#and to come to him with my problems if there should ever be any

[mylifesjustacarousel]

femme fatale

pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested!)

summary: you are the new transfer student at merlin academy, and hook falls head over heels for you when he realizes that he’s not the only pirate on campus anymore

type: fluffy…? very silly goofy

CW: kinda suggestive, reader has a knife

WC: 1.5k

not proofread!

“Who is that?” Hook whispered, nudging Morgie’s shoulder. The two of them were sat in class when a certain someone caught Hook’s eye. Morgie looked up from his book, gazing over at the person in question. You were sat a few rows ahead of the boys, your feet on your desk while you leaned back in your chair.

“Her? I think she’s one of the new transfer students. You know, she’s a pirate too.”

Hook’s interest in you instantly piqued. It wasn’t every day that he met another pirate, or at least one as breathtaking as you. “She’s stunning. You think I should ask her out?” Morgie looked puzzled. “Ask her out? You don’t know her.” Hook scoffed, looking offended. “Look at me, Morgs. I’m irresistible to all.”

When class was dismissed Hook got up, scrambling to get up and walk over to you. He almost tripped on his way over to your seat, catching himself on your desk. “Silly me, I’m already falling head over heels for you. The name is Hook, and you are?” he asked, winking at you. You raised a brow, looking him up and down. Your eyes stopped on his hook. “I see where the name comes from. I’ll call you pirate boy. As for my name?” You got close to him, your faces mere inches apart. “You’ll just have to figure it out, lover boy.” you whispered, getting up from your seat and walking past him. Yes, he was gorgeous. But you liked to have a little fun with your prey before you went in for the kill.

Hook was practically frozen in his spot, absolutely in awe from the interaction that had just occurred. Morgie walked up to Hook, tapping him on the shoulder. “You okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl reject you like that.” Hook stood up, brushing off his clothes. “No, no. That was far from a rejection. This just turned into a game, and the ball is in my court. She’ll be mine… eventually.”

“What’s he so happy about?” Maleficent asked Morgie in a hushed tone, watching as Hook quite literally skipped into the lair. Morgie giggled, looking up from his book. “He met that new transfer student, y/n, in class today. I can’t really say why he’s so happy, though. He almost fell on his face right in front of her. If that was me, I would’ve started running and never looked back.”

Hook looked over at them, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you know that, no, it didn’t exactly work out how I wanted it to. But, she was totally into me. She didn’t really show it on her face, but I could tell.” Maleficent snickered at him. “You think that you have a chance with her? I’m sure that you could get any girl that you wanted, just not her. No, even Uliana is a little scared of her. She exudes so much confidence that it’s actually a little terrifying, and that is coming from me.”

“And that makes me like her even more. I like a girl who knows what she wants.” He let out a happy sigh, sitting down next to Morgie. “She’ll come around, they all do.”

“Hook, you have a problem.” Hades mumbled.

“I don’t recall asking.” he grumbled. “Look, I think she’s into me. It won’t hurt for me to take my chance. In fact, I think I saw her studying in the common area. Maybe I’ll pay her a little visit.”

“Hello there, m’lady.”

You looked up from your homework, seeing the same pirate from earlier standing in front of you. He pushed your papers aside, sitting down on the table. You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back in your chair. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise, pirate boy.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s Hook. James Hook.”

Giggling to yourself, you sat up. “Do you even know my name?” Leaning forward, the faint feeling of your breath ghosted the skin on his neck. “Why should I bother to use yours?” Hook audibly gulped, looking down at you. Never, not once, had someone rendered him speechless. He always had something to say, always. “I, uh…”

“You what?” You ran your fingers through his long hair. “Tell me, pretty boy. I don’t bite.” Hook’s heart was racing about a million miles a minute. He absentmindedly leaned into your touch, his eyes threatening to close. “Your name is y/n.”

Your hand stopped in his hair, a smirk growing on your face. “So you do pay attention. I’m impressed, Captain. If you can even be called that. Have you earned the title of Captain?” He looked over at you, pulling your hand out of his hair and holding it in his own. “I can show you why they call me Captain, darling.”

You tapped your finger against your chin, acting like you were thinking about it. “I’ll pass. But, thank you for the invite, gorgeous.” You went to pull away but he pulled you back towards him, your chests pressing together. “You don’t know who you’re toying with, lassie.”

“I’ll see you around, James.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a dark kiss mark from your lipstick. He huffed, watching you gather your things. “You’re not even going to consider? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Maybe another time, pretty boy. After all, I do love to stare at that little face of yours.”

Hook stormed into his room, throwing his bag down on his bed. Morgie looked over at him from his desk. “Hey, Hook… What’s on your face?” Hook groaned, slamming the bathroom door open and looking at himself in the mirror. Right in the middle of his cheek was a big ol’ kiss mark from you. “She’s playing hard to get, Morgs. But I’m not going to let her win.” he grumbled, trying to rub the kiss mark off with water.

Ever since the second that Hook laid his eyes on you in class, he was instantly infatuated. Your confidence, your playfulness, your drop dead gorgeousness… He wanted it all.

Morgie got up, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. “What if she’s just not interested?” Hook spun around on his heels to face Morgie. “Oh, she’s interested. She’s hot, I’m gorgeous. It’s meant to be.” Morgie slowly nodded, making his way back to his desk.

“You’ll see, Morgs. A pirate always knows how to get their treasure.”

“Okay, Hook.”

You were laid out on a towel at the Enchanted Lake, trying to soak up some sun before the weekend was over. While relaxing, you couldn’t help but think about your new… admirer. You knew that you were playing hard to get, but you couldn’t help it. He was just so fun to play with. No matter what, he kept trying. It was intriguing, to say the least. You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t even the tiniest bit interested, though. After all, he was gorgeous. But you didn’t give in that easily to anything.

“Sitting by yourself, darling?”

You took a deep breath, not even having to open your eyes to know who the voice belonged to. “Yes, I am, pirate boy. Emphasis on the “by myself” part. How do you keep finding me?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him. “I was, uh, actually just passing by. Then I saw you and I thought that I would stop and say hi.” You bit your lip, trying your best to hide the smile that was trying to make way on your face.

“You don’t think that’s a little odd?” You stood up, walking over to him. “I mean, not that I mind, pretty boy. But, you don’t know who you’re messing with.” Within seconds, there was a small blade pointed at Hook. His eyes widened and his face turned a cherry red. “Where did you even pull that out from?” You just shrugged. “A good pirate always keeps a method of defense on hand. If you need tips, pirate boy, I could always give you a… little lesson.”

“A lesson?” he scoffed, his face still as red as his jacket. You reached up, straightening out his jacket. “Careful, love, any more flustered and your skin will completely blend in with this jacket of yours.” Teasing him seemed a little mean, sure, but he made teasing him simply too easy. Any ounce of attention you gave him went straight to his head. It was cute.

“Well, I think that under all the knives and the mysterious attitude, you’re interested in me too. I mean, you haven’t even tried to kill me yet. Any good pirate would’ve taken their enemy down already.” he smirked, his smirk only growing bigger when he saw the shocked look on your face. He caught you. “Listen, gorgeous. If I let you take me out, will you sod off?”

“Only if you don’t fall magically in love with me, which you will.”

“We’ll see about that one.” you huffed. You were definitely interested, but you weren’t going to let him know that. “Meet me here next Friday at twelve. Bring a towel.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Next Friday, twelve, towel. Got it.”

You cupped his cheeks, holding onto his face so he was looking you in the eye. “I look forward to it. Don’t be late though. I don’t like to be kept waiting.” Pulling away, you gathered your things and left him standing there.

Let the fun begin.

a/n: i think i’m gonna do a part 2, but let me know! i’m sorry it’s a little short, thank you so much for reading MWAH MWAH MWAH

taglist: @skellseerwriting @sleepyking @ljaylmaoo @lesbpotmurdocklokistan @yokolesbianism @eretsupremacy89 @descendantsramblings @thegoddessofnothingness

[matrixbearer2024]

If you take spicy requests, can you write about Ford teasing reader during sex? Like making the reader begging Ford to stop teasing them sexually

A/N: OH HELL YES LEZZGO! This man, this man istfg there's two sides of his fanbase and that's either him being an inexperienced cutie or a straight up sex god. WHAT THOSE FINGERS DO THOOO- remember ya'll my inbox is open for more spazz about this mans come feed me ideas HAHAHAHA- ANYWAY- because this is a spicy 18+ request, fic is under the cut.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Addicted (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Ford just couldn’t get enough of you, his love, his life, his vice, his addiction. You drove him crazy by simply existing, he couldn’t get enough. Now presented with the opportunity to return the favor, Stanford Pines was going to go the full nine yards and maybe an extra mile.

You didn’t know how you got in this situation to be totally honest; back pressed against the wooden walls of your shared bedroom while being kissed senseless by no one other than Stanford Pines. In one moment you were both sharing wine late into the night, laughing and chatting about whatever. In the next– you were here, the alcohol forgotten as you got drunk on something entirely different. 

Fingers tangled into his hair, you returned his passionate kisses with a fervour; earning a deep grunt from the scientist. The tension wound tight between the both of you, intense and electrifying every action and setting it alight. You were drowning in this man, intoxicated by the smell of leather and ink that clung to him like a second skin. There wasn’t anyone else you knew who could swear the scent of a library like an irresistible cologne. 

Thirty years had been far too long.

Ford couldn’t tell where his desire began and his affections ended, the situation played with his head like a snake eating it’s own tail. It should have already triggered the alarms in his head the second you came to him with a bottle of Port, all the more when you offered to share. Now, the uncorked beverage simply sat off to the side; an afterthought halfway empty. 

It wasn’t as if Stanford didn’t have self-control, the man was disciplined and strict especially with himself. The problem starts when you’re introduced into that situation. You leave Ford grasping at straws to maintain a coherent mind, much less a sane one. Like the differing poles of a magnet, the two of you were just drawn to each other for reasons words couldn’t begin to explain.

One was so bored of the mundane ordinary, the other wanted to find respite in it.

A sharp gasp spilled from your lips when Stanford so easily hefted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist for purchase. You both surged on like desperate teenagers getting lost and crazy in each other. Ford quickly took the opportunity to trail kisses down your neck and on your collar, sucking a couple hickeys that caused you to squirm and cry out for him. 

The idea that he’s able to maneuver you like this, to position you in any way he wanted with ease really set something off in your brain. Likewise, the way you writhed against him drove your lover up a damn wall. The way your fingers shakily dug into the knit of his turtleneck made Ford’s ego swell with pride. It was because of him you were like this, pliant and at his mercy.

Initially, he felt guilty for even indulging in the first kiss when you both shared that glass. One turned to two, then three and four; another and another no matter how much he tried to stop. You kept pushing his buttons and foolish as ever, Stanford kept falling for it. 

He told himself that he was going to take it slow with you, to treat you like royalty the way you deserved. Hilariously enough, Stanford failed to factor in that for every queen– there was a king; and you would stop at nothing to treat him as such.

The researcher knew the buzz that ran in his veins wasn’t because of the ethanol he consumed; the tightness in his slacks and heat in his blood wasn’t because he was inebriated. Sure, he was completely wasted; lightheaded, dizzy and incoherent, but it wasn’t because of the Port. 

Need burned through his flesh when you roughly pulled him back to meet your lips, a low moan slipping from your lover when you lightly tugged at his silver strands. His hands firmly gripped your hips in retaliation while fingers danced around the waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

“Ford. Bed. Now.”

You mumbled amidst fervent kisses, the scientist shivering at the stern tone of your instruction. It was always like this between the both of you; a push and pull that didn’t have just one person explicitly calling the shots. His heart thundered against his ribcage when you nibbled at his bottom lip, you just couldn’t stop teasing him for even a moment could you?

Stanford didn’t dare to break away from kissing you as he clumsily shuffled over to the bed nearby, he was surprised he still even had as much coordination as he did with you distracting him this much; and as if luck decided to taunt him with a jinx– Ford tripped and caused the both of you to ungraciously tumble on top of the mattress.

You both shared a surprised look when that happened before breaking out into giggles, that was an overdue dampener; not to mention extremely sobering. Your lover awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and shyly looked away as he adjusted his glasses, only then did you realise how much of a number you really did on him. 

Tousled hair, red-faced, swollen lips, it really reminded you of the first time you’d both gotten carried away snogging back in university. Though, back then you’d both been interrupted for different reasons. Stanford looked really adorable like this, plus– he’d gone all bashful. 

You were hoping tonight would end in a different way though. 

Gently cupping his cheek, you urged the man to look at you again and gave him a brief peck on the nose. You knew you’d gotten the reaction you wanted when the flame of desire reignited behind his eyes. Moving his spectacles to rest on top of his head, you leaned forward to whisper in his ear,

“I never said we had to stop~”

The response was instantaneous, an excited squeal erupting from your throat as Stanford pinned you down against the bed. He was capable of doing a lot, even back then; you just had to poke and prod him to elicit the reactions you wanted. The researcher just smiled down at you amused, leaning down to meet your lips in a gentle kiss.

“You’re still a minx.”

“I’m your minx.”

That sass quickly left you when he snapped his hips into yours, despite the fact you were both clothed– you could feel his arousal through the fabric. Your face bloomed in a furious red, it’s been so long…

“You look cute.”

Forget his trademark eloquence, the enamoured gaze Ford was giving you sent butterflies to your stomach. He never did look at you with anything less. Curiosity and adoration seemed to mix in his eyes around you, hand in hand and step by step. You sighed happily when he went back to nuzzling your neck, only jolting when you felt his teeth graze your skin. The heat surged in your core, the mood was back.

“May I?”

You’d laugh if it weren’t for the distracting feeling of his calloused palms roaming your skin, your nerves melting and then some from the stimuli. There was no underestimating how much your lover knew, applying that knowledge in practice however… sometimes you’d still get burned since age did make him much bolder compared to back then.

“Yes please.”

That was all the permission he needed, gently biting down on your neck as his hands cupped your breasts.  The moan you let out was no short of sinful, Ford’s eyes narrowed into slits and his actions grew a bit rougher. He felt you shiver when his thumbs brushed over your nipples, arching into his hands as your breathing grew laboured. 

“Ford~!”

The rush of need shot straight down. That had set something off in him, he needed to hear you say his name like that again. Your sweet tone was only doing him in, Stanford couldn’t help bucking his hips into yours and a shiver raced up his spine. You rewarded his actions with another desperate cry of his name.

The scientist thanked his lucky stars that he had the foresight to soundproof the rooms back when he built his home.

Stanford finally allowed his hands to wander elsewhere after some time, moving his lips down to replace his fingers instead when giving your breasts attention. He was being so thorough and meticulous; however, it was driving you crazy just how insanely slow the man was being. 

A small sadistic part of Ford wondered just how far he could take it before you’d beg him to do more; but even that would already be a test of his own control that was rapidly wearing thin thanks to your adorable noises.

“Ford please…”

“Please what my dear?”

You would slap this man for his smug tone if you weren’t so impatient on getting him to rail the thoughts out of you. Even if you squealed in surprise at him suddenly groping your ass, his hands had slipped below the garter of your bottoms and he gently kneaded the supple flesh.

“Don’t– Don’t tease!!!”

You cried out when his teeth grazed your nipple, oh fuck this arrogant man–!

“Why should I?”

Ford chuckled against your skin when one of your legs weakly kicked his side, he continued to press kisses to your chest while one of his hands finally shifted to give you attention where you sought it the most. It didn’t surprise him how soaked you were, but he couldn’t say the same for how receptive you were. Just the faintest touch already had you shaking in his arms.

“Sensitive?”

You kicked him again, only to exclaim in surprise when he started to rub at your clit. You could tell he was still teasing, the pace he chose would sooner drive you crazy from the frustration than the creeping pleasure. All the more when his tongue flicked over a nipple, you screamed his name in frustration.

“Ford!! Please stop teasing!”

“You’ll have to do better than that my love.”

You attempted to buck into his hand but the other was holding you down in place, he sucked harshly on your breast as a consequence and you wailed. It was simultaneously too much and too little, what kind of hell was this?!

“Please~!! Please, Ford! I need–”

He didn’t give you the chance to finish that statement before a finger finally slipped into your entrance, the scientist shivered at how warm and velvety your insides felt wrapped around his finger. He kind of regretted not removing his slacks now prior to this, they were painfully uncomfortable now.

“You’re so pretty for me~”

You whined at the praise, shivering at the gently firm pace he chose in thrusting his finger in and out of you. Pulling him up by the collar, you messily crashed your lips into his again as he added another finger inside of you and curled them. 

He knew how you ticked, what would get you to cave to him. Your head fell back when he purposefully pressed into that spongy part that would have you seeing stars. It should’ve been a bigger concern to you how smug your lover was being, abusing that spot with his fingers until you became an incoherent mess. You cried out his name like a broken record, Ford found himself hooked on it– on you.

“Please– please– Ford–!”

When he slowed his pace down when you got closer to that precipice, you knew he wasn’t going to let you fall over that edge so easily. Fuck. So much for hoping he'd play good boy tonight.

It was going to be one of these nights again.

Fic is also here on Ao3 :D

[pineapplehazard]

Just finished s7!!! Right on time✨

Now did I cry when Eddie said goodbye to Chris? Yes, yes I did.

But here's my thoughts about the last two episodes:

- Eddie Diaz : the whole thing with Kim was actually crazy of him, but her playing Shannon?? That man has a reason to act like a mad man but girl what are YOU doing?? That was a quick expedition out for Marisol too, Buck and him see to have a way to make girlfriends disappear this season.

- Chris Diaz : valid. I get why he thinks it's better for him to be away from his father for some time, it's probably a good thing actually for them to have space to breath and accept what happened. But the Diaz parents?? Ramon shit talking about Shannon every chances he's giving (he literally did it at her funeral that man has no shame), and Helena acting like she just won lottery, please at least ACT like you're not happy to take Chris from you son. Honestly if my own mom wasn't sitting right next to me I would have been insulting both of them so MUCH.

- Hen Wilson : I'm mad that they were all going to be happy and then that woman whose son hasn't been mentioned since like ep2? comes to take her revenge out of nowhere. When I saw Mara all closed on herself and quiet when Hen visited her that broke my heart😭 then at the end the emotional whiplash of Chris leaving, instantly followed by the Wilsons getting reunited with Mara, ouch (is it like 'a soul for a soul' but with family, like they CANNOT be happy at the same time??), also I know the plot was for Gerrard to come back, but I love Captain Wilson, and I wanted her to take after Bobby

- Chimney and Maddie: they're relatively absent from the final 2 eps so I don't have much to say, I loved Chimney calling Gerrard trash to his face, and I loved Maddie. I just love Maddie.

- Buck : such a good husband for his chaotic dating-the-doppelganger-of-his-deceased-ex husband... He was just so supportive and trying to help, gosh he's just so cute. But MORE IMPORTANTLY where's my angst?? You're telling me Bobby's in a coma, and all we got from Buck (who's basically his son) is one line of dialog AFTER we know Bobby's going to be alright? Sentence immediately followed by an awkward sex joke argh!! My favorite thing about 911 is Bobby and Buck's relationship and I don't know if it's just an impression but i feel like they barely had any interaction this season, I missed them, I need more of them!! Also all things considered Buck had quite a quiet and calm season, which does feel weird and not something that will stick

- Athena : she mentioned Emmett and I was just woop crying incoming! I'm not gonna dwell on the whole cartel thing, I'm sure people already express so many opinions on this, my real question is how many times can Athena break rules before getting a problem with the hierarchy? (ik she did in s1, but since then she's been pulling some sketchy moves from time to time with no problems afterwards). Also ik the house was going to burn but I hadn't thought of the implications, that they would loose all the memories and stuff and that's so sad, I totally get her panic about wanting to get everything that's on her phone to still have SOMETHING.

-Bobby : please bobby never leave the 118, maybe they could handle it but I couldn't, so please don't leave ever.

(-Tommy : whether you ship them or not, the last scene we got of them together (dinner at Buck's) should start an alarm in your brain about their future together, specially once you consider Gerrard's come back. Tommy literally says that Gerrard's the closest things he got to a father figure when he was in the 118, and that it didn't help him be a better person. (ik he's not saying he saw Gerrard the way Buck see Bobby but he still acknowledge that he saw him as a model of some sort), that's the online line 'acknowledging' Tommy's past actions, but also showing that he followed Gerrard's lead, and we know Buck is not going to appreciate Gerrard's way of leading and this definitely could be a big cause of conflict between Buck and Tommy...)

It feels weird to finally be up to date, and to know killer bees will attack LA in two days😭

I FORGOT RAVI!!

He was there for 3seconds but still, I was so happy seeing him, and ik so far it doesn't seem he'll be back in s8 for some time, so I'm devastated

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Ahh!!! I'm finally on time again for wip Wednesday! I'm so excited! I would love some Angel Neil.

(I loved the long snippet from last week but obviously I will love anything of any length you post)

WIP Wednesday (9/18) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 235)

So he's going to once again get Bee's thoughts on the angel. He's going to make her tell the truth and admit one way or another if she thinks he's got a serious problem. (If she calls Neil an imaginary friend again, Andrew might bite her. No, no. He wouldn't bite Betsy. But he might light a fire in her office.)

See, Andrew ruled out Neil being a side effect after Monday morning. He'd come charging up here first thing during his nightmare-induced rampage, without taking his meds, and Neil was here waiting for him like always. Andrew's quite sure he's not actually psychotic, no matter what his teammates like to say. But he wants to check his notes against Bee's one more time.

This way, if he ever starts to doubt Neil again he can remind himself that Betsy thinks he's fine and that Kevin knows the Butcher's son. That's what he would need, reassurance from the two people he trusts most. God, how did Kevin Day end up on this list? Andrew digresses. The biggest problem with grilling Bee about this is Neil himself. Because Neil said he would stay as long as Andrew believed in him. If he were to overhear anything... Would he leave for good? Is he actually able to? Andrew does not want to find out.

Andrew realizes with a start that his cigarette is nothing but a tiny burned up nub between his fingers. He looks at it, annoyed, then flicks it into the bushes below. When he turns, Neil is staring from where he's propped on an elbow. Has he been staring this entire time? (Andrew thinks he could stare at Neil for days. That's beside the point.) He cocks a brow.

"You know, I'm right here." Neil says, looking amused. "That means you can actually talk to me instead of just thinking about me real hard."

Andrew flusters and bristles simultaneously. "Who said I want to talk to you?"

Neil laughs like Andrew's being stupid. "Your head is going to explode, Andrew. Or maybe mine is. I can't tell. But it's getting annoying, so just say something."

"I hate you."

"There you go." Neil smiles. "Let it out and stop pounding on the insane of my skull."

"Is that what it feels like when I think about you?"

Neil sighs, "Not always. Sometimes it's a little pinch. Maybe a tap on the forehead, a flick to the ear. But sometimes you get real... Thunderous."

"Thunderous."

"Yeah. Like I can't think because you're too busy thinking about me." Neil says, sounding only slightly accusatory. "You're doing it now. Want to tell me why?"

"You told me you don't come into Bee's office. Is that still true?"

"Of course."

"Isn't it the angel's right to know what's going on with me?"

Neil looks almost offended that Andrew thinks he'd eavesdrop. "No. I've told you before. Whatever you have to say to her is none of my business and I certainty don't care to hear what she thinks about me."

"Right. I know."

"Then why are you asking this again?" Neil asks suspiciously. "Should I be listening in on you for some reason?"

Oh fuck, time to backtrack.

[ochrearia]

8 BFs In a Room

Hell on Ochre technique is making myself balance 8 characters in one drabble because I feel guilty about leaving anyone's BFs out when they're on my list. Have fun shenanigans with a gut punch of angst at the end (sorry) <3

BFs in this drabble: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), cs!BF (Beefer, mine), fc!BF (Boyf, Keyy's), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), Candy!BF? (Blue, Slushgut's, unsure of a prefix for now), Yourself (YS)

“Why did I ever agree to this?” YS grumbled, rubbing a hand across his throat. “Fucking hell, I’m going to have such a sore throat tomorrow morning because I decided to indulge you shitters.”

“Well no one said you had to do them all one right after another, that was you, dumbass.”

YS glared at Boyf. “Oh and how else was I supposed to comprehend the request? Not a single one of you looked willing to wait your turn. No concept of patience in this room.”

“How am I supposed to have patience when you have such a cool song?! I got excited and so did everyone else!” Blue complained, contrasting the grin on his face.

“At least it was only six times and not seven. I had my turn months ago.” Biff was grinning as well. “Though I also had the thought in the back of my head that you wanted to kill me, potentially, so it was nervous fun.”

“I wasn’t gonna-” YS huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, fair enough, I literally smacked you across the room. Sorry. Have I ever actually said I was sorry for that? I’m such an idiot.”

“You were forgiven a long time ago, I don’t care.” Softer tone from Biff now. “Though I think you should have recreated the experience for everyone else. Or at least Beef.”

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Beef hollered, making angry faces at Biff. “Fuck you in particular!”

“Fuck you also!”

“I’m not smacking everyone across the room.” YS said bluntly. “I’m not going to be physically hurting any of you on purpose, thank you.”

“Aaah, big guy cares about us.” Peacock teased.

“Okay you’re making me consider going back on what I just said.”

“Can you reconsider that for Beefer specifically I kinda wanna see who’d win between you two.”

“He’s a literal dinosaur?? Who the hell do you think is gonna win?” YS asked incredulously.

“I haven’t figured out how to go into battle mode yet and I’m too nervous about how my situation’s playing out to ask yet.” Beefer shrugged. “If that makes you feel better. I can’t do much other than bite and scratch without it.”

“Can you hurry up and figure it out a little faster though? I’m not the only one who’s curious about all of that you know. I want to see what a dinosaur me would look like!” Insisted Bee, practically stars in his eyes.

“Hey I thought the specimen here was YS, not me!”

“You guys aren’t actually fucking calling me a specimen right. I wasn’t even awake for that shit you can’t just decide that’s one of my nicknames.” YS complained.

“Biff was the one who said it, and also laughed about it.” Peacock pointed.

“Snitch!”

“Holy fuck, you’re all toddlers. All seven of you, I swear to god. Why am I in charge of any of you? Isn’t that what your Picos and GFs are for, I should not be responsible for this.”

“What’s wrong with putting you in charge? You have the best ideas out of all of us.” Blue insisted. “I haven’t been here for too long but you’re pretty cool! The rest of you are too!”

“Him? Cool? Nah, just wait until he’s scared of upsetting you and he starts getting all subdued and nervous.” Boyf snarked with his phone.

“Wait until you find out that he’s-”

“Beef you better not finish that fucking sentence or the dumb corner will PERSONALLY have your name on it.” YS threatened.

“Blame Biff for talking his shit man, that wasn’t my fault.” Beef grinned with a shrug.

“Can you guys stop keeping all these secrets? I want to know the YS lore too. Sharing is caring!” Peacock asked. “How come Biff and Beef get to know but the rest of us don’t?”

“Because Biff’s an asshole and figured it out on his own because he has the same issue.” YS huffed, crossing his arms. “And he decided it would be a wonderful idea to tell Beef, who doesn’t have that issue, and who would sooner exploit it instead of being a kind person.”

“We were doing it to cheer you up, shut up man, you ruin my life with the same problem and I’m at a disadvantage because your tall, lanky ass can pick me up like I weigh nothing!” Biff countered, anger playful.

“Anyone else feel like they’re missing a couple seasons here?” Beefer asked to the rest.

“Sounds like we need to interrogate those two for some info.”

“Beef, we’re buddies… you can tell me!” Bee tried to tempt him. “We played Nun Massacre together that one time, come onnnn, tell me!”

“You tell anyone about that and I’m actually going to go back on what I said earlier. I don’t need anyone else knowing that there’s a way to incapacitate me and you two knowing is already bad enough.”  YS hissed.

“Why would you say that though?” Peacock laughed. “Now we know there’s a way to incapacitate you. Yeah, you’re definitely one of us if you can’t think that far ahead to realize saying that’s only going to make us more curious.”

“Fucking- Shut up. Forget I said that.”

“I’m still stuck on the mental image of him picking Biff up like a toothpick.” Laughed Blue. “Can you do that with all of us? Oh, oh, how many of us do you think you could pick up at once?”

“I am not doing that.”

“Oh my god, this guy is so fucking grumpy and boring. Would you just live a little?” Biff sighed, standing up from his place on the floor. “Think fast chucklenuts, you better catch me or we’re both going to the floor!”

“Biff-!”

Biff ran at YS, jumping halfway there and practically slamming into the taller’s chest. He stumbled, frantically trying to keep himself steady and also make sure the small asshole didn’t crash to the ground between his hands.

“Jesus fucking- Why. Why are you like this. Don’t do that again or I will just drop you on purpose.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t do that, you care too much about your little brother to let him get hurt.” Biff teased snidely.

“Just saying, YS, if you wanted to reconsider him being your first little brother, you still can.”

Biff glowered at Boyf like he’d just tried to commit murder. YS snorted out a laugh, shaking his head at how ridiculous things got when all of them were in the same room.

“So wait, Biff’s not the only one who can have little brother status?” Bee asked. “Wait, where can I sign up?”

“Is there a form we have to sign, or…?” Peacock questioned with a hint of mischief.

“Wait, I want a big brother too!” Blue butted in.

YS wanted to be swallowed into the ground in sheer embarrassment over how happy this was making him. The bloom of warmth in his chest was still so unfamiliar, but incredibly addicting for the times he actually had felt it. Starting right in his heart and aching in the best way, spreading across his chest and successfully chasing away his cold body temperature for a time.

“I’d say me too, but I don’t think he can handle hearing one more of those with how his face is starting to turn red.” Beefer snorted. “You’re so bad at hiding the joy on your face, man. But I think it looks like it belongs on you, to be honest.”

YS couldn’t stifle the groan when his arms were still occupied by Biff, who was an annoying little asshole for jumping at him, causing this to happen all at once, and expose him for how happy he could get over the sentiment of having them all as little brothers. Of course it would be the littlest brother that could cause so much damn chaos in a matter of seconds.

“Shut up…” He protested feebly, but what was he supposed to do when Biff moved closer to give him a proper hug now? Fuck this guy, knowing how to derail everything. He wasn’t used to feeling so loved, hadn’t felt anything like it in a good while.

“I didn’t know this guy even had the capacity to blush. See, these are the things we should be telling each other, every little bit of information is going to help if we have any chance of helping him out like he does with us.” Peacock seemed like he was going to make a list of things at this point.

“True! Even the little things help paint a better picture. Makes it feel like the puzzle we’re solving is an actual person instead of some stranger.” Bee added in agreement.

“You’re all so-” What could he really say? All of them seemed so determined, like they’d all already had this conversation to agree to care. Maybe they had and YS just hadn’t noticed. He didn’t always read every message they sent in the group chat, especially since they could get rather loud in there. The sentiment all directed at him made him lose his words entirely.

“He’s thankful.” Biff answered for him with a softer smile. “Emotionally constipated idiot. I told you, man. Told you everyone was going to come to the same conclusion. You made a point to reach out to everyone in this room and the first thing you said to them was how you wanted to help them. First impressions aside, did you really think we were just going to take your help without wanting to give it back?”

“Man, you really are dumb if you thought that.” Boyf teased. “It’s okay, you’re still the smartest one. Probably. Blame yourself for getting us so addicted to your hugs. As if we weren’t going to start caring about you when you were so insistent to give out such affection.”

“Dude thought giving hugs to the group of idiots who are suckers for physical touch wasn’t going to make us care about him too.” Beefer snorted. “Are we sure we can call this guy the smartest?”

God I hate all of these idiots… no I don’t. YS thought, almost cringing at how fast he went back on his own thought. “Well it wasn’t originally part of my plan to make you guys care about me, I was making the support network for everyone else. So that you’d care about each other.”

“So you’re extra dumb then, because that was not fucking happening.” Stubbornness, the universal attribute. Peacock was a victim to it as much as the rest were.

So… did he have seven little brothers now? What a chaotic family. YS supposed one of them could have been joking and he just wouldn’t know. If they were serious about it, he was too scared to ask still. They’d have to talk to him about it like Boyf and Beef had. He felt a little guilty for forcing them to be the first to bring it up when realistically he wanted to be able to treat them all the same like that. Talk about being addicted, he was addicted to the idea of being  family. Addicted to being kind to them, addicted to the idea he’d get so much more affection turned his way if he could just be honest and ask about the brother stuff.

They were all looking at him with soft looks, expressions also teasing for some of them.

They’re so determined and happy to do this. YS thought, a twinge of guilt stabbing through his chest. I can’t tell them what I’d planned for the support network when I connected enough of them… They care too much about me now, I can’t tell them I was supposed to be… gone… by now.

They didn’t need to know. That plan had gone out the window weeks ago anyway. YS knew he cared too much, as selfish as it was. But now, knowing how much they cared about him too? He couldn’t. And it was fine. They didn’t need to know the extent of it. It was fine.

YS was sure they could tell how much he cared about them all by now anyways. Apparently he was terrible at hiding the joy from his face.

[cherrylindreams]

today, I asked my coworker who's in a pretty high ranking position (second highest here) how his day went and if all his appointments went the way they were supposed to and he smiled at me and said "yes, everything went well! and it was a lot of fun as well! I really do have fun at work every day" with such sincerity that it filled me with enthusiasm. he then went on to say that he really needs to be careful to not work too much and slip into burnout because it's so much fun to work... like man... you're such an inspiration

[purpurussy]

.

[astridthevalkyrie]

everything you see ab being the oldest daughter is true btw why am i the family therapist AND punching bag smh

long ass depressing rant in the tags srry i got a wee bit emotional

[stormyoceans]

THE WAY TALAY SAYS THE MOST THINGS EVER WITHOUT EVEN REALIZING THE WEIGHT THEY CARRY AND ALWAYS ENDS UP LEAVING PUEN SPEECHLESS AND FULL OF WONDER BECAUSE OF THEM

[yourthirdparent]

how is jason both an older brother figure and a father figure? good question. have you ever played obey me

[bucknado]

can i be hypocritical for a second

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・jjk men waking up after a wet dream about you ⸜⸜・

gojo

a small chuckle leaves his mouth when he wakes up from a pleasant dream about you. his cock is aching for attention, precum already building at the top. it's the first time he had a dream about you. not to lie, he fantasized about your cute little body before but never in a dream. he wraps his hand around his cock and tries to remember little details about the dream. the way you would bounce on his cock or your little hand wrapped around it. he's not ashamed, you're a pretty girl after all. but from your behavior, he can see that you're shy and timid. maybe he can ask you out to turn his dream true. he speeds his hand around his cock, bringing himself closer to his orgasm. he thinks about a specific scene from his dream - you spread in front of him with your fingers in your cunt. he cums at the thought, covering his hand with his cock. he giggles, gojo hopes he will have similar dream soon.

geto

he wakes up with sweat on his forehead, groaning when he notices his hard on. the girl in his dream was too similar to you, same hair, eyes, body type. he can't believe he had this kind of dream about you. it was a good dream, he has to say. geto can't decide if he should take a cold shower and forget about everything or take care of his little problem. after all, he's gonna see you today and he doesn't wanna be awkward. his lips turn into a little smile as he thinks about what would happen if you saw what he is about to do. or what if you had the same dream? mmm, you took his cock so well in his dream, would you be able to do that in real life? he's seen your tiny ass move in your little skirts, you would have problem taking him for sure. fuck it, he thinks as he wraps his hand around his cock. he softly massages his shaft, imagining that it's your tiny hand stroking him. all problems leave him in that moment, he's gonna relive that dream now and hopefully later today when he invites you over.

nanami

he groans when he finally opens his eyes to meet a familiar decor of his room. he doesn't wanna think about it, he doesn't wanna think about how hard his cock is right now. he throws his arm around his eyes, trying to breathe deeply to forget all about the dream. he hasn't had a wet dream since he was a teenager and now someone like you is gonna make them pop up again? he thought you were cute when he first met you but he never thought you would be capable of doing such a slutty things. it was just a dream, he has to remind himself, maybe you are innocent. he taps his fingers on his cock, he really doesn't wanna do this. nanami tries to think of different porn starts he's seen online but his thoughts come back to you. his hand finally grips his cock and he squeezes it until it's painful. it's all your fault, maybe it you weren't so cute, he wouldn't have to do this.

toji

she's even haunting me in my dream, toji thinks when he wakes up. his cock is already standing proudly, just begging for him to take it in his hand. he doesn't waste any time wrapping his hand around it. he always thought you were pretty, your body is basically all he ever dreamed about. it's not the first time you appeared in his dream but this time, he is certain that it was you. all of the other dreams were blurry but this one was way more vivid. he strokes his cock slowly, thinking about the way you bended for him in that dream. the only thing that's pissing him off is that you're not here with him right now, that you can't use your mouth or your little pussy on him. he feels himself getting close as he thinks about all the things he would do to you if he could. he cums on his hand, surprising himself how strong this orgasm was. there's something about you and he has to find out what it is.

[mooremars]

I can't sleep so I'm doing some reading and had a realization.

Now that my media consumption has become dominated by all the Arthurian legend stuff I have managed to avoid up until now, it turns out that more I read and watch, the more I become completely convinced that removing magic is actually the only way to make specifically Arthur's character work in Camelot for me. I already thought it was the right call for story and thematic reasons but turns out it also solves the mystery of why I keep hating this character that by every metric I should really love.

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[shushmal]

Let it be known that Steve has zero problem with Eddie. Like, negative problems. So little problem that it kinda turns itself inside out and becomes a DIFFERENT problem. But, not like, a problem problem. Just a teeny tiny little maybe issue. Maybe. Whatever.

Anyways, Eddie's a hugger.

And, like Steve said, it's not a problem. Except that it kind of is.

"Oh, dude," Robin had said when he'd told her as much, and stared at him with this incredibly pained look in her eyes. "You have so many issues." And after that, he gets daily a Robin hug.

Which is great. But doesn't solve his not-problem with Eddie hugs.

Well, in a way, it does. Regular Robin hugs means that Steve isn't freezing up and freaking out when he gets an Eddie hug. Steve's really glad for that, because he'd been terrified that he was going to make Eddie think that Steve hated the Eddie hugs.

Which would be awful, because Steve kinda sorta maybe absolutely would-die-for the Eddie hugs. Steve loves the Eddie hugs, okay? Eddie should be hugging Steve all the time, actually.

He does, too. It's kind of awesome. Steve waives a late fee? Eddie's clamoring over the counter to hug him. Steve picks up the nerds from their nerd jail game? Eddie's half way through his window, hugging Steve's head. Steve brought pizza to movie night? Eddie gets his arms around Steve's waist and sighs happily into Steve's neck. It's pretty great.

It's the best thing ever.

And Steve knows logically that he's not special. Eddie's usually draped over someone for extended periods of time until he get's swatted off. He hugs everyone. Steve's not special. He does have to tell himself that a lot.

"Oh, dingus," Robin had sighed when he'd told her as much. Her look this time was a lot less pained and more exasperated. "So many issues." And he was rewarded with two Robin hugs that day.

Anyways, Steve has to remind himself all the time that he's not special. So it comes as a little tiny sorta maybe surprise when Eddie one night wraps Steve in his arms, sighing all happy and contented like he usually does, and says, "You're my favorite, Harrington. You give the best hugs."

And then he presses a kiss to Steve's cheek.

And a lot of things go through Steve's head in that moment. He doesn't have a clue what any of it is, but it all scrolls by like the Star Wars intro on too much sugar and too hard to read. Still, he arrives at the correct conclusion anyways.

"Oh," Steve says, before Eddie's lips have really left his cheek. "I'm in love with you."

Eddie reels back, his hands still on Steve's shoulders, big brown eyes now bigger than ever. Steve watches as his face goes pink, and pinker, and then bright red.

"Huh?!" It's a really ugly sound that Eddie makes, and Steve bites his lip to keep from laughing. It's cute.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I'm in love with you."

"... What?!"

[totally-here]

3 times Phantom's Guardian was Mentioned + 1 Time He Showed Up

One

Phantom’s introduction to Young Justice wasn’t as dramatic as Empress’ or Slobo’s, or even Arrowette’s first introduction to the cave. No, it wasn’t during the Olympics, or on a battlefield, and he didn’t come in injured and looking for help. 

Impulse just brought Phantom in one day and insisted that he should join because he’s their age, interested in justice, and now that Greta’s human again they need another ghost member. So Phantom stayed, popping in and out for missions but never really sticking around all that long. 

Today is one of the days that Phantom’s with them on a mission, that being looking around a lab of the Brain’s that had an energy surge recently, despite it being presumably abandoned. 

Kon got paired up with Phantom to check the rest out first, since they both have better hearing than Anita and Tim, who were both still in the main room working on checking the computers for previous activity. 

The room is dark except for the light green ball glowing slightly above Phantom’s hand. He waves it around enough for it to reflect off of glass, then throws it up to the ceiling. The light expands enough to illuminate the room. 

Phantom mumbles about not knowing he could do that. Kon ignores him and moves closer to inspect the glass tubes to the side of several monitors set up. 

“Looks like cloning equipment,” Phantom says, casually. He drags a finger through the dust gathering on one of the monitors. “Don’t think they’ve been activated recently, though, so that’s good.”

“What? You got a problem with clones or something?” It’s a quick and defensive answer, and Phantom puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Not in concept.” He shrugs and joins Kon near the tubes. “But not a lot of people ask before making clones.”

“So I don’t need to sic Superman on you?” Obviously Kon could chew Phantom out himself, but few can do a “not mad, just disappointed” face better than Clark. 

Phantom scrunches his face. “Why would you need to?” 

Kon stops pretending to inspect the tube and stares at Phantom. “You do know I’m a clone, right?” The blank look on Phantom’s face tells him that no, he did not. “Well I am. Clone of Superman, though we’re pretty much brothers now.”

“Cool,” Phantom says, not a bit less friendly. He hesitates for a second before continuing, “Could I maybe ask you how you got there? Me and my clone have landed on cousins, but that was also, like, given to us by her evil dad. So.”

Phantom trails off. Huh, that makes three members of the team that have been cloned. Not a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened three times. 

“You’re making sure she feels accepted, right?” 

“Yeah! Well, whenever she’s around. She,” Phantom waves his hand around, looking for the right word, “She’s a wanderer. Exploring the world and stuff. But Richard has a room for her at home, and I remind her of that whenever she does stop by.” 

“Well, first of all, don’t push it so hard,” Kon says. Phantom nods enthusiastically. “And second, who’s Richard?”

Kon doesn’t know a lot of Richards, and he doesn’t think that Phantom ever mentioned one before. Or even if he remembers his living life. 

“Oh, he’s my, uh, guardian? I guess that’s the best term. The guy I’m living with who forces me to go to school sometimes.” Phantom looks away and back to the tubes. 

Before Kon can ask for more details, Robin and Empress come in with a report of dead computers and wanting to know where they’re at with the cloning room.

They’re unimpressed with their lack of progress.

Two

Wally doesn’t really need to come by the Hamilton Lodge that often, not when that’s Young Justice’s territory and he doesn’t want to get involved in all of That.

But Red Tornado said that the team has a file on a planet that’s very quickly becoming a league problem, and he figured it might be a good time to try to check in with Bart, anyway. Make sure he hasn’t run any cars off cliffs again and all that. 

So he stops by Manchester to ask Bart about the file, then they both head East to actually find it. 

When they arrive at the hotel minutes later, Wally’s surprised to actually find it… clean? There’s no visible trash or overturned furniture or anything else he’d expect from an abandoned hotel filled with teenagers. Well, maybe not filled, lately. He doesn’t think anyone’s living here currently, with Greta at Elias’ for the school year and Slobo gone. 

Still, the room smells slightly of artificial pine scent, and Bart perks up before disappearing and reappearing rapidly, holding a teammate up by his armpits. Said teammate just accepts this, his legs folding into a wispy tail, and head rolling against his shoulders. 

“This is Phantom!” Bart holds him up higher. Phantom waves. Wally’s only heard of him through Max’s updates, the same way he would hear about Preston or Carol, but with more wariness about the supposed ghost. 

Actually looking at the pale face and glowing green eyes contrasting against the darker than dark jumpsuit, Wally’s a little more ready to accept his claim at being undead. 

“He stress cleans,” Bart explains, moving to carry Phantom under his arm. Wally bites down the urge to tell him to put him down, but only because Phantom doesn’t resist the hold, only moving to get into a more comfortable position. His hands are touching the floor. “So what happened?” 

Bart directs the question downwards, and Phantom heaves a very dramatic sigh. Definitely a teenager. It does raise the question of who exactly this kid’s mentor is. Hopefully he does have one. Maybe he’s the Spectre’s kid?

Phantom phases through the arm holding him only to lay on top of Bart’s hair. “I accidentally called Richard dad. And then fled.” 

Bart nods sagely. “Classic. One time I accidentally called Max dad, so I had to start a fire to distract him.”

Phantom sighs again, almost dreamily. “Genius.” 

Wally doesn’t have time to unpack all of that. Well he does, but he’s not going to, because there’s really only one Richard that comes to mind that might have the heart to take in a dead kid, even if he doesn’t go by his full name.

But surely Dick would have told him, or any other Titan, if he had adopted a kid. Right?

But there’s still a little shadow of doubt. Maybe Dick wanted it to be a secret, or it was really new or had a rocky start. Phantom doesn’t seem to hold himself like a Bat, but it’s not a guarantee Dick would have trained him. 

“The lodge looks nice,” Wally offers out loud, which Phantom shrugs at and wraps his tail around Bart’s head to keep secure. “Anyway, Impulse. The file on Myrg?” 

“Oh yeah!” Again, Bart disappears then reappears a few seconds later with a paper file. They really need to start digitizing more of these things. “That’s the planet where we played baseball so that they wouldn’t destroy Earth!” 

“You what.” 

The prospect of Dick following in his dad’s footsteps is forgotten in the face of what the hell Young Justice got up to on Myrg. 

Three

Tim may be in a…Predicament. 

It’s not his fault. Really. He knew what he was doing. He couldn’t let a civilian fall for the trap. But they were already so close, so he just, kinda, pushed himself into the rope instead. 

So there Robin is, tied upside down in a warehouse, with the Joker below next to an overly complicated control panel. The clown’s rambling about bombs hidden all over the city that Tim knows Batman is already tracking down with Batgirl. 

Tim’s not really paying attention to the rant because of that, more focused on wiggling enough to get the spare mini-birdarang out of his glove to cut the rope without notifying the Joker. 

“Yikes, bad time?” Asks Phantom’s voice beside him. Based on the source and accounting for the slight echo, he’s floating with his head near Tim’s, likely upside down. “Want some help?” 

Tim gets the birdarang out and starts sawing at the thick rope. They should be fine anyway, but stalling the Joker for extra time would be helpful. “Can you possess the Joker? Just hold him still.”

“The correct term is overshadow, but sure.” The voice disappears, and a few seconds later the Joker freezes. 

His body jerks forward, then backward, and a laugh chokes out of his throat. His hand claws over his mouth at the noise and he hunches over. All movement halts before he rights himself, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Phantom looks up at Tim and his eyes are glowing. 

Tim cuts through the rope, kicking and using the momentum to right himself and land on his feet. He brushes past Phantom in Joker’s body to handle the control panel. He turns off the radio broadcast and dismantles the bomb strapped to the panel.

Threat handled, he turns to Phantom and holds up some handcuffs. “Let me arrest you?”

Phantom obliges, turning the Joker’s body around and putting his hands behind his back. Tim lets him walk by himself out of the warehouse and moves the handcuffs around a lamppost. The Joker’s body jerks again, then slumps forward, just as Phantom reappears next to him, scowling down at the unconscious body. 

“That felt really slimy. Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Phantom grouches. 

“Why’re you in Gotham?” Tim asks. It’s not like Phantom makes a habit of visiting. The last time he came into the city, he complained about feeling the dead under the streets. Fortunately, that let Tim uncover a few tunnels that Talons travel through. Phantom, however, was unnerved by the Talons and left quickly. 

“Oh, Solomon Grundy’s back in our sewers. Richard said I should probably tell one of you Gotham heroes, since you keep track of those guys.” He shakes out his hands like they were cramped in the Joker. 

They hadn’t seen Grundy in a while. Tim assumed he was currently in a less violent personality. “What’s he doing?” 

Phantom shrugs. “Just chilling. Mostly underground. I tried to talk to him but he only grunted back at me. He also tried to pick me up, dunno what that was about.”

“Maybe because you’re both dead?” Tim guessed. That would be a surface level connection. Ivy and Woodrue have had more luck working with Grundy than anyone, and Phantom definitely doesn’t have the connection to the Green that’d help with that. 

Police lights turn around the corner, and Tim shoots a grapple to get to the roof above them. Phantom follows, but disappears as soon as they’re on the roof. Going back home, probably. 

Cass drops down from the roof she was listening on. “Richard?”

“Not the same one.”

They both stick around long enough to watch the Joker get put into the cop car. 

Plus one

A spaceship landed in the forests of New York, and Cassie’s team was the first to respond to it. Technically not respond, but check it out, since there wasn’t any alert or anything. 

Still, Wonder Girl has Empress, Robin, and Superboy on the other side of the ship, watching what looks like the back door, while she, Impulse, and Phantom watch the other door and main window. She has binoculars, but the windows are so tinted she can’t quite make anything out. 

No aliens have come out yet, and she hesitates to have anyone go in, in case whoever inside does turn hostile. 

Impulse has offered to run through a total of five times already, and it’s a testament to his restraint that he hasn’t, and a testament to Cassie’s that she hasn’t yelled at him yet. Phantom at least isn’t being annoying, but he’s not necessarily helpful, either. He’s not even watching the spaceship anymore. Now he’s trying to make a flower crown out of dandelions. 

“Door’s opening on our side,” Robin says from the comms. “But no one’s coming out.” 

“Alright, good enough to try to get in,” Cassie decides. She turns to Phantom, who’s closing off the circle of flowers. Beside him, Impulse has since pulled out a gameboy. “Phantom, go in invisibly through the open door and report back. Try to see what their plans are.” 

“Oh, sure. One second.” Phantom finishes the crown and tries to put it on Bart’s head. It doesn’t quite fit over his mane of hair, but Phantom shrugs and leaves it sitting there anyway before going invisible. 

“Maybe I should shave my head again,” Bart says as his game character dies. 

He gets a resounding no in response. 

Half an hour later they have a very annoyed Green Lantern lecturing them about league jurisdiction and knowing when to call someone else. 

Apparently, the alien ship was just stopping to complete some maintenance, and did not appreciate any spying on them, and especially did not appreciate who did it. Green Lantern was more than happy to explain that Wonder Girl’s team is not really a part of the Justice League and he can help with their maintenance. They denied his help and left to find a place with less people in it. 

“-and you!” Green Lantern rounds on Phantom next, but Cassie knows none of them are really listening. Sure, they messed up by freaking out the visiting aliens, and yeah maybe they should have contacted the league about it, but they’ve dealt with stuff worse than this! It’s not Cassie’s fault she thought that this would have stuck to the formula. 

“Who even are you?” Green Lantern runs a hand through his black hair, stupid green gauntlets shining in the sunlight. “Do I need to call your mentor?” He frowns. “Or do they know you mess up alien technology by just being around it?” 

Phantom scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How was I supposed to know their tech would go all fuzzy when I came in?” 

“You wouldn’t have to know if you just stayed out of the spaceship!” 

“Hey!” Cassie cuts in. “Technically that was my call. It’s not all on Phantom.”

“I still could've been more careful,” Phantom says to her, ignoring Green Lantern as they argue about blame. 

“Cut it out for a second, okay?” Green Lantern puts a hand between them and they stop to glare at him. He pulls the hand back. “Look, can I just talk to one of your adults about this?” 

Robin glares. “We don’t need an adult. We have this under control.”

“Only because I’m here now.” 

“I’ll call my mentor,” Phantom says. Kon opens his mouth, most likely to offer to call Superman instead in hopes of a lighter sentence, but Bart covers his mouth, smiling like he knows something Cassie doesn’t. Tim and Anita share a look, and don’t intervene as Phantom pulls out a phone from his chest. 

It rings once before it’s picked up. Cassie can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Kon’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Hey, do you think you can pick me up? Green Lantern wants to talk to you.” Phantom looks Green Lantern up and down then says, “No, this one doesn’t have a cape.”

Phantom says goodbye after rattling off their coordinates, hangs up, and stares at Green Lantern in silence for a few seconds. 

And then a swirling mass of black seeps into the space next to Phantom. The end of a cane steps out of it, followed by a leg, then the rest of the immaculately dressed man holding the handle of the cane that’s shaped like a bird’s head. 

“Phantom,” The man says. His voice drips with condescension in only a way a british accent can, yet Phantom smiles up at him. The shadowy portal behind him disappears. “What, exactly, happened?”

“That’s the fucking Shade,” Anita hisses to Robin, who shrugs noncommittedly at her. Green Lantern seems to recognise him too, taking a step back and clenching his hand that holds his ring. 

“Well, the team and I were staking out this spaceship–super cool, by the way–and I went inside to check it out, but my presence messed with their tech–which was an accident–and they freaked out, so I freaked out, and then we kinda got into a little fight until Green Lantern came to mediate.”

“Hm. Is that right?” The Shade asks Green Lantern, who nods slowly, still anticipating an attack. “It seems like the problem’s fixed, then.”

“Well, yes, but–”

“And it does seem about time for these kids to get home, doesn't it?” The Shade pulls out an actual pocket watch, chain and all, from his suit pocket and takes his time in checking it. “I’ll see them home.” 

Shadows grow from behind the team, swirling until they become a giant, gaping maw that swallows them up and spits them out in a different forest, or maybe just a different part of the same forest. 

Either way, Cassie has to take a moment to make sure she doesn’t throw up from the sudden vertigo the shadow portal caused. 

The Shade looks at Phantom, and raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to always bail you out.” 

Phantom shrugs, looking guilty. “I know. Thanks, Richard.”

Oh, so that’s who Richard is. Annoyingly, neither Tim or Bart look surprised by this revelation.