#but that was two weeks after he was in the cave

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie hasn't answered the phone in nearly two days which, post Chrissy, post Vecna, post end of the world (averted), post every thing, is a wholly unacceptable amount of time.

Steve does a round robin on the walkie; everyone suddenly realizes they haven't heard from him either. Steve volunteers to go over.

He raps on the front door of the little two bed place Wayne owns now, a little government recompense after they took the trailer away to study, or whatever. Also quite a bit of 'take the house and keep your mouth shut,' kind of thing, Steve figures.

Wayne looks tired when he opens the door, kinda droopy, which Steve knows means he's really tired. Like, holding form is becoming a smidge difficult kind of tired.

Steve slips in fast, 'sorry Wayne, Eddie's van wasn't at his place so I figured he was here,' which he must be, because Eddie's van is here, and not outside his shiny new trailer, 'he hasn't been answering the phone.'

'He's here kid but he's kind of...having a rest day?' Wayne hedges. He's bad at lying, just like Eddie, Steve knows something is up.

'Can I see him, just for a second? Just check all is good?' Wayne gets Steve's protective nature, after everything that happened, he knows Steve likes to look after his people. He also knows Steve can keep a secret, only Steve and Robin know about Eddie and Wayne's shape shifting ability - carrying Eddie out of the upside down, convinced Eddie was about to die, only to have Eddie's glittery insides do something wholly unexpected was...well, Steve knows, is the thing.

Eddie also wins at doing impressions, since he can actually turn into movie stars, and that's kind of cool. Steve always likes watching Eddie turn back into himself though, maybe because of the crush he's been nursing.

Wayne caves, and Steve knows it's bad when he finds Eddie in the bin. He's shimmery and silver, and nearly tipping out the edges. He sloshes a little when Steve walks in, 'hey man, you didn't even make it to the bath? You want me to tip you out?'

Nothing, but the overhang wave of Eddie goo turns, hanging over the far lip of the big trash can. Like Eddie just turned his back.

'Uhm. I just. I just wanted to check you were okay? You know? Everyone's kind of worried.'

Eddie ripples. Like a sigh.

Eddie sloshes out of the bucket, his form building upwards until Steve is standing in front of...Nancy? Wearing a torn Dio shirt and plaid sleep pants.

'Eddie...that's kind of weird man.'

'I know!'. He waves Nancy's arms around, ' I know okay! But I can't stop it!'

'What...you're stuck? As Nancy.'

'Kinda', Eddie hedges, his ability to lie as bad as Wayne's.

'What does that mean?'

Eddie huffs, and shifts again...into Farah Fawcett. He crosses her arms over his now ample chest.

'Eddie...what is going on?'

Eddie shifts again, the hot brunette from the horror movie they watched two weeks ago, Steve can't remember the actresses name. He remembers saying she's hot though.

'Steve just...I'm having some kind of crisis, okay. It's just a bit of a...block. Just give me a few days and I'll be right as rain.'. Heather Locklear explains.

'Eddie...come on man, there's clearly something up.'

'This is so embarrassing.'

'Just tell me, okay? It can't be anything that bad, I won't judge.'

'It can be that bad,' Michelle Pfeiffer whines from behind her hands.

'Eddie...I'm not leaving until you spill.'

'I really...like you...' which, coming from Olivia Netwon-John, probably fulfils some sort of fantasy for Steve, but he has to remind himself he's thrilled to hear it from Eddie, too. 'So now I'm stuck, trying to be someone you actually want.'

'I...oh.'

'Yeah.'

'Well, I really want Eddie. So does that fix it?'

Brooke Shields cocks her hip and rolls her eyes, 'Steve, I'm not doing this on purpose, I don't have any control right now, so I don't need an empty platitude-'

'Its not. I've had a crush on you for ages. I'm not going to kiss you when you look like someone whose not Eddie.'

Eddie slowly melts back into himself, 'you're not?' he asks weakly.

'Nope, I can now though-'

'I'm back!!!' Eddie runs his hands all over himself, disappearing into the bathroom, checking the mirror he shouts, 'it's me! I'm me again! Oh thank fuck! Do you know how stressful that was! Having big tits is hell on your back-'

Eddie rambles, and Steve waits patiently for him to remember they could be making out right now.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[goldfades]

COULD U DO READER DOING THE DAFAQ TREND ON QUINN LOL

The car smells like sugar and butter, the kind of overwhelming sweetness that makes your mouth water before you’ve even opened the box. Quinn’s hands are steady on the steering wheel, his eyes darting between the road and the pink-and-white Crumbl box on your lap, as if it might vanish into thin air if he looks away too long.

“You’re really hyped about these cookies,” he says, glancing at you with a raised brow. “You’ve been talking about them for, like, two weeks.”

“They’re a cultural phenomenon, Quinn,” you argue, flipping the lid open to reveal the lineup of oversized, gooey cookies. “This is basically dessert history. People on TikTok say they’re life-changing.”

“Life-changing cookies,” he repeats skeptically, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “Sure. Why not?”

You give him a playful nudge. “Just wait. You’ll see.”

As soon as he pulls into a parking spot, you’re already tugging at his arm. “Okay, first impressions are everything. You have to try them with me, like, right now.”

“Right now?” he echoes, looking around the nearly-empty lot. “Can’t we wait until we get home?”

“Nope. Too risky. What if they lose their fresh-out-of-the-box magic? This is a scientific moment, Hughes.”

He sighs, finally unbuckling his seatbelt and turning toward you. “Alright, which one first?”

You pick up a cookie that looks like it might cave in under the weight of its own frosting and break it in half, handing him a piece. “This one. It’s, like, a chocolate chip with some kind of… caramel drizzle situation. Just trust me.”

As he takes his first bite, you make sure your phone is propped up on the dashboard, ready to capture the moment. But your focus isn’t on him—it’s on you. Because you’re about to pull the ultimate prank.

You take a big bite, close your eyes dramatically, and after a moment of exaggerated chewing, you deadpan: “Da fuck.”

Quinn freezes mid-bite, eyebrows shooting up as he slowly turns to look at you. “What?”

“What?” you repeat, feigning confusion as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened. You take another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Mmm. Pretty good.”

He blinks, looking from you to the cookie in his hand. “Did you just… say—”

“Say what?” you interrupt, your tone casual, reaching for another cookie. You break off a piece and pop it into your mouth. “Da fuck.”

His jaw drops slightly, a laugh bubbling up but not quite breaking through. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” you ask, tilting your head innocently, already reaching for the next flavor. You take another bite. “Da fuck.”

Quinn puts his half-eaten cookie down, his face splitting into an incredulous grin. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, playing dumb as you chew. “It’s good. That’s all I’m saying.”

“By saying ‘da fuck’ after every bite?” he shoots back, laughing now, his shoulders shaking as he leans back in his seat.

You shrug, holding up the next cookie like it’s perfectly normal. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Babe.” He’s full-on laughing now, shaking his head. “You can’t just say that every time. People are gonna think you’ve lost it.”

“Da fuck,” you say again, deadpan, before cracking a smile and dissolving into laughter.

He groans, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “You’re so weird.”

“Thanks,” you say, grinning up at him. “Now finish your cookie.”

As he picks up his piece again, muttering something about your “questionable behavior,” you can’t help but think this trend was worth every crumb on the car seat.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[prettyboykatsuki]

thought about the first time you and nagi get into a really really big fight and it’s the first time you ever see him cry. you ignore him for a week after it because you’re just so upset about it. and he pesters you the whole time but you know you’re just gonna cave if you see him.

a week turns into two, and two turns into three. you’re hiding out with two bc he’s the only one who can truly sympathize with you in it but he gets worried about you both. so eventually he does make sure you meet

and nagi is. so clingy as soon as he sees you again. he’s always clingy and affectionate but he gives you a hug so desperately you’re like ???. you try to keep being mad just to be mad but then you hear him cry and it’s The First Time you’ve ever seen him cry over ANYTHING??

it’s not a sob but it is very much like. more than sniffling. he’s so soggy he just keeps apologizing and telling you not to leave. and you’re like i don’t want to leave you and he like. goes on and on about how much he hated being seperated. just talking about all the things he missed.

(stuff you didn’t even think he noticed or new about you. you didn’t realize he’d been paying that much attention)

he’s like. you can be mad but don’t ignore me it hurts when you ignore me. and you’re so taken aback bc this is your boyfriend you know Him. you’ve seen him sad but he’s never acted like this and so you’re like okay i won’t promise and hes like thank you over and over

you feel a little bad but also. it’s kind of nice SBFNGNSBF

[wildxtreasures]

distractions

Rating: Teen

Ship: Davrin/Female Rook Laidir

WC: 1,247

inspired by this post: (x) by @housederiva

on AO3, if you prefer: distractions

sometimes davrin really wished the two beings he loved most in Thedas weren't so troublesome.

Where was that damn griffon?

Davrin was already late. He had promised Rook that they would leave at noon for Rivain. She had suggested the change of scenery for their next training session, wanting to run about the cliffs and into caves with Assan. He wanted to go to the Wetlands to practice hunting darkspawn. But Davrin really wasn't good at saying 'no' to her yet. It was new territory. And he didn't want to disappoint her. Too many people he knew (or had known) lately were being disappointed by his performance. 

So, it was imperative to find Assan. But it was several minutes past noon and every one of Assan's usual haunts were empty save for his boy's feathers.

He resorted to his least favourite trick of The Lighthouse.

"Caretaker?" he huffed, tapping his foot.

The low reverberations of the spirit's appearance greeted his ears and the metal spirit faded into view. "Yes?"

He swallowed his impatience, trying to remember Emmrich and Bellara's tips on interacting with this thing. "Please tell me where Assan is."

Its metal finger pointed to the dining hall before spiriting away to wherever it actually lived.

Assan was not supposed to be in the kitchen. He was decidedly banned from there after he got into the fresh fruit and fish a week ago. Both Neve and Lucanis chewed Davrin out while maintaining to Assan that he was the best boy and they knew he didn't mean it.

Davrin sighed. Rook would forgive his tardiness. Seeing her laugh while running through the cliffsides with Assan would be worth it. He might even get her to tell him that story about delving into a qunari ruin with a dragon on her tail. She was always teasing that one.

And he had wine in his pack, for an evening under the stars. Bellara was going to sneak Assan back to the Lighthouse as the sun set so that he and Rook could be alone. Precious time with her, moments where he could linger his lips on her skin...

As he pushed the door open to the kitchen, a cacophony of noises died down suddenly. The change in sound was so drastic, Davrin's head snapped up and out of his thoughts.

"What the...?"

In the kitchen, Rook held a wedge of cheese in one hand and a cheese grater in the other. Assan's beak was tipped open, though it was now salivating as she held still. Lucanis was leaning on the counter behind her, his ever-present coffee cup dangling by two fingers.

"This isn't what it looks like," Rook quickly said, tossing the cheese back at Lucanis. The assassin caught it deftly in one hand before setting his cup down and picking up a cloth. He set to wrapping the cheese up.

Davrin moved closer to the two beings that held his heart plus Lucanis. He held back his smile, doing his best to only let the surprise out on his face. "Well, it looks like you let Assan in the kitchen, where he's not supposed to be, and are feeding him cheese that I was told was off-limits."

Davrin glared at Lucanis. "You're not Rook," was all the Crow said, shrugging.

Rook sheepishly smiled. "Then, it's definitely what it looks like."

"Why?" Davrin asked, holding his hand out for the cheese grater. Rook placed it in his hand.

"Assan was eyeing my lunch - which was mainly cheese, crackers, and berries - so I thought I'd see if he actually likes cheese." Her eyes were bright and mischief danced along her expression as she looked him in the eye.

Davrin opened his mouth to say something but Lucanis cut him off. "Maker, Rook. I told you that I would make you a proper lunch if you asked. Not this deer food you and Lace adore so much." Lucanis rolled his eyes at Rook before heading for the door out of the hall. "Maybe if I convince Lace that my real food is better, you'll both be better fed."

As the door closed after Lucanis, Rook stepped closer to Davrin. She placed a hand on his forearm. "He seems more mad at me than you do, right?"

Her brow was raised, the corner of her mouth tugging upwards in a smirk. Davrin spoke quietly. "I think that seems to be the case. But, next time, at least time it better so you're not late for our date."

"Oh!" Surprise and then concern dawned on her, wiping away the cute expression on her face. "Sorry, I didn't even realize what time it was."

"I'll forgive you," he said, putting the grater on the counter and pulling her close by the waist, "if you promise to tell me the qunari ruin story tonight."

Rook pressed herself into his body, the warmth of her releasing the tension he had riled up in his body over the past few minutes. Her thumb rubbed across his cheek. "Deal," she whispered.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted. He leaned forward...

Assan's head ramped into Davrin's thigh, causing him to pull away. The griffon body-checked him out of the way, sending Davrin sprawling into the ground. Assan jumped up onto Rook, his talons on her shoulders and brought her to the ground too. A sound of surprise escaped her lips.

Davrin sprang back up only to see Assan giving Rook kisses by pressing his beak to her face. She placed her hands on either side of Assan's face stopping his assault. "Learn that from your dad, eh?"

Her eyes met Davrin's and she gave him a little wink. Davrin chuckled. He pulled out some gingerwort truffles from his hip pouch which pulled Assan's interest far too quickly. He launched himself at Davrin.

"Sit!" Davrin yelled and Assan slid across the stone floor, legs in all directions, before he managed to find purchase to sit properly. "Good boy," Davrin praised, tossing a truffle at him.

Davrin moved over to Rook and held out a hand for her. She took it and Davrin lifted her up. He took the opportunity to press his lips to hers, snagging the kiss he wanted earlier. She pulled away, reaching into his pouch and tossing a truffle at Assan. "Have to keep him preoccupied if you want this to continue."

"Continue?" Davrin asked, bringing her hand that was still in his to his mouth. He pressed his lips to her knuckles, his gaze locked with hers.

"I was going to say continue making out in the kitchen, but you might be insinuating something else...?" Rook teased, though she closed the distance between their faces, pulling her hand, along with his, out of the way.

"We've got training to do," he said, regretting the words as they left his mouth.

She blinked a couple of times, leaning back from him. Rook considered his words, tilting her head. "I guess this can last all afternoon."

It was his turn to look confused.

"The foreplay," she answered to his silent question. She extracted herself from him before heading to the door. "I will see you in five minutes at the eluvian. I'll be wearing my Lords armour."

She swept out the door, leaving Davrin with the image of that armour in a pile at the foot of his bed.

Assan trilled, leaping to Davrin's side. The little griffon cocked his head. Davrin looked down, ruffling the feathers of Assan's head. "Do you mind hanging out with Lace this afternoon?"

[android-and-ale]

It's back! I haven't seen this post since it inspired my ongoing longfic, appropriately enough titled "One Daily Shoulder Pat."

The idea of Vulcans earnestly researching optimal conditions for human enrichment for the sake of an intern felt so IDIC and so sweet.

It's wild looking at the original post now. The all-Vulcan crew of the Sh'Raan has evolved so much from both the inspirational post and the early ideas it inspired, but after 20 chapters they're still doing their gosh darned best to get an A in Accommodating Their Human Intern.

If you'd like a sample of my only-human-on-a-Vulcan-ship shenanigans I've included the excerpt I use as the fic synopsis under the cut.

---

Captain Spisee handed Jim a heavy sheet of rich, cream paper embossed with gold dusted Vulcan calligraphy bearing the ship’s name. It was a bit cheap by the standards of Vulcan stationary aesthetics, but shipboard life meant some sacrifices. In the most elegant handwriting he’d ever had the privilege to lay eyes on, it read:

Human Enrichment and Optimal Health Program:

One (1) Daily Shoulder Pat (more provided upon request)

Seventy (70) Seconds of Hug Time Per Week (divided between crew members as you deem necessary)

Three (3) Discrete Instances of Daily Praise

Three (3) Structured Entertainments per week

Minimum of One (1) Social Companion per meal (more available upon request)

Jim looked up from the Human Enrichment And Optimal Health Program and into Captain Spisee’s luminous brown eyes. There was no hint of mockery or malice there. He was an earnest scientist, possessing both cheekbones so sharp you could cut glass with them and the quadrant’s most excellent taste in guest furniture. He’d been given a unique task, and on Surak’s Katric Ark, he performed it with the same thoroughly Vulcan scientific intensity he would give the discovery of a new species of cave moss.

“We would appreciate detailed weekly feedback on the efficacy of our Human integration efforts,” said Captain Spisee.

“This is…” Intense? Weird? “Incredibly thoughtful.”

“You are not required to reciprocate the Daily Praise,” said Captain Spisee. Despite his words, Jim could swear one corner of his mouth twitched upwards two entire millimeters.

A Star Trek idea: A comedy sitcom where instead of a Vulcan on a mostly human ship it is a human on a mostly Vulcan ship

[cucuxumusu]

For @pleasantlystrangenight-blog sorry for the delay.

They made their relationship public to the family just a week ago. Everyone agreed to be supportive and happy for them, but then something happened. The cave, as usual, was cold, and as they listened to Bruce’s plans for the night, Jason couldn’t help to snuggle up to Dick’s side seeking warmth. He looked so miserable and cold that Dick couldn’t help but kiss him on the lips fondly, and hug his wait trying to share the warmth. It’s innocent, just a little caring gesture, but Bruce made such a constipated and shocked face, that both of them paused in their ministrations, and shared a look amused by the dramatic reaction.

It soon turns into a game.

Bruce catches them making out in the kitchen and for a whole week, he can’t seem to look at either of them in the eye or walk into any room without coughing loudly. They indulge in some touches and soft kisses in a meeting, acting as disgustingly sweet as they can manage, and suddenly Bruce has forgotten half his presentation and is looking at them with mild concern. They share a room, make dirty provocative suggestions at a gala, and Bruce Wayne, aka the Batman’s mind, stops working every fucking time. They are having so too much fun with it, that eventually, the other bats have to intervene and try to stop them.

“You need to stop the nonsense. It’s not helping with the missions, and I can’t have another night patrol with freaked-out Bruce.” Tim finally complains a week later as they are having breakfast.

“It’s not our fault he is homophobic.” Jason easily supplies.

“Yesterday he stared at a wall for three hours.” Tim continued as if fascinated. “And you know homophobia is not the issue here.”

“They are not blood brothers,” Damian said, always the defender of the bloodlines. “And I don’t see the issue here. Dick seems happy, Jason hasn’t killed a person in months, and they seem to be good for each other. Father is just being dramatic.”

“Aw, thanks, baby bat.” Dick cooed at him, ruffling his hair fondly.

“Not baby.” Damian hissed as he smacked his hand away. Dick, however, could now see the happy glint in his eyes that had not been there when he met the boy.

“But you are brothers legally, and it’s kind of weird.” Tim continued. “How are you going to explain this to people? Can you even get married to your legal brother? Do you want marriage? Is it a crime? What if the press finds out?”

At that moment Bruce finally arrived at the kitchen still half asleep from his night activities. He glanced at the four of them eating cereals, but his eyes instantly focused on Jason seated on Dick’s lap, and on Dick’s arm around the younger robin’s waist holding him close. He paled, looked away, and walked right out of the kitchen once more. He never said anything, he never complained about the relationship or tried to separate them, but it was clear by now that it was taking him a lot of time to accept the new development.

Jason starts trembling in Dick’s arms while trying to hold on to laughter, and Dick also has to hide a smile on the back of his hand at the face Bruce had made. After years of working with Bruce, whose more usual expression is a scowl, it was finally his relationship with Jason the one that made him lose his composure? Yes, it was hilarious.

“You are not going to stop, are you?” Tim asked sadly.

“Oh, please, as if you are not enjoying this too.” Jason snapped.

Tim tried to hide a smile, but it was obvious he was enjoying the situation too. It was nice to get back at Bruce, and by the look in Damian’s eyes, he was also enjoying it. Poor Bruce. It seemed that if he wanted the teasing to end, he would have to accept the relationship between his two adopted sons at once, because they for sure were not going to make this any easier for him.

[starrysymphonies]

I’m catching up on lore and???? Owen was missing for FOUR WEEKS???? ONE MONTH OR SO??? AND ONLY WATERMUNCH LOOKED FOR HER??????

[religious-extremist]

Prayer Paraphernalia

[sofyreneko]

hc that one thing everyone in the batfamily knows without doubt is: alfred knows everything. hidding anything from alfred is a waste of time and energy, because he always just knows. so they simply don’t. they dont need to tell him, but they dont need to hide it, he always knows anyways.

however, the thing is alfred is just a regular old man who spends all of his time cleaning, cooking and making sure they dont die. he doesnt have time to be figuring out what the bat ninjas he has for a family is hidding so most often than not he doesnt know. it doesnt help that no one in the family ever tells him anything, because they expect him to just know. he just has a really really good poker face and an inability to be surprised by much so everyone just assumes he already knew once he discovers anything.

[beyblaiddyd]

Every day I type a suicidal post and then backspace and make this post instead (worse)

[vancilart]

hi hows fishing going

[retrosabers]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.

contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3

i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.

the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.

his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.

you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.

it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.

the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.

there’s only one explanation for it.

you’re ovulating.

which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.

so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.

of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.

then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.

you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.

after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.

cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.

“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.

but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.

still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.

“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.

you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.

“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”

logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.

“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”

guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.

you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.

but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.

it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.

“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”

his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”

“i’m not leaving you like this.”

“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”

now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.

“or what?”

suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.

“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”

when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.

that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.

“i can smell you.”

curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.

“i don’t understand.”

then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.

“i can smell you.”

the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.

oh.

oh.

slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.

he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.

logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.

“i can help you with that if you want.”

you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.

the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”

he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.

the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.

logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.

and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.

your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.

your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”

that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.

he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.

you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.

“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”

“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.

“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”

he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.

looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.

pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.

“lead the way sugar.”

thanks for reading! <3

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposal and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[solarplanet2]

Which one is in Danger?

Part 2

DCxDP Prompt/Drabbles

Part 1

"We have your son."

Bruce was expecting a very normal day. If you consider having to deal with the chaos of his children and being a vigilante at night as normal.

But nonetheless, a very simple day of his normal routine and once a week dinner with his family.

Only to be broken by a phone call by someone stating that his son has been kidnapped.

Bruce didn't answer right away, he was mentally counting his sons who, are all counted for, are on the dinner table.

"Which one?" Bruce eyed each of his sons and counted them again just to be sure.

"Timothy Drake-Wayne."

Bruce immediately eyed Tim who was sitting in between Jason and Cass.

Tim's here.

Then who's the one being kidnapped?

"Bruce?" Dick spoke up, thinking that something was wrong the way Bruce was looking at all of them.

Bruce slightly waved at Dick, telling him to calm down first. "What do you want?"

Dick's question seemed to catch everyone's attention since they were all looking at Bruce now.

"Two Million. Or he gets it."

A standard threat. The kind he was expecting.

"Can I speak to my son?" This earned confused looks of his children and Bruce waved them off gesturing that it was not what they were thinking about.

"Alright kid," The kidnapper from the other said grunted, almost sounding smug. "Say hello to Daddy."

Bruce could hear heavy breathing, almost sounding like a grunt. It made Bruce slightly worried. "...Tim?" Bruce decided to speak first. "Tim, Are you okay?" And Bruce hopes that he is.

A soft grunt responded. "Hi." A croaked voice managed to respond. It sounded young. And was punched in the stomach. He should know, almost all of his children had experienced that way.

"Don't worry, chum. I'm getting you out of there." Bruce tried reassuring the kid, worried about what they might do to him. Because this isn't Tim. Tim is right across from him and these kidnappers basically had kidnapped the wrong person.

He gestured to his children, a familiar gesture, for them to head to the cave and suit up. They quickly followed, not without worried glances and confused glances at Bruce's way.

"No.." The kid had said, choked out which made Bruce paused on his step in confusion. It caught his children's attention, stopping as well.

"Uhm...Dad? I'll be fine."

Bruce believed that, for some reason, but it didn't stop his worry. But the next words from the boy made him blink

"Please give me your permission."

"....To what?" Bruce asked confusingly. Permission to what?

"To hurt."

Bruce has raised enough children to know enough about silent words in some part of the sentences without right out saying it.

To hurt them.

The kid is asking permission to hurt his kidnappers.

Bruce should say no and wait for help. Should be saying that help is on the way.

Bruce should say that he'll come and save him.

Now, Bruce doesn't normally follow his gut. It causes too much mystery and had no explanation to either it would be a good thing or a bad thing.

But right now, for once, Bruce would agree with his gut.

"....Alright."

Static came in the phone, like it was losing signal but he could clearly hear the boy voice coming out like an echo.

"Good."

"What the-- AAAHHH!!!"

Beeeepppp

Bruce blinked as he looked down at his phone after the call ended.

.....Should he have not give him permission?

"B? What's wrong? Did something happen?" Dick asked, increasingly worried now as he saw Bruce staring at his phone.

"....Suit up." Bruce concluded. They should find the boy as quickly as possible. "And call an ambulance."

Bruce could see the confused look at everyone's faces as he walked passed them.

"Wait, B!" Duke had spoke up running after Bruce with his siblings. "Was someone hurt? Is it another gang fight?"

"No. The ambulance is for the kidnappers."

".....What??"

: )

Parts: Part 1

[shotmrmiller]

hate sex (is what you call it almost like you're trying to convince yourself) would go crazy with ex bf simon.

when he texts you at work that he's landing in 2 hours, you realize you forgot to block him after the breakup. that'd been almost a year ago. the last message you don't even bother reading. simply delete and block.

i'll see you at home.

when you finally go home after working a grueling corporate job that always leaves you with frayed nerves and your teeth on edge, you stand by the door, instantly realizing something's wrong different.

mud-caked boots sit by the door. the lights inside are on and when you walk in, you find out why.

simon's sprawled on your couch, asleep, his large frame making it seem like a child's bed instead of living room furniture. his snoring scrapes over your already tender nerves, thinning the already wisp-like thread of patience you're barely dangling from.

you grab a cushion and toss it at his head. (you do not miss the way he snores. it's like a hibernating bear in a cave. resounding. grating.)

"get up and get out."

to your astounding surprise, he doesn't. instead, he groggily asks what's for dinner. when you bark out, "nothing. i'm exhausted and going to sleep", he gets up with an agility no man his size should possess and blocks your path.

you've always loved hated the way he makes you feel small.

"either we eat takeout or i eat you out." that solves that. you've got boundaries to keep. maybe he'll eat his fill and piss off.

he doesn't. he eats you out anyway, legs perched on the kitchen counter as he slurps up your slick like a starved man at a bountiful feast. doesn't care that you're pelting his broad back with your small fists, slurring how much you hate him.

"course you do, pet."

he thinks your ire is endearing, like a spirited kitten that needs to expend their energy before settling down for the night. he makes you ride him on the couch, the burn of him stretching you feeling as intense as very first time he took you.

"tight cunt's forgotten me. it's alrigh', i'll carve out a space in 'ere jus' f'me." (again.)

when you sit flush on his thighs, balls pressed against your arse, he bucks up, feeling his cock in your throat, the oxygen stolen from your lungs.

"show me how much ya hate me."

(somewhere down the line, when your hair is damp with sweat and your neck's marked purple, he tells you that even if you don't like him, your cunt loves him. so much so it's gripping him like it never wants him to leave. so he doesn't. stays over for a night. then two. a week. a month. until it's time to go to work again.)

[trek-tracks]

Imagine this. You're Spock. You've tried not to get yourself emotionally involved with your crewmates. It's not going very well. Your doctor goes and contracts a terminal illness and doesn't tell you (but luckily your captain can't go three seconds without breaking Space HIPAA or whatever exists in the future) and then tries to run away and die on an asteroid. You take out the Instrument of Obedience, privately thinking that it would be nice to have some control over this maniac you somehow care about's actions. You spend Surak knows how much time downloading and translating an entire civilization's medical library to cure him. No problem. It was just an incurable disease. You didn't need to sleep this month.

Two episodes later, another alien civilization tries to check said doctor out like he's a library book and then writes "withdrawn" on his forehead and pretends they don't have to give him back. He tells you to leave to save yourself; he'll stay. Did you mention you decoded an entire medical archive like two weeks ago for---fine. You go through unspeakable emotional violations to put him back into circulation on the Enterprise. It's cool. You didn't need your dignity anyway.

Two episodes after that, your illogical, self-sacrificial doctor mutinies and sedates you--the ranking officer in charge--undoing the fact that, again, how many hours did you spend? Curing an incurable illness because you couldn't let him die? Singing like an idiot in front of a bunch of snickering Platonians with laurel leaves on your head and no pants to speak of?--so he can get himself tortured to death on your behalf. You convince an empath to save him. He pushes her away because he "can't destroy life." Your captain is crying. The shiny force field shows everyone that you're having very non-shiny emotions. Do Vulcans even believe in hell

You think you've finally reached some sort of sacrificial detente. It's been a while. Neither of you have died on the other's behalf. You've both had to save your captain a few times, but that's normal. All in a day's work. Then said captain wants all three of you to check out a mysteriously abandoned library of time periods. You should have figured you would wind up in some sort of frozen wasteland with your doctor and no perceivable way to return what you'd borrowed. Well. At least there's the two of you so that you can keep an eye on--

He falls down in the snow. His hands are blue. "Go on without me," he says, dramatically. "Alone, you have a chance."

yeah I'd strangle that fucker against a cave wall too