forgotten why you were at the bar in the first place, with your best friends hands over you. “I apologize for the wait.” The bartender said.
You spared him a quick glance, a small graceful smile on your lips, “No worries,” you said. But then you looked at him once more, recognizing the smile he wore, the sound of his voice. This was the bartender Cassian was talking about. And from the way he looked at you, how he pushed your glass to your hand, lightly grazed your fingers, you knew Cass was right about his interest in you.
“Thanks,” Cassian said, his voice rough. He grabbed both of the glasses in his hand, dragging them closer to your chests, his eyes trained on the bartender, whose smile faltered as he looked at your best friend. Cassian’s hand, which had fallen from your back at the interruption, found your hips again. “That’ll be it.” You didn’t need to look at the bartender to know that he shrunk away, intimated. You didn’t need to look because all you wanted to stare at was Cassian. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian. Something about his grip on you, on the way he’d pushed the bartender away, the way he’d touched your spine, all of it had you pooling at your core.
“Here,” Cass said, pushing your glass towards you with his knuckle. He grabbed his in his hand. The other hand was still at your hip, unmoving— except for the occasional circular rub of his thumb. You tenderly took the shot, angling your body to twist slightly so you could better face him. The hand on you moved appropriately, still staying placed on your hip as you maneuvered.
“Cheers.” You said, looking at him. You licked your lips as you held the shot up. Cassian met yours, the two glasses making a clink as they touched. “Cheers.” He responded.
Tilting your head back, you welcomed the shot openly, letting the liquid coat your throat, feeling the warmth as it moved down. When you were done, you were met with Cassian’s gaze once more, watching you. His gaze followed the column of your throat as you swallowed. His hand moved to your face, his thumb wiping away a stray drop of whiskey on your chin. The touch itself sent a frenzy through your body, and you let out a small, quiet gasp.
“Y/n.” He murmured.
“Yes?”
Your voice was barely above a whisper, your body still. He was closer to you now than a few moments ago, and it took everything in your power not to pull him even closer, to brush against him.
“You can’t look at me like that.” Cassian finally replied.
Your heart leaped, and you took a sharp intake of breath. How were you looking at him, you wondered? Mor’s words echoed in your mind: like he was a piece of meat and you were a starving vegetarian? She was right. Oh, so right. You wanted to taste him, to devour him, to have him ravish you in return. You swallowed and then whispered in response.
“Like what?”
Cassian said nothing. He scanned your face and then his hand was moving again, brushing a stray strand of your hair from your face. When the hair still fell out of place, he gingerly grabbed it and tucked it behind your ear. You felt his finger trace the shell of your ear, falling as it reached your lobe, now on your cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch, pressing closer to him. His grasp at your hip tightened, and you felt as it moved up, his hands now grabbing the skin at your waist.
When you opened your eyes, your gaze met his instantly. He was breathing heavily, his eyes filled with desire. "We should probably find our friends," he whispered, his voice hoarse. You nodded absentmindedly, feeling your chest tighten. Cassian’s palm slightly lifted from your cheek, the ghost of his touch lightly moving. His thumb found your lips, tugging at them slightly, you let your mouth fall open with the touch. He nearly let out a moan at the sight.
“Or,” You whispered back, “We could go home.”
He nodded, the pad of his thumb still rubbing at your lip. “We could.”
You lifted your hand to grab his wrist softly, pulling it lower, to your chest. You felt the heat of his palm as it landed on your chest. “Cassian.” His cock pressed angrily against his zipper at the sound of his name falling from your lips so sensually, so softly. His hand trailed higher, and then he was wrapping it around your neck, his thumb running along your throat. You savored the touch and bit your lip, looking at him through your lashes. The look was all he needed, any self-constraint quickly disappearing.
“Let's go home.” He said, his thumb running alongside your lips once more. Then, he was spinning you both around, interlacing your fingers as he pulled you through the crowd.
As Cassian led you out, you looked back, squinting at the mass of people. Your gaze landed on Feyre, who was already looking at you. You watched as she glanced between you and Cassian, and then she gave you a small smile, her brows slightly furrowed. Be careful. Her voice echoed in your brain, soft and gentle. You weren't sure what she was referring to, if she was talking about your trip home or the way you were entangled with your best friend. Either way it didn’t matter. You weren’t being careful, not now. You didn’t want to be.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
You weren’t quite sure what to do. You’d never been in this position with someone you loved so dearly— never been in the situation where you were about to fuck your best friend.
The way home was a blur, the cold air as you both left Rita’s in a hurry, how Cass had wrapped his arms around you, how they had wandered and explored, but nowhere too vulnerable— not yet. You had made it a few minutes before you decided to winnow back, your ability fully functioning and, at the moment, incredibly convenient. Back at the house, you both had stared at each other, breathing hard, heavy-lidded eyes with lust. You could smell it on him. You didn’t doubt that you reeked of your own arousal. But Cass has stepped away from you, for a brief moment, biting his lips as his hands curled at his sides. Whatever you want, sweetheart, is what he had said. He wanted to give you an out, a chance to change your mind, to decide that this wasn’t a line you wanted to, or were ready to, cross. The realization hit you sweetly, and it only added to your arousal, the fact that he was so aware of you.
You had looked at him, a small nod of your head towards the hallways, towards the corridors that led to your rooms. You hadn’t said anything, a heavy silence followed you, filled with longing and desperation, a hint of anxiety. You had waited, let Cassian take the next move. If he followed, you both knew what would happen. You had given him an out, too.
You worried when some time had passed and you were still alone in your bedroom. You walked towards your mirror, taking in your appearance, the dress on you, the evident arousal on your face, in your stature. Then you heard him. His walking. You closed your eyes, hearing his heavy footsteps enter your room. You heard your door shut, and the footsteps grew louder until you felt him behind you, the warmth of his body enveloping you completely. You let out a small breath.
“Cass,” You whispered, your eyes opening and meeting his in the mirror.
His hands found your hips, and he pulled you back into him. You felt his hard length against you, pressing against your exposed back, the heat of it alone causing you to let out a small, shaky breath. You leaned back into him, rubbing against him as his fingers tightened around you. Craning your head to the side, Cassian took advantage of your exposed neck, running his nose along it, inhaling your scent. He nudged the sweet spot behind your ears, your knees almost giving out as his lips trailed the shell of your ear, feeling his hot breath against your skin.
His voice, rough as gravel, sent a wave through you of something you couldn’t name, but it was heavy, hot, and made you so incredibly horny. “Sweetheart, are you…” He trailed off.
Sure? Sober? You had a feeling that sober is what his question seemed to probe at. You nodded, nodded frantically. Every shot you had taken tonight had no effect on your body, not anymore. You’d felt the last lingering effects of your final shot as you both came home, feeling as it slipped out of your system. And if he was asking if you were sure, that answer was yes, too. You were boldly, acutely, and fully aware of the moment, of each sensation in your body— fully aware of the ache in your legs, of how good Cassian smelled. “Yes, yes.” You whispered.
“Thank god,” He groaned– a guttural, animalistic sound.
Before you could blink, Cassian was spinning you around. You let out a gasp, your view quickly taken up by the image of his face hovering over yours. He held your face in both of his hands, his thumbs swiping across your cheeks. His eyes scanned you in desperation, as if he was searching for something within the details of your features. Whatever he was looking for he seemed to find as he brought his lips to yours, giving in entirely with a soft moan of relief. His arms moved to wrap around your waist, and you moaned into him, flinging your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He kissed you harder.
“You sure?” Cassian whispered, floating the question again. He slid his warm palm up and over your hips, to your waist, your ribs, and back down again. You let out a sigh at his touch, running your palms up to pull the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Yes,” You said as he feathered kisses along your neck. “Are you?”
You felt Cassian nod against you, a small breathless laugh left his lips as he came up for another kiss. “Fuck yes. I’ve been dreaming about this.” And then he placed another kiss on your lips, deep and sensual. Hunger radiated off him like a starved man. His words turned you to jelly and you swore you could feel your wetness running down your thighs.
“This dress,” he breathed against your lips, “I wanted to rip it off you the minute I saw it.”
Before you can react, he reached out and gripped the fabric of your dress, yanking it downward with a force that left your heart racing. You gasped as the material was torn from your body, leaving you standing before him in nothing but your underwear. You watched in awe as he threw the torn fabric aside, a small sound emitting as the jewels made contact with the hard floor. The cold air immediately took the place of the warmth of your clothing, making you shiver with pleasure.
“That was Mor’s!” You managed to breathe out, looking at the discarded pile of fabric. Your words died in your throat the minute you caught Cassian’s gaze again. There was a predatory look in his eyes as he took you in, and you remembered now that you were completely naked now, save for a lacy pair of panties. Your nipples perked, hard and ready, in the cold air. Cassian, his gaze unmoving, simply grumbled back, “I’ll buy her a new one.”
Cassian's eyes roamed over your naked body, his gaze heated as he took in the sight of you, completely at his mercy. His hands reached out, his fingers tracing a path down your arms, making you shake with anticipation. His hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," He said, "How much I've wanted this." You felt his erection, hard and ready, pressing against your stomach.
His lips found yours, his tongue plunging deep into your mouth as he kissed you with all the passion he'd been holding back. You felt the desire radiating from him, making you feel wanted and desired in a way that nothing else ever had. As he broke the kiss, his eyes locked on yours, filled with pure, unfiltered lust. "I'm going to make you come," he growled, his voice low and rough. "And when I do, you'll never forget the way I made you feel."
With that, he plunged his tongue back into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as you stand there, naked and vulnerable, your cunt throbbing with every word, every touch. Your hands gripped his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together in a frenzy of passion.
Cassian broke away from you for a moment, his breath hot and heavy against your lips. "Jump," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. Without hesitation, you lifted yourself into his arms as he pulled you into him effortlessly. He wrapped himself around you, his hands gripping at your ass, fingers digging into your skin. You felt his erection pressing against you, underneath you, with desperate need.
He took a few steps before he carefully dropped you onto your bed with a bounce. You fell onto your back, your eyes wide with desire as you looked up at him. He took you in with his eyes, every detail of your body etched in his mind, hungrily saving the image of you for later.
Cassian's movements were hurried and frenzied as he removed his own shirt, discarding it carelessly on the floor near your--Mor's-- shredded dress. As he moved, you sat up from your supine position, your legs naturally falling to either side, finding yourself yourself in a kneeling position. You looked up at Cass. The sight of you like this, vulnerable and expectant, only intensified the hunger in his eyes, and he groaned.
You reached out to him and ran your fingertips along the waistband of his black pants, watching as his stomach muscles clenched in response to your touch. Cassian caught your wrists in his hands, looking down at you hungrily, he shook his hand. “Not yet, sweetheart. Let me savor this.”
You let out a small whimper, the sound shooting straight to his dick, causing the hardening length to throb in anticipation. But when he released your hands, you kept them at his waistband, bringing your hand to palm him through the fabric of his pants.
“Please,” You whimpered, “I want to.”
And what kind of man would Cassian be to deny you? To say no to you as you looked up at him with those glossy eyes, your lips running along your lips? He moaned, feeling as if he could cum at the sight of you alone. This, you, were better than any of his fantasies— and he had come up with a lot within the past two weeks.
You stared at him, at the way his muscles ripped under this golden skin, at the black tattoos curling around him, at the way his wings flared out openly, dominantly. You ached to be closer, to be able to touch the sensitive membrane. You licked your lips, taking in the curl of his biceps, the sharp dips of his hips, Gods, he was beautiful. He brought his right hand to your face, holding it tenderly before moving his hand to grab your hair at the back of your head. You took that as your invitation, leaning forward to undo his pants. With his buttons undone, you pulled the fabric down, Cassian’s hands aiding you to slide his underwear off with it.
You let out a gasp at his length, at the girth, the veins pulsing on the underside of his cock. Red and hungry at the tip, leaking. You were watering at the sight. A deep sense of jealousy pooled into your stomach, images of every female he’d been with before, every female who had the pleasure of experiencing this before you. Mine. You thought. Mine. Pushing yourself closer to him, you kissed a line down his stomach.
You felt his muscles tense beneath your lips as you wrapped your fingers around him. He hissed as you rubbed your hands up his considerable length, the sound repeating when you spit on the head, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his shaft. You dragged the flat of your tongue upward, against the underside of his cock. Cassian’s reaction was instant, bucking into your grip with a breathless, raspy, moan that sent a wave of arousal down your body. You allowed your hand to follow the trail, spreading your saliva. Your mouth sunk down on him. As you hollowed your cheeks, Cassian pushed himself harder, letting out a sinful groan as you welcomed him, taking him deeper in your throat.
“Gods,” Cassian tightened his jaw as he watched his cock disappear between your swollen lips with every bob of your head. “That pretty little mouth of yours.”
You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, Cassian’s head falling backward as he moaned, his grip in your hair getting tighter. You moaned in response, the sound vibrating through him. You shifted on your thighs, rubbing them together in an attempt to relieve some of your own arousal. With a wet pop, you released him from your mouth, looking directly up at him as he stared at you with naked lust. You greedily swallowed the taste of him that coated your tongue.
“Enough. My turn.” He said, his voice halfway between growl and purr, a feral sound from deep in his chest that reverberated through your core. Cassian’s hand found your chest, after a squeeze of your breasts, his palm settled above your ribs. With a soft push, you were flat on your back again. He leaned over you and you seized the opportunity to rock against his thigh, your pussy throbbing at every touch of his, desperate for friction. But he moved quickly, leaving you grasping for touch. “Cassian.” You moaned. You pulled him back up again, desperate to have him close, slotting your lips against him.
He accepted another hungry, ravenous kiss from you before he moved down, trailing hard kisses down your jaw and across your collarbone. Your hands tugged at him, roaming over the length of his shoulders and the plane of his back, you trailed your fingers along his wings, the sensitive and soft membrane. You felt him shudder at the touch, watched as those beautiful wings twitched. You needed more.
Cassian stopped, taking a moment to bite into the soft flesh at the base of your neck. You let out a moan, throwing your hands into his hair as he sucked on the tender skin, soothing the area with a swipe of his tongue. He removed his mouth, tilting his head to make slight eye contact with you, a cocky grin placed on his lips.
“I’ll paint you in my marks, Y/n.” He whispered, moving his head down to continue his trail of kisses, “Just to have evidence that I was lucky enough to be here.”
He brought one hand between your thighs, his large calloused fingers dancing over your sensitive flesh, his perfect mouth still exploring you, tasting your skin. Your moans tumbled from your mouth, outside of your control, flowing like a river. You tightened your grasp on his hair, your fingers raking his scalp, pelvis lifting into his touch. Your legs widened further to provide him better access, knees dropping to the side.
“To feel this.” Cassian’s fingers pulled your underwear aside and ran themselves through the wetness at your core, through your sensitive folds. His finger delicately circled your clit, rubbing at it in a way that had you mewing at his touch.
You let out a gasp as one probed at your entrance, your warm core welcoming it greedily. You felt his finger curl, and then arched into him as he added another, working in and out of you. You could hear the squelch of your juices as he fingered you, could feel the way your essence dripped with each movement.
A disappointed sigh left your lips when the warmth of his hand left you. But seconds later, as you looked down at him with your hands in his hair, he pulled himself up slightly– just enough to look at you. Just enough to make eye contact as he tilted his head and stuck his slick fingers into his mouth. He lapped at the wetness coating his fingers.
“Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.” He said, moving down to drop to his knees at the edge of the bed, between your spread legs. You propped yourself up on your elbows to keep your gaze on him. He looked at you, heavy lidded, his mouth glistening with the remnants of your slick. “May I?”
Please, please. He didn’t need to ask, you thought. You wanted him everywhere, wanted him on you, in you, all over you. Whatever he wanted was what you wanted. You lazily nodded, your tongue darting out again to wet your lips.
“Words, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured, placing hot and wet kissing along your thighs. His arms snaked under your thighs, hands reaching to grab your hips and pull you closer. He slowly peeled your drenched panties off your body. “I want to hear you.”
“Yes,” You finally managed to croak out. Your voice deep and needy. “Please, Cass.”
And then his tongue was on you, licking a stripe up your dripping sex. You let out a loud moan at the contact, at the feeling of his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your folds, dragging it slowly. Your hands found his hair and gripped it roughly between your fingers, your body curling around him. Cassian’s tongue dipped into your hole, darting in, again and again. Your legs trembled as stars began to cloud your vision.
“Cassian,” You choked out, feeling the building pressure in your stomach. You tried bucking your hips, but Cassian kept your thighs still, steady in a position where you couldn’t escape his wicked mouth. His tongue alternated between teasing your clit and slipping into your entrance. Your spined bowed in pleasure, and you brought one hand to your breasts, rubbing them and pinching at your nipples as Cassian ravaged you.
“You’re delicious. So fucking delicious.” Cassian crooned as he pulled apart from your cunt. He took a minute to admire the sweet image of you dripping in front of him, and then he dove back in. He let out a moan, quiet but still audible, and you noticed his other hand had removed itself from your thigh, now hidden from your view. As you looked, you saw it visibly moving, frantically, desperately. Cassian was eating you out and rubbing his own cock at it, pleasuring himself as he lapped at you. You moaned at the idea alone. The noises you made were loud, loud enough that you knew your family would hear if they were home already. But you didn’t care, you had no shame. Let them hear.
Cassian was murmuring into your core; he repeated something, the words falling from him like a prayer from a dying man. You were barely able to hear his whispers over the sound of your own blood rushing through your ears. Cassian pulled back a little then, heedless of your firm hold on his hair, watching you with his jaw set, eyes dark and greedy.
“Oh, Y/n,” he said huskily. “I could feast on this beautiful pussy forever, you know that?”
As he withdrew his mouth, he replaced its presence with his fingers instead. His thumb resumed the stimulation on your clit while his fingers moved inside your. When he slid another finger into you, your hips jumped, moving to meet his fingers faster. He curled his fingers into you as you rutted down harder. He groaned as your walls clenched when he curled his fingers, hitting a spot that had you whining his name. Your face contorted in pleasure and you let your head fall back. Cassian’s hand gripped at your thigh, calling your attention back.
“Down here,” He hummed, “Keep those pretty eyes down here.”
You brought your head back up, supporting yourself with your elbows. Cassian’s eyes stayed on yours as he lowered himself to your sex again, nustling his nose against your clit before he licked a stripe up your cunt, bringing his mouth to suck on your clit. You felt his fingers enter you again– one, then two. They brushed against you as he lapped at your clit, drawing circles with his tongue. You could barely breathe, the air leaving your lungs as Cassian filled your body with sweet, suffocating ecstasy. Your right hand found itself in his hair again, grabbing, pulling. He let out a groan at the feeling, and continued to lap at you.
You felt it everywhere, felt him everywhere. Pleasure gushed through your body, every part of your body sensitive. You writhed under him, your vision of Cassian growing blurry as you felt your pleasure build, coiling deep in your belly, ready to explode. You’re weren't sure what was up or down, forgotten where you were completely. Nothing existed except you and Cassian and the way he fucked you with his fingers and his mouth, and Gods, the thought of your reality alone made you want to cum. You grinded against his mouth, feeling as he grabbed you, pulled you closer, harder, against him, completely smothering him.
“Oh my Gods, yes, yes, yes.” The sounds you were emitting were music to his ears and Cassian continued.
The mixture of your pleasure, of Cassian’s grunts, his smells, of the way his wings twitched with each of your moans, made it even sweeter when Cassian brought another finger to your entrance. That tight, hot, built-up coil in your stomach loosened and you shriled loudly, your back bowing off the bed beneath you. Your whole body quaked as your orgasm rippled through you.
Cassian was in heaven— he was sure of it. You were a vision, your cheeks flushed, your lips parted as you moaned out in pleasure, your hard grasp in his hair. He felt every sound from your lips, every whisper of his name falling straight to his aching cock. Cassian, fuck, Cassian. You chanted them like a prayer and he swallowed them all. You were something holy, something absolutely divine and he felt himself losing it. He wanted to worship you forever, to stay buried in your cunt and die a happy man. Every man before him hadn’t appreciated you enough. He wanted to make you his, his beautiful creature, his goddess.
Cassian slowed his movements, but didn’t halter them completely as he let you work through the wave of your pleasure. Your hand had gone lax in his hair, and he took the opportunity to pepper kisses across your skin — across your legs, across your cunt, even the sweaty crook of your thigh, anywhere his lips could reach. The hand that once gripped your thighs so tightly softened. Cassian rubbed gentle circles around your skin. He waited, and only until your body stopped shaking and you let out a small content sigh between your ragged breaths did he remove his fingers from you.
He gave your core a slight smack and you let out a gasp, the action sending a spark throughout your body, leaving you aching and throbbing more than you had been seconds before. Cassian gave you a smirk.
“Holy fuck,” You breathed, looking at him with wide eyes. “Cassian…” You watched as he stood up, bringing his fingers to his mouth as he licked off your juices once more. Your gaze dropped to his chest, and then to his throbbing cock. He stroked it as he looked at you, and your core ached once more, clenching at the thought of him inside you. Cassian stared at you, lips parted, drinking the sight of you eagerly. You pushed yourself further up, scooting back enough to lie flat on the middle of your bed.
“You are a vision. A godsdamn vision,” Cassian spoke, the words falling off his tongue in a breathless confession, “Thought about this for so long.” He walked over to you.
You gulped at the admission, thinking back onto your own fantasies of him, of his hands, of his mouth. You blinked, watching as he braced his hands on the bed. “Yeah?”
Cassian nodded, bringing his hand to rub alongside your legs, tracing the curves of your body. As he crawled onto the bed, he let his hands wander with every movement. “Yeah, sweetheart.”
The nickname made your heart clench, and you felt your wetness building once again, your pussy still sensitive from your previous orgasm. “Tell me.” You whispered. He straightened himself, moving to hover over you. With one arm supporting his weight, Cassian rocked his hips against yours. He molded his other hand to your breasts, sucking in a deep, ragged breath. You arched into his touch, mewing for more. You felt your heart throb, a warmth enveloping your chest. You couldn’t breathe. All you wanted to feel was him, his hands, his skin, his touch. His touch cascaded down your body, grabbing at your thighs, pulling them closer to him.
“Rubbed myself raw at the thought of you underneath me like this.” He placed a kiss to your chest, quickly turning it into a small love bite, sucking at the skin tenderly. He released your skin with a brush of his teeth, bringing his fingers to softly touch the bruised skin. His fingers returned to your torso, teasing your nipples once more, bringing them between his fingers. He bent his head down and took one of your nipples into his mouth. You arched into him, letting out a sweet sound at the wet contact. Cass swirled his tongue around the hardened nub before gently tugging it with his teeth, causing you to let out a cry of pleasure that quickly turned into a whine when he lifted his head. He lightly blew on your nipple, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure as your nipple peaked harder, responding to the contrast of his hot mouth and the cool air. He repeated the same motions with your other breast.
You moaned as you felt him tease your entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing it against your clit and around your inner lips. You impatiently bucked your hips, trying to guide him where you wanted him, where you ached for him, but Cassian’s firm hand on your lower abdomen halted your movements.You looked up at him with frustration, frowning at the sly grin on his mouth.
“Cass, please,” You pleaded with broken whimpers. Cassian said nothing, moving his head down to kiss alongside your neck, taking your earlobe between his teeth. He teased you more, and in a movement of exasperation, fueled by the swelling and throbbing of your heat, you pulled him towards you by his neck. You placed your forehead against his, looking at him through heavy eyes. “Cassian, please fuck me already.”
Cassian gave you a wolfish grin. “Since you asked so nicely,” he said, bringing you in for another kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the kiss wet with desire and something more you couldn't place. Taking a breath and pulling apart, Cassian moved his hand to grab his cock, stroking it once, twice, before lining it up with your entrance.
You let out a deep moan as he pushed into you, feeling yourself stretching around him. Your previous climax had left you sensitive, so sensitive that the first rock of Cassian’s hips left you gasping for air. Cass let out a guttural groan, leaning his forehead against yours as he bottomed out. His hair clung to his forehead. You looked up at him, at his mouth open in pleasure, and ran your hands alongside his face.
“Fuck,” His breath fanned your face. He looked at you with that deep intensity in his gaze that stirred your heart. The next thrust was just as slow, Cassian pushing in as deep as your body would allow. “You, You feel fucking incredible.”
You closed your eyes, the sensations overwhelming you. But soon, Cassian’s voice snapped again, and you felt one hand grab your face, his hand holding your jaw, his thumb rubbing at your lips. “Look at me, beautiful.” He said, letting his thumb dip into your mouth.
You spread legs spread open to the sides as he began to vigorously slam into you with no restraint, never breaking the eye contact he'd so quickly grown to love. He drank it all in: the clapping noises of flesh and your sensual screams, the sensation of your wet heat wrapped around him, the sopping sounds of your love making, and the way your nails dug into his arms as he told you how good you felt.
You rolled your hips, pushing against his merciless rhythm of thrusts. Cassian looked down at where your bodies met, at where his cock filled you, entranced by the way your hips subconsciously tilted at the intrusion, at how your hole welcomed him. With a growl, he lifted your legs over his shoulders, positioning you perfectly for his rough, relentless thrusts. Your breath caught in your throat as your watched him fuck you, your heart pounding in her chest. “Cass, Cassian.”
“Keep saying my name, baby.” The pet name fell from his lips so effortlessly, caressing you like another wave of heat. “Tell me how good it feels.”
As he continued to move inside you, your thoughts jumbled into a mess of pure pleasure. You let out a string of incoherent words, your mind drunk on the feeling of him stretching you, hitting spots you’d never experienced before. “S’Good.” You whimpered. You wrapped your arms tighter across his shoulders, reaching to touch the delicate membrane of his wings. They twitched under your fingertips, and you felt Cassian let out a moan before the sound registered in your ear. He snaked a hand where your bodies met, finding your swollen, aching clit, and began to rub circles around it. You gasped.
“I wish I could be here forever,” Cassian groaned, his lips hovering over your ears, “Stay buried inside of your cunt. Fuck you like this for the rest of my life.” You didn't know if Cassian was aware of what he was saying, aware of what it implied, but you didn't care. It all felt so good, and his words made every stroke even more pleasurable. You wanted this, you wanted this for the rest of your life– you’d never experienced something this great, never known this level of pleasure could exist.
“Please, Cass. Please.” You didn't know what you were begging for, but Cassian hushed you, peckering kisses all over you, his head fell in the crook of your shoulder, moving to bring his teeth to the sensitive skin at your neck. You moaned. “Yes, yes. Mark me. I’m yours.”
Your words seemed to hit a part of him, forcing him to pull away and stare at you with wide eyes. He stilled inside of you. "Say that again," he commanded, his voice low and gravelly.
"I'm yours," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. You brought your hands to his face, gently rubbing his cheeks. The tender, soft touch sent a shock straight to his cock, and he pulled you into a deep kiss. When you pulled apart for air, Cassian’s strokes began to pick up again, his forehead resting on yours. "Fuck me like I'm yours." You said to him, your voice filled with raw desire.
Cassian’s mind shuffled through the past two weeks, the memories of the bartender hitting on you, of the men who never satisfied you. He felt a primal possessiveness, a need to take you faster, harder, deeper. His thrusts became more aggressive, more forceful, his wings caressing you as they wrapped around both of your bodies. You cried out in pleasure, your body arching beneath him, hands gripping the sheets as you took him deep inside you.
He watched you, admired your body sprawled on the bed before him, his hands on your hips, holding you at just the right angle. His mouth salivated at your beautiful face, flushed and red, and the way your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts. The noise of your fucking was obscene - the soft squeaks of your bed, the wet sounds of your bodies slapping together, the moans and curse words and harsh breathing. His grip on your hips tightened and his thrusts became more erratic.
Cassian’s movements became faster than you could process– one moment, he was thrusting into you, and the next, he was picking you up, maneuvering you so that you were sitting on his thighs, looking at him as he leaned back. You gasped at the new angle, at the feeling of sinking onto him completely. His eyes locked on yours as you straddled him and his hands guided you up and down his cock, your bodies slick with sweat and desire.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping your ass, guiding you closer to him with each thrust. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, your pussy clenching around him as you rode him harder, faster, your body craving more. “Ride me just like that, sweetheart.” His voice rang in your head, making you dizzy. You arched forward towards him. One hand left your ass, going to grab one of your breasts, fondling with your nipple. His eyes were dark with desire, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched you take him deep inside you.
As you sank down onto him, his hips bucked up to meet you, your bodies connecting with a primal force. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, your pussy clenching around him as you moaned softly, your eyes closing in pleasure. But Cassian didn't want you to close your eyes. He wanted you to look at him, to see the raw fire in his eyes as he took you. He reached up, his hand wrapping around your throat, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.
"Look at me," he growled, his voice rough like gravel. The sound itself made you clench around him as he fucked you. You opened your eyes, your breath catching in your throat as you met his gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with lust and possession, and you could feel your orgasm building as you looked at him. His hand tightened around your throat as he began to fuck you harder, his hips bucking up to meet you.
You felt his cock sliding deeper inside you, your pussy clenching around him, your body shaking with pleasure.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, "Look at me. Let me see you fall apart on my cock."
As you felt the intensity of your orgasm building, he pulled you down, holding you to his chest, in place, as he continued to thrust into you. You moaned, your forehead resting against his, your eyes locked on his as he continued to fuck you, his cock sliding in and out of you. "Cassian, please, please, I'm so close," you whimpered, your voice hoarse. His hands gripped your ass roughly, pulling you closer to him, sliding deeper and deeper into you with each thrust.
You felt his heart pounding beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you, his eyes never leaving yours. He stared at you as he whispered, "I've got you, baby. I've got you."
Your body trembled, your moans grew louder, and soon your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave– your body shook with pleasure, your pussy clenching around him, milking him. You gasped his name, your body convulsing over him, your sensitivity consuming you completely. You felt him tense, his cock swelling even more, and you knew that he was close as well.
His thrusts were rough and hard, each one sending waves of warmth coursing through you. Your body responded to his movements, your cunt massaging him, clenching around him, making him groan in response. He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming even rougher, sloppy, and more urgent. His hips moved in a frenzy, each thrust driving him deeper into you, his cock sliding against your most sensitive spots, making you moan with pleasure. You felt his balls slapping against your ass, the sound and sensation driving you wild, your hands grasped at him, at his shoulders, at his neck, at his hair.
You felt the tension building within him, his body tensing underneath you as he neared his climax. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you in place as he drove into you. You were certain he’d leave marks in their wake, that your hips, your thighs, your body would be bruised with the evidence of his touch. It made you feral.
Cassian’s breaths were ragged as he bucked into you roughly, a string of curses falling from his lips. Finally, he let out a low, primal grunt, his face contorted with pleasure as he came, his cum spilling deep within you. You felt the warmth of his seed filling you, the sensation making you shiver with pleasure. His thrusts became slower, gentler, as he tried to catch his breath, his body still trembling from the intensity of his orgasm. His grip on you loosened, and his hands began to rub up and down your spine, gently, softly, lovingly.
You both laid there for a moment, his cock still deep inside you. Pushing yourself up, you sat upright, Cassian letting out a groan at the feeling of him still inside you, your juices leaking between your legs and onto his skin. His hands rubbed at either of your thighs, both of you breathing heavily as you stared at one another— lips swollen, skin flushed, hair disheveled. You let out a deep breath and let your mouth fall open slightly.
“You are incredible.” Cassian breathed out, looking up at you, still entranced in your beauty. He admired the marks on your body from his mouth, and felt a small smirk growing on his lips. You let out a small exhausted laugh, your hands coming to rest at his shoulders, rubbing your thumb absentmindedly on his skin.
“So,” You said, still breathless, your voice raspy, “What now?”
#cassian x reader#cassian fanfic#cassian#cassian smut#cassian x reader smut#cassian x you smut#cassian acotar#cassian fic#cassian x y/n#cassian x you#cassian/reader#cassian x y/n smut#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar smut#acowar#smut#cassian fanfiction
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Y'know what I want? I want sick Bruce Wayne.
I want a Bruce that babies his kids when they're sick. He goes all out. 6'4 muscle-bound Jason Todd is getting tucked into bed with a kiss on the forehead to check his temperature and whines if Bruce forgets.
As good as his memory is, Bruce can't exactly remember what Thomas and Martha used to do when he was sick. They had a routine but the intricacies of it constantly escape him. As little as that may be, it does pang every now and again that he's forgetting them, forgetting how they loved him. He doesn't want that for any of his kids.
So he babies them, treats them like the little kids he knows they aren't and rarely if ever got to be. He deals with any vomit, tears or just general irritation that comes with being sick. It gets to point where when the kids are sick and Bruce isn't home, they can barely function.
Dick: THIS IS IT- THIS IS THE END
Wally: dude you just have a cold?
Dick: JUST A- JUST A COLD?!? WALLY, ARE YOU INSANE?? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MANAGE WITHOUT MY HOT CHOCOLATE AND HOME MADE BUNNY MARSHMALLOWS??!?
Wally: ok one, bunny marshmallows? adorable. and two, i've seen you walk off a fractured collarbone, two bruised ribs and a twisted ankle???
Dick: ....yeah but the marshmallows
Wally:
But Bruce? Oh when Bruce is sick, he powers through. But when he's so sick he considers himself a liability, he curls up in a small, dark room like a pregnant cat. It's practically instinct for him – when he's compromised like that, he needs to be in a place that he's knows is safe.
Very Sick Bruce also goes into Mama Bear Mode. He wants his kids in his sight at all times or he's practically inconsolable. If they're not with him, then they might be in danger, anything could happen – how can he protect them if they're not there? Just anxiety out of the wazoo.
I can see him trying to drag his 7 kids into one room so he can keep an eye on his babies.
Damian: baba we cannot all possibly fit-
Cass: -we will
Damian:
Damian: who's going first?
The kids do make things more comfortable. Fluffing his pillows, getting him tea and making sure he has his stuffies. Bruce appreciates it but he just says that all he needs are his kids. That always has them sobbing.
(happy holidays to my cold twin @bruciemilf i was inspired by our mutual sickness lol)
#dc#batman#bruce wayne#batfam#batfamily#batkids#tw vomit#i can just imagine bby bruce with his big brown eyes feeling feverish and crying for his parents#alfred lying and saying they just went out and they'll be back soon bc he doesn't have the heart to remind him of their death#also idk if this is coherent at all but my sickness filled mind could only articulate my hc so well lol
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vat7k designs in my head...
i thought their canon designs were a eensy weensy bit Unpolished so i made these mostly for myself. erm if u rly want it i think varian is 19 here, hugo 19, nuru 18, yong 12.
i also made rhem all playlists and had to draw them a cover so thats what the last img is I linked each of em under my notes for all of em... Under the cut is Like a Huge Infodump of notes i have for each chara,,,,,,
i kept varians design basically the same, i dislike the design w the orange neck thing so i just Nuked it😭... Here's Varians playlist
Hugos design i just wanted to put him in something more Loose. hes a thief, a professional escape artist. i dont think wearing clunky metal is ideal for him. i also gave him a prosthetic arm (blond w no arm design trope!) but u cant see it in the ref so i added another drawing of him in his under layering👍 i vaguely referenced russian(?) clothes for him as well... Yeah not too much changed w him i just tried to make him slippery-er. Here's Hugo's playlist
yong came relatively easy to me, if it wasn't obvious i did rip gaming from g*nshin's hoodie. i thought the lion hood was Adorable and freaking perfect for what i had in mind for hos character. since the og notes said the fire kingdom is loosely Chinese inspired i basically just kept that. i mashed tgt a buncha diff dynasties though sorry for how inconsistent i was... i think he looks Okay. anyways i changed yongs role a bit, ill explain why im adjusting some of their roles later but i kept yong as the Jinx Type character. hes the eldest in his family and has a buncha younger siblings, hes a lion dancer and does performances w his family/siblings. he rly like special effects n keeps tryna incorporate his fireworks into their performances (it flops and he has to sew up the dmg) ill explain more of yongs role in another post maybe shrugs... Here's Yong's Playlist
miss nuru was a bit of a struggle for me i might share my full design process with her coz i did a Bunch of mockups for her😭😭😭... i didnt have a specific country of reference for her but i chose to make her vaguely south asian inspired. i also really wanted to keep the sheer fabric w the star / constellation map. i love that idea its so cute so shes still technically the navigator. but she also wields a sword too, fencing or whatever. (her and varian r Huge Cass fangirls which is probably why she started tryna use a sword (snuck out to watch cass compete) Okay ill talk abt this later) in my head, okay ill Probably make a whole nother post talking abt how im interpreting/writing each chara, but in my head i think nuru is the youngest and her kingdom's archivist. shes mostly in charge of like Her kingdoms history / artifacts / etc. ok im getting too side tracked ill save the lore dump for later but thats Nurus role in the party. Here's Nuru's Playlist
uhm below i made their character stats mostly to help me with planning / role developing. the yellow is their base stats the color behind is their end stats i guess. i was gonna explain my reasoning for their stats but ermm this post is kinda Really long so sorry😭... varian max int for obvious reasons, also max charisma just coz i feel like u kinda learn a thing or two being around a couple manipulators and spending time in jail idk shrugs... (also lets not forget the "ud b surprised what ppl would do for a cookie!") Hugo slippery guy, if a brick is thrown at him as hes running hes gonna try n run faster to shatter it, his mindset is Run Run Run! i think hes relatively agile too but yeah mostly a Speedster. i think he n varian got no Physical strength varian maybe just like A little coz Farm boy but I rly doubt quirin is making him do a Lotta heavy lifting. yong has incredible stamina and agility because hed a performer. nuru is the strongest coz this team would literally Flop without a proper Offense😭... i think varian n hugo r able to outwit plenty of their opponents but i think nuru is pretty good in a fight, same w yong. Yeah Okay Sorry for a Long Long Post thanks hope u guys enjoy
#vat7k#varian and the seven kingdoms#varian vat7k#hugo vat7k#nuru vat7k#yong vat7k#varian tangled#fanart#lizzysart
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WOW THIS TOOK SO LONG- But it was worth it! Also, anatomy was NOT my friend during this. XD
SO here is a stack of all of the Leos (from comics, at least) that inspired me to make my own comic. They are actually stacked in the order I found them! Thank you all for creating such unique and amazing comics and being amazing! I tried to get all the Leo's color pallets accurate to the ones used in their respective comics!
Cass Apocalyptic series by @somerandomdudelmao For being the comic artist that got me into tmnt in the first place. Your AU is not only the base of my love of TMNT, but also one of the biggest supports for this entire fandom- so, naturally, he is the base of this stack!
2 Arms Left by @intotheelliwoods Sweet bean Poptart is next. An absolute gem of a comic! Also... beetle saga is one of the few comics that made me bust out laughing. I loved that SO much.
Gemini by @tangledinink Your art style. Oh my gosh, I cannot get enough! And the amount of amazing comics under your belt? You amaze me.
Separated Leo AU by @dianagj-art I started reading your comic shortly after I got REALLY into TMNT and your comic has been the BIGGEST inspiration on my comic. I love your murder gremlin so much. (also yes, One is bragging that he is above Gemini)
Tentative Devotee by @s0fti3w1tch Omg omg your artstyle? SO SQUSHY. I love your Leo's design and the idea is soooo cute!
Life Mission: Save My Brothers by @daedelweiss Wow. Just wow. This comic is so well put together and professional looking it still impresses me. I was there for the premier of the trailer and I couldn't stop gushing about it all night!
Empyrean Weeping by @cupcakeslushie Ohhhh I am a sucker for angst and you DELIVERED. Your Donnie design is still one of my absolute favorites. I found your comic VERY late, but I am SO glad I did!
Kid Leo AU by @angelpuns Loved your comic so much when I found it- you draw all the turtles so adorably! I also am having so much fun in the collab meeting everyone, and I cannot thank you enough for letting me join!
And, finally, Little Subjects AU by ME! :D
#rottmnt#tmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#little subjects au#turtle tots#rottmnt seperated au#cass fanart tag#cass apocalyptic series#separated leo au#tentative devotee au#empyrean weeping au#life mission au#kid leo au#gemini au#2al fanart#2al#yay#this took SO LONG#ABSOLUTELY THE LONGEST I HAVE SPENT ON ART IN A LONG TIME#but it was worth it#I hope you guys like this! X3
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DP x DC: Dick's Totally Normal Date?
Inspired by that one juju sanpo where Yuuji thought Megumi was being hit on and he, Nobara, and Gojo pull out their ridiculous Formation B to drive away the potential date. And I thought, 'this, but batfam, but veer wildly to the left, with DP'. So here you go.
Third floor study, Wayne Manor
"Thank you all coming on such short notice", Tim said, eyes serious, one hand on the pile of documents on the table.
His siblings nodded at him, faces grave, except for Duke who just looked confused.
"I'm sure all of you already know why this meeting was called-
"I don't actually know why we are here", Duke interrupted.
He was thoroughly ignored.
-and are just waiting for confirmation. But the wait is now over. I have here the results."
His siblings all leaned forward, except for Cass who was too chill for that, apprehension radiating through their frames. Though Duke was more confused than apprehensive.
Tim sighed. "It's true. Dick is dating."
Gasps ran through the group.
Tim dropped the bigger bomb. "And its not a redhead."
Jason cursed as he leaned back in his chair, face directed at the ceiling exasperatedly. Steph brought a fist down on the table, shaking her head. Cass simply placed an elbow on arm of her chair, chin supported by the back of her hand. Damian just scoffed.
Duke looked at all of them still trying to see what the issue was and why they were even here doing this. Tired of being out of the loop the young man decided to just go ahead and bite the bullet.
"Question!", he began,"Why is Dick dating someone a problem?"
They all stared at him.
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Dude, he dated a witch king that tried to make us all into creepy dolls just a year and a half ago. The bastard almost turned everyone in Gotham into literal hamster plushies when they broke up."
"His immediate rebound after that relationship was the alien that tried to hunt him for sport", Steph contributed helpfully.
Jason waved an arm towards her while looking Duke, as if asking him why he wasn't getting the point.
And Duke...really wasn't getting the point. In fact he seemed to be getting even more confused.
"Dick's a habitual monsterfucker, old news, so what? And it isn't as if every single one of you haven't had some kind of romantic relationship with non-humans before. Even Damian's dated Jon! Besides Heira did not turn us all into hamsters. That was a joke. Aaaand Ga-va'se is a great guy and he definitely wasn't a rebound. Also he and Dick broke up really amicably and they still meet up for boba and he gives us really cool alien shit so I don't know why you guys don't like him."
"Duke, Ga-va'se hunted us for sport", Tim said from the side.
"That was because we were in his hunting grounds! Plus he apologized for that!", Duke defended his alien buddy. The guy was really nice! What was their hang up with him? Sure he was a bit murderous but hey, Duke dared his siblings to find one person from each of their social circles who wasn't a bit murderous and insane. Sure he hunted them for the better part of five days in a terrifying alien jungle a galaxy away from home but that was honestly their fault for intruding on the hunting grounds of his people in the first place. Plus it was all a misunderstanding!
"I agree with Thomas", Damian said as he thumbed through the files Tim had distributed among them. Across from him Cass was doing the same thing, rapidly turning the pages. "Partially at least. The Yautja was a worthy candidate for Grayson's hand-
"You just like him because he got you that sword, Demon Spawn", Jason drawled in that assholish tone of his that never failed to incense Damian.
-Shut it Todd! Ahem. As I was saying Ga-va'se was worthy but Heira was an imbecile. Unfortunately there are more Heiras in Grayson's romantic history than Ga-va'ses so it would be prudent for all of us to remain vigilant", the youngest member of the Wayne family finished, closing the file decidedly. "Especially if his current choice isn't a redhead."
Duke had to ask. "Again whats up with the hair colour thing?"
Tim looked at Steph pointedly. "Officer Stephanie Brown please proceed with orientation."
A truly terrifying grin bloomed on Steph's face. She stood up from her chair and walked to the wall, pulling down a projector screen. A click of a button and it came alive, with what looked like an honest to god power-point presentation on Dick's dating life. Tim slid Duke an brochure of all things.
"Dick's choice of romantic partners can be classified into three categories", she began as if she was a lecturer. She was even wearing glasses. "Redheads, which everyone and their third aunt's weird dog knows about, morally ambiguous older men, and extremely dangerous non-humans. There are outliers of course, and overlaps, but generally he tends to keep his choices confined to these groups. Turn to page 3 please."
Duke dutifully turned to page 3, which looked like it contained profiles of the various people Dick's dated in the past. If it was any other family this would be a gross invasion of privacy.
"Exhibit A- Barbara Gordon, great taste, mostly downhill from here I'm afraid. Exhibit B-Slade Wilson aka The Terminator, no I'm not kidding, the entire thing is weird and toxic. And Exhibit C-the weird eldritch thing Dick dated two years ago who I'm pretty sure is Cthulhu's actual cousin who made us all taste colours for a week straight."
"Deathstroke?", Duke exclaimed, weirded out.
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Thats who bothered you? Not Cthulhu's cousin?"
Duke huffed. "Their name is Umh'uidrritl and I know where to draw the line."
Tim side-eyed him. "On a whiteboard with an old marker maybe."
"Hey!"
"Back to my very important power-point that no one else is going to interrupt-",Steph said as she glowered at them, "-mapping Dick's dating history shows us that the more volatile of his partners tend to cause trouble post-breakup. A deeper investigation would reveal that while his harem of redheads mainly just stir up delicious, juicy drama, hot tea and angst all around baby, bless their souls, his harem of morally ambiguous older men, and harem of extremely dangerous non-human entities tend to lean towards more destructive reactions. While the former is content with kidnapping and threatening and the assorted standard yandere meltdowns-
"Yandere?", Damian murmured.
Jason just snorted.
-the latter likes to cause damage on a larger scale". The blonde gestured with a flourish and a new slide popped up.
"Exhibit A- That time Gotham almost got gobbled up like a light snack by that space whale pet of the Ryagonian emperor. Exhibit B- That time a Fairy Queen tried to spirit Dick away and almost put the entire city into an enchanted coma, which was honestly kinda festive, I'd never been more well rested. Exhibit C- That entire thing with the tentacles that we are all better off without revisiting."
Everybody in the room blanched at that last one. Duke nodded his head at their reactions. The ink really was hard to get off of clothes.
The screen went dark and she pulled the cord at the bottom, the projector screen rolling up. The blonde turned to them with a smug and satisfied expression on her face.
"In conclusion, despite there being no biological connection between them, and the fact that romantic and sexual preferences are not genetically inherited, Dick has managed to acquire Bruce's proclivity for an interesting dating life, which we all did if we're being honest. Its just that while Bruce dates across the law, Dick dates across realms and his romantic entanglements often happen to be so above our pay grade that its ridiculous. Data has shown that redheads cause the least amount of property damage so whenever he dates non-redheads, we have to keep an eye on the tea-I mean an eye on the situation."
She sat back in her chair with a satisfied air. "Questions?"
"Yes", Tim said miserably. "Did you have to bring Bruce into this? Like ew."
"I had to, yeah!", Steph replied cheerily. "You stole my croissant alienfucker!"
"Excuse you the alien fucks me thank you very much!"
Jason almost gagged. "TMI Timbo TMI!"
Duke frantically gestured at Damian. "Damian's right here!"
The boy in question just looked supremely unimpressed. "I was raised by assassins Thomas."
"Where's Cass?", asked Steph, munching on a packet of chips she produced from somewhere.
"Left this clown fest to assist Pennyworth in drugging father so that he can actually rest."
"Ah", said the whole room. Each one individually resolving to go to Bruce's room and get blackmail pics later. Sibling solidarity at its finest.
"Back to the matter at hand", said Tim, "Dick dating a possibly dangerous entity even remotely around the time frame when the Joker turned up dead is a red flag. And that's why our secret society is meeting today."
"Okay one, you think Dick's new boyfriend offed Joker? Two, this is a secret society?", asked Duke, his earlier confusion now fully evolving into resignation.
"I already filled out your documentation."
"What?"
"Don't worry. Everything's in order."
"Thats not...you know what? Thanks Tim."
"You're welcome!"
Steph chortled at the entire exchange and almost choked on her chips. Karma.
Jason leaned back with his hands behind his head.
"You know, if this guy merked the clown, and has no evil plans or something...I'm all for him actually. Guy has my vote. If they get married I might even decide not to embarrass Dickie at the wedding", he said while Steph hacked up a lung in the background.
"Be that as it may Todd, we still need to monitor the situation. If this Daniel did have anything to do with the Joker's death, then he is a dangerous individual who could pose a threat to Grayson", remarked the young Robin, and then as an add-on, "...and Gotham."
Duke sighed. There really was no escaping this was there? "So what do we have on the guy?", he asked Tim.
"Page 4. Name-Daniel Nightingale, prefers to be called Dan. Father, Vladimir Masters. Mother, Daniella Nightingale. Sister, Danielle Nightingale. Brother and sister are apparently vacationing-
"In Gotham?!, Duke asked horrified.
-and Dan met Dick during a Halloween Party in Bludhaven-
"In Bludhaven?!", Steph asked appalled.
"Why was a supposedly vacationing wealthy European in Bludhaven for Halloween?", Jason asked with a frown.
"European?!", Damian asked scandalized.
-And they hit it right off. As of now, they have been dating for five months and the relationship looks to be going strong. While the records seem legitimate, something's off about them. Also the Joker turned up dead on Valentine's Day. So my verdict...sus."
There was a bout of thoughtful silence.
Then.
"Daniella, Daniel, and Danielle? What the fuck? What are they? Clones?" asked an incredulous Jason, aghast at the unoriginality.
Duke scrutinized the provided photos closely. "Whoa, this Master's guy's genes really stood no chance! They all really could be clones for real."
Steph whistled. "He ripped!"
They stared at her. She sipped her boba unrepentantly.
"What? I'm right! He ripped!"
She was indeed right. He was ripped.
Duke put the file down. "So what's the plan? Do we just follow him around till we find out what he is or something?"
"Okay so the next week Gotham's got a week long 'Joker is Dead' carnival planned-
"Another one?", Damian asked surprised.
"We deserve it", both Jason and Steph reply vehemently.
-and Dick said Dan's taking him to the fair every single day of the celebration. If everything goes according to plan, we can sneak our way into the organizers, stall owners, ride operators whatnot and do some tests to figure Daniel Nightingale out. And if he's normal trouble we prepare for the breakup meltdown. If he's a different sort of trouble we deal with it."
"We gotta be careful though". Steph obnoxiously slurped her boba. "Or else Dick will deal with us."
They all shuddered in fear. Dick Grayson could be a mean bitch when it came to revenge.
"We'll just have to execute it well. Thomas will be adequate for the job. The rest of you fools will just have to step up, especially you Drake", Damian said as he crossed his arms across his chest, nose up imperiously.
The two robins, red and regular, sneered at each other.
Jason 'hmpfed'. "Sounds good enough. If that's it I'm gonna go. I got shit to do". He stood up from his chair and stretched, a symphony of cracking sounds coming from his spine. "Shit I'm old."
"You're just gonna re-watch Pride and Prejudice 2005 again". Tim also stood up, even more concerning popping sounds coming from his spine.
"Damn right I am", said the crime lord as he ambled out of the room.
Steph also got out of her chair and started collecting her trash, Alfred would kill he if she didn't. "I'm all in on this plan Timtam! Clown's dead, Gotham's finally calmed down, I went to bed early...No way I'm letting some ripped Adonis mess with my peace and quiet no matter how mouthwateringly swole he is! And he is swole!" With that she also swept out of the room.
"I'll update Cass!", she shouted from the corridor.
Damian had already disappeared. This left Tim and Duke alone in the room. When Tim also made to leave, Duke finally managed to break through the disbelieving fugue this entire meeting had pulled him under.
"So where's the plan Tim?"
"Oh", said the sleep deprived vigilante, already halfway out the door, "I emailed it you already."
And then there was one.
Duke just stood there processing that last sentence for a long two minutes. He sighed.
"So this meeting could've been an email."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dick is rather adventurous in his dating life. Helen of Troy vibes.
The entire operation reveals nothing suspicious. According to all the tests known to man and bat kind, Daniel 'I prefer Dan' Nightingale is a completely normal member of the Homo sapiens species. Not even a metagene. Just generously swole.
Duke being half immortal doesn't really get his siblings' reservations against some of Dick's exes. He doesn't realize that beings like Umh'uidrritl, who was not Cthulhu's cousin but a distant relative by the way, give most people incomprehensible nightmares. He on the other hand thought that Umh'uidrritl and his pet colossal hydrothermal squid were perfectly lovely. Though he and Damian high-key root for their Yautja friend.
There is absolutely no romantic relationship between Vlad and Danny. Dan and Danielle are just little shits who just love the horrified expression that overtakes Danny's face every time he sees their IDs for vacation time. To be clear its the Vlad part that horrifies him, he rocks as Daniella. Vlad, who is reformed here, is also horrified at this. Which is why the two little shits do it. Also the DP characters are all aged up. Could be by a few years, could be by millennia. They haven't deigned to reveal that to me.
Bruce spend the entire week under Alfred's careful supervision, getting rest and relaxation. He had spa days with Clark and Diana. He slept ten hours. He felt energetic in the morning. He hummed a cheerful tune. It was disgusting. He remained blissfully unaware of his eldest son's latest romantic adventure. Good for him.
Alfred thinks Ga-va'se was a splendid young man and that Umh'uidrritl was a lovely partner. He just wishes Master Dick would stop dragging in ruffians like that ill-mannered Heira every now and then. Truly a son of Master Bruce that one. What about that wonderful demon boy from a few years ago Master Dick? Mezarel was it? Oh he was sealed away, was he? Well bat your eyelashes at that man Constantine you and Master Bruce keep around and try to get that boy back will you? Such a well mannered young devil he was!
Alfred becomes that mother-in-law that never truly accepts Dan completely, still holding out hope for Mezarel to make a comeback. I've heard harems are wonderful this time of year Master Dick. A second husband would do you some good!
Dan finds this hilarious. His family does as well. Alfred also likes Dan. They have a weird understanding.
Cass likes most of Dick's exes. Except for Heira. Everybody hates Heira. Although Duke kinda likes him but even sunshine boy has his limits.
Yes the bat-siblings are doing this only for the safety of Gotham, not to also low-key annoy their big brother at all.
Yes Dan and Dick were aware of the hi-jinks.
Yes Cass did think they should just ask Dick.
Yes Dick is aware of who and what Dan is. He met him at a supernatural Samhain gala he literally stumbled into. He just rolled with it, celebrating the end of the harvest with the decidedly non-human revelers, and not only ate the food there but also drunk flirt with Dan.
Dan said, 'You're stupid. I like that in a human' and saved him from being stolen away by some very interested entities. It was the start of a beautiful relationship. Dani sometimes calls them the 'tits and ass duo' and she's right.
Danny is just happy that Dan found someone he loves and could keep up with him. He almost felt like a proud mother at their wedding and then had an existential crisis about it.
The family does find out Dan's real identity. It was after Dick accepted his proposal and it was hilarious. Jason meets Jazz at the wedding. He thinks he got infected with Dick's redhead fetish.
Yes this is all for my Dick/Dan propaganda. I hope you're not immune.
#Tim Drake#Jason Todd#Damian Wayne#Stephanie Brown#Cassandra Cain#Duke Thomas#Dick Grayson#Dick Grayson/Dan Phantom#Dick Grayson/Dan Fenton?#Dan Phantom#Dan Fenton#Dark Danny#which is it? I don't know#Danny Phantom#Batfamily#Batfam#Batsiblings#Batfam shenanigans#Jason/Jazz#in the future that is#DP X DC#DC Batfam#DC X DP#DC X DP fic#Dick Grayson's harem of redheads#Dick Grayson's harem of morally ambiguous older men#DP X DC Fanfic
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sO i got to part two of the daniel jason todd fenton au :)
>:) word count 8k+
So, first, taglist for folks who asked for it:
@blep-23 @mikyapixie @isnt-that-grape @randomenglishmajor @illryiannightmare @the-navistar-carol
SECOND: this part needs a trigger/content warning list:
- CW Mild Swearing
- CW Slight Psychological Horror
- ^ CW mild depictions of being haunted by your own ghost/death flag and not realizing it (other people do though)
- CW Brief Emetophobia (Danny throws up during a second nightmare)
- CW Danny has nightmares of dying - except its of Jason Todd's warehouse death. It's not explicit but it's implied
- TW Mild mentions of perceived Blood
- TW Depictions of Corpses (first is non-descript, and then second one is slightly more descript but its not anything uh, super descriptive)
- TW Mild description of burns (the descriptive part above)
- TW Depictions of Panic Attacks (Danny's nightmares)
I mentioned that this au was inspired by a song lyric from Jann's 'Gladiator' here is that line:
I know your addiction's attention,
Let's start a show
Is it everything and more than you were hoping for?
Show us something we ain't never seen before
The day after Danny meets himself, he's downstairs having breakfast in the dining room with the rest of the family, listening idly in on their conversations. Tim Drake is talking about something about Wayne Industries with Mr. Wayne - and wasn't that a startling surprise to learn the first time? - and Damian was slyly trying to feed Ace under the table. Duke Thomas was mid conversation with Cass, much of it audibly one-sided as Cass swaps between ASL and verbal speech.
(Danny comes across her a fair few amount of times in Wayne Manor. The first time was in the library. She hands him a book about planets, smiles, and walks away.)
(He hasn't talked much to Duke Thomas yet, but he plans to - he seems cool. They just haven't had the time to run into each other yet. Danny might just have to corner him, he thinks.)
And finally Dick Grayson on his left, his Dick Grayson, was talking away with the other Dick Grayson - who had stopped by from Bludhaven for the morning for his day off. He was a cop, ew. They were comparing lives, specifically college lives. There wasn’t much to talk about in their childhood, it seems. Danny was quietly listening in.
(They both gave their Bruces headaches as children, apparently. Climbing the chandeliers and sliding down the staircase banisters. Flips and tricks only a child raised by the circus could do.)
All-in-all, a very quiet morning, Danny thinks. That is, until the other Dick Grayson turns to him and goes; "I'm sure you've been asked already, but what do your parents do, Mini Jay?"
Danny squints at him, and releases his grip on his spoon to raise a pointed finger. "First off: only my Dick Grayson can call me Jay, you have your own." He says, slightly playful and nodding to Dick - oh that was going to get confusing, fast. He should come up with a nickname for one of them, probably - "And second: you're the second person to ask me that, actually. Jason - er, myself? - asked me yesterday. My parents are ectologists."
Apparently, mentioning that he met himself is a set of magic words, because the whole table stops what they're doing, and Danny's half-sinking back into his chair when all eyes turn to him in varying degrees of surprise. Dick - Richard, he’s going to call him Richard - looks at him with wide eyes and furrowed, confused brows. "You saw Jason?"
(Danny sends Bruce a confused look, but he's not paying attention - looking at everyone else with threaded eyebrows and a faint frown. Well, at least Danny isn't the only one confused by the reaction.)
(What a comfort.)
"I guess that nickname is a dimensional constant." He mutters under his breath, and straightens up, eyeing the room warily. It... doesn't bode well to him that the Waynes were surprised by his other self's appearance -- was hisself estranged from the family?
...He hopes that doesn't happen in his world. Dick and Bruce may not be his adoptive family, but he likes them quite a lot. He wants to stay in contact with them when they get home.
"Yeah, he was in the library." He says, frowning at Richard Grayson. "He was sitting in my armchair." He supposes it was Jason's armchair first -- god, that was so weird to refer to himself in third person. "We talked for a little bit, and he asked me what my parents did. They're ectologists, by the way."
He turns to Mister Wayne and tilts his head, "Did you really not know that he was here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn't expect Richard to know, he doesn't live here. But Mister Wayne looks just as surprised, perhaps even a little remorseful.
(There’s a pit in his stomach that’s growing bigger.)
(His neck burns with a new pair of eyes, ones that he can’t see.)
Mr. Wayne looks thoughtful for a moment, and then carefully, he goes; "Jason is rather... independent. He comes and goes from the manor when he feels like it." And the way he speaks sounds like he was choosing his words carefully. Danny suppresses the shiver of unease.
Something was not well in this house. Something unspoken was haunting the air.
(Jason would know about hauntings, wouldn’t he?)
He hopes history won't repeat itself, he likes Bruce quite a lot.
"...Alright," he says after a moment of silence, not hiding his wariness as he slowly turns back to Richard. His eyes flick towards Bruce, and then to Ricard. "Anyway, my parents are ectologists, as I've said for the third time now."
Richard, for his effort, takes the topic change easily, and his surprise shifts into one of curiosity - as does everyone else. (Did Danny really not mention what his parents did? Even Dick and Bruce look intrigued.) "That's... new." Richard says lightly, Danny commends him for the way he sounds non-judgmental. "What are ectologists?"
Danny quirks a dry half-smile, and deadpans; "Studiers of all things dead and afterlife."
...And there is that reaction again. A ripple of surprise and intrigue that spreads throughout the room as everyone looks at him, like a bunch of cats perking up their ears.
On the other side of the table, Damian scoffs quietly, a sound much like the one Jason - the other one - did when Danny told him. Danny's eyes snap over to him in an instant, he stares at him, trying to study him. Why that reaction - again?
He lets himself frown, briefly, before addressing Richard again. "Everyone just calls them ghost hunters, but the 'official' term is ectologists." He drawls, air-quoting the word 'official' with his fingers as he rolls his eyes. "They've been obsessed with ghosts since college. We even have a lab in the basement, and they keep liquid ectoplasm samples in the fridge."
Danny's been in the lab a handful of times, he and Jazz both have, either to clean it as part of their chores, or to listen to a lecture from their parents for their newest invention. The lab is cool, kinda, but Danny thinks it wouldn't look out of place in any evil lair of a Rogue with a doctorate.
…He’s glad that the Fentons weren’t stationed in Gotham. They would have blown up a street. He’s surprised they haven’t already.
"Ectoplasm?" Dick asks, leaning over to catch Danny's eye. Almost by instinct now Danny smiles at him, and then nods.
"Mom and dad say it's the stuff that makes ghosts." He explains, leaning back against his seat, his arms crossing. "It's invisible in its natural state, and it makes up everything. Kinda like the Force from Star Wars, or just, matter in general."
That cracks a few quiet, laugh-like sounds through the dining room. Danny halves a smile again, a swelling of pride in his chest that lingers for a moment. "My parents say that when ectoplasm condenses enough in one area, it can start taking on visible properties," he continues, "they say that ghosts are just the memories and emotions of a dying person or animal being imprinted on a concentration of ectoplasm, and that the ghost itself isn't actually the person or animal, just matter trying to mimic it."
Which Danny guesses makes sense, even if the way they talk about ghosts made him really uncomfortable. His parents insisted that ghosts weren't actually people, but he just couldn't shake the idea that they were. How close to ‘human’ does something get before they actually are?
Well, no, that wasn’t fair. Superman wasn’t human, and yet everyone treated him like he was. Let him rephrase himself:
How human-like must something get before they are considered as such? Before they’re considered sapient and sentient, and real?
"That's... quite interesting." Someone says, and Danny turns to see Bruce leaning his elbows against the table and putting his chin on threaded fingers. He looks genuinely engrossed in what Danny's said, and pride once again leaks into his heart. "You mentioned they kept ectoplasm in a liquified state in their... fridge?"
"Oh yeah," Danny says, putting his full attention to Bruce, "it's crazy. They keep little test tube racks in the freezer full of liquid ectoplasm, and it's this - uh - glowing, bright green stuff. It used to be the weirdest thing in the house."
(From his peripherals, Danny notices the room tense up again at his description — and he bites back the urge to slow his talking down and narrow his eyes. Suspicious. Suspicious. The Waynes weren’t scientists - why do they react to something like they are?)
(Nobody knows what ectoplasm is. To the scientific world, it's an unconfirmed theory of a state of matter. Why do the Waynes act like they know what it is?)
(Danny is not stupid. Even if his scientific family makes him feel like it, sometimes.)
Bruce gives him this half-tilted, confused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Used to be?"
Danny opens his mouth, the answer already on the tip of his tongue -- and then he freezes. His jaw clicks shut as he frowns. Should he say what his parents' latest pet project was? Surely, surely, it would be fine? Their inventions never work - and a life-sized portal is just another thing on his parents' crazy ideas list.
His teeth sink into his bottom lip, chewing on the skin as he rolls the answer over in his head. ...Surely, it would be fine. His face turns in hesitance, and his shoulders scrunch and twist to his ears, like he's about to admit something that could get him grounded by his parents.
"They... may, or may not, be building an inter-dimensional portal in the basement?" His voice steadily pitches upward nervously the longer he speaks. By the time he finishes, his voice is close to a squeaky pitch.
There is a horrified silence that follows him, sitting in the air so still-like that Danny could hear the whoosh of a pin drop. He should have expected that, nervously surveying the ranging horrified expressions on the Wayne family's faces. "...I promise they're harmless... to the living." He hesitates, "Mostly."
Bruce stares at him for a long moment. "Mostly?" He repeats, his brows arched high and pinched together. Danny cringes back a little.
"Dad's a little clumsy, that's all." He says, shrugging with a helpless smile. It doesn't help, he thinks, and the silence is strangling. Sitting up, he's a little frantic to add; "I really, really, doubt it's going to work, Bruce. Their inventions never do. Mom and dad built a mini portal in college and it didn't work either!" There's a moment of silence following him, before he quietly adds, wincing, "It- it did hospitalize the guy who was helping them, though."
He only heard about that when he asked his parents about the portal - it was still in production when they picked him up. Jack Fenton claimed it was safe as safe could be - they’d make sure that the ‘college’ instance never happened again.
Bruce - both Bruces actually - looked vaguely ill at the thought. Mister Wayne’s face was blank, his face sunk into his folded hands, and Bruce’s stare burned into Danny, intense like concentrated fire.
Danny for some reason - either through his panicked urge to make things better, or through temporary insanity - laughs forcibly. "The worst thing that could happen is that the portal could explode, but that never happens."
Next to him, Dick makes a stressed sound. "That's not better, Jay." He forces out. He looks even more horrified.
Danny sucks on his bottom lip for a long beat. Then lets out a breath.
"Yeah, I know." Danny sighs, deep and long while his shoulders slump. He watches the room for a moment, with their various stony-like expressions, and looks back at the very concerned-looking Bruce. "But Bruce, I swear it's fine. Nothing's gonna happen, please don't call the Justice League on my parents. They really are harmless."
Bruce looks conflicted.
"I was being dramatic when I said the portal could explode, it won't." He continues, giving Bruce what Jazz has called his 'cheating puppy eyes'. "My parents are eccentric about their line of work, but they understand lab safety. They'd never do anything to put me and Jazz in danger."
...Actively or on purpose, that is.
He and Bruce stare each other down. One second, two seconds; what feels like thirty seconds pass in silence before Bruce relents, sighing deeply and uncannily dad-like. He drags a hand down his face, and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "When we get back to our universe, you are giving me your phone number so you can contact me if anything happens."
Danny beams, nodding hurriedly. "Thank you, Buzz."
Bruce isn't able to hide his smile - small as it was - quickly enough. "You're welcome, Danny."
—-----
Danny has a nightmare that night. He doesn't remember most of it. There's a ticking sound, and high laughter, and there is a thumping heartbeat in his ears. Everything is dark and he is in agonizing pain.
He wakes up in paralyzing terror, a scream lodged in the back of his throat. His head pounds like a concussion and there is a shallowing ache in his ribs, like someone's kicked him, and kicked him, and kicked him until all air has been knocked from his lungs. He can't breathe.
Danny's hands scrabble for his throat, and even though he can hear himself gasping for air, it doesn't feel like he's taking any of it in. There is no relief in the action, no reassurance, and everything is so hot. He kicks at his blankets, his panic growing higher as they tangle around his legs.
He needs-
He needs--
He needs to move. He needs to get up. He needs to free himself. He needs to prove that he's not dying. He feels like he's dying. He feels like he's burning. There are tears swelling in his eyes as he finally gets the blankets off his feet, and he rolls - quite literally - out of bed.
He tries to catch himself, he does. But he doesn't. He hits the floor with a heavy thud and can hardly bring himself to care -- he catches himself on his elbows, and the sting it causes makes him feel worse. The air is knocked out of his chest again.
The ground is cold though, blessedly cold. And before Danny can realize this, he lifts his head and, disoriented, looks for the door. It's too dark, it's too dark. His head swivels blindly in search of it. He needs to get out, he needs to escape.
"Bruce." He croaks, still trying to force air down into his lungs. His call comes out raspy, weak, and hot tears blur his vision.
"Dick." He tries instead when a minute passes and no one comes, and he thinks he can finally start breathing. No one comes to find him - his voice is too quiet to wake anyone up. The tears in his eyes bubble and pop, and stream down his face.
He makes a distressed noise. "Jazz?" He whispers, his voice shaky and uneven with an encompassing want for his sister. It's nearly been a month since they got here. He wants Jazz.
No one hears him. He's alone.
God, he doesn't want to be alone. Please don't make him be alone.
Danny eventually gets himself calmed down. But he is curled up on the floor, trembling with the lingering traces of fear from whatever dream had woken up. His fingers dig painfully into his arms, leaving crescent-moon indents by his nails. The contents of the nightmare are already fading further into his mind, slipping out of his hands like water. Like ash.
He feels no need to chase after it.
The back of his shirt is damp with sweat, and in between the trembling he is also shivering, goosebumps lacing up his arms. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he stares with wide, crying eyes at the side of his bed. His breath comes out in short, shaky pants.
He doesn't know how long he lays there, trying to comprehend what happened as his mind still hangs onto the edge of the dreamworld. It feels like there is something in the room with him, crawling along the walls.
Danny forces himself to get up, and the sudden standing makes his vision blacken and swim as blood rushes to his head. He stumbles, slightly, and lurches halfway across the room for the light switch.
He squints as the room is drenched in light, chasing away the lingering paranoia in the back of his brain. He is still shaking. His head still hurts. He still looks, wide eyed, around the room for anything out of place.
There is none.
But he still feels unsafe. He needs- he needs to find someone, or go somewhere else. He grabs a firm pillow off the bed, and leaves.
(He ends up in the library alone. He turns on the lights and grabs a book Dick recommended to him, and he curls up tight in his armchair. He ends up falling asleep just as the sun is rising.)
(He doesn't tell anyone about the nightmare.)
-
Progress in getting the three of them back to their home dimension is slow. Dimension Hopping is a rare experience, and what update Bruce gets he relays back to Danny and Dick: they're trying to figure out a way to send them back safely, from the exact time they disappeared, and to find what dimension they're from. It's complicated magic.
It's been three weeks.
Danny, for one, is getting homesick. He misses Jazz, Sam, and Tucker terribly, and his parents. Bruce and Dick are great, really, and Danny kinda wants to keep in touch with them after they return to their own world, but they aren't replacements of his sister and friends.
His nightmare from a few days ago still haunt his steps. He closes eyes, and that high-pitched laughter and blood-rushed pounding burns itself his ears and fills a level of unseen terror into his heart. Danny thinks that if he was hit with Scarecrow's fear gas, this is what it would feel like.
He tries to avoid falling asleep by reading in his room, by stargazing, but the place sets him on edge; an unsettling reminder of that nightmare. So he goes to the library when it gets too much, he's run into Bruce twice now doing it, and they both do reading.
Danny thinks Bruce can suspect something is up with him, but he doesn't want to tell him about that nightmare. Dick either, for that matter. He just wants to forget it.
They spend afternoons in the gym, they have it mostly to themselves - Tim Drake is at Wayne Industries, Damian Wayne is at school, so is Duke Thompson, and Cassandra Cain is... doing whatever she does during the day. Danny's not totally sure.
Dick in that time, tries showing Danny how to be more flexible. He says he's a fast learner, but Danny knows he's been slacking lately with his lack of sleep.
There isn't much they can do outside of the manor - Bruce and Dick can't go outside because they'll catch the attention of the paparazzi, and they are both significantly younger than their counterparts, and Danny isn't allowed out without a chaperone.
Which has its own unique set of problems because rumors could rapidly start if he's seen with any of the Waynes multiple times. The paparazzi aren’t dumb enough… okay, most — some — of them aren’t dumb enough to make a tabloid claiming there’s a new Wayne kid just because they see the Waynes interacting with one kid, one time. Multiple times however? That’s another story. And, he has the same issue as Bruce and Dick - he's a baby-faced Jason Todd. Who is Bruce Wayne's adoptive son in this world. He could be recognized.
And how do you explain a tiny Jason Todd to a world where Jason Todd is a full grown man?
So all three of them are... stuck inside, so to speak. And making do with what they can. Danny spends most of his morning and early noon with Dick, and then they both separate after to have time to themselves before dinner.
Bruce is in one of the studies, doing... something. Danny's not sure and he keeps forgetting to ask.
--
Dick likes Danny - Jason? - Jay. Danny said that he can call him Jason, and he doesn't protest to being called Jay.
Point is: he likes Jay. He's a delightful kid to be around; he's funny, and clever, even if he doesn't realize it himself. And Dick's a little upset that Jay isn't his brother in his world, he would've loved to have him around the manor. He probably would have visited more if he was around.
Something that he and Bruce were still slowly trying to fix...
He likes spending time with him - getting to teach him his acrobatic tricks was not something he expected, but he loves showing Jay how to do them. He thinks this is probably how Bruce felt when he was training Dick how to be Robin, all those years ago.
Speaking of which, Dick was still not over the Robin jacket that Jay wore. The origins of it weren't the best - Jay started wearing it to take back the insult the other kids at his school were throwing at him - but isn't that what part of what being Robin was about?
Cheesy, he knows. But his point still stands.
He thinks that if he had to pass the Robin title down to anyone, it would be Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton. Or perhaps just Jason Fenton-Todd? Jay doesn’t seem all that attached to the name Danny.
(“Mom and dad just started calling me it when they picked me up.” Danny — Jay shrugged when Dick asked him about it, the two of them swinging from bar to bar. “I wasn’t tellin’ ‘em my name at the time, so they gave me a new one.”)
If he had met Jason before the Fentons had, Dick thinks maybe he would have adopted him instead. And what would that future look like? Would he have been able to, when he had to go to college and classes? Would he have been able to keep going out at night, and keep that secret to himself?
He’ll never know, he supposes.
“I think that’s it for today.” Dick says, swinging off the jungle gym and landing on the mats with a cat-like thump. Behind him, Jay groans, and drops with a less graceful thud as Dick stretches out his spine. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop of his back as he leans back.
He turns, and sees Jay going for his water bottle. He looks tired — from what, Dick doesn’t know. But there are dark bags under his eyes and a sleep-distracted look on his face. He’s been distracted, and their lessons have been suffering from it.
Dick wants to know what’s bothering him, but Jay hasn’t said anything, and Dick doesn’t know what he could say to make it better.
“I can still keep going.” Jason insists, but he tiredly slumps over to grab his water, and straightens up sluggishly. It’s probably not a lie, but anything Dick shows him he doubts that Jay will retain it. “You don’t have to stop.”
“Oh but I want to.” Dick says, walking over to grab his own water. “I’m human too you know—” and Jay snorts at him with a grumbled ‘doubt it’. “—so I also need my breaks.”
“With the way you can bend I really don’t think so.” Jason mutters, eyeing him up and down. Dick laughs quietly and takes a long sip of his water. “Seriously, circus boy, what do they feed you? Actually - what did they feed myself?”
Dick’s laughter doubles as Jay’s eyes grow wide and wild, his head shaking with spasming arms. “No, seriously! I don’t know if you’ve seen the other me yet, Dick, but he- he’s fucking huge!” He exclaims, and jumps as high as he can as his arms try to make a silhouette above his head. “I- I’m almost as big as Jack Fenton, and we’re not even biologically related! I don’t know where he got that much height to him, ‘cause- ‘cause Willis, that drunk bastard, was never that big!”
Dick hasn’t seen the elusive other Jason Todd, and he’s been so curious about him. Both he and Bruce have — especially considering that everyone else doesn’t seem to want to tell them about him. He tried stopping his other self to ask about Jason Todd of his world, and his other self just said that he was his little brother and the second robin, and that he did a lot of his own stuff.
It was a whole bunch of fucking nothing. And he and Bruce were growing suspicious about it. They hadn’t thought of it before because, well, they were busy adjusting to being in a new world and trying to figure out a way back. And then Jason was never really brought up, but neither was Dick Grayson unless Dick asked about it, and he didn’t think to ask about Jason Todd before.
It was all just strange.
But Jay’s exclamation over the size of himself distracts Dick long enough that he forces himself to put the mystery of Jason Todd on the backburner for now. “I’ll- I’ll have to see him for myself, Jaybird.” He says when his laughter subsides, and he straightens up.
“Seriously,” Jay stresses, and he starts to make his way towards the gym door. “He’s fucking massive, Dick. Built like a brick shithouse.”
Dick almost starts laughing again, “Where did you even learn that phrase?”
Jay rolls his shoulders back and grins at him slyly, “I read.” He says, and it’s so clearly not how he learned that word that Dick barks out a laugh.
They reach the door, and Jay holds the door open as Dick reaches for the light switch. He looks behind him, surveying the room quickly to make sure that there’s nothing they could have left on the floor, before turning off the lights.
Bright green eyes stare at him from the mirror. Right where Jay is standing.
In an instant, the lights are back on. Dick’s heart has been kickstarted into fifth gear, suddenly and loudly racing in his chest as he darts his head around the room. It was only two seconds, perhaps only even one, but fear has been shot like an adrenaline needle into Dick’s veins. An inhuman, skyrocketing fear alike to Scarecrow’s fear gas.
What was that?
What was that?
WHAT WAS THAT?
But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There is only Jason where the eyes were.
From the mirror’s reflection, Jason turns his head — he hadn’t been looking at Dick, he hadn’t been looking at Dick — and stares up at him. There is confusion written on his face as he glances up at Dick, and then at the mirror. He meets his eyes - Jason’s blue, blue, not green, eyes — and Dick forces himself to look away from the mirror and down at Jay.
“What was that for?” Jay asks him, perfectly normal and perfectly confused.
Dick feels like he just ran a marathon. He’s panting, he doesn’t know why, and he forces himself to sound like he wasn’t as he wets his lips and furrows his brows. “I thought I saw something.” He says, frowning.
He didn’t think. He did. He did.
What did he see?
It was standing where Jay was. Those eyes. Those green-green eyes. It was where Jay was. He forces himself to shake his head, his frown deepening, unsettled. Jason peers around him as if to see what he had, and Dick puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. “It was nothing, let's go.”
He turns Jay around, and ignores his bewildered look. That lighthearted mood he had earlier has plummeted, replaced with an eerie paranoia as he takes the door from Jason’s hand and flicks the lights back off.
When he looks over his shoulder at the mirror, there’s nothing there.
—------------
Danny has another nightmare. It’s the same one. It’s dark again. That high pitched laughter fills his ears. The ticking is louder, louder, louder. It’s counting down, but to what - he can’t see — he can’t see what it’s counting down to.
There is still so much pain. His head hurts, his body hurts. He has a body now, he can remember he has a body. He’s in so much pain. He looks down at his hands and pooling around his knees is a bloody yellow cape, it’s torn and bloody and his hands are bloody and torn and he’s wearing green gloves.
He wakes up just before the ticking stops. He doesn’t know how he knows that the ticking stops.
Danny rolls over and hangs himself sideways off the bed, gasping for air that doesn’t come. He wants to scream again, to shriek with such terror that it sends everyone in the manor running into his room. He doesn’t, he can’t, he has no mouth and he must scream.
Danny gasps for air instead, and then dry heaves until he throws up onto the floor. His head is spinning with the fadings of a dream-made concussion, again. His chest hurts deeper, more, it’s no longer shallow and as if someone was sitting on his chest, like someone had beat him in the stomach and chest and head.
He feels like he’s choking. He is, he’s choking on what bile he can’t get out of his throat, and he forces himself to swallow it back down. He’s crying, he realizes, and dragging in air down into his lungs to the point it hurts.
What is going on? He thinks through the haze in his mind. With what lucidity he has he brings a hand to his head to make sure he’s not bleeding. His palm swipes against sticky skin, and all that comes back is sweat. He’s not bleeding. He feels like he is.
Make it stop. His inner mind wails as he finally, finally, starts to calm down again. He’s still crying. The tears burn down his cheeks, and he absently sticks out his tongue and licks the ones that gather at his lips away. He wipes at his face again, and when he looks at his hands, all he sees is skin.
He’s not wearing gloves.
His hands reach for his back, and grasp his sweat-soaked shirt instead. He’s not wearing a cape. It soothes him, just a little bit. But not enough to keep him feeling safe.
Danny peers over the side of the bed, and through his dark-adjusted eyes he sees the sitting puddle of throw-up on the floor. He cringes, sniffling. He can’t keep that there. He needs to — he needs to clean that up.
Alfred must be sleeping by now — what time is it? He doesn’t know. He can’t wake him up. Where does Alfred keep the cleaning supplies?
Danny throws his legs over the side — they’re not broken, he thinks dazedly — why would he think they’re broken? — and he stumbles to the door. He avoids, somehow, the sick.
(He passes by a mirrored vanity on his way to the door. He doesn’t see his reflection staring at him with green-green eyes. He doesn’t see those eyes following him.)
He runs into Bruce in the hallway. He should have guessed it so. Danny freezes in his tracks, fear shooting up into his throat as Bruce turns towards him, already a smile pulling on the older man’s face.
It drops immediately when he sees him. It twists down, and his face burrows into concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Bruce is kneeling before him before Danny can blink. He looks worried. Danny must look awful then.
(He does. He looks pale as a ghost, and his face is splotchy red and shiny with tears.)
Danny blinks at him numbly, trying to get his thoughts in order. Bruce’s hands are on his shoulders, Danny throws his hands over them, squeezing the knuckles and blinking widely. “I had-” he licks his lips, “a- uh, nightmare. And then I threw up.”
Fuck, he feels like a toddler. His eyes burn with embarrassed tears. He’s fucking thirteen. He’s not a baby. But he feels like a little kid going to their parent’s room. Bruce isn’t even his dad. He shouldn’t feel this way.
But Bruce doesn’t make fun of him, or scold him, and Danny didn’t really expect him to, but the concern that melts over his face as his eyes soften makes him feel all warm and fuzzy anyways. “Okay,” Bruce says, expression softened but no less worried, and stands up. “Okay, we can go find Alfred then.”
Danny’s lips press together, uneven and wobbling. “Please don’t.” He says before he can stop himself, and his voice cracks. He feels like such a baby. “I can clean it myself. We don’t have to wake him up.”
“Do you even know where the cleaning supplies are, chum?” Bruce asks, and in the dark hallway he can see him raise an eyebrow. Danny’s lips press tighter together. He doesn’t. But he can find it.
They wake up Alfred. Dany feels like shit the entire time.
“I’m sorry.” He croaks as he follows Alfred and Bruce down the hallway with a mop and a bucket. He’s so embarrassed. He’s going to cry again, and he hates it. “I can do it, Mister Pennyworth. Please.”
“You sound,” Mister Pennyworth starts, his voice soft, “just like young Master Jason when he started living here.” He turns to throw Danny an endeared smile, and Danny thinks it’s supposed to make him feel better. It does, a little bit, and it also makes him feel worse.
“I am Jason.” He says, and tears spill down his face again. He is Jason. That’s his name. It’s not Danny, it never has been. The time he’s been here has slowly been pointing that out to him. He may be Fenton, but he’s not Danny.
Alfred gets it all cleaned up, and Bruce sticks with him after he leaves. Danny’s grateful and resentful of it — hasn’t he embarrassed himself enough tonight?
Bruce leads him to the library, a funny parallel to the first time. “We can ask Mister Wayne —” Bruce’s face scrunches up slightly, and Danny laughs under his breath. At least he’s not the only one still weirded out by it. “— about getting you a new room tomorrow.”
Danny sniffs dryly, “How’d you know?” He didn’t think it was obvious that he didn’t want to go to sleep in his room. Bruce smiles knowingly at him, sadly, and they both sit down in the lounge chair next to the fireplace. It sits across from Danny’s armchair.
“I know a thing or two about nightmares.” He says softly.
Oh.
Yeah.
That’s right. His parents.
He probably had nightmares about that.
Danny looks away from him, his eyes drop to his hands. His bare, non-bloody hands. He leans into Bruce’s side. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He mumbles. He doesn’t want to talk about dying. Or what he thought was dying.
“And you don’t have to.” Bruce says, slinging one arm around him and slumping against the curve of the chair. Danny reluctantly follows his falling, and finds himself trapped between the back of the chair and Bruce’s side. His ear is pressed to Bruce’s heartbeat. “We can just sit here, and talk about something else.”
Danny blinks at the empty fireplace. “Okay. Tell me about films again.”
Bruce’s fingers dig gently into his hair, and scratch slowly against his scalp. “Okay, Danny.”
Danny frowns. “And don’t call me Danny. It’s Jason.”
He doesn’t look up to see Bruce’s smile, but he can hear it as the man thumbs over the shell of his ear. “Okay, Jason.”
(Danny falls asleep halfway through Bruce’s telling of the history of the Grey Ghost. Bruce knows by the way his breathing slows into a steady rhythm and his eyes don’t open.)
(He smiles for mite a moment, before it drops and his eyes turn to the bookshelf in the corner. Standing there is a small black figure, with two burning green eyes.)
(They stare at each other for a long, long minute, Bruce’s heart rising slowly. The figure tilts its head, and disappears. Bruce doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.)
—-------
Danny stares down Bruce. Bruce stares him down back. It’s morning. It’s breakfast. Everyone is at the table eating, and he and Bruce are having a silent staring contest. Danny has to ask Mister Wayne about moving to a new room, he thought he would be able to do so after breakfast.
(Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to ask at all - why bother Mister Wayne about something he can get over?)
(Bruce, apparently, wasn’t having it. With that stupid knowing look on his face.)
But Bruce wants it to be now. Danny narrows his eyes at him, and Bruce raises an eyebrow back. Dick Grayson, his world, was going to notice soon. He was sitting next to Bruce this morning. That traitor.
If you don’t do it, I will. Bruce’s face says. Bastard. Danny was going to take away his Jason rights.
Danny’s the first to relent, pressing his lips together into an annoyed, thin line, before he lets out a silent sigh and turns to Mister Wayne. “Mister Wayne?” He says, cringing slightly when Mister Wayne looks up at him - as with most of the room.
“Yes, Danny?”
He spares one last look at Bruce, who nods curtly at him, and Danny throws him one last annoyed look before turning back to Mister Wayne. “Would it, uh, be fine if I changed rooms?” He asks.
Mister Wayne tilts his head, slightly, to the side with a look of interest. “You can, but what brought this up? Is everything okay?”
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Danny was expecting that question. He glares at Bruce from the corner of his eye. And then smiles shakily at Mister Wayne. “Um, uh, yeah. Everything’s fine— it’s just, it’s stupid. Some, some stupid nightmares keeping me up.”
Mister Wayne’s brows furrow, and Dick looks concerned from Danny’s peripherals. “It’s not stupid, you can change your room. I’m sorry you’ve been having nightmares.”
He doesn’t even ask what they’re about. Bruce didn’t either — he thinks he would’ve, maybe — but fuck, jeez. Danny laughs uncomfortably, scratching his jaw. “Yeah- um, thanks. It sucks.” He just barely stops himself from blurting out that he was dreaming that he was dying.
That was not a can he wanted to open. They would have questions, he knows they would, and he doesn’t want to think about it. The image of his bloody, torn hands are already seared into his mind.
Everyone goes back to eating.
(Dick keeps looking up at him with a shadow of a frown on his face, like he’s keeping an eye on him. Quick enough that Danny doesn’t notice it. Bruce does, and watches his son from the corner of his eye.)
(Danny doesn’t see it, but his reflection turns its head. And peers around the back of its chair. Its eye burns green and it stares at Dick. The next time Dick looks up, it catches his eye.)
(He doesn’t straighten up, he forces himself not to react. He just keeps staring at it, his breath locked in his lungs, his limbs filling with a low, buzzing static. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s terrifying him.)
(The reflection doesn’t react to him, but its eyes seem to… glitch. And an eye appears next to it, and another one appears in a line. The pupils slowly turn to look… at Danny.)
(The window begins to crack.)
“JaSON!” Dick suddenly yells, standing up so abruptly that his chair falls back and slams against the ground with an echoing bang. Danny jerks back in surprise, and stares at Dick, who looks at him with equally wide eyes.
Dick looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face pale as a sheet. He looks ill. He’s panting, there’s a sheen going over his forehead, like he’s just run a mile. But he’s gripping the table like he may just vault over it.
And everyone is looking at them both once again. Bruce looks incredibly concerned.
“I— what?” Danny says, pushing his back into the chair as far as he could go.
Dick blinks, and heaves a breath. Like whatever trance he was in was just… snapped out of. His brows furrow, and he moves, suddenly, peering over Danny like he’s trying to look around him. Left, right, and over, and then back again.
“You—” he pauses, breathing in, “you looked like you were about to disappear.”
Danny stares at him in disbelief. And he looks behind him, laughing nervously. There’s nothing there but his own reflection in the smooth glass window. “What- what kind of fucking—” he turns back around to look at Dick. “Why would you say that?”
“There was something in the window.” Dick says immediately, and Danny is immediately rising to his feet and rushing around the table. Nope - nope, nope, fuck that. He’s by him and Bruce in an instant, as the other Waynes stand up and turn to the window as well.
Dick’s arms are around him the moment he’s within reach, tugging him into his side as one hand presses down against his chest, keeping him close. Dick hasn’t taken his eyes off the window, brows furrowed and serious.
Everyone looks so serious. It’s freaking him out a little bit.
“What was your nightmare about, Jay?” Dick asks when he finally tears his eyes away from the window and looks down at him. He’s got a protective hold on him, something so similar to Jazz whenever their parents set something on fire upstairs.
Danny swallows dryly — does he have to say it? Saying it might bring him back to it, and he doesn’t want to go back to it. Twice was enough for him. “I was dying.” He admits anyways, and regrets it immediately when half a dozen heads all snap to look at him.
In a panic, his mouth runs. “I was- I don’t remember anything- I just, it was dark and I was in pain and-” He presses his lips together, “I— I was in so much pain. There was this laughter—” Laughter. Familiar laughter now that he thinks about it. From the news. Danny’s lips curl downwards, and he whispers to himself, “Joker?”
“Joker?” Dick repeats, his voice hard. When Danny looks up, his face is unrecognizably stern. “You had a dream that the Joker was killing you?”
“I— no— yes?” Frustration bleeds into his chest, fear pooling up his throat as the nightmare pulls on the edge of his memory. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t see anything, all I heard was ticking and that stupid laughter. And I was bleeding, and I was wearing this yellow fucking cape, and- and I was dying.”
He pulls himself away from Dick, his breathing picking up. “I just- I was— there was this ticking sound and I woke up before it stopped, and I- I don’t know why I knew it was about to stop — but I know that when the ticking stops something bad was going to happen— and it was just a nightmare.”
Danny grits his teeth, and looks back up at Dick, forcing himself to calm down before he works himself into a panic. “It was just a fucking nightmare, Dick.” He says forcibly, and then he marches out of the room to the library.
His appetite’s been ruined.
—---------
Danny’s — Jason’s — asleep next to him. Bruce would think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that Jason’s been having nightmares about dying of all things. Nightmares that weren’t, he suspects, completely unfounded.
His other self looked ill in the face as Jason marched out of the room that morning after Dick’s outburst. Outburst. That’s all he can think to call it even if it sounds juvenile. Like it was unfounded as Jason’s nightmare.
His other self has been hiding something from him. Something about Jason Todd of this world, who he hasn’t seen at all since they arrived, but Danny — Jason — has. He would’ve thought the other Todd was a ghost if his other world’s… children… hadn’t confirmed seeing and knowing him recently.
(That was something he still hasn’t fully comprehended. Children, plural? He adopts more after Dick? He has a biological son?)
He’d be interrogating his other self on this if Jason wasn’t asleep next to him. It would be remarkably easy, as they were all sitting in the living room for the afternoon. All his other children were vigilantes, he wouldn’t need to keep pretenses.
But Jason is asleep next to him, and he doesn’t know. So he resolves to staring holes into his other self’s head, who was going through documents. A case, he bets. His other self doesn’t pay him any mind, but Bruce knows he knows that he’s staring at him.
(“What have you been keeping from me?” He growls the moment Jason is out of the dining room, rising to his feet. The look on his other self meant that he knew something about those nightmares that Bruce didn’t.
His other self looks at him, “Nothing that concerns your world.” He says, all of the kids looked tense as well, but now they were staring between the both of them like a fight would break out.
“Bullshit.” Dick snaps before Bruce can speak, he walks around him and points an accusing finger at his other self. “You looked like you saw a ghost when Jaybird said he was dreaming of the Joker killing him. You know something.”
He did not tell them anything.)
Whatever it was that his other self was hiding, Bruce would find out before they went back to their world. This concerned him, and it concerned Jason’s safety. If he wasn’t safe and his other self knew something about it, Bruce would be furious.
Jason’s ragged gasp cut through the air like a knife, and Bruce’s gaze snapped down to his face as the boy’s eyes flew open and he jerked sharply. Jason’s hands were latched onto his shirt before Bruce could react, his nails dragging into his skin like he was trying to claw himself up.
It was another nightmare. Jason was clawing at him, trying to sit himself up while jagged, awful sounding gasps filled the air. He wasn’t looking at Bruce, he wasn’t looking at anything, his eyes glazed over like he was still trapped in the nightmare.
Bruce wrapped his arms around the small boy and pulled them both down onto the ground, ignoring his other children standing up and looking at them until he had Jay in a cradle.
The boy was still gasping for air, hyperventilating. His hands drop from Bruce’s shirt and scratch at his throat, his arms forming an ‘x’ while he tilts his head back and desperately tries to draw in oxygen. Bruce tilts his head back up with his hand, and leans him against his shoulder.
“Breathe.” He murmurs, pushing damp black curls out of Jay’s face. It was a poor command - Jason’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face scrunched in pain, Bruce doesn’t think he can even hear him. “You’re safe.”
“Bruce.” Dick hisses into his ear, and Bruce doesn’t look at him. He grunts to let his son know he heard him. “The mirror.”
Bruce’s eyes fly up.
There was a floor length mirror sitting in front of the couch. A mirror that Bruce was conveniently, coincidentally, sitting in front of. A mirror that should have been working as all mirrors do.
A mirror that, instead of showing Bruce his reflection back as he was, showed him in his Batman suit. Jason was in his arms, but in a torn, bloody uniform. A uniform that looked like a Robin suit. Jason - his Jason - wasn’t a Robin. But here he was, dressed as one, his black-yellow cape pooling beneath him and covered in blood.
The Jason in the mirror, the Robin, wasn’t breathing. His head lolled over Bruce’s arm lifelessly.
Bruce’s heart skids to a stop, and he looks back down. Jason was still breathing, his hyperventilating was beginning to slow, but he was breathing. The pained crease of his face was softening, even as his brows were still furrowed.
When Bruce looks back up at the mirror, the reflection has changed. It wasn’t back to normal, Jason was just in a different suit. He was wearing a white hazmat suit now, and he was burned, horribly. The suit was melted to his skin in patches around his body in black, charred splotches, what wasn’t burned was torn, and the skin he could see was cauterized. The only part of him that was bleeding was his head, and it soaked his black hair red. What of his face he could see, there were bright green lightning figures going up his neck, burning the skin around where it glows.
The mirror cracks down the middle, severing Jason from Bruce.
He forces himself to look down, terrified to see the reflection a reality right in front of him. But Jason was alive, uninjured, and breathing quietly. Bruce presses two fingers to his throat, and feels a steady pulsepoint thumping against the pads of his fingers.
Jason’s eyes open and blue stares up at him.
When Bruce looks up at the mirror, the reflection is back to normal.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc au#dp x dc au#dpxdc au#dpdc#dpdc crossover#Danny is Jason Todd au#i didn't think of anything beyond the ending point howEVER#this post is totally open for additions if anyone is interested#i love seeing add-ons to posts#anyways EVIL LAUGHTER#THIS IS THE PART I WANTED TO GET TO. PYSCHOLOGICAL HORROR#ANGST#if this was a fic i would have ramped up the horror more#alas tis a ficlet#starry terrorizes the waynes with the fact that jason is going to die in his world and there's nothing they can do about it.#he doesnt know he's going to die. but they do :)#fun fact jazz was going to be here and she was going to be the one to see the ghost#if this was a fic that ending scene would've occurred after more build up of dick and bruce and co seeing the figure following danny around#in the original variant au the waynes dont meet danny until he's already died and is a ghost#and i was gonna have one more jason appearance but couldnt fit one in#merry belated christmas folks#have some angst after two consecutive clone^2 posts of fluff#i tried to picture what danny's body would have looked like before being ghosted and#extremely burned was the first thing that came to mind. his suit is also almost entirely melted. something to kinda resemble his ghost half#but also i couldn't stomach making him completely unrecognizable because he WOULD have been#genuinely think danny's body would have been like. half melted at least
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I'll ask after that secret number 8!
I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅
Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?
———
It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.
Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.
Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache.
It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were.
A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.
Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.
“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”
“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.
Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.
“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”
Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too?
It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!
He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—
“I’m Batman.”
The smile freezes on Danny’s face.
His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—
“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence.
Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.
“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”
It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How?
Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman.
Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…
A little over a year.
Just under 16 months since he escaped.
“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks
Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.
Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating.
“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.
Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?
"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"
"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.
"I don't understand, why..."
"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"
"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"
It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.
But it was easier than this.
"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."
"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"
"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"
"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!
Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.
"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"
Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.
Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.
But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.
Before he...
He really thought this would be different, you know?
He wanted to make it official.
"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."
"Danny, we are a—"
"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please."
Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.
"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."
"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now. "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."
"Danny—"
"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"
"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."
Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.
He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!
The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?
Steph is chewing on her thumb.
Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.
He likes them all.
"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."
"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."
"But you work with them and—"
"Who do I work with?"
"The Justice League."
"Yes, I do, but we—"
"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."
Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.
"Kill me."
"Danny? What do—"
"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."
"Danny..."
"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dpxdc fanfic#wip game#thanks for the ask <3 and thanks for helping me remember this fic lol#also huge thanks for having the prompt linked because i have S O M A N Y prompt wips that i can't ever post because i've lost the post#didn't really know how to get danny to calm down#that's a lie#i have a few ideas of where this can go but no motivation for it - not against all the other wips#i'll keep at it and ig post to ao3 should it actually start looking alright#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#dudes did u kno u can pin shit to your clipboard on desktop because i fucking love that#also if you use the windows key + . there's like emojis and shit#(((φ(◎ロ◎;)φ)))#<- and kaomoji too!!!!!#anyway that's been fun facts and fanfic with me. ur welcome#oh shit my writing tag#hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes#at some point 'oh shit my writing tag' will just become my writing tag#anyway thank you again for the ask#good night everyone!!!!!
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It's Cass appreciation time!!! Don't get me wrong, I think we all appreciate you exactly all the time, but I wanted to write it out because I'm filled with SO MUCH LOVE RIGHT NOW THAT I PHYSICALLY CAN'T CONTAIN IT.
So!
First and foremost, I think you're a wonderful person. I may not know you personally, but the way in which you go about things - not just in your comic, but the way you interact with people - just leaves me in awe. You're so gentle but in the most chaotic way possible, and it makes me so happy to be alive. You're supportive of people and the things they create, while also just... spreading the joys of not just the fandom, but so many other things too. You're one of the people on here that unites the fandom as a whole, and it's so inspiring! You bring so much love here, and I admire that about you.
Another thing that I admire is that you know what your limits are and that you take care of yourself. I see so many people these days who don't - some who just forget, some who don't realize they're doing it, and others who blatantly refuse to do so - and it's frustrating to see. I want to help them (aka: wrap them in a blanket burrito to protect them from the world, offer coping skills, give them the support they need- the list goes on), but I can't really do much of that without burning myself out. Which is why I love to see you take care of yourself - whenever I see those asks that are like "reminder to drink water / rest / take a break", it reminds me that I need to do it too, and I'm positive that it reminds others as well. That, and it's refreshing to see!
I also love how creative and spontaneous you are! The plots you come up with, as well as the characterization and overall flow of the story - not to mention the PERFECT amount of fluff and angst you give us (WITH THE PROMISE OF A HAPPY ENDING??? OH MY GOD)- leaves me floored every time! I don't know a whole lot about writing and portraying things, but I've learned a bunch just by what you do. LETS ALSO REMEMBER ALL THE SMALL DETAILS YOU PUT INTO THIS - THE PARALLELS, THE LITTLE SHOWS OF AFFECTION,AND JUST- EVERYTHING??? GHDBDKDBSJ
AHH!
You inspire me to create, and whenever I have the confidence to post what I'm working on, I'll be sure to tag you (bc all of it is related to your comic)!
I have so much to say, but not nearly enough words to fully express it! But this is also getting much longer than I thought it would, and as much as I want to sing you praises all day, there's not enough time. So to wrap this up:
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all that you do. I'm sure it's not easy - you're a whole person outside of this, and everyone has bad days - so, again, thank you. I may not know you personally, but I still care a great deal about you. Please keep taking care of yourself! Drink some water, have a snack, take a nap, make some time for yourself - whatever it is, have a fantastic time hon. You deserve it.
Keep being amazing, and I wish you the best!
Until next time, dearie ^-^
Oh god I don't even know what to say jcdtujdsukcdhb thank you yhank you thank you so much you just brightened my day I
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TAG MASTERLIST
These are the current WIPs, with links back to the AO3 version if it's posted there.
EDIT: now includes link to tumblr masterposts! You can navigate by clicking the desired tag at the bottom of this post or by going to the masterpost.
DCU:
Nest Swap
Baby Tim wakes up in Red Robin's apartment. He has a fantastic time about it. The bats are going to have to drag him out kicking and screaming.
masterpost tag is #red nest swap
DCU/Danny Phantom:
Halfa Cass (all badass)
Cass drags Captain Marvel over to check out a creepy empty town. They find the Fenton portal. They turn the power back on to the lab while they're investigating it. They really shouldn't have.
Tumblr tag is #red halfa cass
Mama Bat
(the one where Cass adopts Danny)
masterpost
Tumblr tag is #red mama bat
The next three are on a shared masterpost- 2 Jason/Danny stories, one Damian/Danny story. Masterpost is here.
Check yes to go on a date with a dead guy.
Some villain sacrificed Batman to an unknown entity in another dimension, and the guy sent him right back with a "no thank you" pinned to his outfit. This is the funniest thing the bat boys and girls have ever seen. The robins have been sacrificing each other to the Ghost Zone for funsies ever since. One day, Jason gets sent back with a note saying that actually, Danny is interested in him, and they've actually all been relentlessly proposing to him with this bride sacrifice ritual. Oops.
Tumblr tag is #red check yes
Hot Ghouls in your Area
Jason is a little too cocky going in to shut down a cult and he winds up being human trafficked to the Ghost Zone as the ghost king's paramour. Danny doesn't have time for this, he actually wants to graduate college. They need a divorce, stat.
Tumblr tag is #red hot ghouls
DCU:
Full title: Hi, it's Tim (just Tim)
Tim gets rescued by Kon- he didn't need it, by the way. But Kon immediately has a crush on him. A crush on plain boring civilian Tim Drake. Well. If Kon is interested in Tim, surely he'd be willing to date Robin.
Tumblr tag is #red just Tim
Masterpost is here.
DCU/Spiderman:
Full title: Reassembly
Inspired by Dark Matter, Peter Parker wakes up post-snap in what the audience might recognize as uhhh an unholy experiment using Lazarus water. He escapes the facility and tries to get his feet under him in a whole new world that doesn't have a place for him.
Tumblr tag is #red reassembly
Masterpost is here.
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i just read feysand x reader housewife and I’m wondering if i can request a cassian x housewife reader. like imagine being stressed ab work and then you talk to cassian ab it and he says that you shouldnt worry over things like stressful work, and that you should do whatever makes you happy. so like imagine then reader stays at home and foes whatever she wants woth no stress, maybe she has a business that sye runs so she isn’t burnt out like she used to be and it is all in her speed, maybe she loves writing and starts doing it since she didnt have time before. And omg imagine beefy daddy cassian coming home and he’s so big omg and gives her a hug with his ripped juicy arms and he’s just so manly omg🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 sorry if this is confusing i genuinly lost my mind thinking ab this
At Home
Cassian x reader
A/n: @thehighladywrites has inspired me to write this plus I’ve been dreaming of daddy Cass all week so this is a treat for all of us lmao
Warnings: fluff 🤗
Cassian hated how stressed you were about going to work and how tired you were at the end of the day
It killed him to see you like this
Cass didn't want to stress you out by talking about it so he waited until you came to him
You came home early from work in tears, your mascara all smudged and all sniffly
You went right to Cassian's office and he dropped everything he was doing to comfort you
He took you out for a nice dinner that night to finally propose what was on his mind, stay home and let him take care of you
It was a dream of Cassian's to be able to take care of his mate and now he has the chance
Rhys certainly paid Cassian enough
By the time you sit down for dinner you still have a pout on your lips from earlier
After ordering a bottle of wine and your favorite appitizer Cassian reached across the table to hold your hands with his large ones, "Sweetheart, I want to talk to you about something."
You look up at him, hope twinkling in your eyes. "What's up Cass?" you askk quietly
A small smile pulls at his lips. "I hate seeing you this upset. And I know you like working and being independent, but what do you think about quitting and letting me take care of you? Of us."
You thought you were going to break down again. Not trusting your voice you nod as you pull your lips into a tight smile. "Please," you whisper out
Cassian was ecstatic that he could finally take care of everything for you
In bed that night you went over what would happen from here on out. Cassian would pay for everything, even if it was just a fun purchase you wanted. You are free to spend your days however you want. If you want to stay home and do nothing, great!
If you wanted to start training he'd take you with him
If you wanted to pick up a new hobby Cassian would support you
You went to workout/train for a few weeks with Cassian and the Valkyries for a few weeks until it started to not be fun
You were able to grow closer with the rest of the IC now that you stopped working
Feyre and Mor became two of your best friends
You were even invited to join Valkyrie book club which you loved
Reading all of these books inspired you to start writing yourself
At first it was just for fun and you brought it to book club for the girls to read
Then they started encouraging you to write for real and see if you could get published
Cassian fully supports this and loves how creative you've been. It makes him so happy to see you like this
Another perk of staying home is that you get to spend more time with Cassian
You were super attached to him in general
How can you not love that beefy, sweet, tall illyrian he just has so much love to give and you bask in it
If Cass is away at the house of wind for the day you bake his favorite cookies and you started making delicious dinners for you two
Your favorite part of the day is when Cassian comes home
You run to greet him at the door, "Cassie!" "Sweetheart!" he crouches down a little with his arms open waiting for you to throw yourself at him
He hugs you tight to his chest and spins you around, putting you down and kissing you, telling you how much he missed you
When Cass works from home you sit in his office with him, mostly on his lap becuase you two can't stand to not have your hands on each other
You love being wrapped up in his big arms
sometimes you squeeze and poke at his biceps for fun just to see him flex them as a reaction
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader fic#acotar reader imagine#acotar imagine#cassian acotar#cassian fanfic#cassian imagine#cassian headcanons#cassian x reader#cassian x you#cassian headcanon
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Inspired by @hypewinter s Fenton!Talia Au idea!
(The following scene is one that I just thought of for the Fenton!Talia au that was started recently where an Impromptu Fenton-Nightingale family reunion is where Talía introduces Bruce and the kids to her family)
Bruce was going to have a headache, he was going to have a massive, painful, excruciating headache and he would have to bear with it.
He sipped his coffee, the lid a normal black as he watched his children chatter with the extended Fenton-Nightingale family, Jason, Cass, and Damian’s own fluorescent green coffee cup lids blending in far more with the normal ones, proof of how much Bruce hadn’t known when he had tried to face Ra’s without Talia’s assistance, and what it could have cost him.
He watched Steph hesitantly nibble on a glowing cookie as she listened in nearly rapt attention as one of the Fenton-Nightingales, Ellie, recount early adventures she'd had, keeping Steph, Damian, and Cass engaged as the broad shouldered man who sat at the head of the table adjusted his seat lightly, turning to face him and Talia.
Daniel J. Fenton, formerly operating under the name "Phantom" as his alter ego/other self, was a broad man, though not as broad or tall as his own Father, Jack Fenton, who casually dwarfed both Himself and Clark, and given what Bruce had seen during the Fenton's intervention against the League, it was a common trait as well as invulnerabilities of some sort. Daniel Fenton's face had a few marks that bellied his age, laugh lines and creases in his brow, greying hair along the sides of his head, and a nose that appears to have been broken several times in his life in brutal fashion, but other than that and the Lichtenberg scarring that marred the right side of his body there were few obvious wounds save the newest, a small cut, just below his eye, the one and only strike Ra's had gotten in during their fight.
Bruce knew that Talia had been adopted, she'd spoken of it to him in the past, and especially gushed about her extended family, her Aunts, Cousins, Grandparents, Siblings, and her own Adoptive Parents, during slow nights where Bruce would check in on Harley and Ivy, usually inadvertently crashing a Siren's Night and having to sacrifice Robin [Jason, then Steph and Cassandra, then Tim and Damian] as well as Nightwing, Batwoman, and even the Superboys when they came over to join Tim and Damian's patrols, to secure his escape to his work, usually ending in having it all recounted to him by his children at the next debrief. The horror stories she'd told him of her birth family had been nightmarish, and when he had finally placed them as the League of Assassins he'd felt blind for a time after.
But now he sat before Talia's Father, who as it turned out, was a Half-Dead Half-Alive being who had overthrown a literal god to protect his hometown and then waged a years long guerilla war against a rogue element of the US Government, and then the League of Assassins. This was a man forged by the environment around him, by the tasks laid at his feet, and by those around him. In Bruce's honest opinion, Daniel was terrifying, not in an Uncanny Valley sense of the word, but in a logistical sense, for at this man's fingertips was not only the recourses of his family, which delved into many separate scientific, psychological, and occult fields, but also the knowledge that the dead have, and the fighters that are willing to spill forth at his call.
"So," The smiling man sitting at the head of the table began, his voice a quiet whisper that carried clear through the jumbled conversations as easy as water down a hillside, "You, are Bruce Wayne, It's a pleasure to meet one of Talia's significant others!" The smile turned absolutely cheery, and Talia rolled her eyes, as though expecting something.
Bruce gulped down his doubts and steeled himself.
Jason took a photo, planning on treasuring the photo he would show to Selina later.
#dp x dc#dc x dp#danny phantom#danny fenton#batman#jason todd#batfamily#bruce wayne#damian wayne#dpxdc#jazz fenton#jack fenton#dcxdp#tim drake#Fenton!Talia
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When the Lightsinger Calls (I Hear a Symphony)
An Azriel Drabble
Azriel daydreams of his mate -Inspired by ‘I Hear a Symphony’ by Cody Fry
I used to hear a simple song.
The warm winds of summer blew through the Illyrian mountains as Azriel sat sprawled on a thick branch fifty feet in the air, one leather covered leg dangling as the other stretched across the branch, his back resting against the trunk of an old Oak tree.
Cassian had been butting heads with Devlon for hours. Same shit, different day as they heatedly negotiated new terms for the training of Illyrian females. Devlon, of course, remained as stubborn as an ass. Even after decades of his bullshit, it never failed to chafe Azriel’s nerves that they were under the regime of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history yet had to make nice with stuck-in-their-ways pricks like him. Today in particular had left Azriel feeling less than giving.
Cassian booted Azriel out of negotiations in record time, which admittedly, was likely for the best. Azriel’s dominant stance, deadly gaze, and violent whirling shadows were not best suited for these futile attempts of “sweet talking” Devlon out of his deeply rooted misogyny. If Azriel had his way Truth Teller would do all the talking, but diplomacy unfortunately took precedence.
He may have put up more of a fight when storming out of the Camp Lord’s office had Cassian’s weapon of choice today not had a unique way of toeing that line between diplomacy and force in a way that even Truth Teller could not. No blood spillage necessary, though, Azriel thought with a smirk, the weapon could do just that as well.
The warmth of the suns rays shining through the rustling leaves and the scratch of bark lightly grazing the sensitive membranes of his wings - hitting those spots he could never quite reach - had Azriel drifting off into a light dream state.
As he began to doze, shadows hummed around him, the whistling breeze mixing in with their whirring as they sensed for any incoming threats.
Blending in with their simple song, the creek nearby babbled with the sounds of trickling water, crickets chirped beneath rocks below.
His thoughts became more vivid as his conscience drifted deeper into sleep.
His jaw ticked, wings jerking slightly as he dreamed glimpses of deep red coating his marred skin from the countless souls he’d drawn blood from, lifeless bodies scattered across bloody battlefields, dark cells, the bright flare of roaring fire scalding a child’s hands, his shadows melody becoming broken as they attempted to soothe their master.
The melody became lighter as the flame in his dreams became flashes of light, blurred glimpses of a lovely face appearing in and out of his dreams. A soft laugh intertwined itself with his shadows, the solemn hymn becoming lighter, with vibrant bursts of energy leaving his heart fluttering. More images of the ethereal face flickered through his mind, soft blush dusted cheeks, a radiant white smile, supple fingers tracing the muscles of his chest, plush lips on bare skin, all appearing to the beat of the rising staccato. His lips quirked upward in his sleep as his guard dropped lower and lower and the melody continued growing louder, building into the crescendo of the loveliest symphony he’d heard yet, even in Prythian’s most renowned concert halls.
The music filled Azriel’s entire being, leaving him light as shadow, his flaws forging themselves from ugly into something beautiful, something worthy, as the melody carried his soul toward the light.
Just as his body began to slump out of the tree a sing-song voice brighter than day awoke him. “Careful, Shadowsinger. One might think you’re sleeping on the job.”
He looked down to his beautiful mate, the face his dream had called him to. “My little Lightsinger, did you give Devlon hell?”
She beamed. “Worked a little on him. The girls get seven more hours per week and Cass or I can do spot checks whenever we please. I’ll push for more when we meet again in a few months.”
“That’s my girl.” His eyes shone with the pride filling his chest as he launched out of the tree and swept her off her feet.
“Let’s go home.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose. Azriel only blushed and did just as his lady said, the two falling into companionable silence as her light and his shadow mingled in harmony the entire flight back to Velaris.
And now I hear a symphony.
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#Azriel#gwynriel#Azriel x reader#Lightsinger#shadowsinger#reader insert#acotar#sarah j maas#drabble#acotar drabble#acotar oneshot#a court of thorns and roses#can be read as Gwynriel or Reader insert#do you all think Gwyn is a lightsinger? i hope she is#I’m pro Gwynriel#I’m pro Elriel#I’m also pro Azris#I’m pro Elucien#they should all just get married and live a happy little poly life and also invite me#Spotify
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My Rottmnt Separated Au!// Masterpost
(*Dj Khalid voice *: Another one ) (scroll to bottom for links to other posts)
This one’s called:
How I Met Our Brothers
And it’s an au of my own inspired by all the greats, like @daedelweiss @dianagj-art @trubblegumm @red-rover-au and more! (Seriously go follow their blogs)
Mainly by @trubblegumm and by the feral Leo from @cupcakeslushie , and you’ll soon why
With out further ado;
DRUMROLL PLEASE DUN DUNNUNUUUUHHHHH
(Also dont worry ab my chicken scratch I have it all written down lol)
(Click for better quality lol)
Since my writing’s shit (lol) here’s the transcript for what I wrote: the character descriptions first, then the pluses from top to bottom
Donatello Hamato:
Raised by Splinter/Hamato Yoshi/Lou Jitsu in the sewers under Brooklyn
Started looking for his bros after his dad told him about them
Met April when he was 9 (she was 11)
He met Leo when they were both 11
Baron Michelangelo:
(I hc that Baron is a title, not a name; like Lord or Lady, so Mikey inherited Draxum’s title)
He’s been training to be a mystic warrior since he was born
Muninn (the one with a larger body and the underbite) wanted him to be named Angel, Huginn (the one with a larger head and overbite) wanted him to be Michael, so they compromised with the perfect name (don’t tell Draxum they saw it in a human pamphlet )
Raised by Draxum alone until he was seven
At 7 y/o he met Raph and ever since both Big Mama and Baron Draxum have joint custody over them
BM and BD raise them like a divorced couple, they alternate houses weekly and they celebrate each holiday twice, (Big Mama and Draxum only come together for their b-days)
Besties with Raph and Cass, (met Cass when he was 10, she was 13)
Rapheal Jitsu :
Training to be a mystic warrior since he was 9
Big Mama named him what she and Splinter would have named their first son; (he proposed to her, you can’t tell me that they didn’t talk ab baby names)
Big Mama was not the only secretive one in the relationship, she didn’t know what Splinter’s real last name was, (and as a gang leader she doesn’t use her name anymore) so yes, Jitsu is Raph’s legal last name
Met Mikey when he was 9 y/o
BM and BD raise them like a divorced couple, they alternate houses weekly and they celebrate each holiday twice, (Big Mama and Draxum only come together for their b-days)
Besties with Mike and Cass, (met Cass when he was 12, she was 13)
??????? —> Leonardo Hamato:
He grew up in the sewers in Staten Island, the one who brought him there was *REDACTED*
Staten Island is full on awful people, so nobody took him in, and he learned to fear people
Donnie found him, and named him Leonardo and gave him his birthday, making him 11
Other Info:
+ because Leonardo was hella malnourished as a growing young lad, Donnie ended up being the 2nd tallest by the time of the movie
+Splinter became more proactive in Donnie’s life ever since he lost sight of the other three brothers and became more proactive in his training when he met April because he’s more paranoid than he is in the show
+Don didn’t really care for Leo (he was comfortable as an only child and Leo changed his routine), until Leo got deathly sick and nearly died
+Big Mama and Draxum (somewhat) reformed only b/c Mikey and Raph would cry and throw tantrums (they won the moral argument slay) when they would talk ab their plans and beliefs (Draxum loves his children more that he hates humanity, and Big Mama finally learned how to love with Raph)
+Mama truly loved Splinter, but was insecure about him loving her as a Yokai (she had trust issues) and b/c her morals are hella skewed, it seemed like a great idea to keep him the only way she knew how, by putting him in Battle Nexus (and she makes bank with him there! In her mind it seemed like a win-win)
(Note: Big Mama’s and Splinter’s relationship will solely be as exes, because it would be hella unhealthy for Splints to trust her after she betrayed it like it. (They both lied to eachother during their relationship in this au) Their relationship in my comics and fanfics in this au will solely be as estranged exes, they will not be getting back together)
If this post gets like, at least 30 notes then ill post a comic on how Leo and Donnie met! (Edit: oh wow. U guys did it)
Lists of HIMOB Posts:
Disaster twins post
Sunset duo post
HIMOB Donnie meets the Canon Mad Dogs // Bonus Comic
Donnie and the Stranger: Part 1 // Part 2
The name Rapheal: Part 1 // Part 2
The Caretaker: Part 1 // TBC . . .
#rottmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt#rottmnt leo#teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise season 3#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt separated au#another one#rise fanart#rise comic#rise fanfic#rise donnie#rise disaster twins#rottmnt fanart#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt splinter#rottmnt comic#rottmnt donatello#rottmnt raphael#big mama#baron draxum#rise villains#seperated au#rottmnt au comic#my rottmnt au#rottmnt au#how I met our brothers
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Tangled Unbraided
For ages I've wanted to find a way to use the old fractured fairytale idea of "Rapunzel Unbraided" Disney was going to do in the early 2000s, and decided to just go ahead and show what I've got. So here's some sketches of how the main characters would appear in this hypothetical Tangled spin off movie:
The original synopsis for Unbraided ran as thus:
“An evil witch named Lucretia despised fairy tale happy endings and plotted to change all that. Meanwhile in modern day San Francisco, Claire and Vince are two vastly opposite teenagers who cannot stand one another. Claire is a short haired, fashion obsessed teen who was concerned with her looks. Vince is a stocky and crude pizza delivery boy on hard times. The two of them get on each other's nerves which gets the attention of Lucretia in the fairy tale realm. Lucretia takes Rapunzel and her prince Beau and transforms them into a squirrel and dog, respectively, while Claire and Vince find themselves filling their roles. Claire and Vince eventually team up with Rapunzel and Beau to defeat Lucretia and return to their respective places in time. “
---
And I'd want to follow the basic plot of that, though with changes with what we have from the actual Tangled movie. But basically two teens from 2007 San Francisco (why not make it a 'period' piece with all this Y2K nostalgia going on that makes no sense to me, a Y2K kid x) get reverse Enchanted and find themselves in the Everrealm. Searching for a way home, mentored by a talking squirrel and dog that claim to be famous fairytale characters also trying to regain their human forms.
The reason the witch tries to recreate the Rapunzel story with two people who are unlikely to give it a happy ending is that she's trying to make a spell to warp reality and bring about another golden flower (so that we can have the one that eventually shows up in Sofia the First) and so gain immortality for herself.
My ideas for the growth journeys each character goes on in this hypothetical movie is of course that Claire and Vince both learn to be more comfortable with themselves/find their real potential, as well as learn that its ok to trust others emotionally, both in a platonic sense with Eugene and Rapunzel mentoring them, and romantically with eachother as they get closer.
Rapunzel and Eugene would have this be an opportunity for them both to work through the concerns they both have about being parents. Sure they both have better parental relationships now, but both grew up with either abusive or absent parents (and then hyper protective ones in Rapunzel's case with Frederick) and though they both want kids they're afraid they might still mess it up. So, getting to help these two teens find themselves and their way home gives them a sense of the type of parents they'll be, and that they'll be ok in the end.
(They also all eventually find out Claire is their many times descendent and thats why she looks like Rapunzel so much, and why the spell called her into Rapunzel's place)
For the Witch I decided to change her name from Lucretia as I already had a character with that name for the Bluebeard story. I still wanted her to have some actual connection to the og Rapunzel fairytale, and a way to know about the Sundrop flower, and while I know we already had Cass as Gothel's kid, per my DisneyVerse she did have more then one over those many many years 😅😬
We already had a benevolent version of another Gothel daughter with my rewrite of Ginny, so I decided this time we'd get to focus on a malevolent one, so our villain for this story is Azalea.
(I based her looks on one of the tree nymphs from Gothel's backstory in OUAT, old Gothel/witch concept art and her name was inspired by Alice from OUAT being Gothel's daughter, just with a sharper sounding plant name x)
Also here's some original concept art of the Rapunzel Unbraided story treatment!
(Some of these might technically be from the Rapunzel treatment but I feel they fit the story anyway)
Also some video! A rough animatic overview of the whole story
youtube
And a more polished small clip of Claire and Squirrel Rapunzel
youtube
But yeah that's my rough little idea of how I'd incorporate the Rapunzel Unbraided concept/characters into the Disneyverse :)
#Youtube#rapunzel unbraided#tangled#rapunzel's tangled adventure#tangled the series#rapunzel#eugene fitzherbert#mother gothel#gothel disney#deleted disney#disney rapunzel#disney concept art#sofia the first#gothel ouat#ginny gothel
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Suit Shopping
Prompt by @shinekocreator : "Hear me out: the batsiblings going suit shopping with Dick. Fluffy engaged birdflash. Maybe something around planning the wedding. Also some batsiblings being siblings"
A/N: I had a random burst of inspiration at 10 pm and suddenly wrote this whole this lol
Words: 3006
LMK IF I SHOULD MAKE A PART 2!
TW: None, I think. It's all pretty fluffy. Lmk if I missed smth
“I still think he’ll look prettier in purple,” Steph holds up her phone, showing an image of a bright purple suit. “Like, look at that! All it needs is some glitter.”
“Tt.” Damian scowls at her. “Everyone knows weddings are supposed to be black-and-white.”
“Yeah, the purple looks like the Joker,” Jason points out, nodding. “But hear me out: Red.”
Damian shouts again in protest, basically jumping on Jason. The two start fighting, pulling each-other’s hair and yelling.
“You sure you want them to help, Rob?” Wally shakes his head, his arms wrapped around Dick’s waist as the pair stands just a few feet away, looking at the Bats trying to kill each other.
Dick sighed, resting his head on his boyfriend— no, fiance’s shoulder. “They’re not really giving me a choice, honestly. But this’ll be fun, I’m sure!”
Wally chuckles. “Yeah, Bart and Barry are insisting to come shopping with me, too. So is Iris, actually.” He pulls away from Dick after placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “I’d better get going. Have fun!”
“You too!” Dick smiles as he watches his beloved speed off— he is the fastest man alive, after all. Then Cass walks up to him, gesturing to Damian, Steph, and Jason, then pushing her right hand towards the webbed part of her left in the sign for “annoying”.
He just chuckles, shaking his head. “Just have to wait for Duke and Tim, now, huh?”
Cass smiles and points behind him— where Duke has just entered the living room through the Batcave. “Hey, D,” He waves his hand in greeting as he walks up to them. He gives Damian and Jason— the latter of who is now pinning the younger against a wall with a gun raised— a long look. “What is going on?”
Cass just makes the “annoying” ASL sign again.
“DUKE!” Steph suddenly jumps on him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I am so glad you’re here, you’re the only sensible one in this house! Which color do you think Dick’s suit should be?”
She shows him three photos— one exquisite, expensive purple suit made of leather, and two cheap thrift-store black and red suits.
Duke hesitates, carefully extracting himself from the blonde. “Uhh… Don’t you think Dick should decide? It is his wedding.”
“Thank you,” Dick says, pulling Duke closer.
“Heathens, all of you,” Steph shakes her head, disappointed.
That’s when Tim finally enters through the front door— being carried by Kon. Tim quickly jumps out of Kon’s arms, beet red, when he realizes his siblings are already here, and watching. Jon trails after the pair, instantly brightening up when he sees Damian.
Damian stops fighting with Jason just to greet Jon. Suddenly, the young Super flies into Damian, wrapping himself around the Bat, yapping away excitedly.
Everyone in the room freezes.
Oh no, poor Jon is so dead… Dick thinks.
Then.
Damian awkwardly raises his arm and pats Jon on the back, half-hugging him.
Jon pulls away in a second then runs to Dick. “Is it true? You’re getting married? How does it work? Are you excited? Where’s your ring? When’s the wedding? Are you gonna have a b—”
“Woah, woah there!” Dick laughs a little, showing off his ring— a thin gold strand with a Robin on it. “Yeah, I’m engaged to Wally. You know, Flash.”
“WOAH…” Jon’s eyes are wide with awe. Damian pulls him away, tutting.
“Tt. You must be real naive if you don’t know how weddings work.”
“Whatever, man, I just wanna go to the mall.” Jon smiles and shrugs.
Dick smiles back, proud of his Baby Bat for making a good friend. “So,” He claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention. “None of us will be flying to the mall, just FYI. Now, there’s 9 of us here, but one car can only fit five, so we’ll need to take two cars.”
“Um, actually,” Jason stood, twirling keys on his fingers. “I’m taking my motorbike. And only Blondie’s allowed to come with.”
“But this is a family bonding opportunity, Jay!” Dick protested. “We can all—”
“I have a bike,” Kon said suddenly, looking at Tim hopefully. “I can just fly back and get it here. Then we can— uh…”
Tim blushes. “Yeah, yeah, that’d be perfect.”
Kon flashes a smile, and flies out the window.
Dick sighs. I guess that leaves no other choice.
“Okay, the rest of you, come on,” Dick heads to the garage, watching with a soft smile as Damian, Jon, Duke, and Cass pile into his car. While Jon and Damian bicker over who called shotgun first, Cass quietly slips into the passenger seat.
God, Dick loves his sister.
He flashes her a smile, letting her turn the radio to a station to one that plays 60’s ballroom music— she loves music with no words.
He hears the moment the boys realize Cass has taken the seat— they fall quiet, and get into the back, squeezing against Duke, who was peacefully sitting by the window.
He grins, hands on the steering wheel, ready to set off.
They all meet again in the mall’s carpark. Jason and Steph are discussing something about the parking being ridiculously overpriced, Damian’s explaining to Duke how cars work (Duke’s trying hard not to say “I know”), Cass is still listening to ballroom music, Kon’s encouraging Jon to get piercings…
“This is the quietest they’ve all been together, isn’t it?” Tim pipes up from beside Dick, making the older man jump.
“Jesus— Tim, how’re you so quiet?” Dick took a breath to steady himself.
“Years of stalking Batman and Robin paid off, I guess,” He shrugs. “I need coffee.”
Before Dick can reply, Tim walks towards the others, and shouts, “Okay, people. Here’s how it’s gonna go:”
Dick’s brows furrow. “Wait, you’re planning this—”
“There are too many stores, and not enough time. So we’ll split up into groups, find and buy any and all suits we like— in size M, or US 40—”
“—You know my size?”
“—forget about the price, Bruce is paying, and meet back at McDonald’s at 6pm. Jason and Steph, go with Dick to the east wing of the mall. Cass and Duke, go to the west wing. Kon and I will take the north, Damian and Jon to the south. Got that?”
Dick was stunned for a second when everyone easily agreed and split up— they must’ve discussed this before. Slightly dazed, he let Jason and Cass lead him away, to the east entrance of the mall.
Damian walks through the mall, heading straight to the information desk, where a directory of all stores is put up. His eyes scan the shop names and their descriptions, analyzing each one. After all, Grayson deserves the best of the best.
Suddenly Jon appears beside him, vibrating with enthusiasm. “Where do we go first?”
“Nordstrom.” Damian replies, his eyes landing on the name of the store. “Anything there will easily outshine every suit any of the others manage to find.”
“Oooh, that sounds so fancy!” Jon’s eyes widen in awe.
“It is. Not that a farmboy like you could understand it.” Damian turns to face Jon.
“At least I’m not a crazy trust fund kid who’s going to buy, like, 20 suits just so Dick has plenty of choices,” Jon shoots back, undeterred.
“At least I’m not a 12-year-old who thinks math is hard.”
“At least I don’t have Mommy or Daddy issues.”
"At least I'm a man of great intelligence and taste, while you are a farmboy that talks to birds."
"Hey, those birds were awesome... and at least I talk to them... you just sit around being brooding and quiet. The most noise you make is when you're complaining."
“At least I am not a naive boy who thinks the world is sunshine and rainbows!”
Jon crosses his arms. "Yeah, and at least I'm not a brooding snob who's afraid to express his feelings, so he hides behind sarcasm and snarky comments."
That one shuts Damian up.
“So,” Jon puts up a radiant smile again, hand pointing into the air. “To Nordstrom!”
“It’s right there.” Damian points behind Jon.
Jon moves so he’s pointing towards the store. “To Nordstrom!”
Tim and Kon’s hands find each other as soon as they part with the rest of the group— enjoying this feeling of being so close to one another. They head straight to the first clothes store they find, searching around for a suit.
“Hey, Tim,” Kon calls, picking up a red and blue Superboy-themed crop top, complete with leather lining and metal studs. “This would look cute on you.”
Tim blushes. “Kon, we’re looking for a suit!”
“But just buy this too,” Kon encourages, smirking. “Trust me. I can really imagine you in this.”
“And nothing else.” The words escape Tim’s mouth before he can think, and he suddenly slaps his free hand over his mouth. “Um, forget that. Please.”
Kon’s cheeks turn slightly red, but he puts the top in their shopping basket anyway. “So. Um. Suits.”
“Yes,” Tim says awkwardly “Suits.”
The two find a section of the store for formal clothing soon enough, and start rummaging around for something Dick might like.
Everything seems wrong— too formal, too stiff, too not Dick.
“What if we buy a few of these suits, then paint them?” Kon suggests.
Tim turns to face him, thinking. “Good idea, but the only one of us that can paint well is Damian— and we’re competing against him.”
Kon’s brows raise. “Wait, we’re competing against Damian?”
“We’re competing against every other ‘team’ we split up in,” Tim explains, skimming through racks of blue-gray suits. “Damian and Jon, Duke and Cass, Steph and Jason.”
“Oh,” Kon nodded along. “So, how does it work?”
“We all find the best suits possible and present them to Dick, and the team whose suit Dick picks wins.”
“And Dick has no idea about this competition.”
“Helps him be a neutral judge.”
“Uh-huh,” Kon chuckles. “You Bats and your secrecy…”
“Coffee,” Tim says suddenly, turning to leave the store. “We’re not gonna find anything here. Might as well get some coffee. On me.”
Kon smiles, taking Tim’s hand again. “As you wish, babe.”
Then his eyes widen. “Wait, we have to buy the tank top first!”
Duke watches as his sister prances around the store, looking at the different dresses. They’re in a designer boutique (whose manager didn’t believe they were actually here to buy something until they flashed Bruce’s credit card).
He chuckles as Cass picks up a soft pink dress, holding it to herself and standing before the mirror. “It looks lovely, really.”
Cass smiles, and gives it to the manager to add to their cart, just like the many other dresses she did so with before. It doesn’t matter that they’re here to buy a suit— if Cass likes something along the way, she can very well buy it.
Then she finds another princess gown— this time, pastel purple, with shiny sequins and sparkles.
“Yeah, Steph’s gonna love seeing you in that,” Duke grins teasingly. Cass blushes sightly, then hands it over to the manager..
“Also, where are your best suits? Something flashy, not formal and plain.” He asks one of the assistants.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure yellow and black would look great on you, Mr. Thomas,” The assistant replies politely, starting to lead them to a corner.
Duke tries not to cringe at the mention of him in black and yellow. “Um, it’s for my brother, actually. We have his measurements, but is it possible to get it custom-made without him actually being here? It’s a bit of a surprise.”
“Of course,” The assistant nods, leading them to a row of racks filled with rolled-up sheets of fabric. “It would take longer, but you can custom-pick every piece of fabric, every decoration, even talk to our design specialist to make it perfect. It would usually take a few weeks, but for you, we can get it done in just two days, I’m sure.”
Cass walks up to them. “Blue.”
“Of course.”
“Like the night sky. With shining stars, if that’s possible.” Duke adds.
“Do have a chat with the design specialist I mentioned, Mr. Thomas and Ms. Wayne.” The assistant smiles politely. “Shall I check out the six dresses you bought, meanwhile?”
Duke nods, smiling. “Yes, please.”
This was definitely going to be better than the others’ suits.
Steph pulls Dick along by the hand as they both laugh, running through the clothes store. Jason walks behind them, clearly amused but pretending to not care.
“OOOH, pick this!” Steph shoves another bright purple suit into Dick’s hands. He gives her a look.
“Steph… I don’t like purple! I want something blue!” Dick looks around, making sure no one’s eavesdropping, hen whispers, “Nightwing blue!”
Steph pouts. “What do you think, Jason?”
“Red.” Jason replies, looking through some suits. “But if we wanna win, we gotta give him what he wants.”
Steph frowns slightly, but agrees.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Dick holds his hands in front of them. “What do you mean ‘win’?”
Both of them freeze. Then Steph replies awkwardly, “Uh, win your heart, of course!”
“Yeah,” Jason adds, his tone dry. “Prove we’re your best siblings ever.”
Dick blinks. “Steph’s not a sibling. She’s dating our sister and she used to date our brother.”
“Potato, Potatoh,” Steph puts on the fakest smile ever, steering Dick away towards the blue-coloured suits. He goes along, confused.
As they peruse through the suits, Steph and Jason exchange glances, silently communicating their plan. They need to find the perfect Nightwing blue suit to win Dick over. They scan through the racks, occasionally holding up a suit for Dick to inspect.
“This one?” Steph asks, holding up a suit that's more on the navy side.
“Nah, too dark,” Dick shakes his head.
“What about this one?” Jason suggests, pointing to a suit that's a bit too light.
“Too bright,” Dick dismisses it.
The trio continues their search, but nothing seems to meet Dick's standards. Steph starts to feel a little anxious— they need to find something soon if they want to win the competition. Just as she's about to suggest going to another store, Jason spots a suit tucked away in the corner.
“Hey, check this out,” Jason calls out, pulling out a suit in the perfect shade of Nightwing blue. It's sleek, stylish, and has just the right amount of sophistication.
Dick's eyes light up as he examines the suit. “This... this is it.”
Steph grins triumphantly. “I knew we'd find the perfect one!”
Jason nods in agreement. “Let's grab it before someone else snatches it.”
They quickly make their way to the checkout counter, excitement bubbling within them. As they pay for the suit, Jason can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Not only did they find the ideal suit for Dick, but they're also one step closer to winning the competition.
With the suit in hand, they head towards the designated meeting spot at McDonald's, eager to show off their find and see what the others have come up with.
The group rendezvouses at a particularly large booth in the mall’s McDonald’s just at 6 pm. Everyone’s carrying shopping bags— Damian and Jon are carrying three each. They settle into the booth, arranging themselves comfortably, excitement evident in their expressions.
Dick, seated at the head of the table, can hardly contain his curiosity. “Alright, everyone, let's see what you've got!”
“Not right now!” Duke shouts suddenly, and Cass nods along. “Cass and I have customized the perfect suit for you but it’s going to take two days to make, so, just to be fair, we’ll present our find in two days.”
Damian scowls. “Why should we waste our time over your fault?”
“It’s not a fault, it’s a—”
“It’s not fair,” Tim chimes in. “We spent so long—”
“GUYS! Guys,” Dick interrupts them before the argument gets too heated. “This is my suit, so I make the rules. I choose that we wait for Duke and Cass’s suit to be ready. I kinda wanna see it.”
Duke leans back, relieved, and Cass wears a smug smile on her face, as if saying, “Ha, I win!”
It makes Dick wonder, again, what exactly the competition is about.
“Well, let’s at least get some food, if we’re not doing show and tell,” Kon speaks up after a long beat of silence. Everyone agrees (for the first time ever), and place their orders quickly.
Once their orders arrive, they dig into their meals eagerly, savoring the taste of fast food after a long day of shopping. Dick watches with a fond smile as his family enjoys their meal, feeling grateful for their presence in his life.
After they finish eating, Dick leans back in his seat, feeling content. “So, what now? Do we head back home?”
“Nah,” Jason shakes his head. “Let’s catch a movie or something. There’s that new action flick playing at the cinema.”
Steph’s eyes light up. “Ooh, that sounds fun! I’m in!”
“I’m down,” Tim adds, nodding in agreement.
“I suppose it could be entertaining,” Damian mutters, though there’s a hint of excitement in his voice.
Jon looks around eagerly. “Can I come too?”
Kon slings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him away. “Nah, not this time. Let’s leave the Bats to their boring plans— you and I can go get you some piercings!”
“Um,” Jon pauses, hesitating. “Mom and Dad will not be happy, Kon.”
Kon just smirks and ruffles his little brother’s hair. “I know. Pissing off Clark to make you cool— It’s gonna be so worth it!”
The pair walks away from the Bats, waving goodbye, after Kon places one last kiss on Tim’s lips. The Bats leave soon, too, heading down to the cinema, arguing over who the best Green Lantern is, for some reason— and Hal Jordan’s currently winning over Guy Gardener.
Dick laughs and shakes his head, listening to their banter.
God, he loves his family.
LMK IF I SHOULD MAKE A PART 2
#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#cassandra cain#stephanie brown#kon el kent#jon kent#batfam#fanfic#batman#birdflash#dickwally#timkon#stephcass
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