#he'd just be that weird dude that picks up trash

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Eddie's Too Late ... ?

It's about pining Eddie!! And he wants so badly to ask out Steve. Robin even might have given him an encouraging little talk about it. And he finally works up the courage to do so, and comes to family video, and he brings fucking flowers with him cuz he's a goddamn sap.

But he walks in , already smiling at Steve like always, but he's talking to some guy at the counter. Some punk lookin dude. And Eddie freezes in the door, hears the guy flirting and hears Steve laugh, flustered. And then the guy literally asks him out, and writes his number on Steve's hand when he shrugs and nods, and goes bright red.

And Eddie just, god he wants to cry. So he turns, walks back out and leaves, his chest fucking aching. Cuz he was a fucking idiot who waited too goddamn long.

And Steve hears the door clink shut, sees Eddie's back as he's leaving, sees him toss something in the trash outside. And he waits for punk guy, Jake, to leave. He's a regular. He's nice. If a little pushy for Steve's liking.

He told Steve he'd pick him up on friday. Didn't ask. And Steve had been so flustered when the guy grabbed his hand he just sort of... agreed.... maybe hoping he would leave faster.

So he waits for him to leave and then runs outside, digs in the trash and finds the flowers. And they're all yellow flowers, sunflowers mixed with daisies, and Steve even sees a couple dandelions stuck in, his eyes crinkling in a smile cuz he and Eddie had gotten into a huge fight with Robin and Nancy about whether they were weeds or flowers,  Eddie and Steve on the side of flowers, of course.

And his heart flutters cuz Eddie had told him about a month ago, when he handed him this weird little yellow figurine, and Steve had asked why he was always giving him yellow stuff. Eddie had shrugged and said,

"it just reminds me of you I guess." Steve had immediately reconsidered his favorite color choice.

But Steve's heart drops because... Eddie had thrown this away... in the trash... right after he'd seen Steve with Jake. Steve feels like he's gonna puke, but he takes the flowers inside, sits them in the breakroom until its time for him to leave.

He calls Jake right before close. Wanted to wait til he was hopefully at home. Tells him he can't go out with him. Not friday. Or any other day. That he has someone.. hopefully. Jake sounds disappointed but doesn't push, thankfully. Steve grabs the flowers on his way out and drives to Eddie's.

He stops by Melvald's on the way, asks Joyce for help. They have some flowers, but nothing that says "Eddie." Joyce grabs a simple red rose and then a box of chocolate covered cherries. Steve's brow furrows and she just smiles at him and says,

"I've seen that boy buy six boxes of these at once. His sweet tooth is... a little bit alarming... actually. But it'll get the job done." She winks at him and Steve's never felt more greatful that Joyce pays attention to people, and works at the store, and is nosy like he is. He hugs her, grabs the rose and the chocolates, and runs to his car.

Eddie isn't home when he gets there. His van is there. But he's not at the trailer and Steve feels like he's gonna cry, his chest tight as Wayne tells him he left a few hours ago. Steve nods, his brow furrowing and he's about to leave when Wayne's hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Ya know the creek over off McAlpine street?" He asks, Steve nods, confused.

"He was headed that way. Likes to go there to be alone." Wayne gives him this soft encouraging smile, pats him on the back, and watches as Steve runs to his car.

He parks on the side of the road, as close to the creek as he can get. And then he runs.

He finds the creek but no Eddie at first, so he starts walking along the creekside, he rounds a bend and finally sees him.

He's crouched on the creek side, toes of his shoes just barley out of reach of the water. He's holding a stick, Steve squints and sees a small turtle walking across it, toward a big rock in the middle of the water. Eddie's crying. Silently. Tears slowly falling.

He wipes at his face every now and then with his free hand, eyes on the turtle. He smiles softly when the little thing reaches the rock. Steve smiles too. His heart thumping as he watches Eddie help this tiny creature. He takes a few more steps and then clears his throat when Eddie doesn't hear him. Eddie scrambles to his feet, startled, holding the stick out in front of him like a weapon, wiping at his face with the crook of his elbow.

"What are you doing here?" And it makes Steve shiver, so reminiscent of the boat house, when they'd found him terrified. Steve would have held his hands up in surrender, but they were a little full. Eddie’s yellow bundle of flowers on one, the rose and candy in the other.

"I found your flowers." He says, holding them up a bit and then letting them swing back by his side. Eddie doesn't say anything. Just looks away. Moves back to the edge of the creek, crouches back down, hugs his knees to his chest. Steve sighs, moves closer.

"I'm not going out with Jake." Steve says, because he needs Eddie to know. Needs him to stop hurting as soon as possible. Eddie sniffles, doesn't look at him.

"Jake." Is all he says. And Steve laughs at how he says it, he sounds so annoyed. Steve bumps his shoulder, Eddie scowls, bumps him back, harder.

"But you wanted too. You said yes." Eddie picks up another stick, pokes it into the mud.

"I only said yes cuz it took me by suprise, and he grabbed my hand and I got flustered. I didn't- he's not really my type." Steve says, leaning against Eddie as he sits, the ground is cold, and he can feel the damp soaking into his jeans a bit. Eddie glances at him. And s

Steve can see his guard coming down, just a bit.

"Oh yeah. Why not?" Eddie asks, and steve smiles. Crinkles his nose.

"Me? Dating a punk? Come on. Not a chance." Steve teases, bites his lip.

"Especially since there's this metal head that's kinda got me in a choke hold." Steve sighs, looks at Eddie. He finally turns to look at Steve, blinking slowly.

"Really?" Eddie asks, his fingers tugging at the hole in the knee of his jeans. Steve nods.

"Really. Can't seem to get him outta my head." Steve smiles, holds the rose and candy out to Eddie, Eddie just stares again. Steve wiggles the box of chocolates.

"C'mon. I know you like 'em. Joyce gave you up." Steve wiggles the box more aggressively and Eddie snatches it, then gently takes the rose, he sets the chocolates in his lap, whispering a quiet "traitor" that makes Steve smile.

"Thank you for the flowers. I love... them." Steve stumbles over that bit. Swallowing hard when Eddie’s eyes snap to him.

"You're welcome." Eddie shurgs.

"Just thought you might like some flowers. You seem like a flowers type of guy." Steve smiles, rests his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"The dandelions are my favorite." He whispers, moves and presses a kiss to Eddie's shoulder, and hears Eddie's breathing falter.

"I um... I love... my flower, too..... so thanks." He stumbles over the words the way Steve did, but on purpose, leaning away from Steve so he can look at him, a sly little smile on his face. But Steve's face is somber, his hands twitch in his lap.

"It's- I mean you don't have to sa-"

"I love you." Eddie cuts him off. Says it bluntly. And it makes Steve's chest hurt. He shakes his head, brow furrowed.

"I do though. I have for awhile. I'm just an idiot with terrible timing." Eddie bumps their shoulders, leans heavily into Steve. Steve takes a deep, shaky breath.

"I don't want you to say it just because you think I want to hear it." Steve says, his teeth worrying into his lip.

"That's not why I said it."

Steve looks at him.

"No? You didn't say it to me cuz I just like... really obviously almost said it to you?" He looks back into his lap, frowning.

"No. Although that was adorable." Eddie smiles, it makes Steve want to smile too.

"Hey." Eddie voice is soft, he reaches out, cups Steve's cheek and makes him look at him.

"Have you ever known me to say something just cuz it's something someone wants to hear?" He asks, Steve scoffs, shakes his head, looking shy.

"Okay then. I didn't say it because of that. I said it," he takes a deep breath, lets it out, drops his hands back into his lap.

"Because I saw you with that guy today-"

"Jake." Steve interrupts, smirk on his lips. Eddie pauses.

"Don't push it Harrington. I'm trying to be... serious... or something." His brow furrows, Steve reaches out, his face softening.

"Sorry. Go ahead."

Eddie huffs.

"I saw you with Jake, and it hurt. Like a lot. And I thought I lost you, ya know? Just cuz I was too fuckin scared to tell you how I feel. Cuz I love you. Cuz your GOOD. and I thought I lost it. And then you walked up looking all sad and apologetic and you didn't even DO anything." Eddie huffs again, his hands flailing.

"I hurt you." Steve mutters, Eddie makes a sound in his throat.

"Not on purpose! You didn't know! Cuz I didn't say! Jesus. All I do is talk, all of the fucking time, but I couldn't say the most important thing. And then Jake was writing his fucking number on your hand it was too late." Eddie shakes head, sighs deeply, and then turns to Steve with a smile that looks like it's half a grimace of pain. Steve nods.

"But here I am."

Eddie bites his lip, nods back.

"Here you are." Eddie says.

"Not with Jake." Steve says. Eddie rolls his eyes. Steve snorts.

"Can we never say that name again. I already hate it." Eddie grumbles.

"Fine with me. He is a regular though." Steve says, shrugs, pulls some grass out of the ground and drops it on Eddie's thigh. Eddie watches him move it around with his finger, pushing it into a pile on his leg.

"I'll burn his house down." Eddie whispers, still watching Steve. Steve barks a laugh and brushes the grass off Eddie's leg.

"Very dramatic." He says, fondly.

"Too strong? I could just steal his VCR. Don't need to rent movies if you don't have a VCR." Eddie says, his fingers moving to settling on Steve's wrist. Steve chuckles again, shakes his head, then stares at Eddie.

"I honestly can't tell if you're joking, so please don't steal anything from him." Steve moves his hand, turns it and slides it up into Eddie's, their fingers wrapping around each other, Eddie makes a weird little face, holds their hands up into Steve sightline, and then he's smiling.

"Looks like I already did." He shrugs, and Steve is about to laugh again, or roll his eyes, when Eddie presses a kiss to the back of his hand. It sort of takes Steve's breath away.

"I said I love you because that's how I feel. Okay? You believe me?" Eddie asks, his brow furrowed as he stares at Steve. And Steve remembers telling him about what happened with Nancy,  remembers how Eddie had hugged him. Wonders if he loved him them. Or before that? Or after.  But it doesn't really matter, because he loves him now. And Steve watches Eddie's thumb move soothingly over his hand, and knows Eddie means it. Feels that he does. So he nods, drags Eddie's own hand to his lips and kisses it, like Eddie had done.

"I love you too." Steve whispers into his skin. Eddie's free hand is at his chin then, tilting his head just so,

"I know." Breathed against his mouth, and then the softest press of lips before Eddie is leaning away just enough to breathe between them.

"Now look away, cuz I'm about to inhale this entire box of chocolate covered cherries." He whispers, his lips brushing Steve's again as he laughs into Eddie's mouth.

He does actually eat the whole box. Well, almost the whole box. He lets Steve have one, sinks his teeth into it as he holds it in his mouth and dares Steve to take it. And Steve's never been one to turn down a dare. Especially if it's sweet.

And Steve is quickly learning, there's nothing quite as sweet as candy covered Eddie kisses.

[oggirlboss]

༺ ♰ ༻ sicko fantasies ༺ ♰ ༻

pairing[s]: yandere!janitor!levi ackerman x afab!student!reader

warning[s]: flirtatious behavior, power imbalance, m!masturbation, voyeurism, age gap, and hella weird so read at your own risk.

summary: levi ackerman has to supervise a certain brat in detention. needy little virgin hours ensue before school is in session.

note[s]: no beta, we die like carla.

word count: 3k

art belongs to columbo on twitter (i still refuse to call it x)

levi ackerman is a sick, twisted, little fuck of a man. the exact kind of gross dude that forced schoolgirls to have a dress code. he couldn't stop himself from looking up girls skirts when he knelt down to pick up their trash, or avoid looking down girls shirts when they leaned over to wash their hands in the sink. he didn't even regard his perversion as an awful thing. after all, there are other guys out there who let their obsessions go to the absolute extreme, their crimes delving into horrendous depths like rape and murder. levi could never imagine such things happening, the thought made him sick to his stomach. he wasn't that bad... was he?

 principle erwin certainly didn't think so. he's known about levi's little habit since grade school, but that didn't stop him from writing levi a letter of recommendation and convincing the board of regents to hire him as the primary janitor at shiganshina high school. surely if erwin thought he was so bad he would have tried to protect the girls of the school from him, right?

¿ʇɥɓıɹ

it wasn't like all of his attention was centered on one individual, levi knew that type of behavior was out of the question. he was just liked looking that was all, he didn't have the skills to actually approach one of these girls. despite these perversions, he was disgusted by men that touched girls. the ones who prey on the vulnerable, whose sickly minds allow them to prey on girls and use their positions of power and authority to manipulate these girls into doing whatever they want. to use them however they want. levi didn't think he was like that at all.

but he did take a great interest in you during your sophomore year. you probably got put into detention for a stupid reason, and he couldn't help but sympathize with you. he figured that you got caught doing something mildly dangerous by an administrator and shoved into detention with the rest of the rejects. except since it was nearing the end of the year, all the other teachers didn't even bother to put their students in detention. they dished out more tame punishments to their students and basically took it easy for the last stretch of work until summer break. the teachers were just as fed up with their jobs as the students were with their mundane classes. you, unfortunately, were the unwritten exception to this unspoken rule, and as a result you were the only one sitting in a desolate cafeteria.

that was the first time levi truly paid attention to you. you were a shy kid, you mostly kept your head down and didn't talk much. he had seen you around before and he figured that it'd be creepy if he struck up a conversation before going off to clean the bathrooms in the teacher's lounge. as soon as he saw your silk-smooth skin peeking out of your too short shorts, he knew he'd need to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

"oi! brat." he spoke calmly, feigning disinterest when his heart was beating out of his chest. "i'm your assigned supervisor for detention. you can start by picking up a rag and some disinfectant to wipe down all the tables and chairs." his stomach lurched at the lie, this was exhilarating. he watched you hurry to do as he commanded, feeling pride swell in his chest. you believed him. he was a trusted adult, and his authority in the matter didn't need any questioning.

"i was told professor miche would be in charge of detention today." levi pondered on a good response, but he couldn't stop mulling over the fact that bastard had snatched you up first. miche would have had you all to himself if levi hadn't spoken up just now

"miche couldn't make it on time, so i'm here to cover for him." levi had a teasing tone in his voice, a smile ghosting his fine features for less than a second. "now are you going to stand around looking pretty, or are you going to get to work?" his taunt didn't have much of an effect on you as you marched up to his supply cart and snatched up a rag and some random chemical mix. "no no no. that won't do." levi sauntered towards you, snapping the rim of his plastic gloves as he did so. "you can't use furniture polish for cleaning surfaces. while the lemony scent does have it's perks, a bleach based product would help you much more." your eyebrows furrowed as you nodded. maybe you could learn something from his guidance, after all, he was a professional.

"alright. will clorox work?" you picked up the product by its handle and squeaked as you gripped the hilt, causing a foamy string of liquid to burst from its container.

"hey, hey, no funny business." levi smirked at your playful tenacity. you were so much more fun than he'd thought you would be. "who even taught you how to clean?" he scoffed in a light-hearted manner.

"i guess i'm self taught, but i always get the job done good enough." you smiled at him as you sprayed the different tables and wiped them down with an old blue rag.

"well maybe your good enough isn't good enough for me and my standards." levi hovered over your shoulder, carefully observing your movements. he wrapped himself around you, pressing his chest against your back and helping you grasp your hand around the rag. "move your arm in a circular motion, but don't press too hard into the wood, you'll tire yourself out too quickly that way." you carefully listened to every word he said, this is a learning experience, isn't it? this knowledge came straight from the mouth of a professional, you'd be absolutely daft to not pay attention to him. but it didn't help that he was easy on the eyes or that you could feel his muscles flex through your clothing. he was undeniably attractive and it was hard for you not to entertain the notion. his sharp breath ghosted the skin behind your ear.

"what sort of cleaning products do you use at home?" his question and his proximity startled you.

"um, i use the mr. clean stuff. my mom thought that their super bowl commercial from a few years ago was the epitome of comedy ."

"tch." you could feel his grip tighten on your hand as he shook his head. you frowned at his reaction.

"well what's that supposed to mean?" he sighed before spiraling into a lecture.

"mr. clean, although sexy in his own right, is much too expensive. especially those magic erasers of his. they are outrageously overpriced, and they're not even real magic." your nose crinkled as you snickered at his joke, and his face lit up in a blush. "they're uh, they're made of uh sodium bisulfite copolymer, and it's ridiculously cheap. for half the price, you can buy ten times the amount that damned company scams you with."

"i suppose that's one of the many miracles of capitalism." levi's deep chuckle vibrated through your back. his presence was comforting, and it was beyond a relief to have such a friendly person around, even if it will only last the span of detention.

"you're funny." he leaned into the crook of your neck and lightly sniffed the perfume you'd applied earlier that morning. it's probably for that bastard, miche. levi did his best to shake that thought out of his head, and hurriedly stepped away from you.

"is everything alright, sir?" you threw your rag down, abandoning your place at the table and rushed to his side. your hand rested on the bare skin of his arm, and your eyes widened seeing levi acting so odd. he was perfectly fine seconds ago, it was hard to understand how this change could have taken place so quickly. "you look very pale." before he could blink the backs of your fingers were pressed against his clammy forehead and he was in heaven. he basked in the attention you were giving him, and in this shaken state narrowly avoided lathering you with the same touching care.

"yes, yes." levi cradled his head in his hand, and stared up at you with his hair falling into his eyes. "it's just a little headache, it's no problem." he frequently struggled with migraines, but those were nothing compared to whatever was coming over him now.

"well, i have some extra tylenol in my purse, i can go back to my locker and get some." you couldn't register the speed with which he reached out and held your wrist in an iron grip.

"no." his voice was gravelly, like a frog was caught in his throat. "don't leave. it's really nothing." he smiled to comfort you but it only did the opposite. there was a glint in his eyes that made you want to run away and never come back. you reluctantly agreed to stay with him, and worked through the rest of your detention in relative silence.

the following morning you were called into professor miche's office over the intercom. there were oohs and aahs from your classmates and a resounding thunder of commentary.

"i don't think y/n has ever gotten in trouble before." armin spoke to himself.

"she isn't going to be able to worm her way out of his one." snickered to her friends.

"how much you wanna bet she's screwing him to get a better grade?" reiner joked as berholdt berated him for making assumptions. wrong. wrong. wrong.

ɬɧɛყ'۷ɛ ɠơɬ ıɬ ąƖƖ ῳཞơŋɠ, ʝųʂɬ Ɩıƙɛ ɬɧɛყ ąƖῳąყʂ ɖơ.

you slammed your fists on the table, effectively silencing the chatter. you didn't bother to push your chair back in as you raced down the hallway to pound on miche's office door. you heard a sigh from inside as he beckoned you inside. his menacing figure towered over you

"it's not polite for you to skip out on detention, l/n. where were you for our session?"

"well, you would know if you weren't tardy for detention, sir." you smiled in an effort to brush off the discomforting feeling his stare brought you. miche leaned down to your level and violently sniffed the air around you. "i was with the janitor, you told him to fill in for you. does that ring a bell?" you could care less if you were sounding rude, but his questioning was getting tedious.

professor miche sneered down at you, mulling over the consequences that would be brought down upon you if he discovered this was a lie. "is this true, levi?" your eyes widened as turned around to see levi leaning on the handle of his cart. the hallway was utterly devoid of people, and you didn't understand how you didn't hear his footsteps or the squeak of the wheels on his cart. it's like he was invisible the entire time, appearing silently like a ghost. levi cleared his throat as he stared back at miche.

"quite so, yes. she worked very well under my guidance." he let his gaze drop to the ground as he licked his lips. "it makes me wish that miss l/n could get detention more often so i could have some help keeping this place tidy." he absentmindedly swiped two fingers over miche's name card that hung on his office door. "she worked well, and i'm sure she'll learn from the experience." miche scowled at levi, something was off about him. while the two of them weren't particularly close, he could certainly tell if something was wrong. he'll have to report this to principle erwin, if only to ease his conscience. "well, if that's everything, i suppose i'll be on my way." you gave levi a little smile and mouthed a quick thank you before he set off down the hallway with his cart.

the rumbling of the wheels echoed through the empty hallway as he moved closer and closer to the bathrooms he'd set out to clean. his cart was placed to the right of the entrance to the boy's bathroom and upon entering he was greeted with the welcoming scent of orange spice. levi took great care to make sure he was alone in that bathroom before he retreated into the furthest stall. he undid the buttons of his pants and slid them down his milky thighs until they rested around his ankles. he ran a swift hand through his silky black hair as he gripped the base of his cock tightly, gently smoothing over the thick skin and working to calm his unsteady breathing. he's never been this wound up during his work hours, but he had a feeling that this was soon going to be a normal occurrence. his brain began to wander away from the bathroom stall as he thought back to the porn he'd watched in his car before he came into work. he imagined the movements of the female model's body beneath the man, and how her body shook with every impact of their hips. his manhood twitched in excitement as he thought of her y/h/c hair that laid spread across her red pillows, but that was too perfect. it wasn't dirty enough for him. he needed the real deal, but nobody wanted to touch an old man, and they certainly didn't want to touch someone as creepy as levi ackerman. so he had to resort to doing it himself.

his hand stilled, cock sitting at attention against his pale stomach. he ran a finger over the mushroom-like head and began to roughly fist his cock like a madman. his eyes clenched shut as he tried to think of something that would get him off. the first thought that came to his mind wasn't even erotic, but it gave him a renewed vigor and sent a primal ache coursing through his aching cock. he wondered how you would look sleeping. you have to be the most heavenly creation in existence, vulnerable and at peace while you dream. it would only be too easy to get into the file cabinets that contain thee student records and discover your place of residence, and finally be blessed by the sight of you snuggled into your bed with your stuffed animals cradled to your chest. he could shimmy your cute pajama shorts off your body and press his hot tongue against your cunt. it'd be slimy and wet and lewd and absolutely gross. and he'd love every goddamn minute of it. your face would be flushed red and sweat would bead your forehead as you unconsciously rut against his mouth. he wants your juices to lather his lips and hold your breasts in a death grip as he makes you squirt onto his waiting tongue. he wants to be 𝖘𝖔 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 to you, and spoil you in every way imaginable. he wants to spear you on his cock and bury his head in your breasts, smothering himself and coating the valley between the two mounds on your chest with a mixture of his heavy drool and your wet release. he'll pump you full of his cum until you're absolutely bursting and pull up your panties to hide his mess. he'll sneak out your window and drive home while you lay in warm in your bed with your face shoved into your pillow.

he lets out a heavy groan as he brings his hand to his mouth to bite on his knuckles to stop any sound from escaping his treacherous mouth. he began to imagine what you would look like if you gave him a handjob. would you be slow and tentative? or would you opt to beat his manhood dry? no doubt your delicate fingertips would feel like heaven on earth, and your soft breath would hit his cheek as you focused on bringing him immense pleasure. he heard the door to the bathroom open, but he couldn't break free from his lusty haze. his mind was too focused on the constant phap phap phap of his hand beating against his manhood to register the footsteps that slowly neared the stall he occupied. a hand pressed against the unlocked door to fully expose levi's perversions to the open air. he looks up to see erwin staring down at him, a disappointed look coating the principle's face. no words were spoken as levi continued his assault on his cock. a broken cry left his lips as he threw his head back, eyes clamped shut as he felt his creamy cum shoot out onto his shirt and hand.

"really, levi?" his eyebrows furrowed as levi looked him dead in the eye. "the boy's bathroom?" levi groaned at his question, not bothering to answer before bending over and pulling up his pants. levi had no shame, and certainly not in front of erwin.

levi laughed as he wiped the cum off his hand with toilet paper. "would you prefer i did it in the girl's?" his bland retort left a dumbfounded erwin unable to move from where he stood. levi used that moment of shock to escape from the stall and out into the hallway. he was going to enjoy this newfound sense of freedom.

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2023 No. 27 - Matches/Scars/“Let me see”

Scogan Bingo challenge Pick-Up Line

Logan's head was spinning when he came around, and he was still sore all over from that damn car crash, including a hated painful tensing of only just recovering muscles in his neck from where he'd broken the latter two times within a minimum of time. Couldn’t have been long since he'd passed then, his still dazed mind tried to conclude ���

Or had it? Logan couldn’t scent or hear anyone nearby – at least he didn’t think, with his senses still slightly off –, so the stinking fur guy who had caused the crash had apparently left him behind for some reason, maybe getting bored with trying to gut someone with an off-the-chart healing factor. Asshole could be anywhere in these damn woods right now … Damnit, Logan had to get the fuck up and see where that stupid kid was he'd picked up on the road for some reason, as soon as he could muster up enough energy in his cells. But the more awake he got, the more he suddenly doubted, Rogue was still anywhere nearby. Especially not if psycho fur dude had really taken her for some reason that Logan decided he'd rather not think about too hard right now, not with all he knew from painful personal experience about some ferals in this fucked-up world. Because fact was, it was pitch-black like in a damn monkey's ass and bitterly cold around him, meaning he'd been unconscious for far longer than a few comparatively minor injuries should actually allow and his enemy surely had one hell of a headstart by now … How damn off he was about pretty much everything, he only realized when he finally scrambled to sit up, tried to stand up, and promptly banged his dumb head on the roof of some car. Not his truck; a lack of orientation or not, he'd immediately have been able to tell his own distinctive scent and a week's worth of laundry to be done plus two bags full of trash to be thrown out. Whoever's ride this was whatever reason, fur guy had seemingly dropped Logan's stupid ass in here for, they couldn’t be outside in any case. The echo was all off. No smell of a garage, or of the spicy, crystal-clear air of Canada either. And when Logan instinctively tried to reach around him, to use the handle that his fingertips soon brushed, the door didn’t budge an inch.

"Please don't do that. Unless you want to get us both killed, that is."

God fucking damnit … Logan shook himself with an annoyed hiss, trying to push the last of dizziness from his system and get his perception back to full work while his claws were already springing forward, a menacing snikt in the absolute darkness around him that should hopefully be a warning to whoever was in this damn car with him. On the back seat by the sound of an also quite exhausted-sounding voice, while Logan's hectic movements could now make out that he had to be on the passenger side in the front. Restricted space, shitty for a fight unless he wanted to rip the interior right to pieces, it flashed in his mind. He gritted his teeth, preaching himself patience, something not exactly easy when you'd been forced off the road unprovoked by some Neanderthal. "Who is this?"

The stranger didn’t seem too impressed by either his threat or the growl in his voice. Still not moving an inch at where he was laying, breathing so almost inaudibly shallow that Logan hadn’t picked up on the guy's presence immediately, the stranger only turned the slightest bit toward Logan, followed by a pained hiss. "Name's Scott Summers. My team partner and I came to help you after our employer had heard about a planned attack on you."

Logan gave the stuck door another annoyed hit, ignoring the stranger's weird warning, his teeth quickly starting to chatter from the unholy temperatures. "Well, great job."

"We almost got you and the girl out of there in time," that Scott guy continued as if he hadn’t even heard him, still in that strained voice. "But a second enemy showed up that we weren’t expecting. Shapeshifter, excellent hand-to-hand combatant. Took my partner right out before she even knew what was coming. When I tried to help her, the man who was after you attacked me from behind. They took the girl for some reason. Still trying to make any sense of that. Us, they apparently had no use for."

"No shit." Logan rubbed his ears repeatedly and felt the car's doors and windows down a little more carefully this time because his instincts let him know more clearly by the moment that something was alarmingly wrong about this precarious situation that the two of them were in. Which Logan had no doubt in by now. He didn’t even necessarily have to rely on his instincts to know the guy wasn’t lying. For that, that fight earlier which Logan had mostly missed, had taken audibly a far too big physical toll on him. And yet they were both alive – not that in Logan's case, that was much of a surprise, of course. With how ruthlessly the fur bastard had ripped Logan's car basically apart earlier though, that was more than weird. His throat immediately tightened just thinking what such a primitive bastard might want with an innocent homeless minor who wasn’t anywhere as used as Logan to people trying to use her for some shit. Since that was obviously not the case this time, he tried in vain to wrap his head around why these people hadn’t at least tried to get rid of him and his involuntary car neighbor. Why they'd only been left them behind in this piece of junk that of course didn’t react to Logan tentatively slipping one of his claws into the ignition slot either, in whatever place this was, with obviously entirely isolated walls and no lightning … About high time to find out. "I need to go after the girl, bub. Stay where you are. I'll cut us out of here."

"Don't. We are …" This time it sounded like an order, and from someone who was used to giving them, no less. An uncompromising sharp tone ruined only by a cough following that elicited a series of agonized moans and more labored breathing. Rib or lung damage.

Usually not Logan's problem but if for some reason, they were really stuck in here, he could maybe use the guy's help still. Not to mention that the dude had allegedly tried to help him earlier. Wasn’t asked too much to try and return the courtesy, hurry or not. "We're what? And what's with the wheezing? Fur guy got you bad?"

"Could be worse," Scott answered when he could talk again, but the faint smell of copper in the air revealed, that cough had brought up some body fluid. "He didn’t need to ghost me anyway. It was enough to fling me against some tree so I was too concussed to use my powers. And they were too pressed on time for torture just for the sake of it for once, unlike in some of our last fights. They rather decided they wanted to bury us in my partner's and my jeep and let exposure do the job for them."

When it finally, finally clicked, Logan felt even more ice-cold. "You telling me we're underground, bub?"

"Avalanche," Scott answered tensely which wasn’t exactly better news. "The guy who attacked you caused it. I was only half conscious at that point, so I can't say how deep we are exactly. As long as you stop trying to open the car, we should have a couple of hours of air, though, and the snow masses shouldn’t crush it either. The jeep's body is quite stable. Just don't open the damn window, unless you want gravity to do the job for those assholes. My people will track me down and get us out of here. Just stay put."

"When some assholes have kidnapped an innocent teenager? I think not." But hard as he tried, Logan couldn’t come up with a solution to end this unfortunate situation either. Sure, he could have easily cut through the car's body and probably dug his way out of the snow bit by bit too. But depending on how deep under they really were, chances were he would pass out from hypothermia again and again which would in the end take just as much time as waiting here for some obscure rescue. Not to mention, he'd have military voice dude here on his conscience. "You sure your people are on their way?"

"Absolutely. We have … ways of communicating, even without a radio signal. My boss knows that something's wrong. Another one of my teammates will be here soon." It sounded like the guy was faintly smiling for some reason but he didn’t seem ready to elaborate further. "The woman I came here with will soon be waking up again as well, I hope. Her injuries didn’t look that bad. She's atmokinetic, so it's possible she can melt the snow even before the others come."

"A couple of maybes too many for my taste, kid." Logan rubbed his eyes with a bone-deep sigh, resigning for now to the fact that they had no choice but to wait. At least for a couple of hours, he guessed, he could do that. After that … It was not impossible he'd no longer have to worry about leaving someone to die in here either way. At least that unhappy possibility, he probably should be trying to counteract, given that this guy and his people, whoever they were, might save his ass again soon. Good thing, Logan had found unexpectedly something very useful, absently patting down his jacket for a cigar and a flask out of habit alone. "First, let's make sure you'll still be drawing air with that fucked up lung of yours by the time we're rescued." Pulling out said package of matches, he turned around on the seat, getting up on his knees left and right of the center dashboard, and then lit a first flame to finally get a look at his fellow captive and especially the guy's injuries.

Logan drew in a sharp breath when he saw the man's black uniform hanging in shreds from his upper body. In spite of the meager lighting, he was pretty sure these razor-sharp claws hadn’t stopped at scratching that layer of clothing open, too. A couple of cuts couldn’t be why that remarkably tall and lean-looking shape was curled up so tightly on his side on the back seat though. Neither did they explain the distorted grimace on a face that Logan had to actively tear his gaze away from because holy shit, military guy was hot. Which wouldn’t matter soon given Scott obviously didn’t come with a healing factor. Logan would at least have to try and help with his jacket in a second, but first, he needed to know what he was dealing with here. "Let me see." With a curse, he threw the match away when it burned out on his fingertips and clipped off a new one, feeling with increasing annoyance that not even half of the package was left. He should be smoking less. Or buy a couple of damn Zippos more. "I'm not gonna have a lot of time to give you a hand, bub, so be quick and don't make a fuss. Uniform off. Not much of a loss, frankly. Did you get here right after some fetish club visit or what?"

"Combat gear, asshole," Scott grumbled, but it didn’t sound entirely pissed, more worn out as Logan noticed with increasing worry. The smell of blood was impossible to ignore at this point. At least the guy obeyed, judging by the rustling of what was left of the stiff black material on his chest.

When the noise stopped, Logan lit another match and swallowed a curse, staring at the gaping gash at the guy's side through which a hint of white showed, with wide eyes, before pulling off his jacket, to get to his shirt for a necessary bandage. "Anyone ever tell you, you got the self-preservation sense of a lemming, kid? We don't wrap that up, you'll bleed out in less than half an hour."

"Been through worse." The sad thing was, that sounded sincere. "I'll be alright as soon as the others come. We got some pretty useful technological and medical toys at our home."

"Yeah, well, you're not home right now." Logan threw the second burned-out match away and got out of his shirt, leaning to the back again to try and find Scott's hand at where it was clumsily pressed to that frightening bleeding. "Put that down on it. Tightly. Gonna see if I find something better in the glove box."

"You won't." Right, car belonged to this guy; he would know. At least there was a hint of energy back in that warm, deep voice now, instead of that exhaustion bordering almost on resignation from a moment ago. "First aid kit should be in the back though, along with a couple of blankets. Supplies, too. If you can cut through the seats with those knives of yours …"

"Not exactly knives, kid." With a bit of maneuvering, Logan made it to the back seat, now kneeling right beside Scott's cramped shape, hissing when he realized even through both their clothes, the young man's body was already alarmingly cold. About high time to move. Since he had no interest in accidentally kebabing the dude even more than he already was, he found Scott's free, trembling hand where it was tightly clutching down on his other arm and handed the matches to him. "Hold one right to the backrest." Because of his trembling, it took Scott a moment to light one of the remaining sticks but once that was done, Logan made short work of the upper part of those seats. He expected the usual shock on Scott's face that Logan was being used to from people seeing his claws for the first time and shrugged his surprise away when it never came, maybe because the young man still had his eyes firmly closed. If the guy really came from a place where there were more of their kind, he'd probably witnessed weird shit before either way. Logan needed to bend and twist a little to get to the medical supplies and by that time, the match was already out again, but Logan had already spotted all he needed to see. He put not only the kit but also a six-pack of water and a couple of prepacked sandwiches down in front of the backseat before turning on the two strong headlights also part of the car's equipment, hanging them from the front seat's headrests with a relieved sigh. "You guys always leave the house prepared for a whole field trip?"

Scott gave him a still weak but honest-looking grin and damn Logan if he didn’t catch himself staring at that chiseled, youthful face yet again instead of fumbling with medical supplies. "Our mansion doubles at a school. Always prepared comes with the job description."

"Yeah, I don't think I even want to know, bub." That was a blatant lie, but for now, there were more important things to do than talking about trivialities. Logan already rummaged for bandages in the kit when Scott reached for his arm in an uncoordinated movement, grunting when that obviously caused new pain in his side. "There should be a small metal box on the left side by the spare wheel. Black circular device, red glass." At a loss yet again about what the guy was going on about, Logan leaned down to the trunk once more, not least because the makeshift bandage of his shirt seemed to slow the bleeding enough for now, and the urgency in Scott's voice let him know, it was important to the young man.

He only understood when the guy slipped said device, looking like something taken from some old Star Trek series, over his eyes and let out a careful hiss before turning his head Logan's way. "Thanks. Sabretooth took my other VISOR. Oh shit, you really took your shirt off for me, huh?" An askew little smirk curled on these beautiful full lips that would have probably sent Logan's hormones into overdrive for good if it hadn’t been that damn cold.

He decided he could think about that, and about what the deal with the guy's eyes was later, finally getting to work, provisionally disinfecting and taping up the ugly wound by Scott's side. The hint of interest took a backseat when he leaned in closer to the guy's half-naked body and had to swallow thickly at spotting a whole map of scars covering the smooth, enticingly soft skin, some quite old looking, some clearly fresh. "For someone who looks like they've only just graduated, you sure got a lot of miles covered, Shades."

"I'm 29 but thanks, I guess. And I was orphaned at twelve if you need to know. Ran into a few very unpleasant people on the way." Scott circled an especially dangerously looking trace right over his left hipbone absently, sounding like he was miles away with his thoughts for a moment, his shoulders tight in visible agitation. "When my boss took me in at the age of fifteen, he had me taught me how to fight back. It seemed only logical then, to help others do the same and try to change some of the shit going on in this world for mutants for the better."

"Not a choice anyone should make at fifteen, bub." Only Logan knew very well that especially being a member of their race, that kind of choice often didn’t ask for age of maturity. Again, he couldn’t help but think of the girl. Burying a nervous hand in his hair once he was finished with that bandage, he gritted his teeth as he was trying in vain not to imagine what these assholes of whom he still didn’t exactly know who they even were, might be doing to Rogue right this fucking moment.

"I guess not. So far I didn’t regret it though." A trembling, shy hand came to rest on Logan's elbow, and he could swear he could see Scott shudder not only from coldness at the feeling of Logan's thick muscles tensing instantly. "Care to tell me your story? Not like we got much else to do for now."

"I'm afraid I lost the memory of anything interesting to tell fifteen years ago. Been cage fighting my way through ever since, trying to find them again." Logan turned away with tight lips when Scott gasped in sympathy, leaning down to the trunk for a last time to get said blankets. Then he carefully wormed his way onto one of the seats, resting Scott's legs on his, telling himself bravely it was only so that the guy's system wouldn’t crash for good at some point. Once they were both comfortable and warming up under all of the blankets available and once Logan had thrust a bottle and one of these disgusting-looking sandwiches into Scott's hand, his thoughts wandered back to today's events. "Seriously, in this world of freaks, I'm the least interesting guy you could find out there. Why did you people ever think, these assholes were after me? They obviously wanted the girl."

Scott showed a just as clueless-seeming shrug. "We'll have to ask the Professor when he gets home. He's got a mental gift, you see. It's not always entirely reliable. Which is also why we couldn’t pinpoint your exact location in time. Or the girl wouldn’t be in these bastards' hands right now. We failed big time today, Logan. This cannot be happening. Too much is depending on my team for that." For a moment, he clenched his fists, an expression almost of self-loathing flitting over that handsome face.

"Hey, Shades." Logan instinctively reached out for that scrunched-up face without even thinking about it, his own half-eaten sandwich forgotten on his lap, and shook his head at the stranger disapprovingly. "From my point of view, without you guys? I'd be stuck alone down here right now. I got a power set that won't let me die but let me tell you, freezing into an ice cube over and over again is not something I got a fetish for. You guys helped without even knowing me, so that whole doing some good for this world thing doesn’t seem to go that bad. And these primitive motherfuckers, we'll find as soon as we're out of here. Next time I'll be prepared, don't worry." He demonstratively extended his claws on his free hand again, shuddering a little when he saw the definitely more than just a little interested look, Scott was regarding his main weapons with, the clean-shaven skin under his soothing touch maybe now heating up not just from the returning healthier body temperature. Maybe, when all this was over … Taking a closer look at that weird school, wherever it was, wasn’t a bad idea. It wasn’t like chasing ghosts had gotten Logan anywhere so far. Only when Scott belatedly seemed to realize for how long Logan's touch had been lingering there on his cheek and he startled, looking away, his expression one of a bad conscience, Logan let go of him as if he'd burned himself. "Sorry, bub, was just trying to make sure you're warming up. No need to worry that your girl at home's gonna be jealous or something." It was only a stab in the dark, but judging by this even darker blush on Scott's cheeks and the way he was biting his lower lip, Logan was pretty sure he wasn’t that far off with the assumption of a committed partner. Just his luck.

"Jean hasn’t been jealous of anyone for a long time, to be honest," Scott murmured in an unexpected new wave of sadness, staring into nothing another time for long seconds. "Her and me … That hasn’t been anything but show and convenience for two years or so. I guess I just didn’t have a reason to admit that even to myself so far."

Logan was pretty sure the guy was only just talking so much, and to a stranger no less, because of a beginning fever. Not to mention, he was still busy dealing with his own increasing attraction to someone he'd literally only just met. So he decided rather to not say anything to that. But he crossed his arms lightly enough on Scott's muscular thighs under those blankets, to keep an eye on the guy's body temperature, stared at the dull grey and glistening of the snow frozen heavily against the windows, and lost himself to his thoughts.

*****

It was less than two hours, in the end, it turned out, before they could hear the telltale scraping and crunching of the snow around them being worked on from the outside. When Scott woke up from a few hopefully healing minutes of sleep, he listened with that absent look on his face again, his head tilted, to something only seemed to be hearing. With growing relief in his voice, he confirmed that it was indeed his people trying to get to them, not the enemy for some reason. "Ororo's alright, too. We'll fly to Westchester to regroup. The Professor is already looking for Rogue with his powers. We'll find her, Logan, I promise." He firmly grabbed Logan's hand, his jaw thrust forward in determination.

"You bet your cute little ass on it, Slim." As long as the snow cover was still intact and no one could see them, Logan thought it couldn’t hurt to hold on to that encouraging touch for a moment. Maybe, once Shades guy had taken care of certain interpersonal issues in his house, they could even go back to that at some point. "And once this all is over … Seeing as we've already almost died side by side … Wanna give trying to live together a shot next?"

Scott snorted but made no move to pull away. "That's the worst possible pick-up line you could have come up with, you know."

Logan shrugged and reached for a cigar in his pocket with his free hand. "Not much of a romantic."

"Good," Scott simply said, an enchanting small smile on his lips, and that was all that needed to be said for the moment.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

@scoganbingo

[robin-the-enby]

Ahh i loved that judd fic so much I love angst to happy fics they are my absolute favourite and you write judd so well!!! Could you do one where Judd thinks the reader is losing interest or wanting to break up but ends up being a misunderstanding? Maybe because Judd isn’t very affectionate or very open with his feelings therefore the reader sometimes thinks he needs space and stops trying to latch onto him so much which he thinks is weird cos they usually like to be close to him and while they’re giving him the space they think he needs he sees them getting closer to another guy who seems kind and he think they’d rather be with someone like that? I’d love to see how you would write how Judd would react to this maybe he starts trying to be more affectionate in his own Judd way wanting to be able to give the reader what the want cos he doesn’t want them to break up with him but he’s not sure what to do about it or what ever you feel like he would do ?❣️❣️❣️

Still mine

Pairing: Judd Birch x gn!reader

Summary: Judd is jealous of one of your guy friends, who you seem very comfortable with. So much so that he starts to doubtif you even want to be with him.

Warnings: posessiveness, uncertain feelings about and miscommunication in an established relationship, slight argument, swearing,

A/N: So since I'm, like, one of the two people that write for Judd here, I decided to keep this request. However, I encourage everyone to look at the bio, if requests are open or not. That way I don't have to decide if I'll keep your wonderful requests or no :)

picture is from Google

Snap.

The sound resonates through the quiet room. Judd looks at the broken phone in his hands and with a roll of his eyes he throws the two pieces into the trash can next to the door, before flopping down on his bed with an annoyed sigh.

The young man just finished a call with his partner. He asked them if they wanted to come over, but they refused. Now, normally Judd wouldn't be so pressed about something as trivial as this, but this was the third time this week that this had happened. And each and every time for the same reason too.

And the name of that reason was Martin. Martin was a guy from (Y/N)'s class, kind, but nerdy dude, who Judd's partner was so nice to take under their wing.

Now the two seemed inseparable. Judd tsked. He got that they had other friends and people they wanted to be with, but at this point, they were spending more time with him than their own boyfriend! Besides, Judd didn't particularly liked how affectionate they were with the bastard. He's seen the two of them together when he picked (Y/N) up sometimes and they were all over him, while that fucking moron did nothing but blush in response. Judd grit his teeth as he thought about what he'd do to him if he tried anything on them.

But, would they really mind it? Judd asked himself, but immediately shook his head with a grunt. They were not the type of person to cheat, Judd knew that. But the way (Y/N) was getting so comfortable around Martin...

Judd got up from his bed and went to open a drawer at his desk, where he stashed burner phones. He quickly put in (Y/N)'s number, having memorized it long before they even started dating and shot them a quick text, saying "Come over asap. We need to talk."

* * * * *

"Is everything alright?" Martin looked up from his position on the ground. You two were studying for your biology exam that you're taking tomorrow, when your phone bleeped, signaling that you recieved a new text message. At first, you smiled, seeing it was your lovely boyfriend, but the contents of the message left your stomach doing sommersaults. Martin, of course, noticed all this.

"Hey, um," you started, scratching the back of your head "would you mind if I cut this short? Judd wants to see me. It sounds urgent." you got up from Martin's bed, which you occupied up until this point. Martin, laying on the ground, got up as well, so he could walk you out. The whole time he assured you it was ok and that he hoped you weren't in trouble, because "That guy can be scary as hell." Well, you hoped he was right.

* * * * *

You nervously gripped the steering wheel the whole ride to the Birch's residence. What could he want from you? Have you done something wrong? Were you in trouble? You tried very hard to concentrate on the road instead of wallowing in your worries.

You parked in front of Birch's home and walked in. Diane, as well as Elliot told you long ago to not knock, since you were "like family" as they said, although you were suspicious they were just glad somebody finally managed to "tame" their rebellious son, not that you'd ever try to do that. You still weren't really used to just waltzing into their house like it was your own, but today was an exception. Although you were looking to get up to your boyfriend's room as fast as you could, you didn't forget to shout a greeting to Mrs. or Mr. Birch, if they even were in the house.

Your mind registered hazilly no response to your greeting, but you foggily remember passin Nicky, Judd's younger brother, on the stairs. You mumbled a quick "Hi!" and "Outta the way squirt." before stopping right in front of Judd's door with yellow caution tape plastered on it.

You hesitated for a few seconds, before knocking on the door softly three times. You knew he wasn't going to answer, so you waited a little bit before slowly opening the door and sticking your head through. "Babe?" You called hesitantly.

Judd was leaning on his desk, facing the door. He motioned for you to come in and you did. Oh, you hated how small he made you feel with that intent gaze that never left your face. You hated how it made you curl into yourself, trying to make you seem as small as possible. Be it any other situation, this gesture would make you feel hot under the collar, but now you just felt like an employee who the boss carpeted for messing up.

"You wanted to talk?" Oh geez, you even sounded like it, you thought. Judd quirked one brow "You tell me. Is there something you want to tell me?" What did he mean by that? You quickly raked your brain for anything important you needed to discuss with him. But you couldn't come up with a single thing.

You looked at Judd again an said slowly "No, I don't think so..." Your boyfriend frowned and growled "So you wanna wait until that fucker finally makes a move on you before you end it or what?"

In that moment, you must've looked like a dead fish. Mouth wide open and eyes wide. It took you a while before you got what he meant and you couldn't help but laugh "You- you mean Martin?" you managed to get out before falling into another fit of laughter. Judd's frown got deeper "Yeah, I mean fucking Martin." he spat.

When you kept on laughing, Judd growled at you "You think this is funny?!" You nodded, tears falling onto your cheeks, your stomach hurting from laughing so hard. You tried desperately to regain your composure, so you could explain the situation to your dummy of a boyfriend. But you couldn't help but continue loaughing, because, how can a man who can write a whole ass manifesto be so clueless??

Eventually though, you caught your breath again and said "I just wanted to give you more space babe." you smiled. But to your surprise, Judd only scoffed "Yeah. Cut the bullshit (Y/N). I'm not a dumbass. Don't try to turn this into doing me a favour."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was he that thick? You took a deep breath to keep up with his bullshit and not to do something you would later regret, before you asked "What do YOU think is going on then?" Judd folded his arms over his chest and answered "You've been avoiding me for that jackass Martin, and don't even try to deny you don't like him, I've seen you two all huddled up like loverbirds. Tell me, when didcha get sick of me huh?" Judd cocked his head to the side and squinted at you, his tone demeanful.

But you remained calm, trying not to give into his game. "I'm an affectionate person is all. I just thought you wouldn't be into that stuff, so I'm affectionate with him. But that's it. He's JUST my friend, Judd. Nothing more." you shrugged. Now he was left gaping at you. When he said nothing, seemingly mulling over the information you just gave him, you continued "You're a pretty secretive and distant person, y'know that? Not that I mind, it's one of the reasons I fell in love with you, I just...didn't want to overwhelm you with my affections and need for attention."

Judd looked...surprised, to say the least. He really didn't know what to say. But you looked like you weren't lying. As if you read his thoughts, you quipped "Now is the part where you say sorry." and winked at him. Judd smirked and made his way to you, only to wrap you up in his arms.

"Never." he said "But I'm glad you're still mine."

[midnightsunnyday]

Spoilers from the Devilgram Mammom vs. Raphael:

Part one:

MC goes shopping with Barbatos on their day off. While shopping, MC sets their eyes on a vile that contains a truth serum. Barbatos informs them that whoever ingests it or touches it cannot lie. Seeing as MC likes it, he buys it for them as a thank you.

While leaving the store, Barbatos and MC run across Raphael and Mammon, who seem to be in the middle of a dispute.

Part two:

Raphael accuses Mammon of stealing. You can either agree with Raphael or defend Mammon. Mammon claims he found the watch in the trash and that it's useless, while Raphael argues that Mammon should return the watch to the owner. After hearing both sides, the scene ends with Barbatos asking MC what they think is the correct choice.

Part three:

Reopens with you actually choosing a side: Raphael, Mammon, or neither. Barbatos proposes that before making judgements, everyone should come to the castle for a snack (specifically, a demon apple pie). Meanwhile, on the way to the castle, Mammon continues to pick up old junk while Raphael remains unconvinced that he isn't doing something shady.

Part four:

At the Demon Lord's Castle everyone is eating pie. Raphael comments that he still prefers Solomon's cooking, while Mammon tells him he still has bad tastes. Then Mammon asks MC what they were doing with Barbatos, to which you can either respond that you were running errands for Diavolo or on a date. Barbatos then gives you back your potion, to which Mammon takes and spills on himself.

He then begins to state his reasons for picking up trash. If he can fix the items and resell them, he can get a lot of Grimm. This makes Raphael angry that Mammon would do something so scummy, and proceeds to chase him with his spear. Barbatos comments that it's probably best to refrain from making Raphael angry in the future.

Tl;dr: Mammon finds some valuable junk in an attempt to fix and resell it for Grimm. For some reason that's bad and makes Raphael angry. We wasted our truth serum on this.

My thoughts: honestly, this was a weird card. Finding junk and reselling it is actually a legitimate business in the human world. Unless there's some cultural thing I'm missing, I don't see the point of Raphael being upset with Mammon over trash, who btw, is like a truffle pig when it comes to finding valuables. Dude could run an entire business if he wasn't so lazy.

Speaking of Raphael, is it me or does anyone else want to shove him into a locker? Fucking nerd.

Barbatos is just...Barbatos. At first I thought he'd do something sneaky like use the potion we bought and place it in the pie, but he gave it back to us. So he had it and didn't use it? Lame.

Anyway, I'd give this story...a 5/10. Not that good, but not that bad, either. If anything, it gives us more insight into Rapheal's character, who as Mammon said, is "a total stick in the mud."

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Hey Frank, tell me the top ten weird guys you've met at a Denny's

Hey, astraldepths, I'm guessing you've never been to Denny's in San Jose, since the place I went to was in the East Bay.

Anyway, here you go:

this is an older one, but a really weird guy I met once: he had a sort of bizarre, self-indulgent style of drawing, sort of based on pop surrealism with the focus being on weird details. Like the cover of his notebook, with a drawing of, like, an eye surrounded by spirals on top of a skull and some other anatomical body parts. At first I thought he was a teenager and his drawings were of weird characters that he made up, but he was 40.

One time he was going to a poetry conference and we were staying at a hotel and when I tried to get breakfast he insisted on cooking for me, and it was a big thing because he cooked up the most delicious-sounding food, which was not that great in reality. Also he wore glasses even though he was perfectly able-sighted; I asked him if there was anything weird about this and he said that he just liked the look of wearing glasses and wanted to look at the TV with me while we were watching it while he cooked, so he would have a better angle for looking at the TV. Another thing he did when we were staying in the hotel was "shower his house with tiny crickets" so that the crickets would eat the maggots. Not sure if any of this was related to the poetry thing though. He is a very nice guy though, but not the nicest guy.

a man who worked at an auto repair place in San Francisco: we used to hang out at his place every once in a while to listen to music and smoke weed. He had a very bad haircut and was very fat, but he was also very smart and could tell you very complex technical things about cars. Once, he let me drive his car and the lights were on but I couldn't figure out what the problem was, and he kept saying "well, they're not on, they're off". I eventually figured out he meant "on" and "off" were just the opposite meanings of "on" in his culture. Anyway, he was very knowledgeable and made a lot of jokes about cars

a homeless man in my neighborhood in San Jose: I was just walking by his house one day, and I was wondering what to do because there was trash, a small dog, and then he came out, wearing nothing but jeans and a t-shirt. The "nothing" was actually a very colorful Mexican dress (which he told me he had "wanted to try on for [himself] for some time"). He would make fun of me for walking by because "you look like you're going to a Denny's." We talked for a bit about my job and stuff. The "dressing up" part was kind of a joke in case anyone is wondering, but he was a really nice guy and we have kept in contact and now get drinks with one another whenever we get the chance.

an ex-con who was doing community service by picking up after dogs: he was kind of a scumbag, but not too much, and he liked to talk about his time in jail. One time he showed me this huge picture that he had with a giant collection of little guys, some of which were like little figurines he'd sculpted from clay. He had an insatiable "need" for these guys, like he kept going out into the hills by himself to get more clay and keep making little dudes. He also told me he had had sex with over 900 women, which I considered too many to really believe it, so I asked him for an example, and he said the 900 was just the number of women at this place called Denny's.

a really cool man from a music store in San Jose: we first met when he came into the music store and started talking to me while I was looking at some really expensive guitars. He seemed really nice, and he had all sorts of theories about music and was an expert on guitars for some reason. Then one of his friends asked me for a guitar recommendation and I didn't have any good ones, so we all went back to my house and started talking there, with me sitting on the couch and them standing in my living room, and ended up sitting around in my living room listening to music all night while drinking beer and smoking weed (it's probably a good thing I didn't know how to play guitar because I had no idea what these friends were talking about when they started talking about "scaled guitar strings and the like").

the dude who gave me one of the shirts on the "how to draw a Denny's" t-shirt: we met up a couple of times after that and talked about some stuff, but I never got the shirt. He was cool but seemed like he wanted to talk to me more than I wanted to talk to him, so I didn't make him feel bad or anything. He just seemed to be into weird ideas.

a man in another town who told me how I should "use my 'feminine' strength" (he said "use [my] feminine force" but it sounded similar enough). He told me this while I was doing some exercises he thought were necessary for making me able to use my "feminine strength" more.

another guy I met at a Denny's: he wore a cowboy hat, which he took off during this one long story about his experiences fighting an elephant. He also wore a vest with some sort of leather jacket, and he gave me very nice cowboy boots and then told me how to break them in properly. He had a small dog, which he petted for a really long time. "That dog is a good dog. But not one I could ever love, because he's a man." I thought he was a cowboy at first and his accent was very southern. The thing about the dog thing might be a joke, in which case don't worry about it.

a young man in San Jose who liked to "show his love for the world by killing spiders": he told me his love for the world and his love for spiders could never be separated.

[plasticnightmaredoll]

So, the "Justice League" finally got its own movie, eh? Oh, that thing from 2017 was just trash. It's gone. We don't need to look at it anymore.

But in all seriousness, it's great people called out for the Zack Snyder cut of the movie and actually got it! And, yes, it is a vast improvement over the Joss Whedon cut.

Now, my feelings about the DCEU have been pretty divided:

I actually did enjoy "Man of Steel" and found Superman to be relatable and likable for once (I'm not a Superman fan and don't come for me)

"Wonder Woman" was very entertaining and easily the best entry for me in the movie series so far.

"Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice" was a hot mess. Lots of good ideas but it was executed poorly. It felt kind of cheesy at times, especially that whole "Save Martha" thing. Jesse Eisenburg is not a convincing Lex Luthor. Ben Affleck is not a good actor and is a terrible Batman/Bruce Wayne. He's not as bad as George Clooney, but he's not much better either.

"Wonder Woman 1984" was a massive glow-down. Poor quality writing, Maxwell Lord was a weak villain, Cheetah was laughable, and the ending was so goddamn corny! Not to mention, it took ages for anything interesting to happen, and what was the deal with Steve Trevor possessing another dude's body? I mean...what?

Haven't seen "Suicide Squad" in its entirety but I do know and have seen enough to decide that it's a huge misstep. Haven't seen "Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)" either but I have some interest in it so perhaps someday.

Haven't watched "Aquaman" but probably will eventually but I'm just not very motivated to see it. I like Jason Mamoa as Aquaman/Arthur Curry, but...I don't know. The trailers didn't really grab my attention.

The 2017 Joss Whedon version of "Justice League" was terrible -- worse than "Batman v Superman," worse than "Wonder Woman 1984." I thought the movie moved too quickly, lacked proper character development, and had some bad CGI (I mean, Mustache Gate, am I right?)

Onto the Synder Cut for "Justice League!" Spoilers ahead, of course:

These are really a collection of thoughts, opinions, and observations I had while watching the movie. I have only seen the 2017 film once and honestly don't want to watch it ever again, not even to "refresh my memory" of some details.

Steppenwolf

Steppenwolf was such a pitiful villain in the Whedon Cut. The CGI for him was terrible, and he looked like some weird dude in armor. His personality and motives were paper thin as well. He was a throw-away, token villain, and the only things memorable about him was his name and voice.

In the Snyder Cut, not only was Steppenwolf's CGI much more refined, his character design was imposing. His armor seemed to be alive, too, always shifting slightly, this way and that, which was an impressive sight. His motives, while nothing too deep or extraordinary, gave him a little more depth: he pissed off Darkseid and had to make up for it, and was clearly afraid of what could happen to him if he failed.

The name and voice obviously were still memorable but combined with the other improvements to his character, they were icing on the cake.

That being said, I don't think Steppenwolf is as intriguing or even remotely sympathetic as Loki and Thanos in the MCU.

Darkseid

Was Darkseid even mentioned in the Whedon cut? I can't remember and I don't want to watch that shitty movie again just to find out. However, I don't recall Darkseid making an appearance or even being spoken of in the 2017 version. Now, I haven't read DC (or Marvel) comics, so I don't know a lot about the guy, but he is supposedly one of the more iconic villains.

His motives are pretty simple, though: command and conquer. There isn't a lot of depth so far in the movies but he does pose a much larger threat than Steppenwolf did. You could tell Steppenwolf was intimidated by Darkseid, who was about as cold and menacing as they come. He's a complete villain in that regard, having no emotions and only seeking power for himself.

He looked great in the Snyder Cut. He was actually really fucking scary-looking. He made the beefcake Steppenwolf look like a puppy.

I'm glad that Darkseid made an appearance, even if he didn't fight the Justice League. It alludes to a much broader story, as well as foreshadows an epic boss fight down the line -- assuming the Snyder Cut is popular enough to convince the studios to make a direct sequel and not just abandon things in favor of some sort of soft reboot.

Superman/Clark Kent/Henry Cavill/Mustache Gate

Let's get this out of the way: Henry Cavill is hot af.

Ok, now that we got that out of the way, hooray for Snyder for getting rid of those nasty reshoot scenes involving Henry's CGI'd mouth! Can't say I missed them, you know? I mean, in the 2017 Whedon Cut, you could always spot reshoot scenes based on whether or not Henry's mouth looked normal and totally strange.

I think the 2017 movie had Superman grab Batman by the neck and ask, "Tell me: Do you bleed?" I'm relieved that was removed from the Synder Cut because it added too much of an evil tone to Superman, and we could clearly tell he was most upset with Batman upon being revived.

One massive problem with the 2017 movie was that it made every member of the Justice League look like bumbling idiots without Superman's help. It was downright embarrassing and unrealistic. I mean, you're telling me that Wonder Woman, a goddess, can't take on Steppenwolf? Or Victor Stone, a cyborg with incredible abilities? Making Superman key to winning isn't the problem, it's how it was done in the 2017 movie. He's already OP but that shouldn't mean his comrades have to be useless in comparison.

Superman was allowed to be OP in the Snyder Cut without making his team look incompetent. Like in the Avengers movies, everyone in the Justice League had a purpose and all of them worked together to defeat Steppenwolf. Superman obviously was key to winning, but, again, it wasn't like he was the only capable one during the battle.

I did like the black suit. It's kind of ominous but also very cool at the same time. But is it also foreshadowing something? I don't know...I haven't read the comics so I really don't have any idea lol.

Batman/Bruce Wayne/Batfleck

One glaring issue I still have is Ben Affleck is a mediocre actor at best and he's a terrible Bruce Wayne/Batman. I mean, they couldn't have found anyone else? Someone with, like, good acting abilities?

Martian Manhunter

This whole time -- THIS WHOLE GOTDAMM TIME -- Martian Manhunter was hiding in plain sight! General Swanwick, who I remember from "Man of Steel," IS Martian Manhunter. I didn't see that coming. I mean, I knew Martian Manhunter would appear in the Snyder Cut but I didn't know he'd have an alternate identity, let alone that of an existing character in the DCEU.

As much as I did like seeing him, I am glad he didn't play a big part because the movie already has plenty of characters as is, and introducing yet another one could have slowed things down and taken away from developing the plot.

The Runtime/Pacing

I mentioned already that the Whedon Cut felt rushed and needed much more time to develop its characters and plot. While I had doubts about whether or not making "Justice League" four hours long would be a good idea, it turns out that it was just what the story needed.

Character development was actually existent, and Cyborg/Victor Stone received a detailed backstory, and Flash/Barry Allen got some extra tidbits added to his character's story/background as well.

I actually thought Victor was a fascinating (if a bit tragic) character in the Whedon cut and was disappointed that he just sort of, like, popped up and fought alongside the other Justice League members with the tiniest amount of depth.

Despite an epic 4-hour runtime, it didn't feel slow, nor did it feel like any scenes were "filler." Every scene had a purpose and kept the story moving at a steady, comprehensible pace. It felt more like a 2.5-3 hour movie, honestly, which is a feat since pacing can often be one of a film's biggest issues ("Avengers: Endgame" also accomplished this feat with its 3-hour runtime feeling more like 2-2.5 hours but with no negative side effects of that). Breaking the movie into chapters, including an epilogue was a tad strange because it's not a very common thing, but I think it helped break up the epic 4 hours into separate, manageable but still cohesive pieces. Also, they helped easily transition from one portion to the next smoothly without any awkward cuts.

The Flash/Barry Allen/Ezra Miller

Barry still amused me in the Whedon Cut. He brought some good-natured humor and charm to the movie, preventing it from being too brooding and intense.

I think Ezra is a talented actor and does well in the Barry Allen role but he is, unfortunately, a problematic person. I mean, if he gets recast, he gets recast but hopefully, they pick someone else who has some acting abilities worth noting (i.e. Not a Ben Affleck type of actor)

The Final Battle

It was a huge improvement over the 2017 cut, as everyone was key to winning the final battle, not just Superman. It is meant to be a team of costumed heroes defeating a villain, not just one OP member of the team outdoing everyone else.

That being said, I felt that the final battle was a little bit anti-climatic. I don't know what it was but I just thought that it would be longer? I expected more to happen? More fighting? Not sure how to describe it, but I do feel like it wasn't as impressive as it could have been.

The Epilogue

A dystopian future involving an evil Superman and Joker somehow working WITH Batman was just...crazy. I mean, evil Superman, I can believe, but Joker and Batman working together (even reluctantly) is quite a sight.

Based on what I've been reading, this nightmare Bruce has could be setting up not one but two sequels for "Justice League." I would like to see how things will play out even if things get kind of dark. I'm getting the impression that Darkseid will kill Lois Lane, thus breaking Superman emotionally and making him compliant. That is unless Bruce intervenes in this timeline and prevents that from happening...but at the expense of his own life. Oh dear...

I definitely enjoyed the Zack Snyder version of "Justice League," and would definitely watch it again and again and again. I already have forgotten the majority of the Whedon Cut, and after seeing Synder's version, I think the 2017 movie will be rendered null and void. I hope it is just expelled from the DCEU canon entirely. That, and we get the "Justice League" sequels, preferably from Zack Snyder (Say what you want but I think he is a pretty good director for the most part and seems to really care about this work).

I honestly want to see a fight between the Justice League and Darkseid because I think that's what we're trying to build up to, and seeing as how Darkseid is one of the legendary villains in the DC comics, I would be extremely disappointed if this doesn't come to pass.

Also, as much as I like Batman/Bruce Wayne, seeing him sacrifice himself to save the team, including Lois and thus Superman's sanity, would be something else. It would bring everyone even closer together, for one, and I think that the negativity shared between Batman and Superman in the past would be completely forgiven. I'm not saying there isn't forgiveness now, but dying to save Superman's wife would change everything....if that makes sense? Does it make sense? I'm terrible at explaining my thoughts sometimes.

[castielific]

Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story. 

Summary: 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day. 

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

************

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens. 

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles. 

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate. 

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!" 

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before. 

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east. 

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off. 

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby. 

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now. 

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone. 

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today. 

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin. 

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky. 

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet. 

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear. 

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin. 

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex? 

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze. 

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them. 

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek. 

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar. 

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint. 

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't. 

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone. 

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures. 

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck. 

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes. 

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile. 

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here. 

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled. 

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way, 

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint. 

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'. 

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this. 

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer. 

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not. 

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it. 

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough. 

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces. 

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass. 

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here. 

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey. 

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole. 

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes. 

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?" 

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal. 

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her. 

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments. 

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse. 

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely. 

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off. 

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout. 

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up. 

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand? 

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away. 

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant. 

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair. 

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face. 

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything. 

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…". 

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there. 

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash. 

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!" 

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really. 

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly. 

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?" 

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?" 

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.  

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

 "I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know. 

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile. 

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled. 

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time. 

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension. 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods. 

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day... 

You can read the rest on AO3

[bleepblopbloop56]

The Murder in the Dressing Room

Chapter 3: 2 buttons

Chapter one, chapter 2, ao3

Warnings: slight suggestive content around the end (not too bad), murder/character death

As always @pathos-logical did an increble amount of work on this and everyone should go give her all the love

-

"Dada!" Logan could hear Patton's protest from the other room, which was quickly followed by the sound of unsteady footsteps that grew louder and louder until his one-year-old had run straight into his legs. He finished buttoning up his shirt before leaning down and lifting the child into his arms. Logan was the last person on earth you'd expect to want a child, and in a way he didn't. Or at least, he hadn't, not at first. About 16 months ago, his best friend had died giving birth to Patton, and all hopes of becoming "Uncle Logan" were thrown out the window and replaced with "dada".

His roommate Virgil walked in the room after the child, a small grin on his face. "The lil rugrat keeps getting away from me!" he laughed, sitting on Logan's bed. "I don't think he wants you to leave." Logan bounced the baby on his hip before handing him down to Virgil, earning a soft "nooo" from the child. 

"Thank you for watching him Virgil, I really can't tell you how much you're helping me." Logan shifted his attention back to Patton and smiled, poking his nose lightly. "Dada's gonna be gone for a while, okay?" The baby shook his head furiously, pouting before stretching out his arms and making grabby hands. Powerless to resist that face, Logan picked him up and began to bounce him again. 

"Pattttonnn," he sing-songed. "I gotta go, baby, or else I'll be late." He smiled at the boy clutching his shirt while trying to discreetly check his watch to see how long he had till he needed to leave. "Go to Uncle Vee now, okay?" Despite having lived with Virgil as long as he had lived with Logan, Patton had never really latched on to him the way he had Logan, deeming "Uncle Vee" as tolerable but not preferred- probably because of Virgil's piercings, tattoos, loud music, and overall gloomy vibe. 

Logan slowly pulled Patton off his shirt and placed him back in the arms of his roommate and friend. 

"Fix your hair before you go out," Virgil commented, standing up with the baby and tossing Logan's hair around with his hand. Logan looked in the mirror to see a "messy on purpose" look much more suited to Remy than him. 

"What was wrong with how I had it before?" he asked, flinching and covering his glasses when Virgil brought the hairspray to his hair.

"Too neat. If you really want this dude to like you, ya gotta loosen up." Virgil winked at him before unbuttoning the top two buttons of his dark navy shirt.

"This isn't a date, Virgil, this is a meeting between two friends to discuss the loss of… an acquaintance," Logan sniffed, but the shirt remained the way it was.

Patton let out a big yawn, arching his body before settling into Virgil's side. He seemed to have resigned himself to his fate and decided now was a perfect time for a nap. Virgil effortlessly adjusted his hold on him before quirking a pierced eyebrow at Logan. "Oh really? Your ex-boyfriend strolls into your life after you lose your mutual best friend, and now you're meeting up for the first time since the breakup." Virgil walked to the corner of Logan's room where Patton's small baby bed was set up, laying him down gently. "I've seen enough telenovelas to know that this will end with a makeout session in the rain." 

Logan rolled his eyes before stuffing his wallet and phone in his back pocket. He leaned down and kissed Patton's head softly, whispering a soft "love you" to the sleeping baby before making his way to the door. 

"Be home by 10!" Virgil called playfully, careful to make sure not to wake up the baby. 

"I am not a child, Virgil, I do not require a curfew," he joked, smiling back at his friend. He walked out the door and softly clicked it closed as he made his way down his apartment's hallway. 

"Is!"

"Isn't!"

"Is!!"

"ISN'T!"

"IS!" Remus shouted over Roman, laughing loudly before kicking his legs out, only to be silenced to a pillow to the face. 

"It. Isn't. A. Date!" Roman punctuated each syllable with another whack of the pillow, earning himself a kick in the gut. Amazing how even after twenty years they acted like they did when they were five. 

Remus kicked Roman again, shoving him into the floor and also probably leaving a considerable bruise. 

"Jesus fuck," Roman groaned, "do you always have to play so rough?" He lifted his shirt to observe the red mark on his stomach, flinching as he prodded at it. 

Roman ignored Remus' whiny "It's not my fault! You were trying to kill me!" and pulled himself up, picking through the mess on the floor to look through Remus' closet for anything he could pass off as acceptable fashion. Unfortunately, his twin's taste in clothing was… very different from his own, to say the least.

It had been three days since he and Logan had agreed to meet up, three days since Thomas has been murdered, three days since he'd last returned to his and Thomas' house. It hurt too much to go back now- he needed time. 

"Why the hell is everything you wear straight out of a clown's formal wear catalog?" Roman sneered, holding up a neon green polka-dotted suit jacket before dropping it in the trash can. Really, it was a wonder anything was hung up at all, considering the state of the house Remus was currently infesting. 

"Shut up and take what you can get!" Remus snapped, coming up and scanning the closet beside his brother. He reached in and yanked out a black pencil skirt before shoving it into Roman's hands. "There, that'll get you some detective D," he leered, wiggling his eyebrows. It took every ounce of self-restraint Roman had to not fucking deck the man in the face.

"I had planned on wearing pants," Roman scowled, thinking of how cold the walk back home could get, but he folded the skirt over his arm nonetheless. After some more bickering and insults, Remus managed to dig up a plain red short-sleeved button-up for him from the bottom of his drawers. 

"Do you have any makeup?" Roman called from the bathroom, frantically smoothing out his shirt from where it was tucked into his skirt, trying to keep it from leaving any weird bumps or wrinkles.

"Why the fuck would I have makeup?!" Remus yelled back. ‘Probably for the best,’ Roman decided. ‘Spending another minute in this bathroom might be hazardous to my health.’ 

"I don't know," Roman complained, stepping out of the bathroom and pulling on a pair of Remus' shoes. "You paint your nails and own a fucking pencil skirt, it doesn't exactly seem like you've fallen victim to toxic masculinity." He very maturely stuck his tongue out at Remus as he took out his phone to check the time. He glanced down, and then again with disbelief. Shit. He'd spent way too much time bickering with his brother, and now he was running late. 

"If I'm not back by midnight, don't come looking for me," Roman winked. It was an old joke- they used to say that to each other every time they snuck out of the house for a date or to hang out with friends. 

"Aha! So you admit it's a date!" Remus cheered, leaning forward for effect. Roman simply slammed the door in his face and began his trek to the restaurant. 

The restaurant was bustling. Friday nights were the busiest for all of the restaurants in the area, especially the nice ones. Roman had picked the place, although the reason he would choose such a nice place for a friendly gathering was beyond Logan.

As per usual, Logan had arrived early and seated himself in a booth near the back of the restaurant. Today, however, he was regretting his punctuality for multiple reasons. First of all, the restaurant's dim lighting, supplied by fake candles and an overly gaudy chandelier, called back to other times he had waited on Roman at some fancy restaurant for date night, and the longer he waited, the harder it was to suppress those memories. Second, the more time passed, the more self-conscious Logan got. After seeing all the men in nice suits and ties pass by, he was starting to regret letting Virgil mess up his hair instead of sticking with the neat slicked-back look he wore on a daily basis. 

And third, Logan had been waiting for so long he was beginning to suspect Roman had backed out on him. Just as he was promising himself he'd leave after another five minutes, he saw a man in a red shirt and tight black skirt squeeze his way through the restaurant. 

"Hi, I'm sorry I'm so late!" Roman rushed out. His expression went from apologetic to annoyed in a second as he said, rolling his eyes: "Problems with my brother, he can be a real bitch sometimes."

The explanation startled a laugh out of Logan. Roman's exasperation looked so genuine that Logan couldn't doubt him, and… it was nice to see that Roman hadn't changed after all this time. He waved off Roman's worry, who smiled with relief before sitting down and picking up a menu. "Wine?" 

Roman giggled as Logan pushed him against his car. Okay, so maybe after a bottle of wine it was… more or less a date.

Logan's hands pulled at Roman's shirt, unbuttoning it and pushing his hands under the fabric. It had been so long since they'd kissed like this- far too long since Logan had kissed anyone, really, and Ethan had never used to kiss Roman like this, like he was the center of his universe. 

Logan ran his hands over Roman's stomach, accidently pressing on the fresh bruise. Roman winced and pulled away, pushing at Logan's hands.

Logan backed away immediately. "What's wrong?" he asked seriously, brown eyes wide and sparkling down at Roman with concern. Roman chuckled and pulled up his shirt, showing off the now red and blue bruise.

"Remus," he sighed wearily. "You know how he is." He leaned back in and connected his lips to Logan's, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and dragging him down in a much less heated kiss.

"Can we go back to yours?" Roman asked quietly. This was really what he needed after things ended badly with Dee. Even if they could just snuggle like they used to, it'd make everything seem okay again. 

Logan shook his head. "I can't," he winced regretfully. "I have a child now, Ro, and Virgil's still there with us…" He trailed off, fiddling with his glasses. Roman smiled softly and nodded- not pushing, not asking for more. They'd just have to wait. 

"I could give you a ride back to Remus' if you'd like," Logan offered instead. "Making you walk home after, ah, that, seems rude." He laughed a little awkwardly, his smile a little strained, but Roman only nodded and pulled open the passenger door he was pushed up against only moments before. 

When Roman returned home just before 1 am, it was to find Remus lying dead on the kitchen floor, a golden mask with a deep frown adorning his face. Just like how he'd found Thomas…

The murder in the dressing room taglist:

@cataclysm-al @theteenagetrickster @intrurality-fusion @katie-the-noble-fangirl @whizzie72 @grayson-22 @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing 'm-d0ing @winterwonderland7669 @missieluvsmurder @sign-from-god-complex @dragonindigo245 @angryfanboyscreaming @ninja-wizard101 @sombraookami @crystalistrappedintheinternet @imtooaromanticforthis @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @dragon-hair @satanblessi @spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence @skruffy901 @selectivereality

[killjoy-3000]

A Battle of the Elements: Chapter One

AO3 Link:

Word count: 2024

Warnings: A few bad language words, I think thats it.

So this is my second official fanfiction, and I think it turned out okay? For chapter one, at least. I will try to post more chapters, but no promises, as I am a major procrastinator. Leave a comment, reblog, or a like if you enjoy!

Patton took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air. Walking through the front doors of Sandy Grove high school, he pasted on a smile. With luck, this would be the last school he ever attended. Waving at a few students that walked past, Patton started towards the front office. He had already registered in the school a few days prior, but he didn't yet have his locker combination or list of classes.

      Once he grabbed everything he needed, the cheery-looking boy found his locker and placed his things into it. Adding a few animal pun stickers to the sides of his locker, he gave a firm nod. This was his new school, and he wouldn't mess up. Not like all the other times.

      Patton stood after grabbing the things he needed for his first period. Turning around, he attempted to walk to his first class. As he sat on the floor, his things scattered around him, he realized that he had ran into someone. Looking over, he discovered that someone was a boy with dark purple hair, black eyeshadow under his eyes, and a baggie hoodie swallowing his skinny frame. 

      "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention! Let me help you! Are you alright?" Patton jumped up as he said this, ignoring the bruise he could feel forming on his arm from hitting it against the locker. Holding his hand out, the shorter boy offered to help the other.

      Flinching at the hand, the boy scooted back. "I-I'm fine." He stood, glaring at Patton. "Watch where you're going." The mysterious boy grabbed his book that he had dropped, and walked away. Patton stood in the middle of the hall, confused. He decided to brush it off, thinking that the boy was having a bad day, and began to pick up his books. 

      A few hours later, Patton found himself in his fourth period class. In his nervousness for his first day of school, he had forgotten to eat breakfast, and was counting down the minutes until lunch. He had yet to make any friends, and hadn't even talked to anyone besides the teachers and the strange boy in the hall.

      The bell rang, signaling the end of fourth period. Only one class to go until lunch , Patton thought. Then, he realized that he would have no one to sit with. Maybe I can go outside. Walking into the classroom, he sat down in his assigned seat. This was the first class that had assigned seating, but Patton wasn't complaining. It just meant that people would actually sit near him.

    Looking around, he examined the people sitting around him. To his left, there was a serious looking student who wore a tie and glasses. His black hair was gelled back, and there wasn't anything out of place on his body. It was kind of scary how neat and tidy this guy looked. 

    Glancing to his right, Patton did a double take. The guy he had run into earlier was scrolling through his phone, not taking notice of anything around him. He didn't look very happy to be there, and his fingers kept tapping the desk and fiddling with his hoodie as he held his phone. He looked anxious about something, though Patton didn't know what.

    Finally, Patton glanced behind him, and saw a guy dressed in a white shirt with a little golden crown on it and blue jeans. His hair was gelled back as well, but it was in a messier fashion than the tidy guy. He was laughing at something his friend had said, and looked like a fairly popular dude. Maybe Patton could become friends with him? 

    As the class went on, Patton tried to initiate a conversation with the other students. He got scolded by the teacher once or twice, but no one seemed eager to talk to him. The bell rang for lunch, and he hadn't gotten anywhere. Resigning himself to his fate, he walked to his locker and put away his things, grabbing some lunch money. He would just sit outside and eat alone.

    Virgil sat in the bleachers, taking no notice of anything around him. It was late October, and he, loving the weather, often ate outside. He ate outside the rest of the year too, but he enjoyed it more this time of year. People didn't tend to be very nice to the dude wearing all black sitting in the back of the classroom, so he didn't bother trying to eat in the cafeteria.

    As he ate his sandwich, the boy watched a short, curly haired kid walk outside, lunchbox in hand. Upon closer inspection, Virgil realized it was the boy he had knocked over earlier in the hall. He looked pretty happy, and skipped over to the bleachers. Cursing, Virgil ducked inside of his hood, hoping the boy wouldn't recognize him. The universe didn't seem too keen on listening though, because as the boy looked up and saw Virgil, his smile got even wider. 

    "Hey! You're the kid from my English class! And the one I bumped into in the hall!" Rushing up the steps, the blue-eyed boy smiled at Virgil, and raised a hand as a greeting. "I'm Patton, nice to meet you. Officially, anyway. Sorry for knocking you down in the hallway earlier, I wasn't paying attention. You weren't hurt, were you?"

    Virgil raised his eyebrow, genuine confusion written on his face. Patton was… apologizing? For something that wasn't his fault? Realizing that he'd better say something, as it had been a few seconds, and Patton had asked a question, Virgil gave a small wave. "Uh, I'm Virgil. And I'm fine. Sorry I snapped at you earlier, I'm, ah, not much of a morning person."

    Patton shrugged, his smile somehow getting even wider. "No harm done." Seemingly pondering something, he paused. "So, uh, why aren't you inside? Do you not have anyone to sit with?" He looked sad at this, as though Virgil's loneliness was the worst thing in his life at the moment. 

    Virgil considered the questions, and shook his head. "It's not that I don't have anyone to sit with, it's that I don't have anyone I want to sit with." He shrugged, showing that it was no big deal, and returned to eating his lunch. "What about you? You seem, uh, friendly. Has no one invited you to sit with them yet?"

    At that remark, Patton seemed to deflate a bit. "Well, not exactly. Everyone looks like they already have their friend groups, and I wouldn't want to intrude." He sat down, and picked at the weird mush on his plate that resembled mashed potatoes. After a few seconds, he blinked, and looked up. "Do you have a friend group, Virgil?"

    Virgil stared at Patton for a moment. "Wh- Of course I do! What's that supposed to mean? They're just… preoccupied right now. They like to sit inside, and I don't. That's all." He looked away, staring at the school. While part of what he'd said was true, it wasn't the entire story. Remus and Dee were more popular than him, so even though they liked to hang out with Virgil, they didn't tend to eat outside with him very often. 

    After a few minutes of silent eating, Patton seemed to grow uncomfortable at the lack of conversation, and spoke up. "So, um, what's Sandy Grove like? I just moved here with my mom and grandmother, but I don't know much about it." He picked at the sleeves of his sweater, and bit his lip, as if asking Virgil these questions would harm either of them. 

    "It's a fairly boring town. We've got one store, an old, broken movie theater, and a cafe with cockroaches. There're 200 kids at the high school, and 300 at the elementary, which has grades K-8. There's nothing to do, nothing to see, and, quite frankly, I have no idea why you'd move here." Throwing his trash into his lunch sack, Virgil stood, and prepared to go inside. 

    "So have you lived here your whole life?" Asked Patton, still trying to make conversation. Giving a small nod, the darkly-dressed student began to walk inside. The other followed, rushing to keep up with Virgil's long strides. As they walked inside the building, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

    The bell rang, and Logan gathered his books up for his next class. He had spent his lunch period in the library, as he usually does, and was now prepared for his Calculus test in his seventh period. He was walking through the halls, making his way to his sixth period, when he hit something. That something appeared to be a short boy with round glasses, curly blond hair, and freckles. 

    As the shorter boy fell, Logan grabbed his arm, stopping his descent. He stumbled over his feet, but managed to catch the other. They stood there for a few seconds, each of their eyes wide, until Logan came to his senses and straightened up. He let go of the small boys hand, and grabbed the books that fell to the floor. 

    "Are you alright?" He asked in a calm voice, though his heart was racing. He felt bad, as he hadn't even noticed the boy in front of him until they had almost fallen on each other. The other nodded, taking his books from Logan's hands gratefully. "Thanks," said the freckled student quietly. "Sorry for running into you."

    He looked ... scared. Almost as if he thought Logan were going to yell at him. "It's fine. No one got hurt. Just watch where you are going next time." He told the boy, looking over him once more to make sure he was okay. When the boy nodded his understanding, Logan turned away to walk to his class. Unbeknownst to him, the short boy watched him leave, awe written all over his face. 

    For the rest of the day, Logan questioned why the boy he had run into looked so fearful and timid. Surely he hadn't looked that mean, had he? While people told him all the time he had a "resting bitch face", he didn't ever think it was that mean looking. Maybe he should work on softening it, so as not to scare anyone else. 

    Later that day, when Logan arrived at his house, he began on a project due in a few weeks. Better to get a head start than to never start at all. After working on it for around an hour, he got out his planner and looked over it, checking to make sure he had done everything he needed to that day. When it seemed like he was ahead on all of his assignments, he slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

    The stars on his walls and ceiling had been there since Logan was in fourth grade. His best friend at the time had helped him stick the small, glowing stars everywhere they could think of, and even now, seven years later, they all remained unmoved. His father thought they were foolish decorations, but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of them. They represented a large part of his childhood, and he would sooner get a B on an assignment than trash them. 

    It was funny, he supposed, that he loved space. The sky full of stars and far away planets was one of Logan's greatest passions. He had even considered becoming an astronaut when he was younger, but he knew it would never happen. As terrified of heights as he was, even thinking of going up there, thousands of miles above the ground, made him feel physically sick. 

    He got up and walked out of his room, careful to be quiet. It was around nine p.m., and his father didn't like him to be outside after it got dark. Stepping carefully, Logan made his way through the large, empty house, and finally arrived outside. He went over to his favorite spot in the large yard, and lay down, letting the feeling of the grass and the cool night air wash over him.