#Look at me WRITING A FIC!

[banannabethchase]

Mox has a Grindr date, but he's not quite sure who he's looking for. He sees the tall, handsome blond guy walk in the door, and assumes, incorrectly, that's his guy. And that guy has incorrectly assumed as well.

~

A mistaken identity prompt from Sarah @sarahcakes613! This fic gave me surprisingly a lot of *grinds teeth while trying to word* but I had a bunch of fun with the concept. I hope you enjoy!

Mini playlist:

Hey Cowboy - Devon Cole

Giddy Up - Shania Twain

Throat Goat - Kim Petras

Oh My - Gin Wigmore

~

“How do I look?” Mox yanks at the collar of his shirt.

“Like a horny mess.”

Mox throws the shoe at Eddie, who leans so casually to the left that it’s like he expected it. He probably did. Dickhead. “Seriously!” Mox says, fidgeting. “I don’t want to freak the guy out.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “So you think the handcuffs are a good way not to freak him out.”

“He specifically requested a – a visual.” Mox’s face is burning. This is hell. “So he knows it’s me.”

Eddie laughs, something that he’s clearly trying to hold back. Mox considers if it’s worth taking off the other shoe. “And your go-to was handcuffs?”

“I panicked!” Mox says. “Look, I haven’t – you know I don’t do the internet thing.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and he seems kinder, now. Maybe. “I’m sorry. I just – you really went from zero to sixty, Grandpa.”

“Shut up.”

“Luddite,” Eddie says, the grin back. “Mr. ‘I don’t use twitter, but I’ll go on Grindr to hook up with a guy who wants me to bring handcuffs.’”

“Okay, the handcuffs were my idea,” Mox interrupts.

“Christ, you’re an idiot,” Eddie sighs. “Go find your fuck buddy, and I’ll help you make a new Facebook profile when you get back to get hooked on multi-level marketing schemes.”

“That was one time!”

Eddie’s still laughing when Mox gets his boots laced up and slams the door behind him.

~

It’s – it’s not a bar, technically, but it’s barlike. Enough to make him a little itchy. Dark atmosphere, country music playing in the background. He should have googled this place before suggesting it, but he liked the name when he drove by it last week. A new place, Rowdy’s Bar and Grill. He’d hoped it would lean more toward grill, which is does, but still. At least he there’s the bar area and a seated area. He’d rather wait by the tall tables, though, where he has more space to move.

He’s standing at a bar table, drawing circles in the condensation dripping off his glass of Coke when the door shuts heavily. He looks up – nope. The guy he’s looking for is blond. The guy who just walked in, while gorgeous, is not the elusive Jamie.

It happens about ten more times, and the handcuffs in Mox’s front pocket are starting to get heavy, a weight like embarrassment. Mox is beginning to wonder if he should have insisted on a face picture instead of just the basic description and handcuffs, halfway through a detailed water-drawing of a skull and crossbones, when the door swings open.

And Mox has to sit.

The man walking in is broad shouldered with curly blonde hair, the kind of profile they’d write epic poems about in ancient Rome, and a pair of jeans that leave nothing to the imagination.

Mox swallows a giant sip of Coke. Fucking this up is not an option. He lets the guy order a drink, and catches his eye as he scans the room.

“Hey,” Mox calls, and, thank god, the guy looks at him. “Over here.”

The guy, Jamie, he supposes, nods and walks over. “Hey. You the guy?”

Mox nods. “Yeah. Come sit.”

Jamie slides into the barstool across from Mox, and nods down to his pocket.

“Handcuffs,” Jamie says, grinning. “Subtle.”

“Well, it makes it easier for people to find me,” Mox jokes. He feels good. He’s making it work.

Jamie slides into the barstool in front of him, face more serious than Mox would expect for a first date, but everyone handles jitters differently.

“You got the details on the package?” Jamie says. It’s forward. It’s blunt. It’s good.

“For you, baby?” Mox says. “Of course.”

Jamie blinks. “Um. Okay.” He glances around the room, a little hesitant. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“Right, course,” Mox says. “Uh. I live around here, with my best friend. Eddie. Mid-thirties, unless I forgot about my birthday again.” He pauses. “I really like The Troggs.”

Jamie stares at him. “Right. Uh.” He pauses.

“What about you?” Mox asks. “I don’t know a lot about you. What’s your – deal?”

Jamie blinks. “I mean, I’m kinda well known across the country, in my line of work. Got a decent list of references, if you want to know about my previous success rates.” Mox is about to ask if he accidentally hired an escort when Jamie interrupts. “Alright, enough of the small talk. Tell me about the guy.”

Mox pauses. Did Jamie think he was bringing up Eddie as a…as a thing? They were, back a couple years ago, but figured out they worked better without dicks involved. Maybe it’s written on his face? “Oh.” He swallows. “Oh, he’s, uh. He’s not an issue here.”

Jamie tilts his head to the side. “So…we’re dealing with a woman? Nonbinary person?”

Mox blinks. “No, he’s a man.” He stares, a sheet of horror falling over him. “Um. You’re Jamie, right?”

Jamie stares at him. “No.” The man who isn’t Jamie, then.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who are you?” Not-Jamie asks. He starts scanning the room rapidly, a controlled panic. “How many guys you got here? You from the Cartel? Irish mafia?” His gaze settles on Mox, burning. “Fucking Christ, if it’s House of Black with a hit on me again, I’m gonna have to change my goddamned name.”

“Whoa,” Mox says, hands up in front of him. “I don’t have guys. Well, except for Eddie. And he’s cool with this. I mean – wait, who are you?” He can’t stop asking. This was too – the guy walked up to him and intentionally mentioned the handcuffs. How do you fuck that up?

The man in front of him studies him with painstakingly precision. Mox feels like he’s being undressed, only more vulnerable. “You’re not a cop.”

Mox scoffs. “Fuck, no.” He doesn’t break eye contact, but the blue eyes in front of him are piercing. “I’m Jon Moxley.” He sticks out his hand, still not convinced he’ll get it back intact. It’s worth the risk.

The man studies Mox’s hand for a second, that careful gaze, and then reaches out to shake it. “Hangman,” he says. “Hangman Page.”

Mox raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t let go of the grip. “You some sort of hit man?” His laugh isn’t fearful, but it’s not…it’s not normal.

“Bounty hunter,” Hangman replies. “Was coming here to meet up with a cop, get some details…” He trails off. “There’s this person running around, going after kids.” Hangman’s eyes darken. “I intend to bring him in, take the cash, and make sure he’s not able to hurt anyone again.”

Mox considers it. “And you’re so sure he’s the bad guy because?”

“Because there’s video footage of him committing the crime,” Hangman says, steady. He takes a sip of his drink. “Only way I’ll take a hunt. It’s gotta be confirmed.”

“Dignity and morals from a lawman,” Mox says. He shifts when he realizes he’s mirroring Hangman. “Never see that.”

“I ain’t a lawman. I just know when somebody’s got to get put away.” He looks down. “Are you sure you’re not a fuckin’ cop?”

“I’m not a cop!”

“You’re wearing fuckin’ cop shoes!” Hangman says, and, okay, fine, they’re shiny, but Mox likes his boots to look nice.

“They’re combat boots!”

“They’re cop shoes,” Hangman repeats.

“I like the way they look.”

“Of course you do.” Hangman leans over, gives a pointed look over by Mox’s pocket. “The handcuffs, then?”

“It – I thought I was meeting a kinky motherfucker!” Mox is starting to feel panicked. He’s not used to being off guard, to being the one laid out on in front of somebody else, defending himself. He tries to convince himself he doesn’t like the challenge, but his dick would call him a liar. “It was the way he’d recognize me!”

There’s a split second of an interested smirk on Hangman’s lips before it disappears. “You go on a first date and you think of handcuffs?”

Mox licks his lips. “You ever been on Grindr?”

Hangman adjusts in the barstool, posture loosening. “Point.” He takes another sip from his glass, eyes locked on Mox’s the whole way. Mox adjusts in his seat. “Where’s your date?”

Mox slumps back into the barstool. “Thanks for reminding me. Dick.”

“Hey, I’m just making conversation, since I’ve probably blown my chance to run into the cop, if he’s here.” His eyes dart around the room again. “Been talking to you too long.”

“And, you know, doing business with a beer in your hand is probably a bad look,” Mox muses.

Hangman pauses, frowns, then looks at the glass in his hands. “Oh, no. This is ginger ale.”

“Ah,” Mox says. He holds up his glass. “This is Coke.”

Hangman’s smile goes genuine, almost sweet, his glass meeting Mox’s. “To Coke and ginger ale, then.”

The conversation flows easily, Mox talking about the person Jamie allegedly was, and he appreciates that Hangman doesn’t mock him for being stood up. Eddie’ll take care of that when Mox gets home.

It may be the fourth Coke getting him jittery, but Mox finds himself leaning in closer to Hangman as they talk about some of each of their work escapades.

“Yeah, and then he threw a glass bottle at my head,” Hangman says, leaning forward to show him a scar right above his eyebrow.

“No shit! I have one there too!” Mox points. “Least of my scars, honestly, you should see my back.”

Hangman raises an eyebrow. “That an invitation?”

It wasn’t. But it is now. Mox licks his lips. “You want it to be?”

Hangman laughs, low and tempting. “Maybe.”

Mox shifts in his chair, leaning a little further forward in his chair. He nods toward the door. “Wanna hit the bathroom?”

“Should of known you’d be one for the bathroom hookup,” Hangman laughs. “I guess I should tell you my actual name first, huh?”

“Oh, I just thought you popped out and your parents were like, ‘aw, he has blue eyes and curly hair, let’s name him Hangman.’” But Mox can’t deny the curiosity.

Hangman’s smile holds a little darkness behind, the kind of dirt Mox wants to get his hands into. “I’m Adam,” he says, putting out his hand to shake Mox’s. Mox takes it, and it feels like foreplay. “Adam Page.”

“I’m still Jon Moxley,” Mox says, and he doesn’t want to let go of Adam’s hand. “Meet me in the bathroom in five?”

Adam chances a look around the room. Mox gets a look at him, silhouetted in the red bar light, and he thinks Adam looks a little like a god. “Not even sure if we have to wait, but sure.” He licks his lips, turning back to Mox. “If you gets you going.”

“See you soon, then.” Mox sends him a wink and slides off the barstool. He does his best not to look behind him as he makes his way toward the bathroom. It’s surprisingly clean, for a divey restaurant like this, and it’s got a couple of roomy stalls. Perfect.

He rolls his shoulders, bounces on his toes a little to rid himself of the nervous energy. He can do this. He can suck a dick with the best of them, but it’s been a while and part of him worries he’ll be rusty. The other part of him remembers what he did to his last one night stand, and Yuta’s been texting him for tips and ideas ever since then, so. The worried part is small.

The door to the bathroom swings open, and Hangman walks in like he owns the place. His expression is less confident, a little more pinched.

“Hey, Hangman,” Mox says. “Looking for someone?”

Hangman laughs, head tilted down. But at least he’s back to smiling. His hands are shoved in his pockets. “Uh, I forgot to mention.” His voice is less confident now, the barest hint of a shake. “I kind of. Have never.” He pauses, looking up to meet Mox’s eyes briefly. “I’ve never had a one night stand.”

Mox immediately laughs, and regrets it. “No! Not funny. I just – you could’a fooled me.”

Hangman’s smile comes back. “What, like you’re such an expert?”

Mox walks up to him, covering the space in two shorts steps. He feels a strange compulsion to calm this man, to make him comfortable. “I mean, I got references,” he flicks his eyes down to Hangman’s lips, “unless you wanna figure it out for yourself.”

Hangman – or Adam, Mox supposes. He should start thinking of him as his real name, if his dick’s about to be in his mouth. Adam wraps his fingers around the collar of Mox’s shirt, pulls him in. There’s a second of hesitation, but Mox leans in to close the last moment between them. Their lips meet, a slight hesitation from Adam, but then he’s all in. Hands slide up the back of Mox’s jacket, pulling him closer, lining their bodies up together. Mox gasps into Adam’s mouth, tongues sliding against each other.

“Hold on,” Mox says.

Adam pulls away, blue eyes darker than he remembers. “What?”

Mox kicks the trashcan in front of the door, grinning. “Don’t want any visitors. Or interruptions.”

Adam crashes back against him, pressing him against the wall, and he pulls Mox’s shirt up, pressing hands against his stomach, sides, around to his back. Mox focuses on drawing those little sounds from Adam’s lips as he reaches down and grabs his ass, hauling him up a little closer.

Adam leans down, pressing his lips to Mox’s neck where it’s exposed in the v-neck.

“Your handcuffs are hitting me,” Adam mutters against Mox’s neck.

“Yeah?” Mox huffs, hands gripping at Adam’s denim jacket. “You want me to break ‘em out?”

“Maybe next time.”

It’s enough to get Mox to yank Adam’s mouth back to his own, to taste those words before they fall into the air. The idea of a next time, the idea that this won’t just be one quick fuck in a bar bathroom. He wants to hold it tight. Adam stumbles into him, crushing him against the wall, and Mox is temporarily struck with the image of this happening in a bed, on a couch. At a home.

Oh, he’s fucked.

He moves his lips to Adam’s jaw, throat, bites a bruise into the warm skin to draw a truly great moan. He know the guy would be a talker.

He walks them backward until he has Adam away from the sinks and against one of the walls. “You good if I blow you?”

Adam laughs, dropping his head back, the clonk a little louder than it probably should be. “Yeah. Course I am. Oh, my god.”

Mox grins up at him, and gets his belt undone. It takes longer than it should, because the damned thing is overly ornate, and slowly slides Adam’s jeans down his hips. He chances a glance upward, concerned about the tension in Adam’s thighs, but Adam’s just looking at him with an gaze so intense it makes Mox want to shiver. “Good?”

Adam nods. “Just – don’t make fun of me for my boxers, okay? I didn’t know I’d be – this.”

Intrigued, Mox gets a better look. “Really?”

“I thought I was on a job!” Adam groans, running a hand over his face. “Look, they’re lucky, okay?”

“Your Dolly Parton boxers are lucky?” Mox asks. “Please tell me you wash them.”

“Of course I wash them! What do you think I am, a dirtbag?”

Mox shrugs. “You work with cops.”

“I do the jobs cops can’t do,” Adam retorts and, fair, so Mox decides to pull down the, frankly hilarious, boxers and get a look at Adam’s cock. When he licks his lips, he hears another clonking sound.

“You keep hitting your head that hard, you’ll knock yourself out,” Mox says, spitting into his hand.

Adam lets out a delirious kind of giggle. “Fuck.”

“Okay if I blow you?” Mox asks.

Adam stares at him. “Yes. Oh my god. I already said yes.”

“Just checking.” And then Mox sinks down on him. Adam makes more of those little, unhinged noises as Mox flicks his tongue against the slit as he pulls back, sure to keep working. He grabs at Adam’s legs, nails digging into the golden skin. Adam makes delightful little noises, rests his hand on Mox’s jaw, and it feels almost demure, subtle, cute for a bathroom hookup.

Mox reaches down to press at his own dick, which is growing more and more interested as each second passes by. Adam laughs.

“You really get off on this, huh?” he mutters, voice low. “What would happen if we got too loud and somebody walked in?”

Mox pulls off. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Hangman.” He chances a wink, getting a flustered groan in return, and gets back to work.

It’s clear it’s been a while, with the speed at which Adam starts pulling at Mox’s shoulder. “Close,” he gasps, “if you don’t wanna – if you don’t want me to.” He cuts himself off with a groan.

Mox wants him to. He so wants him to. He gets his hand a little more involved, focuses his tongue on the head of Adam’s cock, and the way Adam’s hips push in proves him right. Adam’s coming down his throat within a second, and Mox takes it with a smug satisfaction. Serves that date who stood him up right.

Adam tucks himself back into his boxers. “Get up here,” Adam groans, grabbing handfuls of Mox’s jacket in his fists. Mox stands, trying to figure out how to ask if Adam’s cool with getting him off, too, when Adam’s shoving his hand down the front of Mox’s jeans.

“Whoa,” Mox laughs, “let me get my belt off first.”

“Gotta get you,” Adam says, a little desperate. The blown-out pupils haven’t dissipated, haven’t gone back to the normal blue. “Want you.”

Mox leans in and kisses him, holding back in case Adam’s not a fan, but Adam dives in, licks inside Mox’s mouth like he’s chasing the taste of himself. Mox’s dick throbs in anticipation.

For all his reported inexperience, Adam makes up for sheer frantic enthusiasm. He sucks dick sloppy, like he’s so focused on doing it well that he’s not worried about how it looks.

Mox is obsessed.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he says, testing a theory, and Adam looks up at him and, fuck, moans around his dick. Mox’ll have to put that in his back pocket for later.

He rests his hands on the top of Adam’s head, silently asking permission, and Adam pulls his mouth away. Mox pulls his hand back.

“Oh, no,” Adam says, grabbing his hand. “Keep doing that. If you don’t pull my hair, what’s the point of it long?”

Mox laughs, but it’s quickly cut off when Adam takes him in his mouth again. He slides his hands into Adam’s curls, soft and smooth against his fingertips. He doesn’t pull too hard, just enough to hold Adam where he wants him. Adam responds to it, pulling against it just a little so his eyes flutter shut.

“There you go,” Mox murmurs, and he gives a little test of a push with his hips. Adam leans in further, taking more of him, and Mox is beginning to think he won’t be able to let this be a one night thing. Goddamn his weakness for pretty men with good smiles.

Adam does something particularly interesting with his tongue, something so good and unexpected it makes Mox lose control, and it gives him the half second to say, “I’m gonna – ” before Adam looks up at him, then dives back onto his cock with a single-minded goal.

Yeah. He’s gonna have to get this guy’s number.

Mox comes with a hoarse groan, fingers tightening in Adam’s hair. He shivers a little as he feels Adam’s throat work, swallowing down everything like it was no chore at all.

“Hey,” Mox says, running his fingers through Adam’s hair. It’s a little fucked up now. It looks good on him. “You good?”

“So good,” Adam mumbles, voice sounding beyond wrecked. He stands slowly, a little smile playing across his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Like you have to ask,” Mox says with an eye roll. After fixing himself in his underwear, he pulls Adam in by the back of the neck and kisses him, shuddering as he tastes himself, and wonders how stupid it would be to ask Adam back to his place tonight.

They pull away, and Adam rests his forehead against Mox’s in a way that’s way too charming. “This was a really dumb idea,” he laughs, fingers playing with the zipper of Mox’s leather jacket. He looks up, dead into Mox’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“Can I get your number?” Mox asks. “I mean, in case I need you for a reference. Or a repeat.”

Adam grins. “I’m only in Ohio for a few days,” he begins, “and I go all over the country, for the job.” Mox pretends he isn’t deflating. “But you can call me whenever you want.” He reaches into Mox’s jacket pocket, and pulls out his phone. He points it at Mox’s face to unlock it, fiddles for a second. Mox isn’t able to stop himself from tucking a curl behind Adam’s ear. “I put my number in here. I, uh,” he steps back, a little smile on his lips. “I probably should get back out there, just in case the cop shows up. They’re doing a shit job of catching that scumbag and,” he gestures to himself, “well, in that way, I’m the best.”

“In a lot of ways,” Mox teases. He takes the phone back. “Go catch your guy, Cowboy.”

“Bounty hunter,” Adam corrects, his smile growing. “I’m a bounty hunter.”

Mox shrugs. “Kind of a cowboy, too, though, right?” He nods down at Adam’s belt buckle, at his boots, as he does up his own pants.

Adam shrugs. “A little bit. Yeah.”

They get themselves together in a bit of an awkward silence, dancing around each other as they check their clothes, their hair, their faces.

Adam wiggles his phone at Mox when he’s finished drying off his hands. “I’ll text you. Yeah?”

Mox nods, feeling strange as Adam walks backward toward the door. “Yeah. Soon.” He smiles.

~

Mox is in a bit of a daze as he makes his way out of the restaurant, into his car, and back home. He tosses his keys into the bowl by the door.

“Hey, playboy,” Eddie calls from the couch. “How was the date?”

“He never showed.” Mox throws himself on the couch next to Eddie.

“Aw. Sucks for – wait.” He frowns. “If your date didn’t show up, why do you look all freshly fucked?”

“I don’t look freshly fucked!”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “You got that somebody-sucked-my-dick glow about you.”

“There may have been another guy,” Mox tests. “Who thought I was a cop.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “And you let him get on you after that?”

“Honest mistake,” Mox says. He can’t fight the smile. “I thought he was my date. We both fucked up. And, uh. Blew each other in the bathroom of the bar.”

Eddie groans so dramatically he almost throws himself off the couch. “Great. Now we’ll have another one like Yuta hanging around all the time.”

“I don’t know,” Mox says. “He’s a bounty hunter or whatever, so he’s only in Ohio for a little. He might not be back in the area for a while.”

“Oh, I see what this is,” Eddie says, grinning, “a clandestine hookup with your boyfriend from Canada?”

“He said he was from Virginia,” Mox retorts.

Eddie laughs. “Sure. Because that’s the word you should be reacting to in that sentence.”

Mox opens his mouth to respond, but his phone buzzes. There’s a little cowboy emoji followed by a blue heart. He smiles. He can’t help it.

“Oh, boy,” Eddie laughs. “You’re down bad for this guy, aren’t you.”

“Shut up,” Mox replies. But he texts Adam back. text me when ur in ohio hangman

The response is almost immediate. Will do 😉.

[heywriters]

If you want to write a dumb little story with a dumb little plot and ridiculously silly characters. No one's stopping you. Genuinely, no one should be allowed to stop you. Write that dumb story with your whole heart and don't hold back.

[redmyeyes]

USA men's gymnastics team (Asher Hong, Paul Juda, Brody Malone, Stephen Nedoroscik, Frederick Richard), celebrating Nedoroscik's pommel horse routine, which clinches them the Bronze.

[you-were-meteowrong]

reblog for bigger sample size

[zephyrchama]

I hope demons have sayings that sound really weird and messed up to humans, just as there are many diverse sayings across varying human languages that don't always translate easily.

---01

Lucifer looked up warily as you entered his office before breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought you were Mammon, here to give me another headache."

You strided over to his desk to take a peek at what he was working on. It looked boring. "We both know you love your little brother. What could be so bad this time?"

Lucifer buried his eyes in his hands, brushing his hair aside with the tail end of a pen. "He's been gnawing on my toenails all week."

You coughed in surprise, smacking your chest to loosen up the muscles so that clarifying questions could be asked. "What? Why? How?"

"Just general Mammon buffoonery as usual. For some reason he's especially persistent this week."

"I have literally never seen Mammon chewing on toenails..." Your lip curled back in disgust just imagining it. "Has he... done this before?"

"What?" Lucifer narrowed his eyes, puzzled. "Oh." His gaze softened once he realized what was happening and he huffed in amusement. "Mammon hasn't actually been gnawing on my toenails. It means he's getting on my nerves, as you might say."

You clasped your hands together and sighed, letting a wave of relief wash over you. "Please. Just say that next time."

----02

"C'mon, c'mon! If ya move any slower I'm gonna exfoliate Diavolo!"

You were running as fast as you could, despite Mammon being the reason for your tardiness. You didn't have much to lose, but Mammon could be in deep trouble for missing another morning class.

You wheezed and almost ran into him, not realizing he kindly came back to carry you. "Wh..." After a few deep breaths, you choked out your question. "You're gonna what? To Diavolo?"

Mammon thrust his bag in your arms in a rush and picked you up instead. He spoke as he began running, "yeah. He's gonna have my neck if I'm late again!"

"I get that, but is Barbatos gonna make you wash him...? Or...?"

"Wha? Are you still half asleep? Is that why you're runnin' so slow?"

You leaned your head back against his upper arm to stare up at him in frustration. He couldn't ignore your pouty face inches from his own. Mammon's ears grew red. "Knock it off!"

"Tell me what you mean!" you ordered.

Mammon growled and ran even faster. "What do you mean? I'm just tryna get us to class!"

---03

You scooted your seat closer to Leviathan. He perked right up and froze as you approached to whisper in his ear.

"Levi, XYZ."

"W-w-what? Is that a code?"

"No, XYZ. PDQ."

He reached for a pen and began noting the letters down. "P... D... Q... Got it. What's next?"

You shook your head. "No, Levi, your barn door is open."

"What game are we talking about? I haven't picked up Moondrop Basin in a few weeks."

You made a zipping-up motion with your hand. "Your fly!"

"Oh." Leviathan ruffled the back of his hair and swatted the air around his head. "Is it gone now? I didn't see any bugs."

Though reluctant to be so blunt, you were out of euphemisms. "Levi, your pants' zipper is open."

With an "eep!" he turned away to fix his problem. It took a few seconds. In his haste, the zipper kept getting stuck. He was mad when he turned back around, his face colored crimson. "Why didn't you just tell me? Without turning it into... into some game!"

"I did! XYZ, PDQ, That's what we say in the human world! Examine your zipper, quick!"

"That's so dumb!" he seethed, punching his knee. "What a spumid flaming cabbage. Your sayings are so weird."

---04

"Ready for the next one?"

"Hit me," you told Satan.

He grimaced from across the desk, raising his eyes from the paper to look at you in concern. "What? No, I'm not going to do that."

"Not literally, it's a human saying. It means 'give it to me,' or something like that."

"Oh." Satan jotted that down in the margins of his own notes before reading off the next phrase on his list. "This is one of my favorites. It's a colorful saying, but if you're really mad at someone you can call them a snot-cobbling banshee. I like to say this while cursing their next three generations."

You wrote that down. "How often do you use this saying?"

"Not too often. Well, maybe once a week with my brothers. It goes along with this next phrase which implies someone is dangerously stupid. Barbed dingbat."

You nodded. You were truly learning so much on this cultural exchange program.

---05

Asmodeus came into the kitchen as you were preparing dinner and wrapped his arms around your neck. He looked exhausted.

"Careful, I've got a knife, don't want to accidentally nick you," you warned. "What's up? Long day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Asmodeus peeped over your shoulder to look at the vegetables you were cutting. "I'm so glad you're home. You know, all day, all I could think about was..."

He proceeded to say some incredibly vulgar things. Detailed depictions of debauchery. Irredeemable acts of indecency that cannot be repeated on this blog. It made you put the knife down in a tizzy.

"Are those more demon idioms?" You snickered awkwardly and wiped your hands on a towel. "I've been learning about your sayings recently. Can't say I've heard those ones yet."

"What? Oh, no." Asmodeus lifted your hand, raising it to his lips to lick a stray fleck of vegetable skin off your fingertip. "These aren't sayings, this is just stuff I've wanted to do all day."

---06

"I could just eat you up."

This was something Beelzebub said often, and something he repeated again today. His hands were occupied with a fresh four-pounder with cheese, but his eyes kept drifting from it to watch you shoot paper balls into a wastebasket.

"You know, humans have the same saying. Isn't that funny?" You bounced up to grab some of the wads on the floor that didn't make it into the basket, to try again.

Beelzebub swallowed the mass in his mouth. "Really?" he asked between bites. "I thought you guys stopped doing cannibalism, mostly."

"Uh." You missed your throw. What should have been an easy shoot bounced off the edge and rolled away from the wastebasket. "Yeah, we did. Just so we're on the same page, you're saying I'm cute, right?"

Beelzebub was concerningly quiet as he chewed.

---07

"Are you on your way back to class?" Belphegor stopped you in the hall. You hadn't even seen him there on the ground, curled up next to a shady pillar.

"Skipping class again?" you asked. "I thought you liked magic theory."

"Maybe," he yawned. "It's too easy sometimes."

Belphegor fished around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a tightly folded-up sheet of paper. He offered it up. "Can you turn this in for me? I don't want my grades dropping over late homework."

"Sure thing, but it might be better to turn it in yourself. I heard Barbatos is doing random checks in all classes this week. He'll notice you missing."

"Nah." Belphegor's head drooped down as he prepared to doze off again. "If you see him, just tell him I'm being flerchen in the garden."

That sounded innocent enough. "Okay. What does that mean?"

"Means I've got the sniffles," he lied.

---08

Barbatos' eyes grew big and he placed a hand over his heart, furthering crumpling Belphegor's homework sheet in the process. He looked around to make sure nobody overheard before leaning in. "I must ask that you never say that again."

Behind him, Diavolo's palm was clasped over his mouth as he struggled not to draw attention with loud guffaws. He had his back to the classroom, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

"Why not?" You nervously shifted from one foot to another. You'd been had.

"It's not a topic I can explain here. Perhaps you and the Young Master should excuse yourselves for now. I'll come collect you both later."

Barbatos readily escorted you and Diavolo out of the room, shutting the door behind you so that class could begin without interruption.

"I'm just the messenger," you tried to defend yourself. Diavolo's fit of giggles was renewed. He grabbed on to your shoulder for stability while doubled over, trying to ride out the laughter.

"Did... did Belphegor tell you to say that?" He wiped a tear running down his face. You furiously nodded.

"Haha! Do you remember where he's hiding? I'd sure like to have a word with him."

You couldn't tell if Diavolo was going to praise Belphegor or tear him a new one. Perhaps a mix of both. However, the curiosity over what you said was overwhelming. You wanted to know the full extent of what it meant before seeing Belphegor again.

You decided to bargain with the prince. "I'll show you, but first you have to tell me what that means."

[choccy-milky]

the twins and their jelly genes 💕💢 ((from the newest chap of my fic! ao3/wattpad))

[plistommy]

Steve takes Eddie’s virginity by riding the older boy after a long session of smoking and drinking inside the metalheads cramped van.

He’d praise Eddie on how good he’s making him feel, how big his dick is and how he’s so pretty under him that it makes Eddie moan loudly, strong hands roaming and squeezing the fat of Steve’s ass as he begs to fuck Steve harder.

”I need to fuck you, Steve- please, sweetheart-”

Steve would kiss him, sloppy and wet as he whines into Eddie’s mouth when the dick inside him hits just right.

When he pulls back, breathless, he picks up the pace and finally lets Eddie buck up to meet his thrusts.

Eddie would just look up at Steve, brown eyes wide and realize he’s so in love with the gorgeous boy on top of him and he never wants to let go. Never.

[magpie-trinkets]

continuing that "maya tries to contact claire" post, i present you the post-Spirit of Justice follow-up

[galaghiel]

two monsters

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat. logan howlett & wade wilson contains. 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n. a/n. this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[qweenofurheart]

a couple of people told me the comic i made reminded them of A Meditation on Railroading by eggmacmuffin, so i had to draw a scene from it

[starrystevie]

steve's desperate, okay?

he's officially running late for his first date with linda because he couldn't find his car keys and the shirt he wanted to wear just wasn't working so he had to grab something out of his hamper and throw it on blindly which then messed up his hair and he almost forgot to brush his teeth again but remembered as he opened the front door and-

he only realizes he forgot to put on cologne once he makes it halfway to her house and smells himself. the shirt from the hamper smells stale, not bad, just stale. and steve in his normal, non-rushed state wouldn't have noticed because his trusty calvin klein would have covered it up but today is apparently not a day for things to go right.

with a sigh of frustration, steve pulls into the hook's drugstore a little too quickly and it makes his stomach lurch the tiniest bit before sliding into an open parking sport at the front door. he rushes in, pushing the door open with too much force and books it to the fragrance aisle.

"this is so fucking stupid," he mutters to himself, unable to be heard by any surrounding shoppers over the annoyingly loud jingle playing through the speakers.

steve skids to halt in front of the cologne section, crouching down and scanning quickly over the tester bottles for obsession. once he spots the amber bottle, he yanks it towards himself, spraying as much as he can onto his chest given the awkward angle he's at. as he stands back up, steve pulls his shirt collar up towards his nose and the ball of nerves in his stomach loosens at the familiar smell. he may be late but he feels like he's back in the game.

checking his watch, he sees just how late he is and makes a beeline for the door, nearly running into an older lady with far too many rolls of toilet paper in her tiny arms. as he dodges around her and extends his arm to push open the door, he hears a loud voice over the intercom.

"you're not going to buy anything after stealing cologne?"

steve stops, freezes where he is and frantically turns his head around to spot the cashier grinning at him. he has long hair and a bright red hook's drugstore vest over a denim vest which doesn't look very comfortable. he has chains in his jeans and handcuffs holding his belt closed and a smirk that is trying to kill him and oh-

"wait, stealing cologne?" steve shakes himself back into existence as the old lady pushes by him without dropping a single roll on the way back to her car. "you're going to call me putting on a few sprays stealing?"

the cashier's smile just gets bigger, like a cat hunting down a canary. steve's never felt like a canary before but can't deny that it's an exciting feeling.

"well, on a good day i wouldn't. but i'm bored and you didn't buy a single thing so technically, yes. you're stealing, pretty boy."

steve fights the urge to roll his eyes and put his hands on his hips, so instead he crosses them over his chest, cologne wafting up from the movement and reminding him that he doesn't have time for this no matter how cute the cashier may be.

he makes his way over to the counter, grabs a pack of gum and slams it on the counter. without breaking eye contact with eddie, as his nametag suggests, he throws him a salty smile of his own and pulls his wallet out from his back pocket.

eddie's eyes are a deep brown with a glimmer of something behind them and his hands are covered in rings making his fingers look long and strong. the jeans he has on are ripped on one of the the thighs, showing a hint of a tattoo to match the ones crawling up his arms. steve's no stranger to thinking men are attractive but this guy? he's on a new level. his heart thumps painfully in his chest when eddie's grin grows larger as he watches steve give him a once over. it thumps even harder when eddie gives him a once over of his own.

the clock above the register shows that he's officially 20 minutes late to picking up... laura? lisa?

no, linda. damnit.

eddie looks down at the gum and then back up at steve, quirking up an eyebrow. "i hardly think this monetarily equates to a bottle of cologne but-"

"oh come on!" steve huffs. eddie laughs and it's clear and bright, ringing off the cinderblock walls louder than the annoying jingle that's still playing. whatever fight steve may have had left in him drains away at the sound and suddenly he isn't thinking about the clock anymore. he feels his shoulders fall down to a more relaxed state, feels himself shift his weight on his feet to look more natural than ready to run at a moments notice.

"just kidding, man." eddie rings up the gum quickly and hands it back to steve. "sorry, you looked like you were in a rush. i shouldn't have created a scene just because i'm bored."

steve chuckles. "i'm already supremely late for my date so what's another five minutes. especially if it gets me..." he looks at the gum packet to look at what he even picked up in the first place. "... spearmint freshen-up gum."

"well there you go," eddie says, grin smaller than before, "a perfect thing to get for a date. everyone likes their date to be minty fresh for that first kiss."

it strikes somewhere in steve that he isn't expecting. the beemer is still out in the parking lot running so he didn't have to waste time, his watch on his wrist feels heavy, the scent of obsession overpowering. but he can't make himself move. he wants to stay and talk to eddie, wants to learn about what makes him tick.

"can i borrow your phone?" steve asks. eddie's eyebrows furrow but he reaches for the store phone and places the console on top of the counter.

"for what?"

steve look through his wallet, finding the piece of paper with linda's number on it. holding the receiver between his shoulder and ear, he dials in her number and holds his pointer finger up at eddie, signaling that he'll need a second. steve then brings the finger to his lips and shushes with his cheek pulling up in a smirk. eddie's eyes zero in on the motion and it feels like steve's gone from being the canary back to the cat.

"linda? hey it's steve."

he watches as eddie mouths steve back at him and then nods to himself when he gets the confirmation that it is indeed his name. steve throws him a wink for good measure.

"i know i'm late and i'm really really sorry to cancel last minute but-. oh. yeah, sure. have a good time. okay bye li-."

on the other end of the line, linda slams down the phone without waiting for steve to finish talking and it makes him wince with how loud it is in his ear. he gives eddie a sheepish smile, all toothy and guilt-ridden, and gently puts the receiver back down.

"what was that?" eddie asks with a disbelieving look on his face. steve shrugs.

"she got tired of waiting so she already had another guy lined up to come pick her up."

eddie sucks in air through his teeth and mimes getting shot in the heart. it has steve laughing as he falls over on the counter, hair covering his face. he turns his head to peer up at steve through the curtain of curls, the one brown eye that's visible twinkling in the harsh overhead light.

"was it true love? are you just absolutely heartbroken?"

steve thinks about it for less than a second. watches how eddie curls back up one vertebrae at a time before placing his elbows on the counter and leaning over. watches how eddie's eyes flit between his own and his lips. watches how he focuses on the latter for a little while too long.

"why would i be heartbroken," steve starts. he's being too forward, too brash, but with eddie looking at him that way, he knows he can be. "when you'll probably be on break soon and can make it up to me? you know, for making me even more late and all."

eddie's grin grows wide again. "oh really?"

steve shrugs once more with a playful look of consideration on his face, resting on his elbows to match eddie on the counter. "yes, really. this is your payback for being bored and taking it out on me."

it's later when eddie's on break and steve hasn't left the drugstore in over an hour and they're sitting in his car with bowie playing through the speakers that eddie looks up at him with a look steve knows well.

"you do smell really good, y'know." his voice is softer than steve's heard it all day.

"so are you glad i came in to steal cologne?" steve leans closer over the center console to get into eddie's personal space. there's a hand curling over his bicep and pulling him even closer, their faces only centimeters apart.

"i guess i'll let it slide this time, thief."

and when they kiss for the first time, it tastes like the freshen-up gum they both had been nonstop chewing ever since steve paid for it.

[dukeofthomas]

Here's my controversial opinion; if you're trying to write Bruce as a non-abusive, good parent, you should also write him respecting his kids' privacy, boundaries, and not stalking&surveying them.

[atlabeth]

bleedin' me dry | luke castellan

runaway with luke ending here!!

summary: luke has a proposal. it doesn't go over well.

a/n: so um. obviously im a huge percy jackson stan ive got annabeth in my name and ive literally wanted to be her since i read the books in second grade and by virtue of being an annabeth stan i hate luke but i also think he is so interesting and so good for angst and i also love the pjo resurgence we’ve got going on here from the show!! so here you go. here's some angst

title from vampire by olivia rodrigo

wc: 2.8k

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. luke is his own warning lmao. pushy and manipulative behavior, not the healthiest relationship! and no happy ending

“You know I love the forest,” you mused, “but you have to have a reason for bringing me out here.”

He gave you a wry smile as he squeezed your hand. “Do I have to have a reason? You said you love it—that’s gotta be reason enough.”

“I love it, but there are monsters here.” You twisted your free hand and flowers sprouted up a few feet away. “It does give me a chance to show off, though.”

You were in your cabin helping Katie clean up everything—it was the last day of summer and most of the Demeter kids had already left—when Luke knocked on the door and asked you to accompany him on “a little adventure”. Despite the teasing of your siblings, you bashfully accepted.

It wasn’t the smartest thing, admittedly, to find yourself in the forest with your boyfriend with a couple hours ‘til curfew when you still weren’t even sure if you were leaving or not, but you had your dagger. Luke didn’t have his sword, but you had been practicing.

It wasn’t like it really mattered, anyways—he probably just wanted to make out with you. It was far from the first time, and for all he knew you were leaving for the school year in a few hours.

He chuckled but didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, a slight frown creasing your brows, and nudged him with your shoulder.

“Is everything okay, Luke?” you asked. “You’ve been… oddly quiet.”

Again, it took him a moment to respond before he just shrugged. “I’ve been thinking, I guess.”

“About what?”

“Life,” he said. “Our lives.”

“Very philosophical for the hour,” you said dryly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving?”

“I’m still deciding whether I want to go back home for school or not, but—”

“Not after the summer,” Luke interrupted. “Leaving camp. For good.”

You frowned, a chill running down your spine. “Of course not. Camp Halfblood saved my life, Luke. I could never leave.”

“Says who?” Luke stopped and your intertwined hands pulled you back, stopping you as well.

“Says all the monsters that tried to kill me last time I went home,” you said slowly. “Don’t tell me you forgot the dracaena that nearly got me on that field trip.”

“‘Course I didn’t forget,” he said, inclining his head. “I just think you’re good enough now to make it without this place.”

“Luke,” you said with a strained laugh, “you— you can’t be serious.”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because if we leave, we’ll die,” you said slowly. “I barely made it on my own out there.”

“You’re more powerful now. And you won’t be on your own,” he said, tugging you closer. Despite it all, warmth bloomed in your chest. “I can protect you.”

“Luke…” You trailed off as he cupped your cheek with his other hand, bringing your gaze back to his.

“What’s the point of staying here?” Luke murmured, an unmistakable softness in his eyes. “Just so we can sit around at summer camp for the rest of our lives? I mean, it’s not like that’s gonna be much longer, the way Chiron tells it.”

“I ha— we have friends here,” you said, huffing another laugh as you took a step back from him. It was easier to think when he wasn’t touching you, when you were still able to sever the string connecting the two of you. “We have a life here. A safe life, Luke, where we don’t have to look over our shoulders constantly.”

“Not me.” Luke shook his head as he moved a step forward in tandem, and he took your hand again, his grip tighter this time. “You’re the only thing I’ve got keeping me here.”

“Please,” you said in disbelief. “You’ve got a whole cabin of siblings that adore you. You’re the best swordfighter here. I’m pretty sure even Mr. D has a soft spot for you.”

“Please,” he mocked, “you can’t seriously believe that.”

You shrugged. “All I know is that when you finally asked me out, I gained a whole lot of enemies.”

“Like that means anything,” Luke said.

“The kids love you too!” you exclaimed. “Their eyes light up with stars whenever you help them with their sparring. You’re a beacon of light to this place— where is all of this coming from?”

“I’m tired,” Luke said roughly. “Tired of the gods ignoring us when all they’ve caused is pain.”

You frowned, but he continued on.

“You’re telling me you haven’t noticed it?” he asked. “When’s the last time you ever saw my dad give me any kind of attention besides some fun-colored smoke? He ruined my mother’s life— he ruined my life! And our cabin is damn near overflowing with unclaimed kids. Where are their parents?

“Luke—”

He shook his head as he forged on. “And you can’t say that Demeter is any good either. I bet she makes your cereal tastes real good in the morning, but she’s abandoned you for your whole life.”

“Luke, where is this coming from?” you asked, your frown deepening further and further as you let go of his hand and took a step back. “You— you know I’m not a fan of them, but you can’t just go around saying things like this. The last thing I need is for my mother to— to smite me, or strangle me with vines or something because I’m not appreciating her enough.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “That would be the most attention she’s paid to you since she claimed you.”

“She’s a goddess,” you said. “She’s got more important things to do than send me emails asking how my day is going.”

“Really?” Luke asked, his eyebrows rising.

“Yes, really,” you enunciated. “I expect it. I consider myself lucky she claimed me at all.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” he marveled as he said your name. “Your mother has never been there for you, and you think you’re lucky?”

“Luke—” you started, but you couldn’t even finish as he continued on.

“Demeter wasn’t there for the year you spent feeling like the scum of the Earth because you hadn’t been claimed yet. Demeter wasn’t there for the childhood she gifted to you then abandoned you for.” He pushed forward still. “Demeter wasn’t there for all those sleepless nights you spent in the Hermes cabin wondering if you were ever going to know who got you into this mess.”

“Luke, stop,” you finally managed to get out, moving back in turn.

“You know who was?” He continued to forge on, capturing your wrist when you tried to take another step back, eliciting a shaky exhale as you flinched. “Me.”

You ripped your arm away from him, fire in your eyes and blazing in your blood. “Don’t ever touch me like that again.”

“I’ve been here for you since the moment you stepped foot into Cabin Eleven!” Luke’s voice rose, and you’d never been more aware of the dagger hanging off your belt. “Through every tear, every tirade, every godsdamned rant about the gods—”

You stumbled back, and your heart stuttered in your chest as your back hit a tree. Your jaw was clenched, attempting to stop your tremors trying to wrack your body.

“And you’re telling me,” his voice suddenly lowered until it was scarily soft, little more than a whisper as he leaned over you, noses nearly touching, “that you would still choose them over me?”

“If you do not get away from me right now,” you said, quiet and even, “what we have, and anything we could have, will be over.”

Luke didn’t move. “Answer me.”

For a moment, it was just that—you and Luke staring at each other. His chest rising and falling just so from the effort of yelling, his beautiful eyes devoid of any previous softness. You thought your teeth might crack with the pressure in your jaw.

“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t choose them over you.”

And for an even shorter moment, his eyes do soften.

“But I won’t leave my family,” you whispered. “Not for whatever cause you think you’re fighting for.”

And just like that, the armor went up again.

“So that’s the way this ends,” Luke said evenly, and when he moved a few steps back, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“You know who I am,” you argued, though you couldn’t make yourself move. “My siblings are my family— my friends are my family. I’d never leave them.”

“Oh, I should have expected it,” he said offhandedly. His laughter was a cruel thing. “I always knew you were a coward.”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me,” you spat. “Why do you even want to leave in the first place?”

“Because I’m sick and tired of all the bullshit that goes on here!” Luke yelled. “We’ve been here for years, and what the hell do we have to show for it? A couple scars? A lot of near death experiences? Some deadbeat parents that ruined our damned lives?”

“I have a family that I never could’ve dreamed of!” you exclaimed. “I have sisters and brothers that love me, friends that understand me, and—”

Your voice broke for a moment and you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing the tears back. Some of the fire burning through your veins had been extinguished as you continued.

“And I thought I had a boyfriend that was there for me.”

It was there again—his eyes softening ever so slightly when he looked at you. But then he clenched his jaw. “And I thought I had a girlfriend that was there for me.”

“I won’t leave,” you enunciated. “I’m not going to help you with whatever crusade you think you’re meant to lead against the gods!”

“You don’t understand,” he insisted.

“You don’t understand!” you exclaimed. “You’re ready to leave all of this behind, and for what?”

“I don’t want to leave it all behind,” he said. “I want you by my side. We could be something truly great together— can’t you see?”

Luke took your hand again and pulled you away from the tree, gesturing with his hand around you. “You can control all of this. The whole world is your domain—we’d be untouchable.”

“Luke, you sound crazy,” you said roughly. “Where is all of this coming from, seriously?”

“I just know that we can live a better life,” he said. “Together, without the gods.”

“Witho—” You couldn’t even manage to finish the word, shaking your head at the pure absurdity of it. You hardly recognized your boyfriend purely because of the insanity he was spouting. “Luke, we don’t need to leave! We don’t need to stand against the gods, or— or whatever this is!”

This time, you took his hand as you tried to smile. “We can make this work, Luke, and we can make it work here,” you begged. “I promise.”

“Things need to change,” he said, voice steely, pulling his hand away. “And they’re clearly not going to change here.”

“Yes, they can,” you insisted, your hands clenching into fists at your side. “I want things to change too, believe me! But going off on your own isn’t going to do anything for it. We can start it here—together.”

His eyes were colder than ever as he looked down on you, and you truly didn’t recognize him. The glint in his eye and edges you would cut yourself on and the insanity he was spouting for no damn reason. You didn’t know what in Hades’ name had gotten into him.

“All we do is sit around and wait for that hag in the attic to spout prophecies, and then Chiron sends some kids off to die, and then we sit around and wait to do it again,” Luke said. “The gods keep making kids and the kids keep dying because they leave them in the world alone— we’re practically grandparents here because we’re lucky to make it past sixteen! The gods don’t do a damn thing about it, and neither does Chiron.”

He shook his head as he stared right into your eyes. “You’re not as smart as I thought if you think you can change anything here.”

“So— so what?” you asked brazenly. “You’re just gonna leave?”

Luke shrugged. “I was always gonna leave. It just depended whether you were with me or not.”

He turned around and started walking, and for a moment you were fully dumbstruck, unable to move. Then something snapped inside of you, and you moved your hands straight up through the air. Vines sprouted from the ground and tangled around Luke’s legs, stopping him and nearly causing him to fall.

“You don’t just get to walk away from me after spouting this bullshit,” you fumed as you ran to catch up with him. “What in Demeter’s name has gotten into you, Luke? Gods— this isn’t you!”

“See?” Luke smiled, ignoring your question. “You are powerful.”

“Answer me,” you seethed.

He shrugged, that small smile still on his lips. “It’s always been me. Maybe you’ve just been too stupid to realize.”

“Where are you going to go?” you asked, ignoring his jab. “Not home, clearly.”

It was a deep cut, something you never would have said under normal circumstances, but his expression didn’t change.

“I’ve got plans,” he said, ignoring your jab, and he huffed a laugh. “And I guess they don’t involve you anymore.”

All you could do was stand there, stunned as you stared at him. It was cliche, but it really wasn’t him, because you loved Luke and he loved you.

He’d always been a bit spitfire, always a little sharp around the edges, but you loved that about him—and he softened those edges for you. He was strong-willed and caring and passionate about everything, and you didn’t want to lose him. Not like this.

You knew what he’d been through. You knew what happened to his mother, what happened to Thalia, everyone he’d lost and every reason for every scar. But you never thought—

Gods. You never thought he’d actually do… this.

“Let me go, will ya?” Luke asked, tilting his head. “Or else what we have will be over— or whatever it was you said back there.”

The vines receded against your will, like his words just connected to your subconscious. You stayed rooted in place as he continued walking away.

But then he stopped. Turned around, looked right at you.

And for a moment you were fourteen again, feeling alone and forgotten going into your third month in the Hermes cabin. Grumbling your way through sword practice because the excited camp counselor who just happened to be your age refused to let you sulk for another day.

It was days after your fifteenth birthday, and the golden sickle with sheaths of wheat had finally appeared over your head at lunch. Luke had lunged at you, wrapping you in the tightest hug possible, and looked at you with all the stars in your eyes as he congratulated you. He helped you move your meager belongings into the Demeter cabin the very next day.

It was the first time you decided to go home since arriving at camp, and Luke was sidled outside your door, making wry comments every so often as he kept you company while you packed.

It was him kissing you right before you went over the hill because he said he couldn’t keep his feelings in any longer. It was you kissing him right back wondering why he waited so damn long.

It was three years of the best thing you’d ever experienced, of the most steadfast companion you could’ve had by your side—three years of Luke Castellan’s love.

Then you blinked, and you were back in the woods. Luke’s expression had softened, but the brimming tears in your eyes blurred your vision.

“I really did love you, y’know,” Luke finally murmured. “But you should know that love isn’t ever enough.”

He was out of your view before you could even muster the strength to move again, and then you were running through the forest faster than ever before.

But when you reached Cabin Eleven, there was no sign of him. And when you checked the pavilion and the forge and the amphitheater and the training arena and every other godsdamned place, you were just as disappointed.

But by the time you got to Chiron and found out the chaos that had spouted in his wake, that he had wanted you to be a part of, it was much, much too late.

Percy Jackson was fighting for his life. Camp had been left in complete disarray. Luke was working for Kronos.

And the man you loved was truly gone.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Bruce has a 'if you can't beat them, join them' mentality about the tabloids claiming he adopts too many kids- Developing foster homes that are paid for through the Wayne inheritance, personally vetted by the Bats, they're the leaders in the space for child health outcomes and family placement. Insert Danny.

---

Bruce has too much wealth, too many rumors and not enough reach into the abhorrent foster homes around Gotham to improve them. Tim ends up being the one to suggest it- He's the one who buys up their real estate for their safe houses after all- and Bruce is more than ready to pull the metaphorical trigger to get new clean welcoming spaces, Bat-background checked fosters and a new era of adoption in Gotham underway.

He's lobbied the state and the federal government for reforms of course, but this is a project he can micromanage. He spends time with every kid that comes through, talks with all the families that want to adopt and makes sure that these miniature homes are provided only the very best. Alfred personally hires all the staff, and with Barbara more than happy to help relocate the unhoused children she spots while they patrol, the project is a glowing success.

Occasionally, spots in their houses fill up, and those are the weeks were Cass takes on the Cowl of Batman- Bruce Wayne will personally invite a child in need to his home. He always has one of his kids present (they rotate on a pre-determined schedule) and he does his best to try and get them to understand that they deserve the world, have all the potential that anyone else has and can achieve a bright future. That he will personally aid them in their ambitions.

PR goes crazy for it of course, but Bruce and all of his children know its genuine. Almost too genuine, because a betting pool 'WILL THEY BE ADOPTED' regularly circulates between the siblings and the entire JL when someone spends time at the manor. And not just the black-haired, Blue-eyed kids get picked as favored outcomes- but obviously the running joke gets passed around.

It's a Thursday night when Bruce gets the call that the houses have once again filled up, and that there is a child in need of a home. The social worker (he knows her as Marsha and he has flowers planned to be sent on her birthday next week, like he does for all of his employees) (Say micromanaged one more time) explains that the kid is a bit cagey but has opened up with some humor. She explains that he has a few strange... mannerisms. She's not sure what to make of him, a non-gothamite for sure but something is, well, distinctly 'not from around here' about his energy.

Danny arrives at the house, meets Duke and Alfred, and by the time Bruce meets him at the dinner table it seems as though Marsha had it all wrong. This kid was laughing, he was teasing, he was totally playing along like he'd gone through nothing. Bruce is glad he's in high spirits but its just so... so different from all the other children he's taken in.

Bruce re-focuses on the conversation when Duke mentions something flashing, and its the first time that Danny goes quiet. Entirely still.

"...you noticed that?" Danny quietly asks, a bit of disbelief in his tone.

"You don't have a flashlight on or something do you? It was super bright whatever it is that you had in your hand a second ago?" Duke tries to sound chill but he's looking very much not chill. Bruce saw nothing, and that puts him further on edge.

"Look... I uh, I've been though... I've been through a lot lately. And the last lab I was in kind of, messed with me. I'm normally much better at dealing with it all, I promise." Danny sounds nervous, and the room seems to chill.

"Ah shoot, sorry." Danny notices something and frantically apologizes.

"Sorry for what Danny? You've done nothing wrong but I am worried about you- You said you were in a lab?" Bruce is desperately trying to calm him down while not slipping into Batman interrogation mode.

"Uh, yeah, like a lot of labs. It should get warmer in a second, its just cause I startled, I promise."

"You're a meta." Duke speaks softly and with hope in his voice- Danny is looking between them with wide eyes filled with fear.

"I mean I don't technically have the gene-"

"Danny, have you told any of your case workers where you were? Do any authorities know what you've been through?" Bruce needs to know, desperately, that who ever gave this young boy super powers is brought to justice. Danny goes quiet.

"I'm really sorry." He says softly, but he doesn't leave them.

Duke and Bruce try to ask a few more questions but the silence that meets them declares the conversation over, even with Duke admitting he himself is a meta. Danny didn't even look up from his plate. They watch a movie after dinner, and Danny seems to get back to the smile-y happy guy he had been before dinner.

Each of the bat-fam have their own interactions with Danny- And even if they're getting along amazingly, Danny won't open up. He doesn't open up to his provided therapist. Doesn't talk to Alfred. No one knows what's up.

So when Marsha calls Bruce back explaining they now have a spot for Danny and he can move out of the Manor... Bruce replies that he'd like to get started on Adoption paperwork, so long as Danny is fine with it.

---

Turns out, Danny is fine with it. he's both the newest Wayne and their newest case. (And godamnit, his new family is going to avenge him. If only he'd let them try.)

Danny figures out that Duke= Signal early on because of that dinner, and if he's going to keep his parents out of jail, he needs to be as close to the investigation as possible. He knows that he shouldn't protect the Fentons, but he feels the upset in his core at the thought of letting them befall any harm. He has to protect them. Has to protect Jazz and her hiding spot as a mole within their lab. Has to.

Even if it meant lying to his new family who loves him, and who he loves in equal return. Even if it means lying to The Bats.

---

Tabloids go crazy about the black-haired blue-eyed thing of course, but no poll was ever taken by the batfam or the JL who know the whole story.

[iindigoeyed]

saw this dress and purse and i KNEW i had to draw this, it's so her!!