#Egg Chairs Collections

[outdoorfurniturespecialist]

The Byron hanging chair is perfect for chilling out on the weekend or to unwind from a day's work. Generous in size & luxuriously comfortable cushioning

Source: https://www.baskoutdoorliving.com.au/collections/egg-chairs

[writtenbymoonflower]

how about

and hear me out

room mate! marauders who are obsessed with their shy roomate

oh trust me, hunny, i am hearing you. hope this is okay! shy gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: nothing really, just fluff, reader is very flustered

1.1k words

Your eyes were blurry as you shuffled into the sunny kitchen. You weren’t used to waking up to the curtains open and breakfast on the stove. You’d lived with people before of course, but none as lively as this bunch. You weren’t complaining, though, you were quickly warming to them, even though you had probably spoken a total of 50 words to your new housemates in the three weeks you had lived with them. Most of these words likely consisting of sorry, excuse me, thank you. 

They had been talking though. Ever since the day you met they had been treating you like their best friend. Not even that. They were all best friends. (Though you considered that wasn’t all, on more than one occasion you had caught Sirius with his head in James’ lap, or Remus’ legs swung over one of the other boys. You had also observed a fair number of kisses between the three boys). But rather, they treated you like something precious, like a porcelain doll they were begging to get a hold of.

That thought made you immediately think of the nickname Sirius (or ‘Pads’ as the boys occasionally called him) had stuck you with. 

“Hey, dollface! You sleep well?” The coal-haired boy looked like he was itching to beckon you under his arm, but resisted. You were thankful, not knowing if you could survive that.

“It was good.” You hummed, barely legible to James over the sound of his bacon sizzling. You padded over to the breakfast table, sitting one chair away from Sirius and his huge bowl of cereal. No sooner had you sat down when a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of you by a spindly hand. 

“Here you go, dovey.” Remus sat in the chair between you and Sirius. 

“Oi, Moons. You’re blocking my view.” You turned in your chair to look behind you at the ‘view’ he was referring to, brows scrunching in confusion when all you saw was the archway. You heard a light chuckle from Remus and a snicker from Sirius as you whipped back around. The possible meaning dawned on you, making you his your heated face in your mug.

“Don’t torture the poor thing.” James scolded, giving a (what you were sure he believed was comforting) squeeze to your shoulder before he sat on your other side.

“I never tortured anyone.” Remus corrected from behind his morning paper, slowly eating a cup of berry-yogurt. “Collective punishment is a war crime, Prongs” 

“Leavin’ me to the wolves huh, Moons?” Sirius sassed, sipping on his coffee that was mostly just cream and sugar. 

“Oh trust me, I’m sure we all know how much you’d love to be left to the wolf.” James smirked, clearly in on a joke that you had no idea about. He abandoned his teasing to turn to you, fixing a horribly kind look that made your tummy turn to mush. “There is some bacon and eggs on the stove for breakfast, but I’m sure Sirius would let you into his cereal.” 

“There’s also yogurt.” Remus looked pointedly to his near-empty cup. 

“Oh no, I’m okay. I could never take your food. I’m not hungry anyway.” You muttered into your mug. 

“You’ve gotta eat somethin’ babydoll. Can’t have you skipping meals.” Sirius had a playful, if not protective tilt to his tone. 

“I’ll find somethin’ don’t worry.” You scrubbed your bleary eyes with irritated cadence, still on the brink of sleep despite the warm caffeine swirling in your system. Thick fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull your offending hand away. 

“Gentle, sweetheart.” James scolded lightly. “Gonna hurt yourself like that.” He squeezed your hand before letting it go but it felt oddly like your face and your lungs were being squeezed as well. If this was the boys normal, you weren’t sure if you were going to survive. 

You mumbled a sorry looking at the mahogany table like it held the meaning of life, or the extra hour of sleep you desperately craved. 

“What’ve we told you? You say sorry too much, sweet thing. It’s like, your favorite word or something.” Sirius laughed, slurping down his cereal milk and licking his chops. You bit back another apology and rubbed your eyes again, though much more gentle this time. James cooed in sympathy. 

“You still sleepy?” He rubbed your back again, which made you both more heated and more drowsy. 

“Yeah.” You hummed, shamefaced as you played with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You were thankful that you were still too shy to not wear long pants around them, because they would definitely be able to tell how tensed your legs were. Remus set his paper down.

“Do you have work today, love?” 

“No, ‘s my day off.” James grinned at that, but Sirius spoke up. 

“Happy coincidence! It’s ours too.” He grinned. “How about we all watch something? We can put something on in the lounge room and you can catch a bit of sleep on the settee?” He suggested. You shrunk at the thought of sleeping in front of them, but weren’t opposed to the idea.

“We’ll make sure to wake you up so you don’t sleep the day away.” James added, still rubbing your back. You were easily convinced. 

“Okay, that does sound nice.” Barely above a whisper. 

“We can all have a big lunch when you get up, too. Maybe we could go out?” Remus suggested as he led you gently to the living room. You tried to make your way to the armchair, but you were tugged to the couch. 

“That won’t be comfy, dollface. Here you go.” Sirius sat on the settee close to one arm, Remus by the other. Sirius pulled you between them while James sat on the floor and you whined in protest. 

“No, I’ll move. You sit here, James.”

Remus swore that was the loudest he had ever heard you speak. 

“No, I’m good right here. Thanks though, sweetness.” James reassured. He was sat in the middle, though rather close to Remus so the mousy boy could reach out with one hand and scratch James’ scalp, roving his long fingers through the thick curls. You were so distracted that you were startled when Sirius tugged on you again, maneuvering your head onto a pillow that laid on his lap. You tensed before relaxing into his warmth. You tucked your legs into yourself as Remus covered you with a blanket before going back to loving on James. 

“There you go, baby. That feel nice?” Sirius said, unfamiliarly soft as he stroked your hair, hand a welcome warmth on your scalp. 

Baby. Baby. Baby.

It would surprise you if you woke up from this nap. Your heart had nearly stopped on the spot.

[deadghosy]

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

JELLYFISH! READER X HAZBIN HOTEL

Prompt: A sea creature wants to bring light in hell. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆｡˚

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚ you died while being an oceanographer. You studied the ocean for its plant and creatures. You drowned specifically while trying to push a jellyfish away from you. And honestly, you went to hell becoming a flowing beautiful jellyfish.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Charlie welcomed you with opened arms, she liked how beautiful you are. The way you flow in the air, you were eye catching and majestic

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚jellyfish! reader is a Mitski, grimes, and tv girl fan of music. I think it fits their vibe at how peaceful but dangerous they are with their stingers.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚imagine how your human form would look. Jellyfish hair cut with the colors of the blue from your og form with some pink and purple. Or like blue and light blue. You would be an actual main attraction to the hotel.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you probably did get mistaken to get sent to hell instead of Heaven. You were beautiful like a heaven angel, but you were in the depths of hell. Surprisingly the hotel was a safe haven for you.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚a beautiful creature like you gain the attention of many to the hotel. You could say that you are the main attraction. And Charlie doesn’t use you like that, but she does make you a resident to get into heaven.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚vaggie finds you calming. You have this type of aura around you that just makes people relax. So your hotel room is specially designed to your liking. Which is a dark blue wall with a glowing blue that has ocean waves. It’s basically jellyfish’s en ocean designed. It’s just so magical.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you love floating around as keekee would follow you around. Then you would have the egg boiz following you plus fat nuggets. You just collected your own little band of little people.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚husk doesn’t know much about you in the hotel other than you are practically the princess/prince of the water in hotel. You make sure the water is okay as it’s your duty.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you once had made water appear. You had guess you have water power based on you drowning. And using that power, you soaked husk who started to go crazy almost scratch angel dust in irritation. 

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Lucifer admires your colorful being. Like he may seem as if he doesn’t care about you. But he sorta does as he secretly makes you a jellyfish toy that lights up in the dark.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚alastor, he might as well try to see what you are. He still senses a human soul in which makes him want to get your soul. A human souls is rare than a disgusting sinner’s soul. But you sting him every time he tries to even get close.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you once accidentally stung Alastor with your stingers. He oddly didn’t lash out at you, but rather just walked away. He was trying to hold on the stinging pain you gave him.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚sir Pentious found you alluring even. Frank and the rest of the egg boiz agree. Frank once called you mom/dad since you were singing him a lullaby.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚imagine how crazy you can be. Like one day you are the calming person every one loves and knows in the hotel. And next thing people know is that you are stinging people just because they breathed the wrong way around you.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚luckily you are a passive aggressive person sometimes. Or else you would be frying people like bacon. EXTRA CRISY‼️

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚angel dust dead ass thinks you should have a cute blue ocean crown or necklace. Maybe even a cute blue with purple star car. Bro he’s thinking of so much ways to make you girly pop.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you could’ve had shocked angels, and I mean literally cause if it was the battle between hell and heaven. You would win lmao. Cause what if you shocked then hoes into an angel kebab

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚headcannon on how your stingers is as powerful like the jellyfishes in SpongeBob. You area full electric chair.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚vox had a whole board about who tf were you. Legit was giving crazy science man vibes cause how tf is a jellyfish in hell?! You don’t even look demon! You dead ass don’t fit the hell palette. As he is making theories, Valentino and Velvette just stare at each other like “wtf is this?”

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚now say you did went to heaven. Everything would probably be different, but you are something no one had seen before. A jelly fish angel? Yeah that seems unique.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Heaven would admire your original look. Your calming energy makes most of heaven better. Like say for example the angels complement each other with the light of your energy and how your energy flows. You basically have a pheromone, but it’s for positivity to be spread. #bethereasonsomeonesmiles LMAO

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Adam probably makes fun of how you are such a small sea thing creature. But then he switches up when you turn into your human form and start to sting his ass every time he tries to offend you. Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚sera would possibly have you as a cherub cause of your small jellyfish form. It only makes sense for you to be one as you are so adorable.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Emily adores you. She knows you don’t mean any harm towards her with your stingers. She’s the type of person who makes you a flower crown cause she loves it be creative around people she likes. Honestly 10/10 friendship honestly.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚lute probably doesn’t care about you much. Other than your stingers are damn annoying. She just wants to rip them out, but you are is kind and sweet. So you have her vote to stay in heaven with her.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚headcannon on you just humming a soft lullaby as you swim in the air, your blue soft glow in the dark makes anyone go to sleep. The blue is pretty alluring.

A/N: I tried a different writing style with the “bullet points” I hope you guys like this lol and sorry if it seems lazy.✨ inspired by: @selvyyr <3

[fear-is-truth]

omg could u pls do a how bruce wayne does casual dominance in everyday life (for example: picking what you wear, telling you what nail color to get, what perfume, etc) pls!!! i love how u write bruce 😭😭 WE LITERALLY SHARE THE SAME VISION!!! i love ur blog sm 💞💞💞

ACTS OF CASUAL DOMINANCE

─── BRUCE WAYNE x f! reader. . . headcanons .ᐟ

a/n: tysm anon !! love how we imagined bruce the same way :)

bruce, who is every inch the gentleman when he’s out with you—always placing his hand on the small of your back when guiding you through a crowd or escorting you to his car, a subtle but firm gesture that says, you’re mine, and i’m looking after you. he opens doors for you without fail, pulls out your chair at restaurants, and always walks on the street side of the sidewalk, even if it means switching places mid-walk. if you’re wearing heels, he keeps a steadying hand at your waist when you go down stairs.

bruce, who loves leaving subtle marks of his presence on you, whether it’s adjusting your scarf or brushing a thumb over your lip to fix your lipstick. when you’re out together, his hand is always on you—the small of your back, your hip, or wrapped around your fingers. not quite overbearing, but just enough to let everyone know who you belong to.

bruce, who doesn’t outright dictate what you wear, but his influence on your fashion choices is undeniable. he’ll casually leave a dress hanging in your closet or comment on how much he likes seeing you in a particular shade or fabric. “you should wear that blue one tonight,” he’ll suggest. his approval becomes something you crave, and the smouldering way his gaze lingers on you when you follow his preferences is its own reward.

bruce, who will always shrug off his coat and drape it over your shoulders if you’re cold or if the evening turns brisk unexpectedly.

bruce, who has an unspoken authority that makes you want to listen. if you reach for just coffee in the morning, he’ll gently push a plate of fresh fruit or eggs your way. “you’ll need more than that today,” he says, and it doesn’t just leave there—he’ll sit with you, sipping his own coffee as if to make sure you actually eat.

bruce, who has a knack for choosing the perfect jewelry to complement your beauty. when you’re torn between options, standing indecisively by your vanity, he’ll step in without hesitation. his fingers will hover briefly over the collection before selecting a bracelet. “this one,” he says, gently fastening it around your wrist.

bruce, who has a weakness for lingerie, and he spares no expense when it comes to choosing pieces for you. he has a habit of surprising you with carefully chosen lingerie from brands like la perla or agent provocateur—luxurious silk and lace in colours he knows will complement your skin. sometimes, you’ll find it laid out on the bed with a note in his distinct handwriting: wear this for me. other times, he hands you the box himself, sitting on the edge of the bed as you untie the ribbon. his demeanour is completely calm, but judging from the hunger in his eyes, it’s clear he’s already calculating how quickly he could rip it from your body.

bruce, who has a refined sense of smell, and takes pride in choosing a perfume that is uniquely you. when he catches the scent lingering on your neck or wrist, his lips will brush against your skin as he breathes it in, murmuring, “that suits you.” he loves how the fragrance becomes a signature of sorts, clinging to his clothes or the bedsheets.

bruce, who never misses a chance to come to your rescue when you’re struggling with a zipper or clasp. standing behind you, his hands are deft as they glide up the zipper with ease. but he doesn’t step away immediately—instead, his fingers linger at the nape of your neck, grazing your skin as though he’s savouring the excuse to touch you. he leans in slowly, inhaling your scent before he presses a kiss to the delicate curve of your shoulder blade.

bruce, who shares intimate evening rituals with you. he’ll sit on the edge of the bed, his suit jacket already discarded, watching you with an almost meditative calm as you remove your makeup or adjust your hair. sometimes he’ll step in, undoing your necklace or offering to brush your hair for you.

bruce, who has a way of subtly steering you toward better habits without making you feel lectured. bruce doesn’t argue or insist—he just closes your phone or pulls the book from your hands, setting them aside before cupping your face. “that’s enough. you’ll thank me in the morning,”

bruce, who ensures your needs are met before you even realise them. when you’re tired, he’ll guide you to sit, bringing you a glass of water or pressing a kiss to your temple. his dominance is very subtle, woven into these small, everyday acts, making you feel both cherished and completely under his care.

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[skelly-words]

Tentacles.. we have blue we have pink, what if one fucks our ass and the other our meow meow

(Bring your tentacles to work day request)

Ignore if u want but ILY and marry me 💍

I've been neglecting my account so bad, but you forgive me, right? <3<3<3

NSFW minors dni please

Anywayyyy, this is short, but I was thinking about using pink and blue at the same time. You're only supposed to bring the pink one to work. It cups your pussy so you can grind on the textured tendrils without making a mess of your office chair. But what's the harm in trying both?

It's the last step of your morning routine. Trying to fit the base of both tentacles in your ass at the same time is stretch, but the fat plugs are stuffed into place anyway. The slender blue appendage slips up and down your slit. The juices drooling from your cunt mix with the blue opalescence lubrication coating the tentacle. You watch with a whine as it stuffs itself inside you, writhing and wriggling to fit just right. It never stops moving like it can't get comfortable, and the constant twisting in your guts makes your legs a little weak.

Then the thick pink tentacle latches onto you. The lace of your panties covers it so neatly, almost looking modest when spit isn’t collecting at the corners of your lips. The little feelers bully your swollen clit, meanly pinching on the bud while you grab your purse and walk out the door.

It feels so good to have something to keep you full. Every bump on the bus ride fucks the squirming blue tentacle deeper. And you don't have to worry about your sloppy pussy leaving a gross mark on the seat.

The pink tentacle soaks you up so greedily, waiting for you to be ready to take its squishy little eggs. You have no idea how it's all gonna fit. The walk from the bus to your office building is short, and you make it to your desk before finding out. Your hips rock back and forth on the chair to rub the knot of pulsing blue into your g-spot. Little pink feelers tug at your clit. It's hard not to moan, and you have to bite on your palm to keep quiet.

You whimper as the sticky eggs get released, crammed into your cunt with the slender blue tentacle. Your poor hole is so stuffed full that you can hardly twitch and tighten when you cum. The pink tentacle pushes more and more eggs into you as the tiny tendrils clean up all your juices.

It stops after that, as if knowing not to overstimulate you too much. There's a long day ahead of you, so the little monsters are content to keep you stuffed up and grinding on the attentive feelers. Maybe the blue one will cum in you later, hopefully the eggs don't get fertilized 🤷‍♀️

And the best part is, still no mess.

These are so fun to write, like the perfect mix of silly and horny. I luv the support everyone is being so nice to me here

[bcmbiquinn]

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson Headcanons

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d always make mixtapes/playlists for you for any occasion, “songs that remind me of us” “we should make out to this rhythm” type of thing.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d drag you to every underground metal concert he can find but he would also go to any concert you want.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Following the above, he would do anything to get you tickets for your favourite artist, like anything! Camping the night before to be early in line -modern Eddie would have a laptop, 3 phones and a tablet to get you tickets-

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Late night drives with your boy, yup! Blasting music, windows down and taking random turns until you end up in a secluded spot and make out for hours. (Maybe more)

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie is definitely a total romantic, he would write you cheesy love notes on scraps of paper, make poems for you, showing up late at night outside your window with a flower he stole from your neighbour yard.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would try on making breakfast for you, but it’s mostly just burnt toast and half cooked scrambled eggs, he tried tho!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Touchy touchy, this man can’t take his hands off of you, pinching your cheeks, hand on your lower back, on your knees, caressing your arm, kisses on your forehead and neck and so on.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie definitely needs a lot of reassurance, deep inside he always feels like people would eventually leave him, he desperately wants you to reassure him but struggles to ask for it, but once you do it and tell him there’s no one else you’d rather be, he melts instantly!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s really into matching tattoos and would love to get one with you but if you’re hesitant about, he’d just draw one on you with a sharpie.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ ridiculously overprotective, you stub your toe, he’s like “Who did this to you?” Then proceeds to flip of the chair or hit the couch with his foot and ends up hurting himself too!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He’s sooo dramatic when he gets a cold, acts like he’s dying, all tucked acting like he’s on his deathbed holding your hand dramatically “my love…i don’t think I’d make it this time”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He can’t lie and definitely can’t keep secrets from you, if he has planned a surprise for you, he’s going to mess up immediately “Okay but when we get to the… I mean the totally normal thing we're doing! Forget what i said that!”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would stole your snacks and leftovers, his logic? “What’s yours is mine, love. That’s how love works”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He takes fake offence to everything, if you say you don’t like a band he loves he would act as if you just stabbed him.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s genuinely protective of you, if someone upset you he goes full beast mode, “do I need to kick someone’s ass?” He doesn’t play about you or your safety.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ if he’s ever mad at you, he would never be mean, he may cross his arms and grumble but the moment you give him puppy eyes he melts “you’re so lucky I love you, you little gremlin”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Our boy is a crybaby but he never had someone to rely on until he found you, he would try to hold his tears but the moment you hug him and whisper “I got you, Eds” it’s over, he buries his face on your shoulder shaking as he sobs.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He loves making gifts for you, he thinks it’s way more romantic, he would spent hours making the perfect necklace, ring for you, love letters, a scrapbook with all the memories you’ve made together, concert tickets, Polaroids.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He totally loves your quirks, if you’re into collecting rocks, you better believe he would get you the prettiest rocks!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He would give you one of his rings and if it doesn’t fit on your finger because it’s too big he would turn it into a necklace.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧he would give the most out of place birthday cards “congratulations on your promotion” “yaaaaaaaaay”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He gives you his stuff to you for no reason, his jacket? Take it, his favourite band pin? Take it. If you ever mention liking something he has, straight right into your hands “No, really take it, I don’t even need it” he probably does need it.

We’re close to valetine’s day baddies!

Divider: @adornedwithlight

[munsonsmixtapes]

Such a Good Boy, Knows How to Please

Billy Hargrove x Hopper!fem!reader

You convince yourself that you hate Billy, but after having nothing but dirty thoughts about him, you give him a proposition.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) mention of vomit/throwing up

part two

The summer sun beats down on the pool that's filled with people swimming, splashing, and just generally just trying to soak up the last few days of summer before school starts again. It's so hot that you can feel your flesh burning underneath your many layers of sunscreen. You're there because you know you're really going to miss the pool when you go back to college next week.

Most of the other women, though, they're just there for him. Every day, you watch them fix themselves, touching up their hair and pulling down the tops of their swimsuits to show off their cleavage. And he eats out of the palm of their hands, always making conversation, pulling down his sunglasses as he not so subtly flirts with them.

You seem to be the only one who's not on the receiving end of the flirting and you're starting to think that maybe it's because he knows who your dad is. It would make sense that he wouldn't want to involved with the daughter of the chief of police. And it's not like you care, anyway. You've always hated Billy.

You honestly just don't get the hype, why pretty much every woman in Hawkins is throwing themselves at him. Why wives and mothers are willing to ruin their marriages for that pig. Sure, you can admit that he's hot, but any admiration you might have always goes out the window anytime he opens his mouth.

He just says those dirty things for shock value and you have no idea why anyone ever believes him. You're sure that he just has a notebook filled with lines that he uses instead of speaking from his heart. That's not his thing because all he cares about is getting women into bed and as soon as he's done with them, he kicks them to the curb. It's nothing you haven't seen before.

Billy exits the back room to start his shift and you roll your eyes, adjusting your sunglasses on your face as you collect your things to leave. You can't take another minute of watching everyone fawn all over him. And besides, you really think you need to be in some AC.

You're leaving just as Billy is passing your lounge chair and just when you think he's going to head to his chair, he stops right in front of you, preventing you from leaving. His arms are crossed over his chest and he's got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that always means that he's up to no good.

"Where ya goin', Hopper?" He asks and you pull your sunglasses down to show him just how unimpressed you are with him.

"Home, not that it isn't any of your business." Billy knows that you don't like him, but he just loves pisses you off. You're so hot when you're angry and the fact that it's aimed towards him makes it even more so.

"Aww, you can't play with me for a little longer?" He pouts and you just scoff. How do people actually fall for this shit? "I just got here."

"Afraid not," you shrug. Usually being short with people is a deterrent, but not with Billy. It only eggs him on. But you can't be bothered with making conversation with him.

"Our sisters are friends, why can't we be?" If Billy were a nice guy, you probably would have been friends with him, but he's not and the kind of friends he wants to be doesn't interest you.

"Because you don't have friends, Billy. And I really don't want to be whatever you do have so if you'll excuse me." You push past him and he watches you hurry towards the gate where you exit before disappearing from his view.

Once you're gone, he turns to head to his chair, but the sun reflects off something out of the corner of his eye. He heads over to the lounge chair where you had been lying and notices a book there. Billy picks it up and pulls down his sunglasses to get a better look at it. There's a man and woman on the cover. They're embracing and he's got his lips on her neck as she arches her back. He never would have expected you to read this kind of thing, but he supposes he doesn't know you very well.

He sticks the small book into the pocket of his swim trunks then makes the rounds of flirting with all of the MILFs before heading to his chair, pulling the book out once he's settled.

He flips to the first page and his eyes widen at how graphic it all is. It's not something he normally reads (he doesn't actually read at all) but he has to admit that he's intrigued. So much so that he does nothing but read until it's time for his break.

He's already halfway through when his shift is over and he makes sure to hide it in his bag so nobody can see it. Can't have people thinking he reads and especially not something like that. That would be too fucking embarrassing to actually admit it.

He hurries to his car to make sure no one will talk to him and is quick to peel out of the parking lot, driving faster than he definitely should have, but everyone is used to it by now. Well, they should be.

You arrive home just in time to make dinner. you head to El's room to tell her that you're back from the pool only to find her and Max on the floor, giggling while reading magazines. You're surprised to find someone who's not Mike, but you love that she actually has friend who's a girl. She definitely needs more female presences in her life and having one who's actually her age makes you nothing but happy for her.

"Oh, hello," you greet, still caught off guard by your guests.

"Hi," El responds, then gestures to the re4d head to the right of her. "This is Max. She's sleeping over."

"Did dad say this was okay?" You ask, suddenly taking on your older sister role as you put your hands on your hips.

"Yep," she nods, and you glare at her, staring into her eyes because you know how terrible of liar she is and she always cracks if you lean into her just a bit. Once you decide she's telling the truth, you ease up and go back to being her friend again.

You had met Max briefly over the years with giving El rides different places and such, but you've never actually been able to have a full-on conversation with her. Now you think you might have a chance. She actually seems normal compared to her gross step-brother.

"Hi," Max gives you a little wave.

"I'm y/n," you introduce yourself with a smile. "Well, dinner's ready if you guys are ready to eat." You leave the door open then head back towards the table.

The girls follow you and the three of you sit at the table, chewing on your waffles between conversation and your heart warms at hearing your sisters laughs. Just from what you've seen, you really like Max and the influence she has on El. That she's letting her be her own person which you've been so hard to do ever since she became your sister.

You really hope this friendship lasts, really hoping that doesn't mean that you have to talk to Billy. But anything for El. If her having a friend that actually cares about her interests means you have to actually speak to Billy Hargrove, then so be it.

After dinner, the three of you gather around the tv and watch some cartoons. The girls are giggling about something while whispering to each other and you hate that you're suddenly feeling left out, jealous. El would often call you her best friend and now you're just her older sister.

There's a knock on the door and you're grateful for something to distract you from your silly feelings. You excuse yourself and hurry to answer the door, not even thinking about who could be on the other side. You step back as Billy Hargrove comes into view. You're sure that this is all just a very vivid nightmare and hate that this man keeps taking over your thoughts. It isn't fair. It's your mind so you should have a say in what goes on in it, right?

You can't help but let your eyes rake over his body, taking in his very cropped tank top and very very short cut offs that have you feeling dizzy. How fucking dare he look so good when you're trying so hard to hate him?

"Hopper," he says with a smile and you feel gross that you actually like the way his last name sounds coming out of his mouth.

"Hargrove," you mutter, wanting him to get on with whatever he's going to say so he'll leave your property. You keep blinking and he's not going away. You even go as far pinching yourself just to be sure that this is real life.

"It's not a dream," he winks. "I'm actually here. I'm sure you've imagined this a lot, haven't you?"

"Not even once," you grimace at the thought. "Now what do you want? I'm kind of busy."

"Yeah, doing what? Getting off to the thought of me?" He's got on his signature smug smirk and you just so desperately want to smack him, but decide against it because you're sure that he would like it.

"Not even close. Now tell me what you're doing here before I grab my dad's shotgun." You're getting even more angry and Billy's feeling himself getting hard. He almost wants to say something even worse so you'll yell at him. That always makes him so fucking hard.

The girls are now off the couch, making their way to stand on either side of you, feeling the need to protect you from whoever you're threatening to shoot.

"What are you doing here?" Max asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, Maxine," he smiles, reaching into the back pocket of his shorts, pulling out the book that you left at the pool, so close to asking if you have another one he can borrow because now he's obsessed.

You snatch the book out of his hands and quickly flipping through the pages because there's no telling what he's done to it. Billy just stands there, amused by whatever you're doing with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What are you doing there, Hopper?" He asks, trying his best to bite back a laugh.

"Making sure none of the pages are stuck together," you glare and hand the book to El once you've flipping through every page. Max giggles at your joke but El just stares at you in confusion. You then step out on the porch and give Billy a shove, which catches him off guard.

"Now get lost, Hargrove," you glare and he knows he's got to get out of there before you see his hard on. He turns on his heel and descends the stairs and you definitely do not check out his ass as he heads to his car.

Once he's speeding away, you slam the door and swipe the book from El's hands, storming off to your room, letting your anger the best of you. The girls invite themselves inside and the three of you sit on your bed, the two of them waiting for you to tell the story of why you hate Billy so much. Too bad there isn't one.

"I fucking hate your brother," you tell Max and she just laughs because it's very obvious just by the way you speak to him.

"Join the club," she sighs. "Did he-did he do something to you?" She asks, suddenly concerned about your wellbeing.

"No," you shake your head. "He's just a pig but what else is new?"

"So you haven't-" she doesn't even need to finish her sentence and you don't want her to because you're grimacing now, images of Billy on top of your naked body pounding into you flash across your mind and you're concerned that your waffles aren't climbing up your throat. That you maybe, kind of actually like what you're seeing?

"No," you reply quickly, shaking your head. "I mean, c'mon, Max. And no offense, but I don't want to be discussing my sex life with a couple of thirteen year olds."

"Fair enough," Max nods.

"Do you like him?" El asks and you turn to her, confused by her question. Did she not see how you were talking to him? That's not how you treat people you like.

"Yeah, do you?" Max asks, genuinely curious. "It's okay if you do. A lot of girls do."

"Absolutely not."

"But you were checking out his ass," Max points out and you hadn't realized you were that obvious about it.

"He has a nice ass, sue me. Alright, let's put it this way since you guys don't seem to understand. If Billy were on fire and I had a glass of water, I'd drink it."

"Noted. So who do you like?"

"Nobody," you reply, which is true. "I mean, I used to have a huge crush on Steve Harrington in high school, but there hasn't been anyone since."

"Steve's your best friend," El tells you, almost as if she's confused.

"Right," you nod. "But I don't have feelings for him anymore." and you don't. The two of you kissed once at a party and it was too weird so you just went back to being friends.

"Well, he's a lot better than Billy," Max points out. He's actually a guy that Hopper would approve of. Steve's the kind of guy you can take to meet your parents and Billy's the kind of guy who you sneak in through your window."

You really wish you were with Steve because maybe then you wouldn't still be thinking about Billy and his slutty outfit. Well, maybe you'd be thinking about it, but then you could just go and to Steve's where he'd fuck you until you forgot Billy's name.

"No offense, but I don't need my little sister and her friend setting me up. I can get a date by myself, thank you very much." It's not that El doesn't believe you, but she hasn't seen you go on a single date since she's known you. You've always been independent, but she can see that you're lonely, that you crave companionship like she has with Mike.

She doesn't know what you do when you're away at school, but she hopes that if you did have a boyfriend that you'd tell her about it. The two of you are close, you share everything with each other, so she really hopes that there's nothing that you're keeping from her.

"I just want you to be happy," she says, grabbing hold of your hand.

"I am happy," you reply, giving her hand a squeeze. "I've got you and dad and that's all I need. I don't need some stupid boy getting in my way."

Max watches the two of you with admiration. She loves that Eleven has you in her life, that she has you to guide her through life. It really makes her wish that she had a sister of her own and not her stupid brother who doesn't even seem to care about her in any way, shape, or form. Sure, she has her mom who she wouldn't trade for anything, but it's not the same.

You notice her looking at you and you hold out her hand for her to take. She's hesitant, but she eventually takes your hand and you give hers a squeeze with a warm smile.

"You're one of us now," you tell her and she decides that's exactly what she wants to be, finally feeling she's apart of a family.

You can't sleep. You're tossing and turning, constantly seeing the minutes pass by on the clock on your nightstand. You look over on the floor where the girls are sleeping in their sleeping bags because they insisted on staying the night in your room.

You can't seem to get the image of those damn shorts Billy was wearing out of your head and you really wished you had pulled him inside and had your way with him when you had the chance. You're convinced that he did it on purpose, offering up his best asset up on a platter and you almost took the bait.

If you had the option do it over, you would have pegged him the way that you were convinced that he was silently begging for. Why else would he have worn such short shorts for?

Or maybe you're just overthinking it. You have to be delusional because why the fuck would he have worn those for you? He should know that you wouldn't fuck him if he were the last man on earth, but do you kind of want to now?

Why do you suddenly want to see what the hype is about? You want to know if his dick is really as big as they say, to know if he's as good in bed as you've heard he is. You're just curious, you try to convince yourself. You're actually just wanting to see if they're right. If you'd like it. You're not attracted to him, no fucking way. This would purely be for research purposes.

You spend the rest of the night thinking about nothing but stupid Billy and his stupid great ass. You think about the two of you in all sorts of positions as you beg and plead for him to do more, to go harder, faster, and he listens, nothing but dirty words falling from his pretty lips as he pins you down to the counter in your kitchen. He's pressing your face into the countertop, thrusting in and out of your ass as one of his hands kneads your tit, making you moan so loud, but he's got your underwear stuffed into your mouth because he doesn't want you waking anyone up.

You wake up in disappointment, your dream so vivid that it almost felt real. You can't believe that you had sex dream about Billy of all people. and you liked it. How the fuck is it that just seeing him in those stupid shorts somehow rewired your brain and made you actually interested in him? You're pretty sure that you've actually gone mad.

You sit up in your bed and notice that the once occupied sleeping bags in the floor are now empty. You then look and see that it's already eleven in the morning. Even during the summer this is the latest you've slept in. You try to shake your thought from the night before and head out of your room to see your dad, El, and Max at the table, eating what looks like breakfast from McDonald's.

"Hey, sleepy head," Your dad greets you with a smile, pulling out the chair next to him that he's saved for you. You plop down and he shoves the bag over to you and upon opening it, you realize that it's your usual order.

"Sleep well?" He asks, reaching over to ruffle your hair and you slap his hand away. "Somebody's grumpy," he laughs then goes back to his biscuit.

"No, I didn't sleep well because somebody was snoring," you glare at El. It's not a total lie since she was snoring loudly, but you can't exactly tell your father of all people that you were thinking about Billy Hargrove in an inappropriate manner. In fact, you can't tell anyone at this table so you're just going to take it to the grave.

You're surprisingly quiet during the rest of breakfast and as soon as Jim and El leave to take Max home, you race to your room and grab your phone, feverishly dialing the number you know by heart as your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

You feel like your going to throw up as it rings for what feels like forever. You never call Steve about boy problems, but now you feel like you have to, to get confirmation that you're not actually going crazy. Steve is the person you feel like you can go to for anything, so why are you so nervous to tell him that you might be interested in Billy?

Maybe it's because you know he'll be grossed out or maybe it's because you're afraid he'll be jealous even though it's very clear that he's not even remotely interested in you romantically.

"Hello?" The familiar voice rings through the phone.

"Steve, hey," you greet. "Do you have time to talk?"

"Yeah, of course. What's up?" So you tell him everything and he listens like the great friend he is, only offering his opinion when he's asked for it. And that's why you always like talking to him. Because he genuinely listens and offers good advice and never judges you for what you have to say.

"You know how I said you can tell me anything?" He asks as soon as you finish speaking.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I changed my mind." Well, so much for him not judging you.

"I spared you the details."

"And thank god for that. So what exactly is the reason you're telling me all of this?"

"Because I want to know if I'm totally crazy for wanting to go for it."

"Why should my opinion matter? If you want to fuck Billy, y/n, then fuck Billy. What do I care?" He genuinely doesn't care about your sex life and just wants to do what you want to do. He doesn't know why you're asking his permission to fuck Billy Hargrove.

"So I'm not crazy?" You're feeling even more nervous even though calling Steve was supposed to calm you down.

"Look, I'm not blind. The guy's hot, alright? And I think if you want go for it, you should."

"Thanks Steve."

"Anytime. And if you do go for it, please, please spare me the details."

"Will do," you nod even though he can't see you then hang up. You then hurry out of the room and head out to your car, preparing to head to the pool where you know Billy will be. If you're going to make this proposition, you want to do it face to face.

Billy hasn't been able to stop thinking about you since he showed up at your house yesterday. Seeing you in that large t-shirt made his brain short circuit, immediately wondering what you've got going on under it.

He wants you so bad and the fact that you don’t want anything to do with him makes his want even stronger. He sees it as a challenge. He thinks needs to flirt with you just a little more to get you to crack. He saw the way you were checking him out and now he’s thinking of cutting the shorts even shorter to give you a little taste of what you seem to want so badly.

He ended up buying another “bodice ripper” as he found out the novels are called at the book store and he just can’t fucking put it down. He’s even more interested in the story now since he’s cast you and him as the leads.

Sebastian has got his hand up Juliette’s dress and Billy’s just imagining what it would be like to get his fingers inside you. He’d tease you about how wet you are then got to town, fucking you with his fingers, making you come over and over, until you’re begging for his massive cock.

He’s thinking about you so much that he swears that he sees you out of the corner of his eye, making your way over to him in a hurry. God, he’s really got to stop thinking with his dick.

But you’re calling his name, so it must be real, right? He looks down and from this angle, he’s got the perfect view of your cleavage. He’s so distracted by it that he’s not even paying attention to what you’re saying. He sees your lips moving-god, your lips. He doesn’t usually kiss during sex, but he suddenly wants to kiss you stupid. He wants to kiss you while he grinds against you, making you beg for his-

“Billy?” You ask and he finally snaps out of his dirty fantasy, his eyes snapping up to your face.

“Hm?”

“Can we talk for a second?” Is that code for you wanting to hook up? Whatever you want, he’s in. He climbs down the ladder then comes to meet you face to face.

“What is it, doll?” He asks, his voice so smug because he’s finally able to read you like a book. You’re nervous, guard completely down and he’s loving that he’s finally gotten through to you.

“Can we talk…in private?” You’re picking at the skin around your thumb nail and he’s wondering why you just won’t just come right out and ask him. Yeah, you definitely want his cock.

He blows his whistle and you cover your ears as checks his watch. It’s time for his break anyway so he calls for an adult swim before grabbing you by the hand and taking you into the locker room. This isn’t the first hookup he’s had during his break and it definitely won’t be the last.

He’s not going to give in right away, though. He wants you to beg. He wants you to be whining for him before he even lays a hand on you. He’s certain that he’s so powerful that he could make you come just with his words. And that’s exactly what he intends to do.

“So you finally want me to fuck you, huh, doll?” He asks as he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, removing one from the pack, then lighting up.

Normally, you find smoking to be disgusting, but when Billy does it, he’s so fucking hot that it’s unfair. The way he puts it between his lips-god, his pretty pink lips-and blows the smoke out like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

You don’t admit it like you were intending, you just take his hand and a pen from your purse before scribbling down an address then fleeing the locker room. He looks down at your pretty, neat handwriting and realizes that he recognizes the address. It’s the Motel 6 on Cornwallis where he was supposed to meet Karen Wheeler before she bailed.

He smiles to himself as he’s finally gotten another one then spends the rest of his break thinking about all the ways he’s going to make an absolute mess of you.

Billy is already at the motel when you get there. He’s leaning against the fence of the pool, with his back facing you, smoking yet another cigarette. He’s wearing the same outfit from when he showed up at your house, but this time, the shorts are even shorter. So short, in fact, that his ass is hanging out. God, what you would give to give it a squeeze. To use it as your personal stress ball as he fucks you. What you would give to give it a much needed spanking.

You approach him and pluck the cigarette from his lips, putting it between your own and taking a drag, only to cough immediately.

“Jesus, take it easy, Hopper,” he says as he takes the cigarette back from you.

You’re still coughing and Billy doesn’t know why he’s so worried, lightly patting your back to help you out, suddenly wishing he had some sort of beverage to make it all go away. He doesn't know when his hands started rubbing smooth circles along your back, but you’re stepping closer to him, feeling much more brave than he is. 

“I’m good, I’m good,” you tell him. “Sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” You actually don’t know why, but feel like you should.

“I don’t know. Now c’mon,” you lift the latch of the gate that leads to the pool and open it slowly before taking Billy by the hand, leading him through the gate. His fingers are rough but somehow soft and you can’t wait to have them roaming all over your body. 

The lights that are lining the inside of the pool somehow make the dingy coloring even more so, but the heat of the night is making it look inviting despite how gross it looks. You just want to dive right in and take a swim. You don’t care if it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years, you just need to feel the cool water against your skin. 

So, you begin to strip. It’s not by any means sexy like you wanted it to be as you’re just desperate to just get out of your clothes. And Billy doesn’t even seem to be phased by this, just checking you out as you pull off your shirt and shorts so you’re just left in your bra and panties. He barely even gets the chance to look at your body before diving into the water, just staring at you, confused as your head pops up from the water. 

Apparently Billy didn’t get the swimming memo since he’s still standing there, fully clothed. So, he’s quick to get down to his underwear and follow you, diving into the water, probably (definitely) not looking nearly as graceful as you. 

“Never pegged you for a bad girl Hopper,” he says as he surfaces, pushing his hair out of his face. You’re over by the shallow end, sitting on one of the steps, running your fingers through your hair, trying to get the knots out. 

“That just goes to show how little you know about me, Hargrove,” you reply as he sits next to you. The lights in the pool usually make people look not so great, but you look absolutely beautiful in the blue-green hue. He really wishes he had a camera so he could capture this moment, you looking at him with that sweet smile. 

You scoot closer to him, so that your bare thighs are touching. You wrap your arms around his neck, twirling a piece of his hair around your pointer finger. Your face is inching your face towards his. His hands wrap around his waist as his lips find yours in a gentle kiss. Billy doesn’t think he’s ever been this gentle with a woman, and just as he’s starting to enjoy it, you kick it up a notch, tilting your head to the side as your tongue slides into his mouth. He hasn’t kissed anyone in so long and it feels so good. 

Your lips are soft and you taste sweet, but he can’t quite make out what it is. He could do just this for hours and be satisfied. He doesn’t why he always denies this part of sex, but he thinks he’s just enjoying it because it’s you. He lets out a moan as you tug on his hair, now straddling his lap. 

“Fuck,” he whines into your mouth as your fingers wind into his hair, giving it a tug at his scalp as you bite down on his bottom lip. You’re now grinding against him and his nails dig into your hips, his head falling backwards, giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss his neck. 

They start out soft and gentle, but then you’re using your tongue, licking and sucking on his skin, driving him absolutely crazy. He’s hard beyond belief and he swears he’s going to come right there just because of what you’re doing with your mouth, your wonderful talented mouth. 

He’s seeing stars, whining and moaning as you work on his neck, giving him a hickey. As nice as this is, as much as he’s enjoying it, he needs to get inside you because he’s about to bust. You bite down on the skin and he moans again, your name slipping from his lips. You’ve got him right where you want him and you’re sure that he’s ready now. 

Your lips find his again, desperate and hungry, still grinding against him and he’s getting harder by the second. His hip buck against yours and you move so he can get his underwear off and you remove your own before settling yourself onto his cock. 

“You’re so big,” you tell him and his eyes light up at your observation. He’s very well aware of this, but hearing it from you is a huge compliment. He loves seeing you like this, on top of him in nothing but your bra. This is something he could only dream about, something he has dreamed about even though he’d never admit it. 

You watch him come undone as you begin to ride him, eating up how quickly you were able to dominate him. It’s clear that you have the control here and he’s loving it. He’s always on top, but letting you take the lead is much more fun. He wants you to boss him around, to make him your bitch. 

“Yeah? You like that?” You ask and he nods, feeling fucked out already and you’ve barely even done anything. Maybe it’s because he never engages in foreplay so he has more energy for the main event. “Look at you. Already tired, baby?” God, he really wants you to call him that again. 

“No,” he replies through a deep breath, bucking his hips against yours. “Keep going.”

You continue, moving faster as his hands move up to remove your bra as he continues to buck his hips against yours, trying his best to keep up with you. As soon as your chest is bare, he can’t help but stare, watching your tits bounce up and down. And just when he thought you couldn’t get any hotter. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” you moan as you pick up your pace, and Billy’s pretty sure that it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard. You moan again and again as his hips buck against yours, wanting to make you feel as good as you’ve made him feel.

There’s no way he can fuck anyone else after this. It’s like someone mediocre going on stage to perform right after Prince. This is easily the best sex he’s ever had and it’s not even over. He’s got to have you every night for the rest of his life now. And if this night is all you’re wanting from him, then maybe he’ll just refrain from ever sleeping with anyone ever again. 

Although, he’d never admit any of this to you. His ego won’t allow it. He likes being complimented, but he’s never one to do so unless it directly benefits him. Well, except for him telling you how pretty you looked. That was just because he wanted to. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, doll,” he moans as he comes and you don’t even care if he pulls out. You just help him ride his high and you’re close, your eyes shut tight as his name rolls off your lips. And fuck does it feel good to hear you scream it. 

“Billy, oh my god. His name tumbles out of your mouth as you reach your peak reached and fuck does it feel good for him to hear you scream it. 

Once you’ve come down, you climb off him and hurry to retrieve your underwear, Billy quickly following behind even though he’s not as in a rush as you are. He wants to stay here for a little longer, just to hold you in his arms and shower you with compliments. He might even actually tell you that you’re the best he’s ever had. 

“If I’m not home by ten, I’m going to be dead,” you tell him and now he understands, because of course Jim Hopper would still have his daughter under curfew even though she’s an adult now. 

He doesn’t know what time it is, but doesn’t want to be the reason why you’re late so he lets you go, not getting dressed nearly as quickly as you, but he’s still trying to keep up. He’s wondering how you don’t completely hate the wet clothes against your skin and how you’re going to explain that to your dad, but he supposes that isn’t any of his business. 

So he watches you slip on your flip flops as he gets out of the pool with his underwear on. He’s pulling on his shorts which is proving to be a struggle, but he eventually gets them on and throws on his shirt as he’s hurrying to catch up with you, following you to your car. 

“Well, this was fun,” you tell him with a bright smile. “We should do it again sometime. You can get the house number from Max, right? I’m sure he has it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great. Don’t be a stranger, alright?” You ask, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek before you get into your car. You start it up and Billy watches you back out of the parking lot, knowing that he’s going to be giving you a call very soon.

[illyrianbitch]

What Lies Between Us

Pairing: Reader x Modern Detective! Azriel

Summary: Azriel has spent years trying to escape the ghosts of his past, retiring into a self-imposed exile despite a promising career as a talented detective. When you turn up at his door asking for help on a recent case, his world is disrupted.

Warnings: angst, outrunning memories, brief allusions to crime, details of injury, horrible yearning and longing tbh

Word Count: 3.4k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel let out a sigh as he fumbled for his keys, juggling a bag of groceries in one hand. The weight of it grew heavy, and he clenched his jaw in focus as he finally pushed his door open, blindly reaching for the lightswitch on his wall. 

A soft meow greeted him at his feet. Azriel glanced down to see Shadow, his black sleek fur gleaming under the light, weaving affectionately between his legs. Shadow's green eyes flicked up briefly before he leapt gracefully onto a bar stool and then the counter, nose twitching as he inspected the grocery bags Azriel placed down. He pulled back, seemingly unimpressed.

Azriel’s therapist was insistent that more greens would be beneficial in easing his anxiety. He said nothing about its relation to his nightmares, but Azriel didn’t have high hopes regarding whether broccoli could treat years of insomnia. Slowly, he pulled groceries from the bags, one by one. He almost snickered at the contents of his fridge— a few shelves now stocked with freshly bought produce, a carton of eggs, orange juice, butter, and a pack of beer. He shut the door. 

There were a few birthday cards on his fridge, held on by various traveling magnets he’d collected over the years. One card was from his mother, the words “sweet boy” staring back at him, written with a heavy hand and adorned with hearts she delicately drew. The others were from his friends, a stupid one from Cassian, a sweet one from Mor, even Elain had gifted him one— and an invitation to her wedding. 

He hadn’t gone. 

But you had. He knew this from the pictures Feyre had posted on Instagram.

Not that he was checking. He deleted Instagram soon after.

Azriel's gaze lingered on the cards. There was one missing, and his fingers traced the place it used to be, where he had stuck it for a week before he realized he couldn’t handle looking at it every morning as he made breakfast. That card was tucked away in his bedside drawer now. He saw it every night, instead. 

He let out a deep sigh, running his hands along his face, fingers brushing against the stubble that had begun to grow already. 

He had planned to cook a healthy meal tonight, to take his new prescription and finally attempt to get a good night's sleep. But the thought of chopping vegetables and cooking felt exhausting. He pulled out a beer.

The cap nicked his thumb as he twisted it off, but he barely registered the sensation, quickly drawing the neck of the bottle to his mouth. He greedily swallowed down the cheap contents and moved towards the living room. Shadow padded after him, tail flicking in curiosity, a step behind every move Azriel made.

His apartment was empty, save for a few decorations and his heavily decorated bookshelves. Two of the chairs in his living room were still new, and the smell of brand new leather clung to them heavily, making the entire room reek of a department store. Azriel’s apartment wasn’t a home. It was a place filled with furniture. Besides those cards on his fridge, not much hinted at any sign of a life well lived. 

Except the vinyl collection he now stood before. 

His collection was meticulously organized, spanning decades of music. Some were torn, tattered at the edges where he’d picked them up at vintage shops, others brand new from gifts he’d been given. 

Azriel selected a record. Its cover was worn and bent at the edges from drunken nights trying to carefully shove it back into its place. A classic rock album, the kind that filled the silence with powerful guitar riffs and soulful vocals— one of his favorites.He slid it from its sleeve, handling it with the care it properly deserved, and placed it on the turntable

Azriel wasn’t a flashy man, never one for fancy possessions, but this collection was his pride. The turntable itself was one of the nicest things he owned, if not the nicest. He cherished it, admired it every time he came into the living room. As the needle found its place, the familiar crackle precluded the strong, evocative notes of the electric guitar, filling the room with a warmth and soul that pulled a deep,weary sigh from his gut. 

Shadow brushed against Azriel’s legs again, and his eyes fell at the touch, gaze falling on his guitar propped against the wall.  A wave of sadness ran through him. Azriel approached it, running his fingers along its neck, along the dust that had gathered on top of it. The strings resisted against the scars on his fingertips.

He took a step back, grabbed his beer, and made his way towards the balcony. 

The rush of cold night air offered a welcoming reprieve from the stifling stillness of his apartment. The chill bit at his skin, but he didn’t mind. It reminded him that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something other than biting numbness, suffocating guilt.

The city buzzed below. Azriel was never a fan of New York. The city was loud, crowded, and full of distractions that made it hard for him to find the quiet he craved. He felt disconnected from it all, from the hums of life and sounds of cars. He’d never felt as lonely as he did recently, surrounded by hundreds of people. Taking another sip of his beer, he let the music wash over him, the rich melody pouring out into the open air. 

Azriel was only two songs in before there was a sudden knock on his door. 

He frowned and waited a minute for them to go away. Another knock followed, more insistent this time. Grumbling, he turned around and headed to the door, placing his beer on the counter.

"Damnit, Rhys,” Azriel called out, hand reaching out to pull his apartment door open, “I told you I didn't want to—" 

Azriel’s words died in his mouth as he opened the door, feeling a rush of emotions flood him all at once—relief, shock, and a hint of something else he couldn't quite name.

You were as beautiful as the last time he’d seen you, at that family dinner where he’d done his best to avoid you. Your skin was tan now, a sun-kissed glow that Azriel quickly deduced was from the recent trip you’d taken with Mor and Feyre. You’d gone to Belize, and while Feyre was gone, he and Rhysand had taken a trip upstate, stayed at a small place Rhys owned. Rhys was smart enough to not bring you up throughout the week, but Az still saw all the pictures Feyre had sent him— pictures that included you beaming at the camera, drink in hand and those pink vintage sunglasses you’d bought at a flea market three years ago.

"Y/N," he breathed out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi, Azriel,” you said, voice steady and soft, sweet like honey. It dripped down his skin and made him melt. His hand fell lax against the door handle. You gave him a small, almost unsure, smile. “I need your help.” 

Azriel’s brows furrowed, gaze scanning your features for a moment. There were dark circles under your eyes— and your eyes, your eyes themselves seemed sad. Troubled. His stomach twisted into itself. You held his gaze for a moment before you were clearing your throat, shaking your head as if breaking the connection. 

“Can I come in?”

Azriel blinked. “Of course,” he finally replied, pulling the words from deep out of his chest. He gave a smile as he stepped aside and gestured for you to come in. “Please.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was strange to be so close to you, to watch as you gingerly took off your coat and draped it over one of his barstools. Azriel’s eyes traced your form before him— the bend of your spine as you leaned over, the jewelry on your wrist, the boots that you wore.Even with your back turned to him, Azriel knew you. Something was deeply troubling you. There was an evident tension in your body, in the way your shoulders moved, in your shallow breaths. 

His gaze lingered on your waist for a moment, on the way your body curved below your hips. He shook himself out of the daze, suddenly embarrassed and shameful. 

His eyes fell to the ground, where Shadow now mewed and rubbed against your legs. You looked down at the contact, letting out a small laugh. Shadow wasted no time before jumping onto the kitchen island, nudging against your arms affectionately.

Azriel moved quickly, scooping Shadow up and setting him back on the ground. “Sorry about that,” he murmured.

“It’s okay,” you replied, a soft smile still playing on your lips. It was unsure— wary, even. The realization made Azriel’s stomach sink. He looked down at where Shadow was pressed against you once more.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, a flicker of something tender passing between you as he quietly said, “He missed you.”

Your gaze softened. A silence followed. It was heavy, but no longer uncomfortable. “I did too.”

The words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a warmth that neither of you dared to acknowledge fully. Azriel pushed away the thoughts in his mind that began to wonder if your words were meant for him, if you had missed him. He cleared his throat.

“What brings you by?”

You blinked, breaking the stare you were holding. “Right,” you said. You quickly turned back to your bag, fumbling slightly as you pulled out some papers and folders, gently placing them on the counter. 

You flipped one of the folders open, saying nothing as you glanced at Azriel before casting your eyes down at the papers before you. You took a deep breath.  “I need your help with a case.”

Azriel took a step forward, eyes glossing over the papers before him. He tightened his jaw. “You’re not supposed to be showing me these.”

He could get in trouble for being exposed to such sensitive information— and you, you were risking your career being here. 

“I know,” you replied. 

Azriel leaned forward, setting into a stance next to you. He ignored the way his skin prickled at the close proximity, instead placing a finger on the papers, pulling them closer to him. He frowned, brows furrowing as he took in the details. He casted a side glance at you.

You were already looking at him, a crease between your brows as you pressed your lips into a thin line.  

“Y/n,” Azriel murmured, “I’m not sure how I can be of any use.”

“Just hear me out,” you pleaded, moving closer to tap a finger on the papers. “They’re following a pattern. I need to get ahead of it. I’m stumped and you used to be great at these cases.”

Azriel’s frown deepened. “Is it a copycat?”

You paused. Azriel missed the flicker of hesitation in your eyes before you nodded. “Yeah, a copycat.”

He let out a contemplative hum. “Who?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, taking a step back as you remained quiet. Your silence was pronounced enough for Azriel to stiffen. He turned around slowly. His eyes gave away the question that was seated on the tip of his tongue. You nodded. 

Azriel stood still, his face hardening, but there was something in his eyes that looked awfully like fear, something in his gut that felt awfully like shame— like regret. He took a deep breath.

“I can't help you.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Azriel-”

“Y/n, I can’t help you,” He repeated, the words falling from his mouth like a practiced mantra of self-denial. “Request the files you need, talk to Cassian. He knows it just as well as I do.”

Azriel curled his hands into fists. He attempted to ignore the stone that sank in his stomach at the name of his friend, of his brother. Cassian. As if sensing his distress, Shadow mewed softly, weaving between Azriel’s legs.

“That is not true and you know it,” you retorted. There was a heavy sense of frustration that seeped into your voice, one that dripped from every word you said. You could feel the tension thickening the air, suffocating the space between you and Azriel. 

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. The stubborn set of his jaw made you falter further. You took a deep breath, lowering your voice to one much softer, much smoother. Azriel nearly melted at it, nearly found himself apologizing for everything he had done.

“I’ve requested access, I can talk to Cassian. But we both know you know things even I don’t. You kept meticulous records.”

“I-”

"Please," you interrupted, your voice pleading. "Az.”

Azriel’s expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. He let out a small sigh and then he offered you a nod. His steps were measured, deliberate, as he turned and made his way down the small hallway, the echoes of his footfalls filling the quiet space. 

His bedroom was just as empty as the rest of the apartment, and his gaze flickered to the bedside table as he passed. He stilled for a moment, feeling another heavy wave of sadness wash through him. Another second passed before he pulled his mind away, forcing himself to walk into his closet. 

It took a few moments of pushing aside boxes and clothing before he found it, running his hands along the small safe tucked away in the back wall. With a practiced hand, he dialed the combination, the soft click of the lock releasing echoing in the room. The door opened gently, revealing its contents—a sleek handgun nestled among a jumble of items, including a worn leather journal and a stack of notes. Brushing his hand over the cold metal of the gun, Azriel reached for the journal, its worn cover familiar beneath his touch. Tucking it under his arm, he closed the safe with a sense of finality.

Returning to where you stood, Azriel found it difficult to meet your gaze again, opting to keep his eyes trained on the journal in his hand and Shadow at his feet. He wasn’t sure if it was just him that suddenly felt so smothering, or if there was something in the air that made it hard for him to breathe. 

He offered you the journal with an extended hand. For a brief moment, your fingers brushed against each other. A familiar warmth ran through Azriel’s body and he resisted the urge to recoil from the intensity of it alone. 

His hand stayed in the air for a moment, suspended in the moment of your touch. You glanced down at his palm, eyes drifting to his bare ring finger. Your eyes softened and Azriel followed your gaze, immediately pulling his hand back and shoving it into his pocket.

“Thanks,” you murmured, turning around to place it on top of your bag. You kept your back to him for a moment, and Azriel traced the curve of your spine with his eyes, watched how you placed two hands to brace yourself on the counter as you sighed. You slowly turned around.

“Azriel-”

The glint in your eyes told him where the conversation was bound to lead. He cut you off as fast as he noticed. “I can’t.”

You deflated, shoulders falling slightly as your gaze danced across his face. “You didn’t even let me speak.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said softly. He shifted on his heels, shoving his hands further into his pockets. “I can’t get involved. This is all I can do.”

“Alright,” you finally replied, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you absentmindedly nodded your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” He took an instant step forward, hand naturally flying out to touch your arm. He realized his movement before he made contact, letting his hand fall awkwardly at his side. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I better get going.”

Please don’t.

“Yeah.”

Please stay. 

As you started to gather your belongings, slipping the journal into your bag and pulling your jacket on, Azriel's gaze remained fixed on you. His heart lurched painfully in his chest as you reached for your jacket and pulled it on, your shirt hiking up to reveal the beginning of a jagged scar along your abdomen. He deflated, casting his eyes to the ground. A wave of self-loathing washed over him and he clenched his hands at his sides, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.

It wasn’t until you were opening his front door that Azriel found the courage to look up, mustered the strength to meet your eyes.

“Y/n-” Azriel paused. His heart thudded loudly in his eardrums. He felt a faint tugging sensation in his chest, as if his body itself was screaming at him to get closer to you, to not let you leave. He swallowed down the selfish words he wanted to say, and instead offered you a wary, but warm, smile. “Be careful. This might just be a copycat, but they’re still as dangerous. I want you to be safe.”

“I know.” Something in your face softened, and you offered him a half smile. His eyes darted to the small dimple on your cheek. “I will be.”

You turned to leave, but no movement followed. Instead, you stilled, hand tapping on the handle before you turned around again. “It was nice to see you, Az.” 

He gave you a small, curt nod. His chest tightened. “You too, Y/n.”

“Take care of yourself.”

And then you were gone. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel sat on the couch, the soft hum of his chosen record filling the otherwise quiet apartment. His hand absentmindedly rubbed Shadow's head as he closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to drift.

Weeks had passed since he last saw you, but you were never far from his mind. He had toyed with the idea of reaching out to you, of asking how things were going, but the thought was quickly dismissed. It was inappropriate on multiple levels. You weren't in each other's lives anymore, and he shouldn't have known about the case in the first place. So he resigned himself to living in his mind, replaying that night over and over, wondering if he should have asked you to stay, if he should have offered more help.

There was a knock at the door. 

Azriel jumped at it, head twisting over his couch to look at his entrance. He pushed himself up, lifting Shadow from his lap as he made his way to the door. The cat emitted a discontented sound as he settled back into a lying position.

His heart fluttered with anticipation as he made his way to the door, a small glimmer of hope now flickering in his chest. Could it be that his prayers had been answered? That you were here again, unable to stop thinking about him just like he couldn't stop thinking about you?

Azriel took a deep breath as he reached for the doorknob.

He prepared to muster up a smile, running greetings through his mind, knowing himself well enough that he’d stumble at seeing your face once more. But as he swung the door open, his face fell flat.

"Rhys.”

Rhysand offered him a smile, but it lacked its usual warmth, troubled lines etched into his features. His posture was tense, his shoulders squared. There was a stiffness to his stance, a subtle rigidity that made Azriel’s stomach drop. 

"What is it?" Azriel asked.

Rhys met his gaze, eyes filled with a darkened sense of worry. There was a glint of apprehension in his eyes, as if he were hesitant to speak. He swallowed.

"It's Y/n," Rhys finally said, "She's missing."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

this idea appeared to me in a dream and i had to write it... will it ever come to fruition? who knows??? but i do love a good haunting of the narrative.... az finding us....az being thrown back into a world he thought he left behind...... lord its such yummy angst

so lmk if you’re interested in being tagged in a part 2 :)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[halloweenbitch2764]

I am not sure if there is a limited number of characters. If so, just do the bachelors. If not, do both bachelors and bachelorettes.

If you do reactions/headcanons, a reaction to finding out how strong the farmer is would be amazing. I love the idea of the farmer from Stardew Valley being inhumane strong, but most of the towns people doesn't know it.

I will do my best! Also, you're dating in these just FYI. Heart event spoilers!!

Alex

You were hanging out with Alex outside of his house as you tended to

You had finished all your chores for the day already

"Want to take Dusty for a walk?" Alex offered since you two really weren't doing much else

You nodded, and Alex got Dusty's collar and leash from inside

When he came back out, you had already coaxed Dusty to the edge of the fenced-in area.

"Don't worry about getting him out, I got it." Alex stated but you were already leaning down

You supported Dusty as you picked him up and set him down outside of the fenced-in area

It didn't take much effort

Alex stared in amazement, collar and leash grasped in hand

"What?" You asked as you pet Dusty

"You're, like, super strong!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction

Sam

Sam had decided to come visit you while you were working on your farm

You still had some chores to finish up

Sam watched curiously as you did your chores

Feeding the animals, milking the cows, collecting eggs, etc.

A bale of hay sat in the corner of your barn

You decided to move it and hoisted it onto your shoulder, balancing it and carrying it somewhere new

It was just taking up space in the barn anyways

You didn't notice Sam who was watching intently

He didn't know how much the bale weighed but he could tell it wasn't something to scoff at

"Woah." He murmured to himself

Shane

You, Shane, and Jas were hanging out as you tended to do

It was a warm sunny day and you had finished most of the work on your farm

Jas had mostly been playing while you and Shane conversed

Jas had seemingly become bored and wanted some attention

You would have never assumed she liked attention as much as she did before you got to know her

She did seem like the quiet type

"Hold me!" She playfully demanded

And who were you to deny her?

"She's kind of-" Shane started

You picked her up with ease, hoisting her to your shoulders and balancing her

"-heavy..." Shane trailed off

He couldn't believe how easily you picked Jas up, much less tossed her around playfully

Even he struggled sometimes

You giggled at his reaction, and Jas giggled from the attention

"She seems pretty light to me." You teased, which caused Shane to blush

Harvey

You were hanging out with Harvey in the clinic while he finished up some work

He looked over at a piece of equipment and sighed

"What's wrong?" You questioned

"I just need to move that machine over a ways."

"I got it!" You volunteered, hopping up from the chair and going to the machine

"No, it's okay-"

"Don't worry about it Harvey, I'll be careful."

You knew he was worried about your well-being as per usual

He sat back down in his chair

"Just tell me where you want it."

You moved the equipment with ease, putting it where instructed

Harvey had a blush on his face, seemingly enarmoured by your strength

"What?" You questioned

"Just glad to see you're in good physical health." He waved his hand a bit

You internally giggled

Elliot

Elliot had decided to rearrange his furniture while you were over one day

He was struggling to push his piano over to the new spot

"Let me try!" You offered cheerfully

He seemed hesitant but nodded and stepped aside

You took your position and moved the piano to the new spot easily

It seemed effortless to Elliot

He was speechless

You saw the expression on his face and quirked your eyebrow

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. Just didn't think you'd be able to move that so easily. That was quite impressive!"

You smiled, blushing slightly from the praise before waving your hand

"It was nothing."

Sebastian

You were hanging out with Sebastian at his house when Robin called for you

"I'm sorry to bother you, but can you help me move some of this wood?" Robin asked

You nodded happily and Sebastian followed you two, knowing he could help if needed

Not that he was particularly strong but he assumed it would be better than nothing

You easily lifted the wood (which was heavier than it looked) and moved it to the small pile that had been started

When you were done Robin offered to compensate you for your work but you told her it was okay

Sebastian was speechless

He knew you were strong, but you were stronger than he thought

"You're stronger than I thought you were." He complimented

You blushed and smiled

"Guess it's from working on the farm."

[nanenna]

This Montage Could've Been a Beach Episode

Sleepy King AU Masterpost

Sad Danny Hour is finally receding enough I can get back to the more fun and light hearted stuff. Hope you all enjoyed the angst, there's absolutely none anywhere in this fic, I promise! ;D

-----

Diana grew tired of her team arguing in circles. “Stop, all of you. We’re getting nowhere.” She glared the gathered magic users down as they all looked to her. “Young Danny has been up on the Watchtower for several hours now, it’s highly unlikely whoever made this god egg doesn’t already know where he is. I cannot in good conscience let this boy leave without at least attempting to get the Ghost King out of him.”

Constantine tossed the earpiece Danny had used earlier at Diana, who caught it easily. “Clever bit of necromancy, that earpiece. Necromancy, luv. The Ghost King.”

“Nevertheless,” Diana said firmly, “now that we know what’s causing the block, can you work around it?”

Constantine sighed deeply, but the others paid him no mind.

“There are a few spells,” Zatanna said hesitantly.

“A few tricks to get a look, at least,” Dr. Fate agreed.

“Wonder Woman said he has blessings,” Raven said quickly. “They’re likely from trials Phantom has passed.”

“Yes,” Dr. Fate agreed. “It still wouldn’t hurt to look into them, they may be affecting how Phantom interacts with Danny.”

“Before you go,” Constantine interrupted as the group turned to head back. “The first rule of god eggs is you cannot let anyone inside know they’re inside one. The chick especially.”

“That is good to know,” Diana said with a nod.

“Make sure other two know as well.” Constantine shoved his hands in his pockets and let his shoulders slump as he spoke, as if he had no faith in that fact changing how Batman and Superman would act.

Diana could understand that attitude, it likely wouldn’t.

Diana’s communicator made a noise. She pulled it out to check it.

Superman: Danny is asking for someone named “Puhdora,” we think he means you.

Ah, now Diana truly knew how Clark felt. This boy, who doesn’t even know the danger he’s currently in, has mistaken her for someone he trusts. Well, if it will help keep him calm until the matter is resolved she will do her best to be this Puhdora person.

The group quietly filed back into the kitchenette, Zatanna, Marvel, and Fate quickly making themselves some more tea while Diana leaned down to murmur Constantine’s warning in Bruce’s ear. From the way Clark’s head was tilted he heard her too. She then moved her chair around to sit on the other side of Danny from Clark. She gently brushed some hair behind the boy’s ears.

“Pindoa,” Danny drowsily mumbled, hard to hear with his mouth pressed against a mug.

“Hello again, Danny,” Diana said gently with a smile, though her thoughts were spinning. Had he just called her Pandora? As in the titaness who guarded a chest that contained many great evils? That was incredibly concerning, if the beings who created the god egg included a titan she shuddered to think who or what else were working with her. She pulled out her communicator.

Wonder Woman: He has mistaken me for the titaness Pandora. Cpt. Marvel: Well that’s not ominous Dr. Fate: At least we now know the general power level of the beings who made this god egg. Zatanna: What is a titan doing looking after the Ghost King? Constantine: Oh great a bunch of angry bloody titans

Diana was distracted as Clark pushed a tablet in front of her. As she took the device she glanced over to see Bruce tapping away at his wrist computer. How kind of the man. And the device was already open to Phantom’s file, truly Bruce was very thoughtful. Diana angled the tablet so Danny wouldn’t be able to read the screen and started reading over everything Bruce had collected so far.

The pressure in the room began building again. She could feel the energies swirling around them as the magic users began casting their spells once more. She glanced over at Danny from the corner of her eye, he was yawning again. Ah, so he felt it too. As should be expected, even if they weren’t entirely sure how aware Phantom was of the situation.

The most important thing right now was to find out how entwined the two were after that cult’s summoning ritual. Constantine had stated that the boy had died and the Ghost King was the only thing keeping him alive, that likely his mind would be ripped asunder by the tyrant when he woke. Would Phantom be the same? Would the shredding happen on its own or was it a choice? As Diana skimmed through the information Bruce had gathered on the new king she couldn’t help thinking surely if it were a choice Phantom would do all in his power to protect young Danny. Time and again the young spirit had put himself in harm’s way to protect the people of Amity Park. Yes, he stumbled from time to time, everyone does. It was quite clear to Diana that this god egg wasn’t a series of trials for a tested hero, but rather a playpen for a young child.

A weight leaned against her side. Diana looked over to find Danny had switched from leaning against Clark to leaning against her. She tenderly brushed his hair from his face again and smiled down at the boy, who sighed in contentment.

If only gods didn’t view mortals as little more than play things. Phantom may be a small child in a playpen, but children were rough on their toys and mortals were so very fragile. There had miraculously been no deaths due to Phantom’s trials, she sent up a silent plea that Danny wouldn’t be the first.

The group chat, which was minimised in the corner of the screen, started moving. Diana expanded it to see what was going on.

Zatanna: I don’t think there’s anything we can do. Dr. Fate: It’s likely part of Phantom’s trials, to find a way to get out without hurting the boy. Cpt. Marvel: Assuming it’s actually part of the trials and not an accident. I doubt Phantom getting summoned is part of the god egg. Wonder Woman: Judging from the information Batman has been gathering, Phantom has a rapport with the children of Amity Park and will likely do all in his power to not harm Danny. Constantine: Sending the kid back to where the adults can keep an eye on him would be best Batman: If you’re all in agreement.

Diana glanced over to see Bruce frowning down at his wrist computer. She did not like the conclusion any more than him, but there was only so long they could risk a titan’s wrath, let alone the wrath of wherever else was working with Pandora.

Clark scooted his chair back, took a deep breath, then slapped his hands on his knees, “Well.”

Danny scrambled to chug the rest of his hot cocoa and distractedly put the mug down so he could stand with Clark. Diana couldn’t help smiling as she serenely stood to keep pace with them. Despite having rushed, Danny stifled yet another yawn and blearily shuffled after Clark as the man considerately kept his pace slow for the sleepy boy.

Diana sent out a quiet prayer he would be well.

They must have made quite the procession as their group headed for the Zeta tubes: Constantine and Raven well ahead of them, Clark, Danny, and Diana clustered together, followed shortly by Batman, Zatana, Dr. Fate, and Captain Marvel trailing after. Quite the escort for one single teenager who was basically sleep walking through the Watchtower.

“Ow!”

Diana startled and looked to the side just in time to see Danny bending down to pick up what appeared to be a boomerang, his other hand rubbing absently at the side of his head.

Danny heaved a great sigh, “Guess Jazz got imp-... uh… what?” He looked around at them, fully awake and clearly confused.

“Well, it’s a good thing we were just taking you home then, right?” Clark asked with a nervous chuckle.

Danny looked at the group of heroes around him, then down at the strangely glowing boomerang. Clark reached forward, likely to try gently encouraging Danny to continue down the hallway, towards where Constantine was staring at them in open mouthed shock.

Danny ran.

[sosa2imagines]

Dad Bucky ask.

An adventurous funny day with Bucky and his six months old boy? And when the his wife comes home from work, she's happy to see her boys fast asleep on the couch. Something like this?

Thank you for the ask, hope you like it.

Warning- Fluff.

As you step outside the house, you turn around to give your husband a playful peck on the lips, saying a light hearted comment, “Behave.”

Bucky laughs and replies, “Don't worry, I'll be a saint.”

You leave the house, a mixture of nervousness and excitement on your face. Bucky closes the door and turns to their six month old boy. He smirks mischievously, seemingly already planning some mischief for the day.

Breakfast was a delightful and energetic affair as Bucky joyfully planned out the day. With excitement in his voice, he turned to the six-month-old, saying, “Today, young man, we're going to have a blast! Mama told us to behave, and we will, but in our own unique way.”

The baby's joyful giggles filled the air as he hit his tiny, chubby fists against the high chair, mirroring his father's enthusiasm. Bucky chuckled warmly, captivated by his son's playful energy.

Over pancakes and scrambled eggs, Bucky outlined their agenda for the day.

First up, the music session.

Bucky's mischievous grin grew wider as he pulled out the pots and pans. He exclaimed, “Time to rock, my boy!”

As Green Day's “American Idiot” started blasting, Bucky sang out heartily and banged the pots with enthusiasm. The baby joined in, giggling and thumping along, enjoying the impromptu music session with his dad.

The neighbors likely heard the noisy yet joyful commotion and might have complained, but Bucky and his young son were too immersed in their own amusing and happy raucousness to notice or care.

Next, the spy mission.

Bucky, with his young son in his arms, picked up the binoculars and whispered to him, “Shh, buddy, we're on a secret stakeout.” He then positioned himself near the window, holding his son so he could peek through the curtains too.

Together, they observed their unsuspecting neighbors going about their daily lives, turning the seemingly mundane into a thrilling secret mission.

Bucky and his young son watched intently as their first target came into view, ‘Mrs. Johnson’ and her gardening endeavors. As Mrs. Johnson busied herself outside, Bucky whispered to his son, “Look at that, buddy. She's up to something.”

The baby babbled in agreement, as if sharing his father's intrigue.

After monitoring Mrs. Johnson's gardening, their attention turned to the next target, Mr. Thompson and his hat collection.

Bucky chuckled softly, a sly grin playing on his lips. He whispered to his son, “Next up, Mr. Thompson's hat collection. This ought to be good.”

The baby made a sound of excitement, as if already looking forward to the quirky sight they were about to witness.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as they focused on Mr. Thompson, who was now outside, sporting an extravagant hat. He shook his head, a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Look at that, buddy. That hat is something else.”

The baby cooed in agreement, seemingly mesmerized by the spectacle. The two continued their covert observation, entertained by the unusual fashion choice of their neighbor.

Bucky and his son observed the last target - the Rodriguez family enjoying their lively barbecue.

Bucky let out a low whistle, his interest piqued. He spoke to the baby in a conspiratorial whisper, “Looks like the Rodriguez family is having a party.”

The baby's response was a series of excited babbles, indicating he was all ears, metaphorically speaking.

As they continued their secret stakeout, Bucky couldn't help but whisper lighthearted commentary to his son. He chuckled as the baby cooed and gurgled in response, as if engaging in a secret conversation with his father.

As the afternoon wore on, their adventures exhausted them. Bucky settled onto the couch with his son, surrounded by toys and blankets.

As you entered the house after work, you were welcomed by a heartwarming sight.

On the couch, Bucky and their son were fast asleep, cuddled together in a peaceful slumber.

Bucky's protective arm cradled their six-month-old son, snuggled against his father's chest.

Looking at the peaceful scene, a soft smile graced your lips, feeling the warm fuzzy feeling of love for your little family spread through you.

You tiptoed closer, taking in the peaceful atmosphere. A smile spread across your face, this was happiness.

You gently kissed Bucky's forehead. “You're an amazing dad.” Bucky stirred, opening sleepy eyes, looking at you with a proud smile. “Best job in the world.”

Their son stirred, yawning, and snuggled deeper into Bucky's chest.

Your family's warmth enveloped you. In this moment, everything felt right with the world.

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

@emerald-writes @caplanbuckybarnes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066

@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@unaxv @pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 1.5

[Alastor & Other Overlords x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 (here) — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13

Okay, I think this needs to be set clear before there are future parts since no one asked about Reader’s/your presence in the show was. While you never made a formal appearance until in Part 1, which is after the battle with Heaven, you were hinted here and there.

Pilot: 

The beginning scene where Carmilla opens the curtains, showing Zestial, Zeezi, and Lucifer in the same. Then the scene of the Vees, and Rosie. There are eyes staring at them. Like just eyes

When the clock tower resets the extermination day, eyes opened to eye the new countdown before closing just as fast

During when Vaggie talks about “ancient and destructive evils”, your outline as a puppeteer is shown above all the Overlords

Episode 1: Overture

N/A

Episode 2: Radio Killed the Video Star

Alastor laughs at Sir Pentious that seeking to join the Vees was a terrible decision since their standing as Overlords was rocky and unstable. He taunts that Sir Pentious wouldn’t be able to hold the title as Overlord or fit in, referencing the Collection of Elites

Episode 3: Scrambled Eggs

After Zestial and Alastor were done with their chat like on the show, Zestial remarks that Alastor was very brave to go missing for 7 years but also remarkable that he was still in the Collection as per the mark on his soul

When Overlords are seated, they inspect the others to make sure the group was still intact and without change. Also reporting that there was no sighting or word from you, to their disappointment

After Velvette left, Zeezi laughed that the Vees’ days might be numbered with that attitude, Rosie chuckles and shrugs, saying that it wasn’t their decision or say in the matter

When Whatever It Takes is done, Zestial suggests for Carmilla to contact you on the matter since this was out of her hands. Carmilla sit back down on her chair, holding out a pendant with an eye design on it

The Egg Boiz reported to Alastor that Carmilla was the one to kill the angel and that she may contact someone, telling Alastor that Carmilla might have someone to back her up without knowing that Alastor know who it was implying

The same Egg Boiz didn’t mention you to Sir Pentious and only Carmilla killing an angel

(behind the scenes: you instructed for Carmilla to continue as always and maybe provide help to the hotel if she deemed it worthy)

Episode 4: Masquerade

When Valentino is offering a place for Charlie to star, he mentions how it could make him rich and show his dues to you without specifically mentioning you. Valentino’s a bit condescending when he addresses Charlie because he only sees you to be the one in higher power and rank

Valentino threatens Angel, hinting how he wouldn’t have some weak Princess or contracted soul ruin things for him. Meaning he is aware that he’s on thin ice with your interest and favour. Also implying that Charlie was nothing for him to fear, because he fears your wrath more

Valentino laughs how Charlie has no real power compared to what he faced with, confusing Angel since he has no idea of your involvement in the Overlords’ circle

While Husk was mentioning about his Overlord status, for the first time you’re mentioned, he talks about The Collector. “But when you’re dealing with souls while also being a gambler, the stakes are pretty high. I was warned about that, but when you’re winning, you don’t hear that kinda stuff. In my place, I lose a few hands and it got dangerous that I didn’t even know. When you’re down on your luck, you turn to anything to keep you afloat. Even making deals yourself.”

“What happened?”

“Turns out, I was long abandoned. And I wasn’t in the group anymore when I have that last deal. Like the fallen Overlords before me, I was hunted for being disrespectful and arrogant. Now I’m here.”

Episode 5: Dad Beat Dad

“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash.”

“I should have torn your soul apart and broadcasted your screams for every other disrespectful wretch who dares to abuse My Liege’s mercy and generousity! You were lucky your former Liege was merciful enough not to let your death happen.”

When Lucifer’s lecturing on Charlie about the hotel, he mentions how it lacks the power and authority needed to make it work. It’s referencing to you teaching Lucifer how to rule as the King of Hell when he first arrived

Episode 6: Welcome to Heaven

N/A

Episode 7: Hello Rosie!

(behind the scenes after Vaggie left, Carmilla grips on the pendant and hopes she did the right thing that wouldn’t disappoint you)

Episode 8: The Show Must Go On

The the Vees celebrate, they explicitly cheer for joy and anticipation that Alastor would be removed from the Collection of Elite while eyes were staring at them without their knowledge, also mentioning how they’d rise in ranks (favour)

Alastor’s breakdown is more centered around the possibility that he knew you were always watching and saw his defeat and shameful retreat, for his actions, he might fall from your interest and favour. He fears he’ll end up like Husk

When the news of the canceled extermination is being broadcasted to all of Hell, your silhouette was shown by a window with eyes closed and a small smile on your face. “Time to check in.”

Note: You can ignore this or not, but I had to at least put this out cause some Overlords' actions are a bit different, namely Alastor's breakdown reason.

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @plutobots @ray-rook

[hemlock-dreams]

PleSe may I ask for a tiny morsel of the written word depicting bartender Petey taking care of business when some customers get too rowdy? Saw the "80s theme" and immediately thought he'd look amazing tossing out the trash (ideally covered in blood cause can't make an omelets without breaking eggs but bartenders don't tend to break faces sadly)

Here yo go! Have a snippet from the upcoming Chapter 2 of Pick Your Poison!! Hope you enjoy!!

------------

Wade sees Baby Boy snatch a bottle that comes flying at him out of the air without looking. 

Damn, they threw the thing at mach speed, too. Wade’s got to hand it to the kid; those are some impressive reflexes. He follows the easy catch by spinning the glass with enough flair to make a schoolgirl swoon, setting it against the bartop like he’s the main character.

The jackasses in the back don’t even notice, hauling each other over the tables in a messy, drunken sprawl. Wade hasn’t seen this much fumbling since prom night.

It’s embarrassing. He should do Weasel a favor (and indulge himself) by shooting them in the legs for interrupting plans between Wade and his future paycheck. But the look of intense concentration on Baby Boy’s face is distracting. That’s the furrowed brow of a man who is about to fuck around and find out.

Boo. Three more days and Baby Boy would have passed the cutoff mark. 

Wade usually likes hedging his bets on the underdog for the thrill, but four against one is bad odds for anyone who isn’t Deadpool, even a civvie with so many tough-guy tattoos. 

“And he was this close to being the final girl,” Wade mourns performatively, sparing a glance at Weasel to gauge how the man is feeling about the prospect of watching his civilian pet project get snapped in half. But the asshole just looks vaguely amused, which piques Wade’s interest.

So he turns back around just in time to watch Baby Boy march right into fucking around territory, straight up walking toward the group of heavily-armed mercs, no weapons, no foreplay, no nothing– just moxie.

Damn. He’s stupid. Wade likes that in a guy.

“Hey,” Baby Boy says, wrapping a hand around the leg of one wooden chair as the one with a bad haircut raises it over his head. 

Their kerfuffle is interrupted as four extremely drunk mercs with more bullets than brains pause to reorient their attention on Baby Boy.

“You know the rules. Sit down, or take it outside,” He continues, tugging on the chair like he’s trying to take it from an unruly toddler. 

There’s a collective laugh from all four bozos as they forget their beef to unionize against a new, soft, and squishy target.

“Oh yeah?” The short one smiles, revealing a row of really ugly teeth. Wade’s fist immediately itches to plant itself into that mouth, just for offending his eyes like that. “Who’s going to make us, you?” 

The edge of Baby Boy’s mouth curves, “If I have to,” he says, and it can’t be mistaken as anything but a taunt.

Bold move, Cotton. 

The rest of the bar, normally oblivious to a few broken pieces of furniture and some blood, takes notice of the audacity. Wade can practically hear eyeballs turning and the collective bating of breath. 

“That’s cute. He thinks he can take us.” Bad Haircut snickers, drunkenly swaying into the conversation. He gives Baby Boy a once-over, expression turning lewd, “Then again, maybe he can…in one of the back rooms.” 

“He does have bigger tits than most of the girls here,” His unfortunate-looking friend leers, staring at Baby Boy’s admittedly mouth-watering chest. Motherfucker is tall and top-heavy, built like a linebacker, invading the kid’s space like he’s looking for a touchdown if you get Wade’s drift. “Got a pretty face, too. What do you say, sweetheart? Why don’t we go to the back and we can apologize to you real good.”

Baby Boy’s hand constricts halfway into a fist before he forces it to relax. He looks like he’s barely holding himself back, and coin flip on whether this is going to be very funny or very sad, but either way, Wade’s on board to be entertained.

“Yo Weasel,” Ugly Smile calls out, eyes locked on Baby Boy, lurid and alcohol-glazed, “You mind if we take your bar boy for a spin?”

His grin promises an unpleasant time, but Wade isn’t worried. Maggie’s is a shithole for sure, with morals looser than Wade’s jaw, but some things are still too far. Not that it keeps these loser shitheads from defaulting to it when they need to compensate.

“You break it, you buy it,” Weasel replies gamely. Which, dang, cold. Always nice to be reminded why Wade kind of likes the guy. 

Baby Boy’s mouth twitches into a smile, and Wade’s entire body goes on alert, “Take the chair out of my rent, then.”

Ready, set, action. An invisible hand slams the clapboard, and everyone bursts into motion.

The chair in question swings and misses. Baby Boy fluidly sidestepping both Bad Haircut and his buddy, grabbing the support and using the momentum to hook the wooden back over Linebacker’s neck, flipping the chair and twisting both mercs like puppets before sending them crashing to the floor. 

Bad Haircut is scrambling up, but Linebacker is pinned to the floor by his chair necklace, anchored by Baby Boy’s leg as he presses down hard enough to snap the wood and drive the remaining air out of his lungs.

The bigger they are, the dumber they fall. Linebacker is immediately out for the count, but a broken chair is still useful, and Baby Boy is apparently the creative sort.

The snapped leg turns into a baton, and Baby Boy leisurely sways out of pistol-whipping range when Bad Haircut pulls out his gun, dancing back in to drive the splintered wood under the merc’s armpit on the outswing.

Screaming in pain, Bad Haircut stumbles back only for Baby Boy to grab his wrist and haul him forward, twisting his arm in a fancy maneuver that ends up with the gun on the floor and kicked safely out of reach.

Interesting.

Then it’s a pas de deux, with Baby Boy’s back against Haircut’s chest, using the impaled baton as leverage to toss the man over his shoulder and straight into Ugly Smile. 

The merc falls out of the way, only to run into Baby Boy’s fist as it buries deep in his guts. Even at a distance, Wade can hear his ribs break. Doubled over, Ugly Smile is coughing up blood and vomit when a tattooed hand cradles the back of his head and slams his mouth into the table once, twice, three times. Then it’s lights out.

It’s over almost as soon as it began, and as the dust settles, Wade is reevaluating the merits of his earlier bet. 

Yes, they were drunk, but Wade still expected it to be fast, if not messy. He hadn’t been counting on class. He hadn’t been counting on Baby Boy to be the one last standing, let alone to have shut them down so completely it barely merits the paragraph.

And the kid isn’t even done. He’s locked eyes with the fourth guy, jaw flexing like an attack dog straining against its leash, but the dumbass looks like he’s turned over a new leaf and become a law-abiding citizen in the few heartbeats it took Baby Boy to clean the floor with his buddies. 

When the guy doesn’t make a move, Baby Boy leans back, completely relaxed, eyes flat, no sense of triumph in the aftermath, just…disappointment– like he’d been craving something more and been left wanting.

Wade can’t resist a low, appreciative whistle, clocking the way Baby Boy’s entire body reacts to the sound. His head snaps in Wade’s direction, and the whole room vignettes as he stares Wade down, eyes flashing like he wants to crumble his spine like a cookie. 

Lust stabs Wade’s gut all the way to the hilt.

“Changed my mind, Weas,” Wade breathes, feeling the tension drain from the room and right into his dick. “You should keep him.”

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

MORNIN’

pairings — jason todd x fem!reader

warnings — mentions of scars (tracing healed ones), talk of marriage, being a normal mundane couple, VERY domestic romance (i crave!!), mentions of having children but nothing actually happening!!

summary — moving from gotham into a more rural and quiet area was the best decision you two had made, because it turned out perfectly.

━━━━━━━ WAKING UP TO YOUR side empty was normal, but still scary, for jason. he knew you were safe, he could smell the breakfast you were cooking downstairs. still, a part of him forced him up. he continued the same routine he’d normally follow now that you’d moved from Gotham together.

your marriage solidified your hopes of leaving Gotham behind. finding the house was the final straw, and Jason jumped at the chance to buy the house. thank god he’d been adopted into a rich family, since neither of you two had to work.

occasionally, you had part time shifts at a bakery in the small town nearby. you loved it, and Jason loved coming in to see you with flowers. the longer you two lived out here, the less people that cared how Jason was related to Bruce Wayne.

your lives had become a very mundane manner, your stomachs filled with a consistent warmth that eased you into the knowledge of safety. Jason no longer kept a gun under his pillow — you agreed to him keeping it in the beside table.

downstairs, Jason met your face in the small soft yellow kitchen. you’d painted over the original white color, in hopes of creating a very fairy-like cottage. it was working out, and you spun around to face your husband.

“hey, Jay.” you extended your arms, gathering him into a soft hug. Jason smiled into your neck, spinning you around. he peppered your face with kisses, muttering a greeting into your body.

“hey baby.” he said.

“y’hungry? i made pancakes.” you motioned your head to the plate on the table. there sat a plate of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fruits. Jason felt the warmth bubble, and an indescribable feeling of pure love towards you filled him. he didn’t know how else to explain it, he stared lovingly at you as you plated up your own plate, pouring two cups of coffee and handing one to your husband.

together the two of you fixed up your coffees before walking together to the rocking chairs on your back porch. there sat a small table between the two chairs, and you both set your things down.

you jogged back inside, turning on your guys’s favorite cd — a collection of love songs from the 60s. the familiar Skeeter Davis song flowed from the open windows, setting a calm mood over you two.

you both began drinking from your cups of coffee, as well as taking portions of your carefully prepared breakfast.

“i’ve been thinking, y’know.” you spoke after taking another sip of coffee. Jason looked up, intrigued. you met his eyes, hesitation crossing your features for a second — you never had to be afraid of saying anything to him.

“‘bout what?” he spoke, taking another bite of bacon.

“i think im ready, for a kid. i talked to my manager, i can get the time off when it happens.” you reached for his hand, and he happily took it. this statement by no means meant the two of you would try to rush it, you were both ready, and wouldn’t want to rush through this cherishing moment.

“really?” he was smiling brightly.

the rest of the day was spent relaxed in the bedroom you two shared, his head on your stomach and your hand crossing his back across every one of his old scars.

he didn’t mind, you wouldn’t cause them to reopen. ever since his old scars had died out, you noted how calm he was, how serene this entire portion of your life was.

“im so grateful. i love you so much.” you muttered, running your hands through his hair.

“i love you too, baby.” he rose up to kiss you gently, rubbing your jaw with his hand.

this was all you ever wanted.

masterlist — reminder that my requests / inbox is open

[monarchberrysblog]

Thinking about emo boy! miguel…

(18+ for suggestive content)

(yes we are doing this and walk with me)

Happy belated birthday to @bluesidez & @opaloharas 🥺 I hope y'all are happy and healthy 🩷 take this mini-imagine as my gift to you.

His hand reaches out to the right side of the bed, and the plush of your thigh greets the pad of his fingers and palm. He rubs your thigh lovingly before giving it a couple of light spanks to pull you away from your deep slumber. “C’mon, my little fallen angel, time to get up…” You only groan in response and tug his bedsheets upwards over your head. “Five more minutes…”

The bedroom is a place known all too well. It's filled with worn band posters that have seen many years, his collection of chunky belts hanging from the desk chair, and an excessive number of colorful bracelets acquired from raves adorning his dresser.

The dark fabrics of his comforter radiated the smell of laundry detergent and strawberries from your lotion and perfumes. The smell marinated into the bedsheets from your frequent sleepovers at Miguel’s, to the point the smell couldn't sweat out or wash out. Not that he minds or anything.

“No, five minutes. You need to get up.” He enables, yanking the bed sheet downwards. The reveal of your unmatched underwear and bra greeted him, but he disregarded the sight immediately when he saw your wandering hand.

You half-assed reach for the now-gone bed sheet but curl up instead. “Don't make me drag you out.” He sighs as he sees you embrace his flimsy pillow that barely has any stuffing. “If you get up, I’ll get you a Monster.” He cooes, ready to poke the sleeping bear.

“Five more minutes…” You repeat once more and adjust yourself against the mattress.

“Ángel, por favor.” He stops when your hardening gaze burns into his ego.

“Take a nap for an hour or two.” He choked and leaps off the bed. You huff a grumble and snuggle into the dark comforters and bedsheets.

The collection of old My Chemical Romance and Panic! at the Disco shirts from previous concerts became part of your wardrobe whenever you had the chance to sleepover.

The worn-out shirts became an immediate favorite, to the point that you would see people out and about with these washed-out band logos, accessorized with cute shorts or leggings.

But for Miguel? He adored the sight of you wearing those comically oversized shirts as you whipped up scrambled eggs and bacon in the early hours of the day. Your typically clean hair was now pulled back, framing your face in a new way. Your large glasses perched at the top of your nose, occasionally slipping down. You'd always scrunch up your nose in the most adorable manner just to nudge them back into position.

But your collection of panties was instantly memorized by Miguel, knowing the color, pattern, or texture.

Most of the time, the black lacy panties you fancied were always on the kitchen floor, forgotten about until it was time for laundry day that same evening.

Something smol for my lovely followers 🙂‍↕️🩷

[haveihitanerve]

I am a proud Bruce Wayne can cook believer so I, a humble tumblr user, request Bruce cooking with his family.

YES. sorry that was loud. But yes 100%. i gotchu

Dick: Dick awoke to the sound of sizzling. He slipped out of bed slowly, padding down the stairs into the kitchen. Alfred was off on a little veteran excursion with old friends, and it was just him and Bruce in the manor for the week.

Bruce was standing at the stove, humming along to the soft music playing, an apron wrapped around his waist as he flipped something in a pan with one hand, messing around with a spatula in the other. He turned when Dick entered the kitchen, smiling.

"Hey chum, you're awake! Wanna help me cook some breakfast?" Dick nodded, climbing onto a chair to peek at the eggs Bruce was making. "I'm making omelets. They're simple and quick and provide you with lots of good protein and vegetables." Bruce informed him, lifting him off the chair and onto his hip instead, handing him the spatula.

"Go on, flip it." Dick laughed, leaning over the pan to flip the omelet. "Nice work chum!" Bruce cheered, sliding the finished omelets onto two plates. "Now we make some bacon- and.." Dick leaned against Bruce's chest, watching as he easily moved around the kitchen, explaining every step as he went. It was nice. Cozy. Domestic.

Jason: Jason awoke to the smell of frying bacon. He slid down the banister into the kitchen, and padded over to Bruce's side, who was leaned against the counter, drying dishes. "Hey Jay lad." Bruce greeted with a smile, bending down to lift him up. "What's up?"

"What're you making?" Jason asked around a yawn, peering around the kitchen for the source of the smell. "Oh," Bruce grinned, bending down so he could peer into the oven. "I'm making breakfast muffins. They've got bacon, eggs, cheese, and jalapeños." Jason's stomach rumbled and Bruce laughed, standing again.

"It'll be ready in a few Jay." He plopped Jason on the counter, grabbing a cookbook off the shelf. "In the meantime, wanna help me get started on this pot roast for dinner?" Jason nodded, running his hands along the old, yellowed pages of the cookbook. Bruce smiled as he watched him, collecting the ingredients.

"It was my mothers." He informed him, picking the recipe. "and one day," He bopped Jason's nose with a spoon. "It might be yours." Jason smiled.

Tim: Tim awoke to the sound of clanging dishes. That was... strange. Tim jumped out of bed, hand closing around his bo staff. His parents were off on another one of their little adventures. He was home alone. There wasn't anyone else in the house. Or, not supposed to be.

Tim crept down to the kitchen, keeping his back against the wall, before slowly peering inside. Bruce was standing at the sink, filling dirty pots and pans with soapy water, an apron wrapped around his waist, though clearly not big enough for him, so Tim assumed it belonged to the old cook who must have left it when Janet fired her.

"Uh," Tim cleared his throat and stepped into the kitchen, leaving his staff in the hallway. "Bruce? What are... you doing here?" Bruce turned to face him, smiling brightly.

"Timmy! You're awake! Lovely, sorry to drop by unannounced, but you mentioned yesterday not eating breakfast lately, and, well, I figured I'd stop by and make you something." He wiped his hands on a towel, suddenly seeming a little nervous. "If- if that's all right?" Tim nodded slowly, unsure.

"Uh, yeah- yeah no that's fine. What um, what for though?" As far as he was concerned, Robin hadn't done anything wrong lately, and he definitely hadn't done anything that warranted Bruce coming over to make him breakfast. Unless this was Bruce's way of softening the blow of firing him... Something curdled in Tim's stomach.

But Bruce smiled, set at ease again, and turned to his dishes. "Oh no reason, you just mentioned not having eaten breakfast and well," he laughed lightly, sticking a brush into the sink to help his cleaning. "Its... a little bit of a tradition, you know." He shrugged. "For me to cook something. For every Robin. You don't, uh, live at the manor, but that doesn't mean you should miss out."

Tim blinked in confusion. Bruce was... openly sharing a Robin tradition with him? That was new. Bruce sighed, apparently knowing it to, and turned back around. "I'm sorry Tim, I should... this is weird.. I should have told you I'd be coming and... you're permanent Tim."

Tim stared at him wide eyed. "I'm what?" He repeated, utterly confused and a little scared. "You're permanent." Bruce repeated, eyes utterly serious. "i know I haven't always been the best towards you, but I'm trying. I want to- I want to fix that. And be there for you. Like your parents should be. I'm not trying to replace them- I just want you to know I'm here and-"

He was rambling, words moving too fast for Tim's ear to pick up, his own cheeks flushed as his hands moved awkwardly in his haste to explain. Tim didn't care. He'd stopped listening after 'you're permanent'.

Before Bruce had a chance to react, before Tim could stop and think more about what he was doing, he was across the room, his arms wrapped around Bruce's torso. Tim's mind finally connected to his body and he tensed, waiting for Bruce to push him away, to say "no thats not what I meant"... but after a short pause, Bruce's arms wrapped around him.

He was warm and strong and solid, firm and protecting. "I've got you Tim," Bruce whispered, his breath tickling Tim's ear, but the words sweeter than anything he'd ever heard. "You're permanent."

Steph: Steph didn't know how he was in her house. She wanted to know how he'd found her much less. As Bruce Wayne, even, not as Batman. She just stared at him. At Bruce. Standing in her kitchen, awkwardly, holding a Walmart bag of groceries. He cringed, lifting said bag. "You wanna make some waffles?"

Stephanie didn't even know what her life was, anymore. Here she was, ex-robin, remade Spoiler, standing in her cramped, crappy kitchen apartment, making waffles with fucking Batman, except it wasn't Batman, it was Bruce, and he was wearing her obnoxious purple apron and was singing along to her horrible music taste and he was good at singing damn it, and he was laughing at her jokes and even making his own and he even let her lick the spoon and the waffles looked delicious and...

"Why are you here Bruce?" She asked finally, while they were waiting for the last waffle to finish, and Bruce had already moved on to do the dishes for her. "Hm?" Bruce returned, pretending like he hadn't heard her, or understood her, though she could tell by the way his shoulders tensed that he had.

"Why are you here?" She repeated, crossing her arms. Bruce sighed, shoulders slumping. "Because I messed up." He whispered quietly. Steph stilled. "What?"

"I messed up." He repeated, and returned to his scrubbing, doing it more forcefully than necessary, and not turning around to face her. "I- I shouldn't have fired you Stephanie." And that was when the world slid out from under her feet.

"W-what??" She exploded. Bruce bit his lip, knuckles white on the scrubbing brush. "It- it was wrong of me to fire you. I- I'm sorry." And any fight she was gearing up for went out of her. "I was just so mad, and- and I was missing Tim and Dick and Jason and everyone... and its no excuse." He turned, finally, meeting her eyes. "Its no excuse. Not for how I treated you, not for any of it. And, I'm sorry."

Steph stared at him, rendered speechless for the first time in her life. Bruce fidgeted under her stare, but to his credit did not move away, or break eye contact, or flee. "Why now?" She finally managed to squeeze out. Bruce sighed, and it seemed like enough of an acceptance of his apology for now that he turned around again, and resumed doing the dishes.

"I don't know. I guess... I guess because I realized I hadn't done it with you yet." he gestured to their pile of waffles. "Cooked. Cooked for you. I cook for every Robin. For every Robin I've ever had I've cooked. And I- I didn't do it for you. And its because you weren't there for very long but truly its because I didn't want to. I didn't want you to be Robin. Because that meant Tim truly was gone. Because I only get a new Robin when the old one is gone. Gone for good." He shrugged. "There's no excuse."

"Those sounded like some pretty good ones right there." Steph joked lightly. Bruce smiled at that, but still didn't turn around. "But they aren't." Steph swallowed, and slowly walked closer, taking a rag and slowly drying off the dishes he finished.

They worked in silence for a while, until all the dishes were cleaned and put away again, and Steph motioned him to sit down at her rickety old table, and served them waffles.

"I forgive you." She said finally, when they had both eaten their fill. Bruce looked at her. Clearly shocked, but... listening. Staying. She loosed a breath, leaning back in her chair the way Jason had taught her.

"I forgive you because... because you have some pretty good reasons and because... well these waffles are really good." That got a smile, a crack in his mask, and Steph smiled back before she could stop it.

"But mostly..." His smile faded and he waited. Waited. Stayed. "But mostly I forgive you because you apologized. And because I want to. Because well," She smiled ruefully. "Robin can't ever stay mad at Batman for too long can he?" Bruce smiled back, smaller, more subdued, but he smiled back. "No," The words sounded almost sorry. "No he cannot."

Damian: Damian awoke to the smell of home. But... that wasn't right. He wasn't home. Not, not at home. He was at the Manor. At Home home. But the smell...

Damian slipped out of bed, walking to the kitchen. He found Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Steph there, yelling at each other and cooking, Bruce and Jason doing the most work while Steph handed them things, Tim read stuff aloud from a big yellow cookbook, and Dick watched, occasionally sampling things and calling for more of something.

"What's going on?" Damian asked, and his words cut through the chatter like a knife. Silence fell. Damian regretted speaking immediately, wishing he hadn't come downstairs at all. But Bruce turned with a smile, still stirring something that smelled so familiar.

"Hey Dami," he greeted, nodding his head for him to come closer. "Happy Birthday. We just decided we'd get together and make you something special for breakfast." Tim nodded and he and Dick herded him to the table, sitting him down and tying a napkin around his neck.

Jason appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray that wafted like home. "We made a bit of everything," He eldest brother said with a sheepish smile. "Wasn't sure which you'd like." He set the tray down and Damian couldn't stop the tears from welling up, not as he beheld the staples, the dishes Mama had made him. That he had shared with Grandfather.

"Wh- why? What?" Damian looked around at all the sweaty, proud, flour covered faces, beaming at him from around the table. "Do you not like?" Bruce asked in concern, brows furrowing.

"NO!" Damian returned, a little too forcefully, cheeks turning pink. "No." he said, a shade quieter. "Its lovely, but, but why?" Steph grinned, leaning over to ruffle his hair. "Because, little moon, it's Robin tradition that Bruce cooks for you. And, well, since we're fairly certain you're gonna be the last of us,"

"I don't think B's hair can take anymore." Jason grumbled. Tim snickered in agreement and Bruce smacked the back of his head with a small, fond smile as Jason ducked, laughing lightly. Steph rolled her eyes at them, winking at Damian as she continued. "We figured the rest of us would pitch in too." Dick grinned, leaning over to pour him a glass jellab. "Happy Robin Birthday Damian."