#'my dad is literally banging some news guy i could not respect him less if i tried. his taste has only ever been mediocre. sorry mom'

[diavolosthots]

I saw the amazing fic about Diavolo meeting his mc’s strict religious parents. Could you please do that for Levi too?

I got it. I realized that i will probably pull most of these "sources" from the bible since thats the easiest religious text to find these demons in.

Warning: religion

Defend Me ( LEVIATHAN X GN!READER )

He felt uncomfortable from the get go. Meeting people in general completely throws him off and his anxiety went through the roof when you told him you wanted him to meet your parents. Your parents! How could he leave a good impression on them? “Hi I’m a demon. I play video games most of the time and have social anxiety. Achievements? Well I’m also the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, but don’t worry! I treat them with the utmost respect because truthfully I don’t even know how I landed with them in the first place, but here we are, and I don’t want to lose them.” He can’t say that! He would sound like an absolute fool! They will think he’s way too weird for you the minute he walks in, anyway. He screams gamer-otaku-with-no-life, for goodness sakes! You can’t tell me that’s what they would want for you!

That’s why he pushed it off. For months he made up some ridiculous excuse of why he couldn’t go or why you should stay home with him. He even once went as far as to say your parents were sick and got Satan involved to actually get them sick! Nothing bad… just the seasonal flu, but still. Can’t you see that he really doesn’t want this? Well, you can see it, but you just don’t really seem to care. This is important to you and thus he, reluctantly, agreed to participate. He agreed to let Hell rise up and to try and be kind to your parents. Now.. as much as you wanted to believe him, you actually had your doubts. You knew your dad was going to tear him a new one and your mom was probably going to make fun of him too… but… you had faith in him that he could take the less.. Harmful jokes and hopefully not get too aggravated with the more rude ones… you prayed that, since he isn’t Satan, he won’t take too much offense to them.

“Ready?” Levi shook his head, looking at the bouquet of flowers in his hand, “are these okay? That’s what humans do right? They bring flowers for the mom? I saw it in a show once…” You laughed softly; he saw everything in a show once and thinks that this is how the world works. Well, he wasn’t completely wrong and it just shows that he can be a gentleman. “Yeah.. they’re fine. Okay, here we go.” You rang the doorbell, waiting for your mom to open the door, but it was actually your dad. “Dadd---!” “Hold on sweetie, who is this?” Your dad immediately stepped out and eyed Levi up and down, which made him more than uncomfortable, but he just clenched the flowers in his hand and forced himself to smile, “My name is Levi, sir. I’m their b-boyfriend.” You cringed silently. He was doing so good! But that stutter. 

Your dad eyed him once more, his eyes landing on the flowers in Levi’s hand, “ah. Listen, kid, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but those flowers are not going to make up for the absolute wreck you are and under no circumstance are you coming into my house with that cosplay jacket on.” You gasped loudly, slapping your dad on the arm, “dad! Those flowers are for mom and it’s not a cosplay jacket, it’s just a jacket!” You shake your head, taking Levi’s hand and dragging him inside, but Levi was still too focused on the fact that he just got made fun of not once, but twice, in the same sentence. “Mom! Come meet my boyfriend, and please be nicer than dad.” Levi could hear laughter from a room nearby and was soon greeted by a grinning woman; at least she looked friendly.

“Don’t be too hard on your dad. You know he’s just looking out for you.” Levi gained some confidence back, smiling softly as he held out the flowers, “These are for you, ma’am. My name is Levi.” Your mom gave him the same up and down look your dad gave him and he suddenly felt uncomfortable again, but your mom took the flowers and smiled at him anyway. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you. Oh! And these are so pretty! Come. Sit down. (Y/N), have you offered him some water? Oh dear, where are your manners?!” He could see you throw your arms up in frustration as you tell your mom that you literally just got here, and walked off with her. He suddenly felt so alone, kind of weird too, in a strange house, but he decided to enter the room your mom just came out of and noticed it was the living room. He also noticed that it was turned to some kind of christian music channel and a quick glance around told him that Jesus was watching him from every angle, literally, “so. Besides banging my child, what else do you do?” Levi almost choked, quickly turning around as a deep red flushed over his cheeks, “I-I don’t… ‘bang’ your child, sir. We uhm… we’re far from that step.”

“And that better stay that way, kid, unless you want to become friendly with my gun collection.” Levi shook his head, trying to avoid eye contact, “no, sir. I’m great.” Your dad scoffed, calling back out to your mother and you, “what’s taking you two so long? Another minute with this softie and he might turn into a puddle.” You rolled your eyes as you walked up with glasses of water that you sat down on the coffee table, “leave him alone, dad, he’s a good guy.” “yeah and apparently made out of cotton candy. He can barely stand straight, and you want to date that?” Levi felt bad; of course he knew you could do so much better than him. Hell, he’s told you that before, it’s just that you don’t listen! “He’s a good boy? Yeah I can see that. His name is Levi for goodness sakes; what’s that short for anyway? Seriously sweety, you could do so much better than that thing over there, but I suppose being taken away from a good home and thrown into that useless exchange program does kill a few brain cells.”

Oh no. Oh no, see what we’re not going to do is insult you. “What did you just say?” Your dad’s gaze flicked over to Levi’s, grinning smugly at him, “what? Got your panties in a twist, kiddo? Let me say it again, yo--” “No. No, no, no! See what we’re NOT going to do is bash on your own child!” Levi gets up, obviously getting angry, “You can throw my name around all you want, which, by the way, is Leviathan in full, and yes, I’m exactly that sea monster mentioned in that God awful fanfiction you call the word of the Lord. They!” He angrily points at you, feeling his blood boil beneath his skin, “are the best thing that has ever happened to you, considering you couldn’t get your cock up anymore if you wanted to with that elephant of a body you call ‘attractive’. I might not be the smartest, hell, I’m not even attractive, but I know for a fact that your child is the smartest, most considerable being that has ever graced this terrible excuse of a planet and I am NOT, “ he clenches his teeth, turning into his demon form and lashing out with his tail as he pulls your father up by the collar, “letting a measly excuse for a human being tear that beautiful soul down.” He roughly pushes your father back down, hissing at him as storms flashed behind his eyes. 

“Levi..---!” He grabbed your hand roughly, dragging you out of there and onto the street, not caring that people are seeing him as something other than human, other than normal. “Levi!” But he only shook his head, watching the portal open and dragging you through it. “I’m sorry, (Y/N), but I cannot just sit there and let him talk bad about you! What kind of father is that? I mean don’t get me wrong, I had my fair share of shitty parents, but at least my father didn’t think I was a complete waste of space.” He was breathing heavily, his body still tensed as you reached out for him, kind of scared but also slightly… turned on. “Levi… you’re so sweet.” you laughed softly, wrapping yourself around him and nuzzling into his neck, feeling him calm down and no doubt, feel a little embarrassed. “I didn’t think you’d stand up to him, but… It’s nice to know that you have my back.” 

He frowned, wrapping his arms and tail around you tightly, “Of course I have your back. No one gets to speak so terribly about you, not even your father… I knew there was a reason why I hate socializing. No offense but I can guarantee that man isn’t going to the pretty clouds in the sky, no matter how much he pretends to be a saint.” You shook your head, still laughing softly, “no offense taken… he was always a little… harsh. I wish you would’ve paid attention to his face. He was so shocked to see you, not only defend me and yourself, but also just being able to pick him up…. It was worth the little bit of hurt.” He shook his head, kissing down your shoulder, “You should never ever have to deal with that. I mean it. You’re the smartest and most considerable. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.” “Well… don’t let anyone tell you any different either.”

“Now you’re just asking too much from a shut-in otaku like me…” 

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 9

As promised, two chapters in one day! HBD to this trash rabbit. I just get thirstier with age.

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. DRUG USE IN THIS CHAPTER. Just generally an uncomfortable vibe, thread carefully.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Ooh, boy. This is a whole mess. Angst. [insert drugs owl meme]. Steve doesn't pass the vibe check yet again, stupid old man. Bruce + Tony be like: I CAN'T GET NO SLEEP CUZ OF Y'ALL.

My beta, whomst I love more than cake - @miscmarvelwritings . She's so beautiful though. And so smart. Wow.

The strobe lights pulsated to the rhythm of the music, bodies swaying, gyrating to the tune. The club was banging this time of night, people were living it up like there was no tomorrow. For me, in the VIP zone it was quieter, calmer, but no less exciting. The atmosphere here was distinctly different from the one on the main floor.

It was hard to wallow in misery even if it only took me an hour to stop resisting the gratuitous amounts of white powder on the silver platters. "It's better when you're there to watch them, they'll do it anyway but at least you can know that they're getting the good stuff!" My idiot father proudly announced, looking at me snorting a line through a rolled up hundred dollar bill.

Whiskey and vodka wasn't doing it for me. It made me feel low and Dad, being Dad, of course noticed it and immediately called a guy who knew a guy and suddenly all of his friends and their baby-faced companions had white under their noses. Cash flew like autumn leaves.

As I went out to the main dance floor to get a closer look at Billie Eilish in all of her edgy, beautiful self, the drug hit me like an avalanche. No trace of the grogginess or the mortification that had hitched a ride on me from Stark tower. I danced and sang and saw dad smiling at me in approval, his equally high and important friends all wearing identically predatory smirks. They were good at spotting the obvious - beauty, talent, money. I had no qualms about the fact that dad was off bragging about my close relationship with Tony. If my father was feeling particularly bold, he'd be telling them he knew and encouraged it all along, his buddies pretending to believe the white lie in turn.

I had exchanged my pants and sneakers in favour of a skirt and fishnets with high heels combo, a decidedly inappropriate attire for a daughter having a family night with her father but he insisted I dress trendy. I loved my dad, I really did, and I knew he meant well - I'd definitely be out of place amongst these TVscreen worthy people in my jeans and sneakers but...Tony was one of those people, and he had never ever said anything bad about the way I dress. Even when I obviously and purposely put on obscene clothing just to get a rise out of someone.Tony just smiled and played along.

Tony Stark was the heartless asshole here? Really, press? Really, haters?

"Standing there, killing time, can't commit to anything but a crime..." I sang along quietly as I hurried back to the VIP area. My dad was standing up and so were a couple of his buddies. "Where's ya goin'?" I asked, taking a seat.

"Be right back baby girl, if you find better company then go on without us," Dad winked, throwing a totally nasty glance at one of the girls. She was not much older than me but her body was stick thin and bolt-ons and Botox were her two best friends. She gave me a dirty look and I returned it, extending a waiting hand towards my dad. He chuckled, depositing a neatly rolled stack of hundreds into my palm.

"Dad, I want a new purse," I whined, just a tad. Just to see the girl's eyes go wide with acrid envy. Dutifully, another couple of stacks landed in my palm without any objections and the company retreated towards the back door.

I sighed.

Fiddled with the straw of my drink a bit, contemplating my options. I could always ditch this party and go somewhere more active, somewhere with better music and kinder people.

"Ay, baby girl, you wanna party with us?" A tall, handsome man from dad's previous company approached me. "We'll have some fun." He maintained a respectful distance but the intentions were clear.

"Nope," I popped the sound, not even sparing him a glance. A few lines of cocaine stared at me from the table beckoning with a better high, a stronger sense of euphoria, confidence and energy to dance, to sing, to be happy. I picked up one of the discarded banknotes, quickly rolling it by a sheer force of habit and cleaning up the tray. One line.

"Holy shit, is that..."

Two lines.

"The fuck?!" I recognised that voice. I have been hearing it every day in the labs, I've been hearing it in my dreams.

Tony was gaping at me, in front of me.

"Hey, Tony. Fancy seeing you here." Any other time, I'd be cringing at my lame greeting but I was feeling way too good to care about trivial things like being clever or being appropriate.

"I was looking...for you," He slowly said, putting a single finger on the tray with the last line of coke and pulling it out of my reach.

"That's funny," I snorted, hastily wiping at my nose to cover the tracks of my very bad, very immoral, very illegal activities.

"It's not, Princess, it's not funny at all," He frowned. "C'mon, we're leaving." And extended his hand. I decided to follow along - there was nothing for me to do at this club anyway, the music was lame and the people were stuck-up.

"I look like a prostitute, Tony, I'll take the back door," I attempted to pull him towards the aforementioned but he didn't budge, just stared straight ahead and towed me along like he was wearing one of his iron suits under the stylish jeans and tee get-up.

He stopped in front of the exit, giving me a critical once over. Wiped my face, again, brushed my hair back. Gave me his shades - I dutifully put them on, figuring the manic look in my eyes was anything but attractive right now. "Jesus Christ, Princess," He sounded desperate. "You're beautiful, don't you fucking worry."

And we made our exit, arm in arm, me trying not to stumble in my high heels, Tony being my rock, my solid foundation. In other words, I was hanging onto him for dear life trying not to fall over and give a reason for a sneaking paparazzi to make a scandalous headline.

"You're doing great, Princess," Tony helped me into his Tesla, slamming the door behind me and hurrying towards the driver's door. I managed to unclasp and kick off my shoes, curling up comfortably into the passenger's seat.

I watched the man as he started the engine and watched him wrestle with whatever personal demons that tormented him as he peeled off and raced into the Friday night city.

"What in the everlasting fuck..." He started, stopping abruptly mid-sentence. "How did you even get in there?"

"I came with dad. He literally ditched me to fuck some whore, like, twenty minutes before you showed up." I shrugged, eyeing the modified panel of the car. It was very obviously Tony's own design. I wondered if he could introduce me to Elon Musk someday.

"What the fuck? And correct me if I didn't hear you clearly," Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your father took it upon himself to drag you to a club, get you drunk, gave you cocaine and fucked off with some groupies?"

"Yah, that's about it. My dad is all about cocaine and whores, the more the better," I replied, leaning in to take a closer look at the car's panel. "Hey, could, like, introduce me to Elon Musk someday? That would be fuckin' awesome."

Tony went eerily quiet, I saw his knuckles on the steering wheel go white. Vague expletives were muttered under his breath. "I'm guessing you're good on sleep?" He finally asked through gritted teeth.

"Sleep? Don't know her," I laughed. "I wanna dance, Tony."

"Of course you do, Princess." His smile was tired and forced and full of pity. "You know, I don't think I'll be able to sleep now, either," He admitted, taking a sharp left. "How about we get some McDonald's and camp out in my lab?"

"Sure, whatever," Not like I had much choice in the matter. What I really craved was a good, long, hard fuck (by Tony himself preferably) but if science calls... I have no choice but to comply. "Get me two Big Macs," I demanded least he try to joke and get me a Happy Meal or some shit.

He did get me the food without any usual grumbling. I didn't like this Tony. Tired Tony, sad Tony, angry Tony. Wrong Tony.

"Huh?" He said and I realized I'd said the last part out loud.

"I don't like a sad Tony,” I said. "It's the wrong kind. Sassy, snarky and perpetually caffeinated Tony is the best Tony. The only proper kind, in fact." I stated with seriousness, shoes dangling from one hand and my McDonald's in the other. Man, I have been seeing more and more of this god-damned elevator recently.

"You're high as a kite, darling," He chuckled then, a real laugh.

"Who's high?" Bruce's voice came from the kitchen.

In a state of blind panic, I jumped behind Tony. "Not me."

Tony palmed his face.

Steve came over from the fridge, leaving the rummaging to Bucky. He took one look at me and suddenly I felt small, insignificant like an ant. I didn't like it much. "Holy hell, the fuck happened? Tony, explain." The Captain demanded, giving me the world's biggest stink eye.

"It's her piece of shit of a father, dragged her off to some night club and left her hanging with his buddies, fucking off god knows where. It's not her fault so lay the fuck off, Rogers, with your self-righteousness," Tony exploded all over Steve, the pent up frustration rearing it's ugly head.

I mustered enough courage to tiptoe around the dick measuring contest to sit at the counter. My appetite was gone and my burgers were turning colder and soggier with every passing second. Just like my life.

"Hey, Princess," Bruce's gentle voice halted my train of thought. He approached me carefully, ignoring the men behind me in favour of simply wrapping me up in a quiet, comfortable hug. "You feel alright? Want some water?"

"Nu-uh," I mumbled, unwilling to part ways with the warmth of this embrace.

"... Steve, I found her snorting miles of coke all by herself while an some jackass was waiting for her to be even more out of it. It's rare that I say this but I had literally zero words." Tony punctuated his words by tapping his fist against the wall multiple times.

Bruce tightened his hold on me, a sudden influx of strength accompanied by a quiet, low growl in his throat.

I felt the sudden need to clarify the situation. "Tony, chill. It takes me a lot more to be out of it, I'm fucking coherent and I'm talking sensibly. It's not my first rodeo."

Apparently I'd gone and said the wrong thing because all the men in the room were suddenly growling. I even totally forgot about Bucky who had the uncanny ability to exist in a room without making absolutely any sort of noise.

"The fuck do you even mean by that, Princess?" Tony screeched, probably already knowing that answer.

"From one rich kid to another, you should damn well fuckin' know," I spat, unwilling to admit my misery.

He sighed, audibly deflating behind me. I refused to listen to him, refused to be humiliated and exposed like that for my perfectly human desire to be happy. To not be a disappointment, to not be disappointed in everything and everyone. Bruce was nice and kind and warm and selfless but even he couldn't love me the way I wanted to be loved. Cherished, taken care of. All that mushy stuff. I was selfish, so I snuggled in closer to him, muting the world around me, replacing it with the smell and feel of him.

Cocaine made it a whole lot easier to imagine. Maybe that's why it was so addictive.

"Guys, calm down, you're stressing everyone out," Bruce rumbled quietly. I loved the way his deep voice seemed to reverb throughout his chest.

"Get me a cup of coffee, would you, Buckaroo?" Tony sighed again. I heard the sound of him slurping at his coffee. I heard Bucky's metal arm clunk against something equally metallic before the supersoldiers bid everyone good night and walked off.

Only then I removed my face from Bruce enough to take a good look at Tony. He was eyeing me, too.

"We have a caffeinated Tony," I said, softly. "Now we just need some science to have a happy Tony."

He smiled but it came out watery. He wanted to say something but choked on his words. "C'mere," He finally said, turning in his chair and opening his arms.

I unashamedly made grabby hands, the universal gesture for ‘I want, gimme’, and Bruce delightfully deposited me into Tony's waiting arms. It was like my birthday and Christmas came out all at once. Tony's embrace was warm, like Bruce's, but tinted with an unexpected familiarity. He smelled like motor oil and fancy cologne. It was heavenly.

"You keeping tabs on me, huh? Coffee, science and sass? That's your recipe for happiness?" The engineer asked me, a seriousness that didn't match the joking tone of the conversation at all.

"I think I got you figured out. Peter, too, is important for happiness. But in controlled amounts," I said, giving it a careful thought.

Tony chuckled, sounding a little bit shocked. "What about you?" He said after a brief moment of silence passed, interrupted only by Bruce's tea kettle coming to a slow boil.

"I don't think you need me for happiness," I said, meaning it. "But let's be honest, I'm a nice addition."

He stilled under me, briefly. Bruce cleared his throat.

"Brucie needs me, I think. He's lonely," I told Tony with a sudden influx of desire to be completely honest and 100% transparent. "And it makes me happy, because I need Bruce too. He's the best," I finished.

"Is that so?" Tony sounded vaguely tearful so I attempted to pull back to take a good look at his face. He didn't let me though, gently but firmly pressing my face back into his chest. "And me?"

"I do need you, Tones," I admitted without spilling any unnecessary details.

There was a child within me, small and scared and lonely, like Bruce. I hated her, hated being so soft and needy when everybody else obviously (and understandably) was busy with figuring out their own lives. I wished, desperately so, to just boom-boom-whoosh her away like Doctor Strange magicked away unwanted visitors.

Tony said nothing but his hands betrayed him. They shook and they held onto the skimpy see-through fabric of my top like he was a drowning man and I was his only floatie. For the moment, I closed my eyes and let myself believe he needed me, too.

"I'll catch a wink or two, wake me up if you need something," Bruce broke the silence, having finished off his tea. I didn't notice the time pass so quickly, too lost somewhere between here and there and Tony. In short, I was being lovesick all over the billionaire.

"Bwucie," I leaned backwards, pushing until Tony caved and let me rest my back against the counter, elbows on top of it, legs dangling freely on the sides of his legs. It put a lot of me on display. Tony had called me beautiful earlier so none of my usual habits of being appropriate around the man concerned me. He thought I was pretty!

"Princess," Banner came over to wrap me in a hug that was quite awkward, considering the fact I was sitting on Tony. It took some maneuvering to get it right.

"Night night," I said the usual and got a brief kiss on the cheek before Bruce shuffled off, yawning.

Tony was watching us with an unreadable expression. As soon as I turned my head to look at his face instead, something in him changed. His eyes grew big and round, the crease between his eyebrows disappeared. The corners of his mouth tilted up.

On a sudden impulse, I reached over to run my palm gently over the neatly trimmed line of his beard, following from his chin to his jawline, to his soft tousled hair. His eyelashes shook, fluttered, as the engineer leaned into my touch with the grace of a cat. "Kiss him, kiss him" my brain chanted. I knew I was a coward, I wouldn't do that. "Pretty," I said instead, the word coming out in a whisper.

He gulped, audibly. "Princess, you have no idea..." Shaking his head, as if he was surrounded by a swarm of mosquitoes, Tony briefly looked away. "You have no idea what you're doing."

"Nope," I agreed solemnly. "But at least it feels good. It feels right."

"God," He frowned, one of his hands coming to nervously card through his hair. "Nothing about this is right."

My face fell. Just like I thought, Tony wanted exactly nothing to do with a clueless little teenager. It stung and tears pooled in the corners of my eyes where I stubbornly refused to let them escape and make me into a crybaby. "Whatever you say, Tony." I was ready to agree with anything he said, really, if he would just keet holding me like that.

"Don't," He raised a palm. "Don't close yourself off like that."

Now I was genuinely confused. What exactly did he expect from me? I shrugged.

"You're clever, brilliant and beautiful, you can and should do so much better than all of this," He vaguely gestured towards me, towards himself, towards us and the whole damn city.

I contemplated my answer, briefly. "A lot of people tell me what I should and shouldn't be doing. Don't I get a say?" The bitterness had fought its way out and won. "I just want to be happy for a bit. All the usual bullshit."

He looked taken aback, really. Like he hadn't even considered the option. Typical.

Meanwhile, I continued my word vomit. "I want someone to give a damn about what I want and what makes me happier. Until then, I have no other choice but to take care of myself the best way I know how. Like everybody else does," The weight of his arm landed on my waist, pulling me close to his chest yet again. I didn't resist. No fight left in me. The tiredness seeped deep in my bones, chilly.

The sudden change of altitude startled me. The engineer had picked me up and started walking off towards the elevator, directing it to the lab. His personal lab. The tiles felt cold under my feet where he put me down to make his own beeline for the bar. I would've joined if not the drug in my system - the last thing I wanted was to land in a hospital yet again.

I took the moment to browse my social media, untag myself from all the unflattering pictures, post my usual shitpost. A tiny skirt, equally tiny top and fishnets - I felt out of place in his lab although I've worn more outrageous things previously. I was raw, torn open, bleeding my misery all over the room. That was not in my plan, but then again, when did ever life go as you planned it?

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[myforeverforlife]

new beginnings, new surprises.

For @bloopbloopkai​! Single Dad Yixing and 42. “For the hundredth time, I’m not your babysitter.” + 91. “Scoot over a little bit, please.”

Pairing: Yixing x Fem reader

Word Count: 3,294

Masterlist

Recently, you'd been looking for another job to supplement your stint as a fitness instructor. You loved your schedule, but you also felt like you still had too much idle time. Plus, paying for rent was more difficult ever since your roommate moved out. The hard part was finding a job that wouldn't infringe on your hours at the fitness studio. Most job openings wanted you either early in the mornings, or at night: the same hours that you taught classes. 

But your friend Jongin, another instructor, had found you a promising job.

"My friend's been looking for a babysitter for a while. She's a great kid, you'll love her." 

"I don't know, Jongin." You rubbed the back of your neck worriedly. "I don't have a lot of experience with kids." 

"Can you hold a conversation?"

"Uh... sure? I guess?"

"Do you know anything about the Frozen movies?"

You thought back to your day at the movies with Chanyeol, both of you blasting the soundtrack in the car on the way home. "I know a good amount."

"Then you're perfect for the job! I really think you can do this, Y/N. You teach adults, how different can it be?"

"They're adults, Jongin, not a... how old is this kid?"

Jongin squinted, looking up as he thought. "Six?" 

"Six?!" You slumped against the floor of the empty fitness room, back hitting the mirror behind you. "I don't think I've talked to a kid since I was one."

Your friend squatted beside you, a pout on his lips as he thought of how to cheer you up. "Hey, if I can take care of her, you can too." 

"You have a niece and nephew, Jongin. You easily have more experience than me." 

"Okay, then how about this — try it out for one day, and I'll be there to help? Just so you get a feel for if you want to do this or not." 

"Your friend would be okay with letting a stranger play with their kid for a day?"

Jongin shrugged. "I can vouch for you! He'll trust you because he trusts me, Y/N. Promise." 

You sighed, stretching your legs out in front of you. One day as a test trial didn't seem too bad... "Okay. But you promise to be there for the entire time that day?"

Jongin nodded emphatically, bangs flopping against his forehead. "Yixing and Xinyue are going to love you, I know it."

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. 

Jongin greeted his friend with a hug, both men all smiles and laughter. You innocently looked over Jongin's friend, eyes lingering on his deep-set dimples and the sleeve of tattoos decorating his left arm. Some of them appeared to be an arrangement of flowers, delicate petals in pastel hues dancing across his skin. A larger piece curled up his arm until it disappeared under his sleeve. He also had soft, tousled black hair that almost seemed curly. Upon first glance, he couldn't be much older than you. Jongin didn't tell you that his friend was this attractive.

"Y/N, this is Yixing." 

You flinched, gaze immediately jumping up to Yixing's face. The man extended a hand to you, shaking it firmly when you accepted. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. Jongin told me you're a good friend of his."

"Yeah, we've been working together for a while. Um, I really appreciate this. Jongin had nothing but good things to say about you and your daughter."

"He better." Yixing chuckled, dimples reappearing and making him look even more youthful — if that was even possible. "Come in, Xinyue's just watching a movie."

"Frozen 2?" Jongin asked as you took your shoes off.

"Third time already this week." Yixing shook his head good-naturedly. "Well, at least I know what kind of birthday to throw for her this year." 

Both men burst into laughter, falling into a familiar camaraderie. You followed them into the living room, where a small girl sat on the floor only a few feet away from the TV. Her long hair was plaited into two braids, mismatched hair ties adorning each one. 

"Xinyue," Yixing called out. "You're going to hurt your eyes if you sit that close."

"I'm not," the girl countered. She turned around, the frown on her face instantly replaced with a wide grin. "Uncle Jongin!" 

Jongin crouched down with his arms open as the girl got up, braids bouncing as she came over for a big hug. He peppered her face with kisses, even as she giggled and tried to escape. 

"Jongin's going to be here today while I go work for a bit," Yixing told his daughter. "And he brought a friend too." 

Xinyue perked up at that, staring at you over Jongin's shoulder. You didn't know what else to do, so you waved. "Hi, Xinyue, I'm Y/N." 

The six-year-old looked from you to her dad. When Yixing nodded, she waved back. "Hi," she said shyly, chin resting on Jongin's shoulder. 

"You know, Y/N loves Frozen too," Jongin said in a stage-whisper.

Xinyue looked at you with more interest this time, and you nodded in agreement. "I love Olaf! Who's your favorite character?" 

"Elsa!" the girl replied immediately. "Did you see when she was riding the water horse, and when she stopped all the pink fire, and when — "

"Xinyue," Yixing interrupted, trying to hide his laughter. "You're going to run out of breath if you keep talking that fast." He leaned over to kiss her on the forehead, playfully tweaking an ear. "Why don't you go finish the movie with Jongin while I talk to Y/N? She can watch it with you in a bit."

"Okay!" Xinyue jumped up and pulled Jongin over to the couch, launching right back into her passionate rant about Frozen. 

Yixing sighed, a fond smile on his face. "I apologize in advance if it gets to be a bit much." 

"Oh no, it's no problem," you replied sincerely. "I forgot how cute kids are when they talk about the things they love." 

"Me too, but there's only so many times I can talk about Frozen," Yixing said, eliciting laughter from you. He led you over to the kitchen, where he had written down a few reminders. 

"Today's my day off, but I'm heading in for a few extra hours. One of my students had to reschedule their lesson." 

"You're a teacher?"

"Yeah, I teach kids music. I mean, during the day, I go around to different schools and drop by for an hour each. But I do one-on-one guitar and piano lessons with kids and adults on the side too." 

Your mouth fell open in surprise. "Wow, that's really amazing. I've got a lot of respect for anyone with musical talents, it's hard enough for me to just stay on key when I'm singing." 

Yixing's cheeks turned a light pink as he grinned. "I'm sure you could learn something if you ever wanted to. Most of my students start out learning the basics, and they've all been making a lot of progress. I've been doing more hours with some of them, but that also means I have less time with Xinyue." He glanced over to the living room, his daughter now singing her heart out along with the music. "She used to be in the after-school program, but she hated it so much, I felt bad. Her mom can't pick her up either, since she lives a few hours away." 

Upon hearing those words, you couldn't help but look down at Yixing's hand. No ring to be seen at all. Was he raising Xinyue by himself?

"I know you haven't agreed to anything yet," Yixing continued. "But I'm honestly so thankful that you're here today, that you're considering helping us out. I think Xinyue likes you already."

"I'm glad, I like her too." 

A look of relief came over Yixing's face, the man nodding to himself before pulling his reminders over. "I should be home in time for dinner, but if she gets hungry, she's free to any of the snacks in here. But, she can't have too much, especially if it's candy. She doesn't have any allergies, but she avoids tomatoes like she's allergic to them." Yixing shook his head with a smile. "Here's my phone number, and just in case I'm not answering and it's an emergency, here's her mom's number." 

You took the list of reminders when Yixing offered it to you, reading over everything one more time. "What about homework?"

"We just finished it before you guys came. It's really not that time consuming, the hardest part is just getting Xinyue to finish it all before playing," he said with a grin.

After both of you went over any remaining questions, Yixing went to say goodbye to his daughter. "I'll be out for a bit, Xinyue. We'll eat dinner when I get back."

"Okay, Papa." Xinyue kissed her dad on the cheek before turning her attention back to the movie. 

"I'll see you guys later. Thanks again, Y/N." 

"No problem!" You watched as Yixing put his shoes on, giving you a final wave before he walked out the door with his bag and guitar case. 

You went to join the others on the couch, both of them taking up most of the space as they sprawled over it. "Could you two scoot over a little bit, please?" 

Jongin and Xinyue immediately moved over, leaving enough space for you to sit on Xinyue's other side. "What's happening now?" you asked her.

"The rock giants are chasing Anna," the girl whispered back to you. 

"Ooh, this part always scares me." 

"It's not real!" Xinyue giggled, and laid a hand on your arm. 

"Still," you pretended to be afraid. "Will you keep us safe?" 

"Yes!" The girl leaped up off the couch, pretending to be Elsa as she ran around the room, you and Jongin watching in amusement.

After the movie, you made a few sandwiches for the three of you to snack on. Xinyue had talked your ear off about what she did with her friends during recess, and how one of her best friends even saw Elsa and Anna at Disneyland. When you asked her what she liked to play at home, Xinyue literally pulled you over to her room, showing you her dolls — Frozen, of course. 

"Who do you wanna be?" she asked. 

Judging by your conversation earlier and how Xinyue was practically glued to the screen every time Elsa appeared, you knew who not to pick. "I want to be Anna!"

Xinyue beamed, holding the doll out to you. "Okay! You can be Anna, and I'll be Elsa!" She glanced over at Jongin, who had followed the two of you. "Uncle Jongin, you can be the rock people."

"The rock people? The trolls?!" 

You couldn't help the giggles that escaped, Xinyue joining in. 

"Oh, very funny. I didn't bring Y/N here so you guys could tease me," Jongin pretended to sulk. 

"Shh, the rock people don't come in right now," you said with a final giggle. "Okay, Queen Elsa. Where are we?" 

Yixing came home a few hours later to the sounds of excited squeals and shouts from Xinyue's bedroom. He smiled to himself as he walked down the hallway, peering into the open room. You were lying down on the carpeted floor, a mess of giggles as Xinyue lay sprawled on top of you. When you tried to get up, Xinyue wrapped her little arms around your neck, trapping you in a hug. Yixing watched as you stared down at the child in your arms, eyes full of wonder. It was endearing to see how well the two of you got along, even in such a short amount of time. He knocked on the doorframe, smiling when you and Xinyue immediately looked up at him.

"How's it going?" 

"Uncle Jongin went home early," Xinyue replied. 

You sat up, Xinyue still hanging onto you. "Someone at the fitness studio called out sick, and Jongin got called in. But we've been fine, just playing lots of games."

"Papa, Y/N and I were playing hide-and-seek, and she didn't find me in the laundry basket!"

"In the laundry?" Yixing came over and picked his daughter up, swinging her around until she was squealing with laughter. "You're going to need a bath earlier today, if you were hiding in stinky clothes," he teased.

"Papa, you're stinkier!" 

Yixing opened his mouth as if to come back with a retort, but he set Xinyue back down instead with a huff. "You're getting too big for me to pick you up nowadays. Soon, you'll have to be picking me up."

Xinyue took that as a challenge, both arms wrapped around one of Yixing's legs as she heaved and pulled, to no avail. Yixing looked to you, where you had been watching them in amusement. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"I don't want to be a bother," you began. 

"You won't be. Both of us are happy to have you stay longer. Right, silly monkey?" he addressed his daughter. 

"I'm not a monkey, I'm a princess!"

"Yes, Princess Xinyue. Come on, let's go make some food for our guest."

Yixing wouldn't hear of you helping out in any way, and so you simply watched as he took charge in the kitchen, with Xinyue as his assistant. You were surprised to find that not only was he kind, musically talented, and a loving father, but he managed to cook up a delicious meal as well.

"Thanks," he said sheepishly when you complimented him on his food. "I really had to learn how to cook for Xinyue's sake. You wouldn't believe the number of times we had mac and cheese in a week when she was younger." 

"Honestly, I've done that too — and I'm just cooking for one." 

"You're always welcome to stay for dinner if you want. I mean, if you end up wanting to stay on as Xinyue's babysitter?" Yixing waited hopefully, chewing down on his bottom lip as he anticipated your answer.

Truth be told, you hadn't expected to get along with Xinyue so well. But after only a couple of hours, the little girl had you wrapped around her finger. You couldn't imagine not taking the job — especially when you thought about how much Yixing interested you. 

"I'd love to take the job, Yixing." 

"Really? That's great!" He nudged Xinyue's arm gently with his elbow. "Y/N's going to be spending more time with us from now on, like when I have to work. What do you think?"

Xinyue chewed on her food thoughtfully, eyebrows drawn low over her round eyes she mused. "When you come over, can we go to the park?" 

Yixing choked back a laugh as you grinned. "Yes, of course. It'll give us more space to play Frozen, too." 

The six-year-old threw her hands up in the air, fork and all. She managed to fling a few pieces of food onto the floor behind her, much to Yixing's distress and your enjoyment. 

You could already feel how much change and excitement these two were bringing into your life.

Yixing was rushing home, hair matted against his forehead as he sat in traffic. Although he had asked you to stay a bit later today while he attended a student's recital, he hadn't expected to be this late. It was already time for Xinyue to go to bed, and he hoped that you weren't having a hard time. Your last reply to his texts had been about twenty minutes ago, and Yixing was growing more anxious with each passing second. If Xinyue was tired and cranky, there was no telling what he would be walking into. 

He made it home as quickly as he could, leaving his belongings in the car as he ran up to the house and unlocked the door. "Y/N? Xinyue?" he called out. His nervousness only continued to grow when he was met with silence. Yixing closed the door behind him, kicking his shoes off before heading to Xinyue's room. Pushing the bedroom door open, he was about to speak when he was stunned into silence.

Xinyue lay in bed, already dressed in pajamas and fast asleep. But what was even more surprising was the fact that you were curled up next to her, both of you hugging each other as you slept. 

Yixing crept closer, lips curving upwards at the sight. It was only a month since you had become a part of their daily lives, and yet he couldn't imagine not having you around — not just for your help, but for the energy and cheer that you brought with you. You weren't just the babysitter, you were a close and trusted friend. 

But recently, Yixing had been hoping that maybe, there was something more. He wasn't oblivious to your stares, sneaking a few of his own when you weren't looking. The two of you got along extremely well — he hadn't felt this close to anyone in a long time. 

Yixing gently nudged your shoulder, whispering your name softly so as not to wake Xinyue up. 

Your eyes flew open, still groggy and disoriented until you realized that it was Yixing waking you up, that you last remembered falling asleep after reading Xinyue a story. "Oh my god," you blurted out, your hand instantly covering your mouth as you turned to look at Xinyue. Thankfully, the girl continued to sleep.

"Hey, don't worry," Yixing whispered back. "Let's get you out of here first though." 

You nodded as Yixing carefully moved Xinyue's hands off of you, settling them carefully onto the bed and pulling the covers over her. 

"Thanks," he murmured as you turned off the light. The two of you silently made your way to the living room, the space bathed in the soft light of the ceiling light hanging overhead. 

"I'm sorry," Yixing spoke up. "I didn't think the recital would run this late, and I wasn't expecting you to even do all of this. I've felt horrible the past week, since you've been staying longer and helping out more. Sometimes I feel like you're babysitting both of us." 

You laid a hand on his shoulder, a sign of comfort. "Yixing, for the hundredth time, I'm not your babysitter. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself and Xinyue. Look at how well you were doing before I even came into the picture." 

Yixing looked away, touched by your kind words. "But still," began. "I feel like I'm taking advantage of your generosity. Can I make it up to you? Maybe buy you a meal or something?" 

"You don't have — "

"Please, Y/N. Just as a way to say thank you." 

Sighing, you gave in. "Okay, Yixing. Thank you." 

"Thank you. I mean it. How does Monday night sound?" 

"Sure, after you come back from work? Xinyue's coming with us too?" 

Yixing hesitated, mustering up the courage to say what he wanted. "Actually, um, maybe just the two of us?"

A few wrinkles appeared on your forehead. "But who's going to take care of Xinyue?" you asked in confusion.

"I can ask Jongin or another friend to stay with her for a bit."

"So... this is a date?" 

"Yeah," Yixing stammered out. "Unless it makes you feel uncomfortable, then we can just call it off or — "

You held a finger up against his lips, smiling to yourself when he instantly fell silent. "Yixing, I'd love to go out for dinner with you. It's a date, then." 

Yixing felt relief well up inside, unable to stop the smile on his lips as he repeated your words.

"It's a date." 

A/N: as always, whenever I can’t think of names for new characters, I go back back to things that the members have acted in haha 😂😂😂😂 this time, yixing’s daughter is named after a character from “the mystic nine”! I watched the whole series back when it came out and people were subbing it here on tumblr, and writing this gave me the urge to go back and rewatch it (even though it’s like what 40 episodes long? and I have a short attention span LOL)

edit: changed pairing from “reader” to “fem reader” because I forgot what I used gender-specific pronouns. i’ve been trying to keep things gender ambiguous, but to label fics correctly if the character’s coded as female 

[secondchancesfic]

S.C: Chapter II

Art made by: @thatweriddoodlingllama

Superhero!AU

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairings: Parental Analogical, Platonical Anxceit, LarryxDot

Tags/Warnings: Cursing. Mention/Implied kidnap, one sided crush (DeceitxLogan), nightmares. Deceit. (If I missed something, please tell me) 

Words: 6385

Virgil and Gregory where inside their designated cells, avoiding the angry hero and other heroes in general. They both have been there so many times their names are written outside the cells so no one would use it. Usually angry heroes would chase after them but since those rooms cancel everyone’s powers, they tend to leave Gregory and Virgil alone.

The cells the young heroes where in weren’t even separated anymore, they dropped the wall a couple years ago so they could hang out together. Sometimes they sleep in there during slow days, spending time either talking or both doing their own thing like homework or lab works, other times Virgil stays there alone when he doesn’t feel like interacting with people.

It used to be a white cell until they decided to paint it between yellow and purple, it ended in a paint fight and some walls were partially purple and yellow and then there was one walls were the colors mixed and turn into a very distasteful brownish color. They don’t mind though, it was fun to make a place theirs.

2 beds where in each side and some of their belongings were spread in their respective sides; just a couple headphones and books, even certain clothes that probably needed to be cleaned. None of them were wearing their uniforms anymore; Gregory was wearing a flannel with yellow and brown squares with a loose strapless black shirt below and a pair of ripped jeans, he wasn’t wearing a hat anymore so his light golden blond hair was visible. Virgil was wearing a hoodie, with a black shirt that displayed an Artic Monkeys logo, and a pair of skinny ripped jeans, his purple bangs were falling in his face.  

Virgil was laying down in his bed, scrolling through his phone while Gregory finished organizing a file of the new “patient”. He got curious about what his friend was doing when he heard Virgil made some approving and disapproving hums.  

-What cha’ doing, Virge?- Gregory said as he stood up from the floor.

-Just… you know, going through tinder...- He said not paying much attention to Gregory.

Gregory turn his head confused and drop into Virgil’s bed. -If you wanted to meet someone, you know you can just give me a call and I will drag you around- He smirked.

Virgil rolled his eyes and smiled -It’s not for me, it’s for my dad –

Gregory sit down quickly. Too quickly. –What?-

Virgil looked at him rather confused. –I just think he needs to get out more and meet someone, I don’t want him to be… You know, like alone forever.-

-I…Get that, but he is always busy, don’t you think? It wouldn’t be fair for the partner- he said crossing his arms and not looking at Virgil.

-I mean, that’s kind of the point- he made hand gestures –If he gets a partner, he might find more reasons to get out of his office-

-Don’t you just go there and practically drag him out? –

-Sometimes, but lately he has been too focus working on a different project almost weekly. I think it’s the bullshit the assholes are saying. He thinks he needs to prove them wrong or something…- He continues scrolling through the phone.

Logan has tried his hardest to not show how those words and complains affect him, but Virgil is very perceptive and knows his dad is stressing himself out for nothing. The younger hero would know about stress for nothing. Virgil stopped scrolling at one profile and looked at the person.

-But, don’t you think if he goes out with a normal person, they could be in danger once they know Logan’s identity?- Gregory practically spewed.

-Huh… I didn’t thought ‘bout that…-

Virgil stayed silent for a bit, Gregory kind of let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

-They would have to get accustomed then. Look at this one- Virgil sit down and showed the picture on the profile. The picture showed a man wearing glasses, his eyes were pretty dark and his smile was wonderful and bubbly. His hair look like fluffy light brown cotton, and was wearing a light blue polo.  

Gregory made daggers at the picture. –He is definitely not right-

-Right? - Virgil thought Gregory was being sarcastic. -I mean, I’m not sure my dad’s type. I’m 100% he is not straight because he made a joke one time about being a flexible rule-

-He can joke? - Gregory asked surprised, getting distracted from the hate he thinks he should be feeling towards the stranger.

-And this guy seems pretty decent, let’s see…- Virgil scrolled down.

-Does he know you are doing this? Isn’t this too intrusive? - Gregory sit down, getting a bit nervous.

-You literally hacked into the police’s network to pull out what they looked in the internet and fax it to them and you call this intrusive? - Virgil smirk.

Gregory open his mouth to defend himself but he crossed his arms and stood up. Virgil continue to check the profile, apparently this guy loves animals and plants. He works as a teacher in an elementary school. Ok, cool. He seems pretty normal and alright. The eyes look weird though for some reason, or maybe it was just Virgil’s imagination.

-Do you think Blue Nightowl calmed down? - Gregory said while grabbing his file again. He tried to distract his mind with the information he was re-reading but it wasn’t working.

-Beats me- Virgil said saving the profile and standing up. –We should probably leave anyway, we already spend enough time here-

Gregory nodded. They left the room, locking it and starting to walk towards the elevator. Gregory was looking at Virgil’s pocket where he kept his phone. He didn’t exactly had a plan, but he sure as hell had an idea, the main problem being: Virgil never let’s go of his phone.

How could he be thinking on pairing his dad? How hypocrite can he get? Why did he suddenly think that was a good idea? Gregory’s mind was wondering and racing, he really hated that situation completely. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact he has a crush on Logan, for a couple years now. A teenage crush that hasn’t left yet.

He knows there are several problems with that; the wide age gap, the fact that Gregory is best friends with Virgil, and the fact that Logan doesn’t look at him in other way but a lab assistant (for not making it even more awkward). He should have accepted at this point he will never have a chance with the older hero, yet there he is thinking of ways to sabotage every romantic intent.

Is it bad? Yes. Maybe… Logan doesn’t want anyone anyway, right? Gregory is just making him a favor… Yeah, a favor. Just a friendly friend favor for a friend, he isn’t jealous, he is just concern.

-Uh… Greg you ok? - Virgil asked looking at his friend.

-Huh?- Gregory look up at Virgil. –Yeah, why?-

-The…uh… File… - Virgil pointed at his friend’s hand.

Gregory didn’t notice he was wrinkling his file, his knuckles were white from the strong grip he had on it. He yelp and tried to straighten his file but it was already too late, he huffed and deflated. Virgil eyed his friend curiously.

-Are you alright? - Virgil asked concern.  

-I’m fine, I was just thinking- Gregory said as if it was nothing. –Say… Do you still have… that anti hack program I put in your phone?-

Virgil stayed quiet for a moment and looked at him with squinting eyes. –Yeah…Why?-  

-For no reason- Gregory said without a concern, “Ok, no worries I can just hack his laptop… Wait… I also put it there… FUCK”

-You are acting… weird… Are you sure you are alright? - Virgil was sensible, he would notice when someone was feeling off. He wasn’t good at comforting but he could listen; Gregory, however, wasn’t much of a sharer, he would keep a lot inside without telling anyone, and even if Virgil hasn’t seen him have a meltdown he still worries about Gregory.

Gregory notice Virgil was getting concerned. –Yeah! Totally fine, Virge. I was just thinking about work- he is so used to lying it comes naturally for him. He doesn’t want to stress more the walking panic at the everywhere, even if that makes him have meltdowns in silence.

Virgil looked at him trying to find any indication of a lie, once he didn’t find anything he sighed and smiled fondly. –You can talk to me, you know?-

-I know- He said smiling back then walked next to Virgil. –You should try worrying less about others. Why don’t you start dropping all the date for your dad?-

Virgil chuckled. –Seriously, what is up with you and the need for my dad to be forever alone?-

-He is a nightmare for every person, Virgil. Save the people from him- Gregory said sarcastically and Virgil laughed. They continue telling half jokes and laughing through the hallway.

 Logan was in his desk, organizing the pieces of metal from his bag. Once he finished he read the notes he took during and after the fight, it was a kind of a log for a reference. He was forgetful at times so doing this was a nice exercise.

“Search for another cafe” That café was Virgil’s favorite and now it was destroyed, Logan frown. It wasn’t of his liking but his son really appreciated it, maybe he could search for another place they both can enjoy.

“Make sure to give Dot her letter” Oh. Right.

Before Logan left the crime scene, he decided to talk to the officers to provide some information he gather and what the damages were. Chief of police, Larry Alvarez and Officer Thomas Sanders were in duty that day. They all know each other so it was easier for Logan to share what he knew. Unfortunately, being over familiar with each other, makes them more talkative and unprofessional. Thomas always saying jokes, getting laughs from Larry and groans from him.

Also, when Larry doesn’t forget, he makes Logan give his wife, none other than Green Wonder herself, a love letter. Yes. A love letter. Logan has tried many times deny that request, but Larry is very convincing. Now days he just extends his hand to receive the letter despite it being “a waste of his time”, mostly because he has to listen to Dot gush over his husband over and over again. Well, he doesn’t have too, but he thinks it’s rude to just walk away when someone is talking.

If Logan was completely honest with himself though, the fact that two people love each other so much makes his heart flutter. It’s nice to see that around him, even when he can’t exactly feel it himself. Happiness through love is a nice reminder of how the world is still a good place.

“Ew…” Logan mumbled in a pathetic way to shake those thoughts.  

“Keep an eye on the building”

Crimson appeared suddenly, he didn’t passed through the front door. The Café had stairs that went to an apartment part in the building, maybe Crimson lived there. It’s not important whether he was an employee or not, what it’s important is what exactly set him off to almost destroy the whole place.

In the past, he already had destroyed other similar structures, all being apartment buildings. The attacks seem random at first, until they started to increase. Now, maybe he really was just a pyromaniac, burning everything for the sake of it, but there were very strange circumstances around every strike.

In all the cases, there were no casualties since all the possible bodies disappeared once the fire was put out, if there even were there. Not only that, the fire only started in certain spots and things that would cause most of the smoke.

There was no smell of burn flesh which lead firemen to believe people didn’t died by being burned alive, asphyxiation was more probable but no one could be sure without a body. This made everyone, including Logan, confused.  

Now that the villain is under arrest Logan might be able to get some answers out of him and begin the proper procedure.

He has to admit, though, for being a very cruel villain due to his actions and tendencies, Crimson acted…odd at the café. Besides his sudden appearance, he made everyone leave, yelling desperately for everyone to run away.

Then after he was capture he was shocked, most probably due to not feeling his powers, later on started to act even more aggressive, spewing every threat possible. Pleading to be let go.

-He was caught, it’s normal behavior in guilty people…- he mumbled. He closed his notes and turn on a radio he had in his desk, it was in a news station.

- -ter the couple of months of fear and pain, the villain known as Crimson was finally caught by our favorite nerd, Syllogism - Logan frown and sighed. “Mender trapped him, it was Mender, god dammit…” he thought. If Virgil listens to this, he will be pretty pissed off. – There have been reported at least 20 people were inside the building during the attack, thanks to Syllogism, all the residents manage to escape safely-

“At least everyone is safe…” – It is a relief one nightmare has ended, however there’s still no answer about the missing bodies. Officers had stated they are still investigating the matter and will press the hero association on turning Crimson in for questioning –

Logan ponder about that. It’s not unusual for the police to want every captured villain to be questioned and punished, but this case was extremely weird and concerning. Why would Crimson need the corpses of people? If he even was completely responsible for that. What if he was working with someone else?

Logan stood up from his desk he wanted to interrogate him as fast as possible. He looked at the letter. Right… “As soon as possible”. Even though he thinks it’s kind of dumb, he never backs up from a favor. He holds the letter and gets out of his office. He needed to get his boss anyway. Talking about the devil.

-Logan! - She said completely serious, way off from her usual bubbly personality. –Why didn’t you came and tell me you capture that pyromaniac?-

Logan was taken aback but composed himself. –I was going to get you right now, and Virgil was the one capturing Crimson- He clear that up at least to his boss.

Green Wonder sighed. –Jee-muh-nattie, let’s get this over with. I hope he was placed in the strongest cell, I don’t want him starting a camp fire-

She said while walking off fast towards the elevator, Logan followed her up.

-I can assure you, I can make the interrogation myself if it’s too much for you Dot- he said keeping up with her, voice full of concern.

-I can handle him- she said with confidence

-I know, what I don’t want is you strangling the suspect with your roots- Logan clarified. Dot stop and looked at him with squinting eyes, Logan looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

-Just a little bit? - She asked half-jokingly

-No- the old hero said while looking at his boss deadpan.

Green Wonder sighed. –Fine. Although I don’t think my husband will be as fine as I am –

-Talking about him, he told me to give you this- Logan holds the letter and gives it to Dot.

Dot squeal in delight and practically snatch the letter from Logan’s hand. She continue walking while opening the letter, Logan kept a steady pace behind her.

Logan is very familiarize with his boss, after all, it was because of her and Larry that he knew about the association’s existence. Dot was already a member and Larry knew all about it: the villains, the heroes, certain necessary information about dangerous criminals, etc. So when Larry discovered Logan working in repair shop for phones, disarming and rearming a phone without touching it, he immediately told Dot.

She manage to convince the previous boss to let Logan in; back then they didn’t though nor appreciated Logan’s his intelligence and inventions, it wasn’t until he demonstrated his power of controlling and manipulating any type of technology that he was given a pass. Logan was immensely grateful.

The 3 of them used to hang out often, but now days Logan is mostly focus on his work and his son while Larry and Dot are between dates and sometimes go to a therapy session. That doesn’t mean they don’t talk, they send texts sometimes and let each other know what is going on in their lives. Logan cares deeply about his friends and he usually would answer quickly to them and his son, and if anyone needed anything he would stop everything he was doing and help them out, like the time he was told by Dot that she and Larry became homeless due to a fire in their building. They were few of the survivors in that fire, or at least few that didn’t disappeared.

Time passed; they discovered the fire wasn’t an accident but in fact caused by a villain who thought it was funny. The three of them wanted to take that bastard down. Even though they were very angry, they still had to follow some rules. Logan, being very objective, still believed that maybe something had to make the villain do what he did, so he tried to keep his hopes up in case he could help this person. Dot was the boss and had to put the example of the philosophy they’ve been trying hard to teach and Larry couldn’t just shoot the villain in the head, that’d be highly illegal.

-D’awwwwwww Larry~! - Dot squeal almost in a whisper and hug the letter completely stopping in the hallway.

Logan found it funny how in one moment she can be all lovey-dovey thinking about her husband and the next be ready to throw hands at a villain.

-Ahem-

-Oh right! - Dot said while putting the letter away.

They kept walking towards the elevator, they press the button that was for the basement like prison. The elevator begin moving.  

 The villain was in a cell, he was handcuffed and sat in a chair, fidgeting and looking around. He got tired from jumping to each side looking for a way out. His outfit match his name; he was wearing a dark red suit, with yellow fire silhouettes decorating across his shoulders and chest. He was still wearing his yellow mask; in many cases if the villain was wearing one, the heroes had to leave it intact due to keep some privacy to the villain. Something that stood up from his image was his hair, which would usually be lit on fire, but now you could see it was completely black. It wasn’t burned or anything, that was just his natural color.

The cell was completely white, it wasn’t empty though; there was a bed and a desk, a two way mirror was the only thing separating him from the security guards outside.

Virgil and Gregory walked in the hall and stopped at the villain’s cell, good think he can’t see them, since they aren’t wearing their masks.

-What are you two doing here? - said one of the guards.

-Taking the scenic view- said Gregory.

The guards chuckled. The younger heroes would usually talk to some guards, they would actually be pretty nice (nicer than all the other older heroes).

-So, Mender – the other guard said careful, they don’t want to display their real names in case the villain was listening. –Heard you help Syllogism capture this maniac-

Virgil smiled proudly. –It was easy, he had nothing on me-

Gregory smiled fondly. It was rare to see Virgil being actually social and show off his achievements. His focus turned towards the villain. He notice how Crimson looked desperate, turning his head everywhere while trying to get the handcuffs off.

                       “LET ME GO!” Crimson shouted.

“Calm down, you are going to be fine…” Deceit told him while taking him to his cell.

“NO!! LET ME GO! IF HE-!” Crimson paused. “I NEED TO GET AWAY FROM HERE, NOW! - He continue screaming while being slightly dragged by Deceit.

-Well, when you have a high rank hero on your side everything’s easy- One of the guards said chuckling. It was meant to be a joke, but it still sting. Gregory snapped out from his thoughts.

-Hey, I can fight alone! I was the one capturing him after all-

-Really? That’s not what the news say…- The guards look at each other questioning.

Virgil kept quiet and lower his head in frustration.

-Pshh… The news don’t always tell the truth, they just saw the aftermath of the fight- Gregory said trying to lighten up Virgil.

-But the people don’t know it was me…- Virgil said between mumbles.

-You’ll eventually make a name for yourself out there, Virge - He placed an arm around him.

Virgil sighed. They heard steps getting closer. Dot and Logan walked fast towards the cell, she notice the two younger heroes in surprise.

-Hey, kids. Weren’t you going home? - said Dot looking at them both.

Gregory and Virgil looked at each other, apparently no one told her about the explosive toilet prank Gregory made.

-We are leaving now-/-We were just hanging around- They both said at the same time.

Logan looked at them, making sure they were ok. Both heroes thought Logan was trying to analyze them, maybe he did heard about the prank, so they put up their calmest expressions.

-Very well, be careful you two- Said Logan fixing his glasses.

Virgil and Gregory passed through them.

-Virgil- Virgil stopped and looked at him, feeling slightly nervous. -You got the house key? - Virgil sighed in relief.

-Yeah, I always have it- he said smiling.  

-Can you wa- Logan was interrupted.

-Yes, I’ll water the plants, dad-

-Alright, and don’t forg- he gets interrupted again.

-We will close the door after we are inside. Don’t worry dad- It was a bit annoying yet endearing how his dad always made those questions, if Virgil didn’t knew he was adopted he could swear he got his over concern and anxious personality from Logan.

Virgil and Gregory continue walking towards the elevator until they left the basement. Now it was just the older heroes, the security guards and the villain.

Dot and Logan entered the villain’s cell. He looked up at them in shock and stood up quickly making the chair fall as well as making Logan and Dot jolt and stand in fighting positions.

-I-I need to leave. NOW! - Crimson stuttered his demand.

-You are not going anywhere, you pyromaniac- Dot said sternly and angry, gritting her teeth.

Logan looked at the villain curiously, then placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

-What’s so urgent that you need to leave now? -  

Crimson chuckled nervously and avoid looking at Logan. –I’m not telling you why, but I can tell you the ending for me won’t be pretty- he walked towards them but was stopped by the handcuffs.

Logan used his powers to make him back off, he walked behind the villain and placed the chair how it was before. Then he pointed to the chair and Crimson sat. Logan fidget nervously with his lab coat sleeve.

-Listen, we want to help you- Crimson let out an airy laugh. -But we need answers- Logan said while looking at the villain directly, in an almost concerning way.  

Crimson looked at him and then lower his head.

Dot took a deep breath and exhale calmly. –Why did you burn all those buildings?-

The villain kept looking at the floor without saying anything.  

-I’d really appreciate if you answered- she continued, trying to be as kind as possible.

Crimson let out a shaky breath and tried to look up.

-It was just a job…- he mumble, but he was clear enough to be listen by Logan.

-Job? What do you mean? - Logan asked.

The villain stayed silent and looked to the side. He wasn’t up of for talking. Dot and Logan looked at each other.

-Well then- Logan said while gesturing to Dot to go out before him.

-I’d be careful out there- the villain said.

Both heroes looked at him.

-This was supposed to be my last job, but it was mostly a precaution - He said looking grimace.

-I suppose you aren’t going to tell us what does that mean- Logan frown at him.

The villain look up at him, he looked tired. –Am I safe here?- he suddenly asked.

Logan looked at him baffled, was he scared?

-Why do you ask? - Dot asked first, now she was concern.

The villain bit his lips. He was getting nervous.

Logan started to analyze him: he was anxious, his whole body language was screaming that. They might not get anywhere if they push too hard. He seems scared too but of what? Or who?

-Alright. This is what we are going to do- Dot said suddenly. –We won’t ask you anything else for today. To answer your question, yes, you are safe here-

The villain sighed in relief. No one has ever looked so happy to be trapped there.

-Can you at least tell us what happened to the missing people? - Logan asked suddenly, the villain flinched. He didn’t want to look at Logan.

-They are still alive… for now…- he said hesitating.

Logan and Dot looked at each other; people were still alive, somewhere, but his ominous “for now” wasn’t reassuring. Why would he need so many people? Why would he even stage something like that? They got the answer of one part of the puzzled but it wasn’t exactly satisfying.

Logan snapped his fingers and the handcuffs disarmed around Crimson’s hands and were placed in the desk of the cell.

-You should rest- Logan told the villain who just stared in shock. With that, they left him alone.

Dot���s spirit was up, the villain was capture and they got good news, although they still had to search for this people, it was progress in this weird case.

-When should we announce the good news? - Dot asked Logan cheerfully.  

–What good news? - He looked at her puzzled.

-About the missing people?-

-Oh. Well if we knew where they were that’d be good news, Dot…- Logan said objectively, if Dot was someone else they would say he was being pessimistic.

-Oh you are right… Hmm… Maybe we should wait. I’ll program the interrogation with the police then- She sighed dreamily. –I’ll get to see my husband again- She giggled.

Logan chuckled.

-Oh! You should take a break Logan, or leave early- Dot said sternly while playfully hitting his shoulder.  

-I already took a break- he said smiling lightly.

-Yeah, but it got interrupted. C’mon, you should spend time with your son- she said cheerfully.

-I’m afraid I can’t do that, if you leave early today I would have to stay here to keep an eye out- he said seriously.

-You are right- she said snapping her fingers and smiling widely.

–I’ll tell Emile! Now go spend time Virgil! Today was supposed to be your day off- She said while pushing Logan rapidly towards the elevator.

Logan didn’t protest, he did promise Virgil to have that day off. And even if he was dreading the fact that his son might take the dating theme out again, he still love to have those times, since they both have been busy so much. And maybe he really needs to relax; that interrogation started to make him very anxious after all. That’s because he might have recognize the villain as one of his students, but he wasn’t sure yet. He will have to see next Monday.

 Gregory and Virgil were relaxing in the living room, Virgil laid in the couch scrolling in his phone while Gregory sit across him while using his computer. They stayed quiet for a while, that was what his usual “best friends time” was in general and both liked it, but Virgil looked kind of peeved to the hero.

-So…-

-So…? - Virgil said imitating his friend.

-You ok? - Gregory asked.

-Yeah, just…- Virgil didn’t look away from his phone and started scrolling furiously. –I’m fine…-

-Of course you are- Gregory said while rising an eyebrow.

Virgil suddenly stood up. –Ok, I might be pissed off. This was my first catch and I didn’t even get the credit! I fucking ran towards a psycho who would have burn me to a crisp if I didn’t think fast- he paced around the living room.

-Yeah, that was pretty stupid on your part- Gregory remarked.

-What else was I supposed to do? I don’t want to be his shadow forever…- Virgil huff and fell back in the couch. –It’s not the first time I don’t get credit for something…-

-Logan always tells you how great you are doing Virgil- Gregory said, it almost sounded exasperated. It isn’t the first time they had that kind of conversation, since Gregory was older he already had passed the insecure phase (that’s what he thinks) but he doesn’t exactly know how to properly reassure the younger hero that he is doing enough for himself and others.

Virgil didn’t looked at him and crossed his arms, noticing the tone Gregory was using. –Yeah… but- he gets interrupted.

-Look, I think Logan is trying to make sure you aren’t stressing out so much with your studying and all the hero duty – Gregory stated. –Trust me Virgil, I think that’s for the best. Just follow his rules, then, eventually, he will let you do whatever you want-

Virgil sighed. –Suck up- he mumbled. He gets a pillow thrown at his face. –Hey! - Gregory chuckled, and Virgil smiled fondly going back to scrolling.

Virgil still wanted to vent more, to express all his feelings out but understood Gregory had reached his peak; he was very social and all but he still got burn out, especially when he was doing his lab assistant work in the association with Logan and at his classes since he was also a student.

Still that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel a little… uncared. He could talk to his dad but Logan tends to try to solve his problems instead of just listening.

Lately he has been placing all his thoughts in paper, drawing whatever thing he can think off that represents how he feels. He prefers painting though; mixing paint and placing it in the canvas relaxes him a lot. He paints with so many colors, turning it into an abstract piece or sometimes a landscape. But there’s a reoccurring theme in all his art; nightmares. Specifically one where everything is completely dark except for a light above of him; he is being dragged by shadow people and his dad, or at least who he assumes is his dad, tries to reach him but fails.  

He has talked to Logan about it because he thought he was once in danger when he was little; Logan assured him it wasn’t the case under his care but suggested it might be a repressed memory before he was adopted, so he told Virgil to go see a therapist. Said therapist is, surprise, a hero, or at least someone that works with the heroes; normal therapists wouldn’t be able to know the full picture behind their fears to be treated properly so it is very helpful someone like Emile Picani works there.

Other than that, Virgil doesn’t exactly have someone else to talk to. He has a hard time making friends, it is usually Gregory who makes friends and tags him along. Virgil doesn’t even make friends with them, they are just strangers to him. He knows he has people that cares about him; his dad loves him, Greg is with him and shows his affection in other ways but Virgil feels alone sometimes and incomplete. As if something was missing.

The door to the house opened and Virgil sat in the couch, Gregory just look up from his computer. Logan walked in and greeted them.

-Hey- said Gregory with a smile.

Virgil looked at his dad. –Did something happened?-

Logan was always amazed by his son’s intuition, he always manage to know when something was upsetting him. -Crimson was more ambiguous than helpful- Logan said while walking towards the kitchen.

Virgil stood up from the couch. –What did he said? –

-That’s classified- Logan said while smiling.

-Dad, c’mon- Virgil complained. –We should know if something’s up, to make the city safer or something- more than keeping the city safe, he was mostly curious to know what Logan meant by ambiguous.

Logan smiled fondly. –You are correct-

-Wait really? - Virgil said surprised. Gregory turn to look at them, closing his laptop before standing up. Logan usually doesn’t tell Virgil or anyone about the interrogations, just Dot and sometimes Gregory, so it was surprising for the both of them that Logan was going to share information first hand. Logan went to the fridge and took out a jar of jelly.

-All the buildings he burned were destroyed with a purpose. He was hired to do so by someone- Logan stated.

Gregory got closer to the table in the kitchen, Virgil had sat down.

-By who? - Virgil quickly asked.

-He didn’t say, but he did appeared to be disturbed and fearful- he went to the drawer to take out a spoon.

-Crimson shouted a lot to be let go when I placed them in the cell- Gregory commented.

Logan hummed while walking towards the table and sitting down, still not opening the jar.

-What are we going to do? – Virgil asked.

Logan kept quiet for a moment.

-We’re waiting. I don’t think this mysterious villain knows we have their lackey, and even if they knew, we won’t let Crimson go nor let the villain get his hands on him- he gets interrupted.

-They- Gregory said.

-What? - Logan asked.

-They are Non binary, they didn’t gave me their name but made emphasis on their identity- Gregory pointed out in a serious manner.

-Oh- Logan froze, a moment of realization but he wasn’t nor wanted to disclosed what he realized.

-Logan?-/-Dad? - Both young heroes stared at the older one.

-I…Uh, Apologize, I spaced out for a bit. Um where was I? Oh. I doubt this mysterious person would risk themselves to take Crimson out, and even though we should act fast, we have no idea where to search - Logan said puzzled and concern.

Gregory and Virgil looked at Logan, not knowing what else to expect. They don’t have much information, no one can exactly do anything but wait for something to happen. They silently hope it wouldn’t be as awful as Crimson make it sound.

-Well, guess that’s all then? - Gregory said. –When are we interrogating them again?-

-Dot wants to make an appointment with the police to have them interrogated, in the meantime we start the process- Logan said while taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes.

Gregory frown. –Before the interrogation? - Logan nods. –Why?-

-They needs to trusts us, I’m afraid they don’t feel exactly welcome there-

Virgil interrupted. –Good, they shouldn’t-

Logan did share a bit of the disgust his son was presenting but he couldn’t shake the upsetting feeling in his gut. –If they trusts us, we might get them to talk-

-What if we get Emile to use his telepathy on them? - Virgil commented. –Pretty sure he would agree if you explain the situation, dad-

-I doubt he would agree to do so under any kind of circumstance- Logan placed his glasses back on. –Besides, he would have to do so outside a cell, and it’s too much risk for everyone around-

Virgil flop down in his seat. Everyone kept silent for a while, they really did had to wait for something to come up at the end.

Virgil took out his phone and scrolled a bit.

-Hey, dad. You got a date on Friday- Virgil said nonchalantly.

-VIRGIL! - Logan yelled, his voice breaking a bit. This made Virgil laugh, Gregory would have laughed too if he wasn’t frozen in place.

-Cancel it! - Logan yelled.

-Nope, you have to go! - Virgil said while scrolling.

Logan groan. Gregory walked towards the living room and grabbed his computer.

-I’m out- He said while walking towards one of the bedrooms. –Night! - He shout.

-Night, Greg- Virgil shout back. Logan said good night but was muffled by his hands covering his face.  -Look- Virgil said while showing the phone.

–He seems pretty cool -

Logan stopped covering his eyes, he looked at the picture Virgil was showing him and… He had to admit, the person was good looking. He was kind of focusing mostly on the guy’s eyes and smile and hair. He was… pretty… and… Logan was staring for too long when he listen Virgil’s giggles.

-I knew it- He smiled.  

-Virgil, cancel the date now- Logan said while blushing profusely.

-Nope- Virgil giggled. He has never seen his dad like that, and it was pretty hilarious but kind of nice, his theory about his dad being a robot was debunked.

The older hero blushed a lot, he hold the jar of jelly and tried to open it but he was shaking a bit out of nervousness. He manage to open it and took a spoonful. Virgil was snorting. When Logan was upset or nervous he would start eating jelly like it was cereal, Virgil thought it was kind of weird but who was he to judge his father when he would look like a night crawler at 3 am while drinking coffee from the coffee pot.

Logan continue eating his jelly, he was nervous and… excited? The picture of that pretty guy was in his mind which only made him even more nervous.

Maybe he could try to go out just this once.

Prologue/ CH 1/ CH 2 / CH 3 /

TAG: 

@thatweriddoodlingllama

[andavs]

Any chance for a outside POV of Sterek? Maybe from the POV of Stiles new uni friends? I just really love your writing and outside POV stories

She wasn’t going to ask.

They had a silent understanding, she and Stiles, and years of her dad quoting old westerns had taught her that you do not break a silent understanding, nor do you address it before your deathbed. Or if her mom was anything to go by, after your death, in a handwritten letter, shoved in a drawer behind three earmarked romance novels and a sandwich bag of weed. Either way, death was the deciding factor.

She and Stiles were both still alive, so she wasn’t going to get involved.

It was kind of their thing, not getting involved. They both valued their privacy, which was why they worked so well as roommates, why they decided to move in together for sophomore year and junior year after that. It wasn’t that they’d become particularly close in their Intro to Psych class freshman year, it was that they had both been assigned horrendously nosy and obtrusive roommates and they both happened to end up in the library at odd hours to get away from them.

A month of not acknowledging each other avoiding their respective roommates in the same place had eventually become studying together for psychology, and then silent company while doing work for their other classes. They worked well together, studying their individual subjects across from each other in the library. Stiles would mutter to himself as he worked, tapping his pen or the keys of his laptop absently while he thought and fidgeted, and Emma couldn’t hear any of it over her headphones.

Perfect.

So, working from a friendship built on a shared appreciation for Battlestar Galactica and leaving each other alone, it was odd and also frustrating that Emma now found herself wanting to ask, because while Stiles had always been a little shifty, harmlessly so, he was taking it to a whole new level.

He researched for hours on end from ancient library books that looked mostly stolen on subjects that certainly weren’t for his criminal psychology classes, and then bolted from the apartment at three in the morning, unheard from until he fell back through the door three days later. He had vague and slightly threatening phone calls at all hours, he was sleeping even less than he usually did, and Emma had found a dagger of all things jammed under the couch cushion where he’d taken a “nap” (passed out from exhaustion).

Not that she really paid attention to all that, or anything.

The point was that Stiles had become seriously sketchy recently, and Emma wanted to know why. She wasn’t proud of it; she didn’t actually want to admit it to herself because silent understanding, but Kyle of all people had even noticed the difference and Kyle used TV Tropes to classify real people in real life. When Kyle picked up on odd human behavior, something was up, and it was getting impossible to ignore.

But again, silent understanding. She was conflicted, and the list of things she wasn’t asking about was getting longer and longer as the semester dragged on.

Like the bloodstained shirt she found wadded up in the bathroom.

Or the jars of herbs that didn’t do anything if they were hypothetically rolled up and smoked.

Or Tall, Dark, and Leather who sometimes appeared from Stiles’ room when he definitely hadn’t come in through the front door to begin with, but that was a whole different set of questions.

Whatever Stiles was doing, it was escalating, that much she knew. He slept less, ate less, came out of his room less, and if Emma remembered the symptoms correctly, he was abusing his Adderall like there was no tomorrow.

She was curious, okay, and that silent understanding was getting harder and harder to honor.

At least until she got something of an answer one very early Monday morning while writing a paper. Stiles had been gone over the weekend, leaving Thursday immediately after his last lecture without so much as a bye Emma, see in you three days if I’m not dead or in jail.

She’d been writing a paper due the next day (or just later that same day if she was being honest with herself) and not getting very far between listening to music and the internet in general. So, the usual writing process.

The song came to an end and in the moment of silence before the next, she heard the front door open. Her eyes flicked to the clock on her laptop instinctively; after 4am. Just as the next song was fading in, a set of metallic keys hit the wooden floor and hushed whispering floated in through her open bedroom door.

“Dude, be careful, Emma’s studying.”

“Would you rather I dropped you?”

Emma’s finger dragged along the touchpad of her computer, turning the volume in her headphones down to nothing, curiosity getting the better of her. She thought she’d met most of Stiles’ friends by now, but she didn’t recognize the other voice. There was shuffling and some swearing, and she just managed to keep herself from getting up to see what the hell was going on.

“Ow, fuck, fuck, not there—oh my god not there.”

“Stiles, there isn’t anywhere else to hold you, so deal with it or do this on your own.”

In the reflection on her laptop screen, Emma could just make out a mass of two silhouettes slowly moving through the dark room past her open door, illuminated from behind by the streetlamps outside. They hobbled together awkwardly out of view, pausing to swear again when something else fell. This time they left it on the floor.

“Could you maybe try to be little nicer? I did just save your ungrateful hide—literally.”

They finally made it to Stiles’ room and the whump of body falling onto bed, followed by Stiles’ drawn out groan of fuuuuuuuuck, made Emma wince.

“Don’t look at me like that, I told you to stay at the loft tonight,” the other person growled to what must have been one of Stiles’ loaded glares.

“I have class at 8:30.”

“You’re not going to class.”

“Uh, yeah actually, I am going to class. I have to, because thanks to you and Scott, I’ve missed the last two discussions and my GSI is getting pissy.”

This was news; it seemed like Stiles was always back in time for his classes and was, miraculously, staying on top of his schoolwork through a combination of Adderall and sheer determination. In fact, one of his favorite pastimes was kicking people out of the apartment while threatening that if he lost his scholarship because they wouldn’t let him study, his tuition would be coming out of their allowances.

“We told you to stay out of it.”

“And if I had you would be doing a fantastic impression of Lady Cassandra right now, you’re welcome.”

She got the reference, or she thought she did, but then Stiles always seemed to be speaking in double entendres. He had developed an entire foreign language in plain English solely to avoid telling anyone anything. Most of the time she just let it and let him have his secrets, but she was starting to regret that now that it seemed like his secrets had gotten him hurt.

“Stiles…” the other man started through a sigh, only to be interrupted by Stiles in that tone he used in class when he knew he’d just won an argument.

“Derek.”

“Just go to sleep.”

“Kind of hard to with your eyebrows looming over me, dude.”

Derek’s reply was instant, habit. “Don’t call me dude.”

“Seriously,” Stiles continued after a pause, “sit down or something, you’re freaking me out.”

There was a labored sigh and the door clicked shut, the continuing conversation muffled to murmurs. Emma sagged in disappointment and frustration and turned back to the glowing laptop screen staring back at her. There was no way she was going to be able to focus on her paper now.

*

It was creeping into 6am when Emma gave in and admitted to herself that she wasn’t going to get any more of her paper written in her current state. Stiles’ distracting entrance had completely derailed her train of thought and it wasn’t getting back on track any time soon; the last hour and a half of writing rambling sentences and then deleting them over and over had proven that far too many times. She looked at the clock, realized she had to leave for class in two hours, and let out a quiet dry sob as she accepted that she wasn’t going to be sleeping even a little bit tonight.

She gathered up her collection of dirty coffee mugs and bowls and made her way out to the kitchen, bowls stacked and mugs hanging precariously from her fingers. She paused at the dining table to flip the light switch with her knee, a skill she had been honing and was actually really proud of, and sucked in a terrified gasp (along with half a scream and probably her tongue) when the light revealed the most intimidating man she had ever seen sitting a foot away from her at the table, staring up at her from the book in his hands.

She didn’t realize she’d dropped a coffee mug until he was holding it up for her to take, the cold remaining coffee splashed up his forearm.

Emma staggered past Stiles’ now-open door into the kitchen, adrenaline rushing and her pounding heart leaping up into her lungs to meet her tongue that she must’ve swallowed because what just happened?

Still clutching three bowls to her chest, now-empty mug swinging from her pinky, she turned to see who she really hoped was Derek holding out the other mug and being far too calm about all this. A serial killer would probably be calm about this, some detached part of her brain threw out casually, and her chest clenched again.

“Please don’t freak out,” he stated quietly, and Emma let out a strangled whimper instead of the scream that it had started as.

Hopefully-Derek paused, eyes flicking to the side and head turning towards the wall the kitchen shared with Stiles’ room as if listening. Emma didn’t know what he was expecting to hear; she was pretty sure her heart was beating loud enough to drown out any noise Stiles might be making. The guy slept like the dead anyway, when he actually slept. The one time she’d forgotten her keys, he’d slept through her calling his phone, banging on the door, and throwing rocks at his window trying to get his attention.

She put the bowls and mugs on the counter while she organized the rush of thoughts she wanted to voice; everything from who are you to please don’t kill me. She settled on what she categorized as the most important as she turned back to face slightly worried eyebrows staring back at her. Her sock was soaking up cold coffee from the linoleum.

“What the—” she started to demand, cut off at Maybe-Derek’s pointed look, then started again in a violent whisper, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m a friend of Stiles.” The way he said it made it sound like it should be all the explanation necessary, and he was so sure of himself that it actually took Emma a moment to realize that no, that was not a sufficient answer at all.

“Okaaay, why are you sitting at our table, in the dark, at six in the morning?” He glanced away, then back again, like she was the one acting strange and he was looking for someone to back him up. “That’s not something that a friend of Stiles generally does,” she elaborated.

“I was reading.”

“In the dark?”

“It’s more than bright enough with the streetlights.”

“Why didn’t you just turn on a light?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Why are you here?”

Something metal hit the floor from Stiles’ room and they stilled; Derek instinctively took a step towards the kitchen door and paused while Emma just stared, wondering what the fuck was going on. Sheets rustled and Stiles groaned something like nngh, fuck before going quiet again.

Derek stepped out and closed the bedroom door softly, then returned to his seat at the dining table like their conversation had ended and everyone was satisfied with the outcome.

The whole thing was just ridiculous enough for Emma to push it aside and realize that even for a friend loitering in their apartment for two solid hours in the dark, Derek was acting weird; like he was standing guard outside of Stiles’ closed door.

“Seriously, why are you still here?” Emma pulled out the chair opposite and parked herself in it, wanting answers. “Is something wrong with Stiles?”

“He’s fine,” Derek answered shortly after an incredibly suspicious pause.

“What’s wrong with him.”

“He’s fine.”

“He didn’t sound fine when you guys came in.”

Derek huffed out a frustrated breath through his nose. “It’s nothing serious. You can go to bed, I’m taking care of him.”

Coming from a guy with his glare, that sounded more like a threat than a reassurance. Time to get serious.

“What happened to him?” she asked, and Derek immediately countered with,

“We got jumped.”

“By?”

“People.”

“Where?”

“Fourth.”

“And?”

“Ashley.”

“That intersection doesn’t exist.”

“Not in this city.”

Emma glared and sat back in her chair. She hoped her glare conveyed touché well enough that she wouldn’t have to actually say it.

“He’ll be okay?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“You’re qualified to decide that?”

“And I’ll take care of him if he’s not.”

Again, ominous coming from this guy.

“That sounds like you're going to kill him.” Derek frowned, looking genuinely hurt by that. “No offense, but you just have that vibe.”

“Thanks,” he deadpanned, and Emma could only think to awkwardly repeat,

“No offense.”

Instead of the expected, none taken, Derek just turned back towards Stiles’ bedroom door. Like a very stubbly and glare-y guard dog. Who was worried about making too much noise and waking Stiles up. And appeared to have driven the almost three hours to Berkeley from Beacon Hills because Stiles wanted to get to class in the morning.

Right. So looking at all the facts, probably more likely a boyfriend than a murderer.

“Okay, so,” she started sidestepping towards the bathroom, “I should shower. Because I’ve been up all night writing a paper. Listening.”

Derek nodded.

“If you hear me drowning myself, just let it happen.”

He nodded again.

“Keep an eye on Stiles.”

No nod that time, just a raised eyebrow, like she was an idiot for thinking he could possibly do otherwise.

“Alright, goodnight.” She was fully in the bathroom now, but weirdly reluctant to close the door completely yet.

Derek just went back to his book, because it really didn’t matter to him what she did, and then she felt weird for being so aggressive about it.

She shut the door and pressed her ear against the wood, listening. It was dead silent out there, not even the sound of the old wood floor creaking with someone walking. It seemed that Derek really was just going to sit there and read in silence.

Emma started the shower, waited another few minutes, and then wrenched the door open as fast as she could.

Derek slowly looked up with raised eyebrows, still in the exact same position he’d been in before, right down to his finger tucked between pages to mark a spot.

“Just checking,” Emma informed him, and closed the door again.

When she finished and came back out in her robe, Derek was gone, the room silent, the book was laying on the table. But his leather jacket was hanging on the back of the chair, and his shoes were kicked off neatly against the baseboards next to Stiles’ closed bedroom door.

[shaevira]

For my 55k post I will post my au one shot prompt that’s slightly tweaked for freezerburn . it went a lot different in my head and was a lot sweeter lmao oh well.(also lol @ my attempts to be funny) i also havent written in forever so SHRUGS excuse my shitty writing lmao

words: 2.2k

prompt: Everything is in black and white until you meet your soulmate.

“How did you even meet him again?” Weiss yelled, as she just nearly missed bumping into a different stranger for the 5th time in one day.

Weiss was being pulled through a crowd, almost unwillingly as she was drug behind her best friend, Pyrrha Nikos to a rowdy concert - or was it a battle of the bands? Weiss couldn’t exactly remember as her ear drums were in the process of being blown out by the band currently playing. Either way, loud music and thinking quietly to oneself was on the opposite ends of the spectrum.

To her luck, Pyrrha heard her question - “We met at a festival like this one! We just bumped into each other and boom! Color - just like that!” Pyrrha exclaimed loudly. For a prim and proper duo the two knew how to make themselves heard.

Weiss groaned. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to feel left out. Even if she had just been invited to this screamfest.

But in this case she was, because she couldn’t say ‘no’ to her best friend. Her best friend who had found their soulmate. Her best friend who now had the privilege of being able to see color. As long as she was around her soulmate of course.

As for Weiss, everything remained black and white. Literally.

Weiss had money, lots of it. She could buy anything she wanted.

What she could not buy was true love; the satisfaction of seeing everything and anything for how it truly was.

Her whole world, just like every other soulmate less person out there - was dim.

“Oh! They’re on next!” Pyrrha clapped together her hands in excitement. Pyrrha’s tall and demanding demeanor had managed to get them to the front of the crowd and to where the railings blocked them off from the stage.

A girl with dark toned hair walked on stage. If Weiss didn’t know any better black and white was this chicks aesthetic already. How cliche. Behind her followed two scraggly looking dudes. One had his shirt opened, his washboard abs rippling in the light and the other looked awkward and out of place.

Pyrrha’s Soulmate.

There was one more person to follow behind - she carried drumsticks and lifted them in the air as she posed and grinned. Her light toned long mane flowed behind her and she banged her head; this riled up the crowd who began to cheer loudly. She posed once more, this time flexing to show off how ripped she was before taking her seat at the drum set.

Pyrrha’s soulmate picked up a bass, while the washboard guy picked up a guitar. The slender black and white aesthetic figure took place on mic.

“I’m Blake Belladonna and we are the Bleeding Banshees!” She raised a fist in the air, before clutching onto the mic as if it were a desperate lover.

As soon as these words were said the crowd screamed loudly and the singing - or well - screaming in this case began.

Weiss groaned and pretended to be just as excited as Pyrrha for the next thirty to forty-five minutes. The music was just too much. But if there was one person that kept Weiss’s attention was the girl on the drumset who was dramatically lip syncing along in the back and making horrid faces while doing so. Weiss had to keep herself from bursting out in laughter for several songs.

Soon enough the screaming was over and Pyrrha had once more dragged Weiss off to meet the band. Blake had been kind enough to give them V.I.P passes. How Pyrrha met and befriended this lot of people will always remain a mystery to Weiss.

Weiss and Pyrrha slipped backstage as another band passed them getting ready to start the next gig.

They were soon greeted by three out of four of the band members. Soulmate, Aesthetic, and Abs had come out to meet them. But not, what Weiss liked to call her, Facial Horror.

“Pyrrha!” Soulmate had called out to her before embracing her in his arms.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha grinned and hugged him back.

Oh, right. Jaune. That was his name. Weiss was happy that Pyrrha finally found her soulmate, but at the same time - she was envious. For a variety of reasons. She did not care enough to keep his name in mind.

Pulling out of the embrace Jaune noted Weiss. “Who’s uhh, your pale friend?”

“Excuse me? I’m not pale!” Weiss retorted.

“Hate to say it, but you are pretty pale.” Aesthetic commented, as she seemed to be holding hands with Abs.

Weiss glared at the other couple now. So she was surrounded by people who could see color, but she couldn’t? Who had found their soulmates, and she hadn’t?

She felt a sense of exclusion.

Before Weiss could say anything, Pyrrha cut in before anything could truly escalate. “Weiss, this is Blake, Sun and Jaune. Everyone, this is Weiss.” She had pointed to everyone respectively, as they gave a simple hand gesture back.

“Where’s…?” Pyrrha looked around, Weiss had mentally asked herself the same question that Pyrrha was obviously about to ask.

“Oh, Yang? She opted out. She said she didn’t want to fifth wheel.” Sun commented.

“So, I’m going to be the fifth wheel then?” Weiss raised an eyebrow in discontent.

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come. She may change her mind if she know she’s not the only one.” Blake pulled out a cellphone and put it to her ear.

“Weiss, you haven’t found a soulmate then?” Jaune questioned.

Weiss had half a mind to groan and ask if that was rhetorical question, but instead politely shook her head no.

“Well, you’re in luck then! Yang doesn’t have one either. At least you two will have something in common!” Jaune grinned.

Weiss ultimately decided that Jaune was a special kind of idiot. How the universe decided him and Pyrrha should get together was beyond her.

“Yang’s in. Surprisingly.” Blake said as she shoved the phone back into her pocket.

“What’s she up to now?” Sun asked.

“She’s just putting away her things and she’ll be here in a second.” Blake paused before starting up again. “Hey, there’s this bar down the street we can walk to. You guys mind if we go there tonight?” Blake turned towards the group.

Everyone nodded in agreement. As they had, Yang had run up to the group.

“Aww, you guys didn’t leave without me! What a good group of friends!” Yang wrapped her arms around the shoulders of Blake and Sun shoving her way in between them.

“Of course not. We were thinking about going to that new bar just down the road, you in?” Blake turned her head towards Yang.

“Duh, you already asked.” Yang pulled away now shrugging and putting her arms behind her head. “But uhh...who’s the odd-man out?”

“You mean Weiss?” Pyrrha questioned.

“We-who?” Yang commented, almost in a confused manner.

“I’m right here, you big brute.” Weiss scowled.

“You’re so short! I didn’t see you there.” Yang grinned widely. “Hmm. Big brute. That should be the name of our next song! Thanks Princess.”

Weiss, definitely groaned while the group laughed at her displeasure. How did she get into this mess of a group? Weiss could only hope alcohol would be her systems soon enough.

It didn’t take long for the six man group to make their way to the bar. The walk was one that Weiss had mostly spaced out on. She only heard bits of the chatter which was mostly between Sun, Blake, Jaune, and Pyrrha. Yang messed around on her phone while taking occasional, and very obvious glances at Weiss.

They arrived at the bar and luckily for them, they had been recognized by the owners and given sitting very quickly.

The chatter between the group became more disparaging for the likes of Weiss and Yang. The talk of soulmates and what new color they all had discovered or whichever one was their favorite was something that Weiss and Yang could not relate to.

The more their talk grew the more Weiss and Yang shot down alcohol.

Yang seemed to have had enough and tossed some peanuts at Weiss.

“What the hell, Yang?” Weiss slightly slurred as she had clearly seen Yang take that action.

“You wanna get outta here?” Yang asked - she seemed to handle her alcohol well.

Weiss sighed and nodded. She paid her due and hopped of the stool following behind a very upright Yang.

The cold night air hit them in the face as they both took a deep breath, in near unison.

“That fucking sucked.” Yang laughed as they started their walk.

“No shit. All that lovey dovey bullshit. Colors! Soulmates! Fuck them!” Weiss was inebriated. “It’s not fair! They get all of that and what do I get? A fucking multi-million dollar company.” Weiss scoffed, she made wild motions with her hands and her tone of voice went in and out with emotion.

Yang let out another laugh.

“My dad! He fuckin tried to help me - bless his fuckin’ soul - by putting on a ‘let’s fuckin’ handshake Weiss’ charity to see if you’re the one! Do you wanna know how many sweaty boys I shook hands with that day? Three hundred. Three fucking hundred and NOT A SINGLE ONE MY SOULMATE. We raised a lot of money for charity, but me? I’m still a single fuck while Pyrrha get’s Captain idiot and the abs aesthetic brigade!” Weiss had gone on a full out tirade.

Yang was completely lost in laughter. Yang was tipsy, but she wasn’t gone like Weiss was.

“You know, maybe you’re looking for the wrong gender.” Yang teased.

“Fuck, you think? Maybe if I start touching girls butts I might GET SOMEWHERE.”

Yang snorted down another fit of laughter.

“It’s not funny Yang! Don’t you feel lonely too?!”

Yang stopped her laughter and put on a straight face. “Well, yeah...but watching you say everything I wish I could say makes me feel a lot better. In a sense, I’m not alone. Because you feel exactly the way I do.” Yang kicked at the ground. “In the end I’ve accepted that maybe it’ll never be for me, you know?”

Weiss grabbed the bigger girl by the shoulders and shook her wildly. “You can’t say dumb things like that Yang!” Weiss yelled then pulled away, and covered her mouth. “I think I’m going to puke.” she muttered.

Yang put her hand on Weiss’s shoulder, Weiss turned her head to look at Yang and both girls paused.

“Your eyes...they’re…” before Weiss could say anything she puked all over the ground in front of her.

Yang knew what she was about to say. As Yang could see it too.

Yang had let Weiss finish her business before picking her up and carrying her safely back to their hotel room.

--

The the next morning Weiss woke up with a headache. Everything was in black and white once more.

“Heard you had a rough night.” Pyrrha winked as she squeezed her hair dry with a towel.

“I had the craziest dream I could see in color.” Weiss muttered.

“How do dreams like that even work?” Pyrrha chuckled before returning to the restroom to finish drying her hair.

A light knock could be heard on their door.

“I’ll get it.” Weiss muttered loudly and shuffled her way to the door. When did she put on PJS? She shook her head.

She opened the door and it was none other than Yang Xiao Long.

“Hey.” Yang nervously smiled.

“Hey Yang..” Weiss hadn’t the slightest clue what she was here for.

“I came to see if you were okay, how are you feeling, I brought you these I thought you might like them and..” Yang seemed to spurt out words at a mile a minute all of a sudden as she shoved flowers into Weiss’s arms and pulled back immediately. What happened to the cool nonchalant girl from last night?

“Whoa, whoa..slow down..what are these for…?” Weiss had trouble keeping up as she rubbed her head.

“Can I show you?” Yang cautiously asked.

“Where are you going to -” Before Weiss could finish her sentence her lips were sealed by others. Yang’s.

But Weiss didn’t pull away. Not immediately at least. “Yang what was tha-” she paused, her eyes widened. Suddenly everything was filled with color.

Yang’s lavender eyes stared at her cautiously. Her bright yellow mane flowed behind her as she adjusted her black leather jacket. A small bead of sweat ran down the side of her bronzed neck. There was a small tint of red on Yang’s cheeks, almost unnoticeable but to Weiss everything was so bright. So colorful. Yang was the only thing currently colored, but she shone bright like the Sun.

“Yesterday, when I was carrying you back...It was the most amazing thing just looking at you. You were beautiful and for once I knew what it was like and I just wanted that feeling again...and I..I want that feeling to last forever.” Yang gave a sheepish grin, she wiped the sweat off of her neck and looked at Weiss expectedly.

“It wasn’t a dream?” Weiss muttered. “I’m stuck with the Facial Horror?” Weiss’s eyes widened as she stared at the ground. The red carpeted ground.

“Facial Horror? Wow, Weiss! That’s a really good song name too! First Big Brute and then Facial Horror! Maybe you should join our band!” Yang grinned.

[youngerdrgrey]

okay but shouldn’t we be the epicenter? // a Dear White People fic, part 1

full title: *lionel voice* okay but shouldn’t /we/ be the epicenter of black life on this campus?

chapter title: shouldn’t we be (idk) calling out our friends?

or, a further exploration into these black lives on Winchester’s campus, making my way through the season for further depth and hilarity

/

about: what happens when Defamation ends and Jo pauses in her screaming with her heart still racing to go and get her boy. Or, the time Jo calls out Reggie for letting his jealousy get the best of him on a sacred night.

references include Scandal, Orange is the New Black and the completely unnecessary fucked up death that I will never forgive them for, the 100 and the death that I don’t have an opinion on bc I never watched that show, and casual use of both dicktamized and heedlessly in the same sentence #codeswitching

+ this chapter takes place at the end of episode one; read on ao3?

/

/

Honestly, even the Defamation live tweets coming from AP got interrupted today so people could throw in their two cents about Sam, Reggie, and the white boy coming between them and the movement. And it’s not like Joelle would normally care that much about the gossip. Everyone on campus knows that race relations at Winchester are like the pre-teen child Sam and Reggie adopted just when a group home or juvie were closing in on ‘em. But there’s a difference between the normal talk about Jo’s friends and the talk tonight. Normally it’s just a few direct tweets, but tonight, half her timeline’s subtweets about just whip it out already #nottalkingDefamation or  #loveitwhen bae meets activist!bae for the first time or just a simple *Crazy Eyes voice* swiiirl swirl swiiiirl swirl. So fine, Jo can’t even scroll through her timeline without having to address this, so she needs to address it in person. Even if all she can do is snap at Reggie about growing the fuck up.

She gets out her chair to stalk over to him at his. “You couldn’t wait, could you?”

Reggie peers up at her, still too deep into his feigned nonchalance to lift his legs back off the arm rest. As if she doesn’t deserve the full extent of his energy, or a head to head showdown. Honestly, his mind’s probably still on whatever ‘girl you better watch’ text he just sent Sam about the end of the episode. He flips his phone onto his stomach without even killing the screen.

“Wait for what?”

To whip his fucking dick out and wave it in Gabe’s face. Seriously, what’s with that impulse in guys? Jo’s not out here in booty shorts and bandeaus to prove she’s got more going on than Sam does. (Not that she does. Not that it’s a competition. She’s not competing with her best friend; she’s merely pointing out that she doesn’t have the same need to constantly battle anyone that her crush is into.)

(( Not that it’s much of a competition anyway. Guys always go for girls like Sam, don’t they? Girls who don’t really have to try to summon all the light in the room and can go on without necessarily having to know what it’s like to be black in ‘post-racial’ America. ))

((( Sam knows what it’s like. She knows what her experience is like, anyway, and Jo’s really not trying to get too deep into the whole color-ism of it all. European beauty standards are bullshit and forced on everyone. Jo’s got a banging body that works for a lot of guys who might not want to fully claim her, but she’s not all too interested in guys who unironically use ‘females’ to describe women and call her Queen before they ever even think to ask her name. )))

(((( Wait, what was the point again? ))))

Reggie cocks his head to the side. Assured and righteous as he normally is. But he’s the one in the wrong right now. The one pouncing instead of giving Gabe two seconds to try being in their lives.

“Come on, Reg. He—“ and Reggie groans and rolls his eyes immediately, so Jo just talks louder “—he was here for all of two minutes before you jumped down his throat to make sure everyone in the room could see how down he was.”

Reggie nearly snorts, singing lightly, “‘He ain’t really down.” But it’s Reggie playing those games you do, not Gabe. Reggie throwing his name in the Goblet of Fire for no fucking purpose but to run into the maze and get spat back out for doing it. “Come on. Not even a chuckle? You love old house music.”

She also loves getting to enjoy her hate-watch without being constantly reminded of their stupid relationship drama. “Be serious. I’m not happy either, but you don’t see me picking fights during Defamation.”

He shrugs. “You would if you weren’t so busy snapping at everything Olive does."

“Not everything.” Olive could literally control the whole world if she wanted to, but she keeps on going back to that trash ass president she put in the oval. Plus, the shit they do in there? Five seasons in, there’s probably permanent grooves on the rug that her knees put there. Which, whatever, but it’s been years, and Olive won’t leave someone who’s no good for her. “She needs to wise up, and so do you. Jumping all around the point.”

Reggie sits up so straight his shoulders level out. The steel in his eyes snags the light from the TV while his jaw locks up for a beat. “What’s your point then, Jo?” He asks as if he doesn’t already know.

Everybody on this campus knows how Reggie feels about Sam. Including Sam, on some level; she’s just somehow deluded herself into thinking that Reggie only wants her mind, or her activism, or a partner in the movement. But Reggie’s been into every piece of Sam since she still had a relaxer and shared a room with Coco Conners. He’s been trailing after her since the first time she spoke up in class freshman year, and if Jo has to hear about how Sam was like a blacktivist Hermione Granger one more time, she will Obliviate herself, him, and anyone else who’s had to listen to it. But none of that knowledge changes anything. None of that brings what’s been subtext to the forefront quite like this does.

“Sam brought him here on Defamation night. She’s serious about this.” Serious enough that she didn’t tell either of them. And Jo’s not quite sure if Sam’s ashamed of his whiteness or their unapologetic blackness or maybe just that she got dicktamized into a relationship with the very sort of guy she normally mocks heedlessly, but here they all are. “I mean, we’ve supported her through worse.”

“Like what?”

Like the time she single-handedly tried responding to every single person who justified Poussey’s death in Orange is the New Black, dedicating a whole episode of DWP to debunking its use in the narrative. (It’s still a great episode, complete with gems like, “Dear white people, if you fix your mouth one more time to tell me why Poussey’s death was okay but you’re still crying over Lexa from The 100, I honestly don’t have the time to deal with you.” Top ratings, top notch, though it led to some serious rifts within the LGBTQ community on campus.)

Or the time she dated Troy. She planned yacht trips over rallies and acted like Jo and Reggie were both in the wrong for wondering if everything with them was just some dalliance in danger, like a pre-approved trek through the blackness of Sam’s identity before settling in to a non-confrontational future. But even then, Troy was the heir to respectability at Winchester, the crowned prince of how to be the right kind of negro who everyone can rally behind when something goes south and they wind up dead. He couldn’t so much as choose a cereal without his dad’s approval, so Sam and him were never gonna last. Not at this part of her life anyway.

“Just — Sam’s no Olive, Reg.” She won’t be with Picture Frame Gabe more than a few months, not when his true politics start coming out. He might be ready on paper to be part of this, but nobody understands the work until they’re in it. “She won’t choose some white boy over everything else she cares about.” Sam loves them.

Reggie leans up so his chest meets his knees at the armrest. It puts him at her level for the first time this conversation. He asks her, “You sure about that?"

Sam helped Jo take out her braids the night her Hulu trial ended and all they had were YouTube videos for filler. Sam missed her own midterm for psych last semester to help Reggie study for his midterm in poli sci. (Never mind the fact that Sam’s psych class dropped the lowest midterm score; the girl needed the points with the number of events that she kept scheduling during that class.) Sam’s their girl, for more than the movement and for nothing less than life. And if Jo has to fight against the need to widen her eyes and has to run these memories through her mind to convince herself that all of that still matters, then she’s not going to tell him.

“How can you not be?” she asks. Sam’s not going anywhere, even if Jo has to hold her down herself. Friends don’t let friends fuck the president. (And friends, real friends, tell you if they are, don’t they? Real friends let you in on the stuff they’re ashamed about, or wondering about, because if they don’t talk about it, then it’s not real, and if you’re not the one they go to, then maybe your whole friendship was just one of convenience. Maybe it’s high school all over again and the fact that your friends now are cool black kids instead of cool white ones doesn’t actually make a difference. Maybe you’re nothing more than the Coco of junior year.) “I’ll talk to her. Can you just hold off on vilifying her boy until then?”

Reggie plucks at a thread on the seam of his pants. “‘Her boy.’” He yanks the thread a little too hard, but it doesn’t go anywhere. Just leaves him with his fist clenched in the air over nothing. “He said, ‘it’s not worth it,’ then left.” Back in that fight? Seriously? Reggie glances up at Jo again. “He mean her when he say that?”

Because that’s what actually eats at Reggie, isn’t it? That someone on this planet could see his almighty love Samantha White and think she’s anything less than pure perfection.

“Of course not.” Everyone loves Sam; it’s them that everyone else seems unsure about. Because Reggie’s smart and brilliant, but he’s millitant in a way that can chafe at people who want to just enjoy themselves. And most people don’t know that he’ll talk shit for two seconds about the lives they’re ignoring by binge-watching The Get Down all day but that he’ll give himself over to it just a few minutes later. Or that he hasn’t missed a single night of Defamation since the first time Jo dragged him along after Open Mic let out two seasons ago. “Gabe just meant fighting you wasn’t worth sticking around tonight.” She swats a hand at his knee, batting at him as playfully as she can get. As casually as she can make this right now. “Good thing too. You too damn stubborn to ever stop.”

Reggie grins, but his eyes still have this shade over them. His brow crinkles while his nose scrunches up. He’s probably wondering, is it worth it to keep fighting? Think Sam will ever notice? Think Sam will ever fight for me too? At this point, it’d take an act of either God or the devil to get a reaction out of Sam, and after this blackface party, it sure seems like the devil’s more likely.

Jo swallows that comment down, scans the room to get away from soft eyes that never seem soft just for her. “Now get up. Walk me back to my room.”

He groans, but he pushes up off the chair. Throws his arm around her and tugs her into his side. Her eyes flutter closed, and she gets a whole three seconds of imagining that this could be about them. This could be them. Soft smiles and warm arms wrapped around each other. “You think she’ll ever leave him?” Then he opens his mouth and says that. His voice still comes out a little too heavy. He clears it while she blinks away the three second fantasy. “I mean, the oval’s got to have dents from her knees in the carpet at this point.”

“Oh!” She cackles — quick and bright and like the Defamation flashes are going off inside of her. Olive. Does she think Olive will ever leave the president? Not Sam. They’re finally done talking about Sam. And, okay, seriously, “That’s exactly what I said. Like power to her, get some, but does it have to be with Mr. President?”

“No eyebrows having,” Reggie starts.

“Disrespectful ass,” she continues.

“‘I know what you taste like’ Gerald Grant III.” They shudder together, and if she nestles in closer to his chest on the rest of the walk, they don’t talk about it. Maybe that’s how their little trio works — talk about everything but the big three: how Jo feels about Reggie, how Reggie feels about Sam, and how Sam might not be theirs forever.

Or maybe that’s just post-Defamation overdramatic thinking.

Yeah. (Maybe.) 

.

.

.

[likevelvetkisses]

Appreciated [02]

Pairing: Jin / Dasom               (BTS Kim Seokjin / SISTAR Kim Dasom) Rating: G (may change for succeeding chapters)

Summary: An opportunity for acting opens a new door for Seokjin and brings him closer to his co-star and senior colleague, Dasom. It was the kind of friendship that formed unexpected, but the common saying rings true about it possibly being the most fun, if not the best. The two share a journey of growth in life and love, take their lessons for their respective careers, and learn that they, too, are just as appreciated as the others.

Author’s Note/s:

My apologies for taking too much time with this chapter. I couldn’t grow content on it until I decided to split it into two chapters. If I extended it, it would have been too lengthy, so the next part is still in progress.

Again, I am maintaining the use of Korean honorifics.

I forgot to mention this but I am sort of following the current timeline of activities, starting from November 2016 to the present (and maybe future). Some of these events actually took/will take place (end-of-the-year shows, other performances, etc.), but do understand that there will also be made-up ones for the story. But I guess you guys already knew that lol.

II. Laugh to Meet

          Being a celebrity was never an easy job, and much less for being an idol celebrity. People talk. Seokjin knew from the very start that he could never please everybody, but that didn’t make the words online sting any less.

          Upon the release of the news that he was cast as one of the lead roles for an upcoming 2017 film, criticism weighed heavier than congratulations on the scale. Considering how Seokjin and his fellow groupmates were quite active on social media, it was easy to see the comments pour in for every article that concerned them. His fingers against his phone scrolled up and down through the comments section and clicked on every article he could find about his film participation. It was odd how a person could get upset from words from yet at the same time obsess over them, just to see what else they had to say, and maybe get a miraculous positive note among the hundreds that had a much more negative tone.

          ‘I like Jin, sure, but isn’t it too early for him to participate as a lead? I’m more worried about backlash than his performance now.’

          ‘Wonder how he got casted this fast. Were the producers drawing lots from a hat? LOL.’

          ‘BTS Jin? Lead? Wow, good luck.’

          ‘Gongchan shouldn’t have refused this role. He’d do much better.’

          ‘I read it’s a low-budget film anyway, and considering Jin’s an amateur actor…’

          ‘Isn’t it unfair for Taehyung then? He started off fairly well with 'Hwarang' as a supporting actor while Jin shoots up as a lead?’

          Seokjin bit his lower lip.

          ‘Honestly, I understand everyone’s concerns, but we have to take into consideration that maybe Seokjin does have what it takes to fulfill this role. I’m a fan and even I’m surprised by the news, but instead of judging him now just because we haven’t seen him act before, why don’t we just encourage him and hope for the best? It’s his stepping stone into the acting world so give him a chance.’

          He finally exhaled. He didn’t realize it but he was holding a breath until he found this miracle among the hundreds.

          Seokjin took a screenshot of the comment for future comfort. It had been some rough weeks on the online community.

          “What did you expect? A fanfare?” A bored voice asked from across Seokjin. The latter looked up to see his roommate, Yoongi, sneaking a lazy glance at him then back to closing his eyes. “People are judgmental, hyung.”

          “… What?” Seokjin’s reply clearly showed how much he was still in a haze from reading from his phone.

          “You’re looking at the comments again.” Yoongi said. “Put it down.”

          Though he was older, Seokjin understood that Yoongi and Namjoon were among the members who tended to have a more mature mindset, thus he was more inclined to listen to them when it came to advice and such.

          He nodded and followed the simple instruction as he placed his phone beside him on the bed, and face-down for good measure.

          It was an early December morning and a rest day for the whole group, although Seokjin and Hoseok had a meeting in a couple of hours regarding a television show appearance and the others had their own appointments.

          Yoongi opened his eyes again and sighed, then rolled slightly to face Seokjin. “Sulking about all of this won’t help you with your film.”

          “I know, but it just makes me think that maybe I should have just refused the role as well.”

          “Sejin-hyung found you a chance. Don’t let it go to waste.”

          Seokjin nodded and tried to give a little chuckle, but failed miserably. “You’d think hate comments are something we’d get used to by now.”

          “Well we have to. We didn’t grow up being showered with praises after all.” The dark-haired member took his own phone from his side table and tinkered around with it.

          The older member thought for a while before standing up. As frank as his words always were, Yoongi knew what to really say. Sugarcoating would have been sweeter but Seokjin didn’t need that today. Turning to their wall clock, Seokjin took the time as a cue and stood up to grab and put on his sweater. The day seemed like it would grow even colder. After fixing his items in his bag, he smiled a bit more genuinely this time and made to ruffle Yoongi’s hair, much to the latter’s mock irritation.

          “Thanks, Yoongi. I’ll see you later.”

          “Yeah, yeah. Go so I can sleep more.” Yoongi told him a bit jokingly, casually waving his one hand as a weak goodbye.

          “Hey,” Seokjin called as he got to the door. “Hey, look at me first.”

          Yoongi groaned but nonetheless put his attention on Seokjin. “What?”

          Seokjin leaned over their door frame and put on the best manly face he had at the moment, then said the line with an accompanying rise of his eyebrow:

          “If you drink that in one shot, we’re going steady.”

          Yoongi stared at him blankly. “… The heck?” He then remembered that famous line, and rolled his eyes. “Are you seriously quoting Jung Woosung at me?”

          Seokjin’s face scrunched up in a smile, losing the manly image he had earlier. “Yeah, yeah! What do you think? Can I pass off as an actor now?”

          “Sheesh, get to your meeting!” Yoongi threw one of his pillows at Seokjin, an amused smirk gracing his face.

          “Okay, okay!” Seokjin laughed and said his real goodbye this time, but not before sending his signature flying kiss at his roommate, which Yoongi made a face at.

          As soon as the door closed behind Seokjin, Yoongi sighed loudly and sat up on his bed. He shook his head and snorted at Seokjin’s antics. “Honestly, that guy...” With the phone still in his hand, Yoongi opened some browsers and logged in a couple of websites via his barely furnished user-accounts as he decided to leave his own comments regarding his roommate’s situation:

          ‘Stop being dicks and just let him act.’

          Hoseok’s presence was the complete opposite of Yoongi’s and Seokjin welcomed it fully. After all, there really was no point in moping around over criticisms, and he knew that doing his best in the project was the only way to neutralize the comments, if not overturn them. Hoseok had been more congratulating of the opportunity beset on his fellow member, and he had been telling Seokjin how excited he was for its eventual release within the year.

          “Have you read your script already? What’s it about?” Hoseok asked as they settled down in the van. They each took a captain seat opposite of each other and readied for their trip to the Seoul Broadcasting System building in Mokdong. A pre-filming meeting was set for the two of them for their upcoming appearance on ‘Baek Jong Won’s Three Great Emperors’. With BTS stabilizing themselves on the Korean music map, their CEO, Bang Sihyuk, along with their managers and team leaders had arranged for more show appearances for the members. This time around on the ‘Three Great Emperors’, the managers agreed that both Seokjin and Hoseok were the perfect fit: Seokjin with his actual love for culinary and Hoseok with his humorous charm. They were at least bound to do good work for the show.

          Seokjin nodded and put his seatbelt on. “Well it’s a love story. The title literally says ‘Romance in Jinhae’. But do you really want spoilers now before it’s all even filmed?”

          Hoseok considered it for a moment. “Eh, I guess not. But is it, you know, corny? Like, do you have corny lines?”

          “I thought you didn’t want spoilers!”

          The other laughed. “Alright, I’ll take that as a yes! I think you’d nail it if it had more dad jokes, though.”

          “I don’t think the script could call for my dad jokes.”

          “I don’t think the audience would call for it, either.”

          “Hey!”

          Of course, Hoseok’s finger guns ended that joke on a light note.

          Their bickering continued for halfway of the trip until both of them fell asleep when they reached the expressway. The sun had unexpectedly shone brighter that morning and the commute to Mokdong took longer than usual, thus providing them a lethargic feeling within the van that even their manager, Hobeom, fell asleep as well. Seokjin only awoke when Hoseok nudged him as they neared the SBS building. He wondered then how long their meeting would take. It wasn’t as if he had a lot of extra things to do, but he wanted to study his film’s script a little more. He had a week left until the script reading after all.

          “Now that I think about it, we never really got to visit their main building much, have we?” Hoseok said after he hopped off the ground and stretched out his arms. He looked up at the glass walls of the SBS building.

          Seokjin followed suit and shook his head. “No. We usually performed at the Open Hall.”

          “It looks pretty fancy.”

          “I think Big Hit is fancier.”

          Hoseok laughed. “Bang PD would want to hear that.”

          The interior of the entertainment building did not disappoint their initial impressions. Although they have visited a few times before, it seems the company has changed quite a few things with their décor, including the polishing of their large silver pillars and more posters of their current shows lining the walls. LED television sets were also available for viewing commercials and show teasers, most especially dramas. It felt like the first time visiting again for the two members.

          After receiving visitor’s passes from the reception personnel of SBS, Hobeom accompanied them inside the building and they all made their way up to the tenth floor of the building via the elevator. The air-conditioning was still turned up quite high as regular company structures would have them, despite the December cold outside. None of them could remove their coats for the time being, even if they wanted to. Upon reaching the designated floor, an employee assigned to them was waiting at the guest area, escorting them soon enough to the conference room where their appointment was to be held. It seemed that they were the first ones there and the SBS employee bid them to take comfort while they waited for the producers of the show. Hobeom excused himself outside, as he had to take a phone call, leaving Seokjin and Hoseok behind momentarily in the conference room.

          Seokjin looked at Hoseok and grinned. “It’s kinda fun to think that we’re finally starting to get on more variety shows.”

          Hoseok nodded. “Yeah! I wonder which shows we all could go as a group again.”

          “I’d want us to go on Infinite Challenge if we can. But for now, I’m glad to be able to get on a show about food.”

          “Oh yeah. You always wanted that, right, hyung?”

          Seokjin nodded. “How about you?”

          Hoseok thought for a while. “Right now, I just want to go on any show where I could do a lot of things, although I have been thinking about emceeing, too.”

          “You did great last time at Inkigayo.”

          “Exactly why I want to try it again.”

          A few more discussions about varieties and live shows started until Seokjin excused himself to go to the restroom. Since they still had some time before the actual start of the meeting, his trip to the restroom was accompanied by some sightseeing within the building. The higher floors had little posters now as compared to the ground floor’s lobby, and this time they were replaced with framed artworks instead and doors for studios and other conference rooms. There was a feeling of professionalism within the walls, Seokjin thought.

          As he passed a long hallway towards where the restroom was located, he couldn’t help but hear women’s laughs at the end of it. They echoed quite pleasingly, and one of the laughs was oddly cute. It was the best he could describe it, especially when the laugh turns up a higher pitch to a squeak at every breath. The other one was huskier. Seokjin grew slightly curious as he neared the source.

          “The year is about to end but our love for everybody, especially our fans, STAR1, will never stop. Thank you for continuing to support SISTAR and we promise much better music and appearances for the upcoming year.” Hyojung stated, finalizing her speech for the cameras.

          Dasom followed suit to fully close the talk. “Bora-unnie and Soyou-unnie also send their love. Please continue to look after us in 2017 as well.”

          “Again, thank you. We’re the B. E. S. T., SISTAR. This has been SISTAR. Happy holidays!”

          With new music releases come promotions as well as promotion wrap-ups. Hyojung, or more commonly known as SISTAR’s Hyolyn, had just finished her own promotion period for her recent mini-album, “It’s Me”, and thus was invited over for an SBS talk show, 'Access Showbiz Tonight'. Although they had already interviewed her when it was released, Hyojung’s interview this time was to cover how it was like as a solo artist to promote once more on her own and still be quite active with her original group. At the same time, Dasom had been present for the same interview to join Hyojung on discussing plans for SISTAR’s future and competition with rookie groups. Jihyun and Bora had their own activities to attend to, thus the absence.

          Their interview finished within the morning and the two decided to have brunch at a nearby restaurant after parting with their company staff. Their manager had bid them his own goodbye to check on over the other managers of SISTAR who accompanied Bora and Jihyun, leaving the two behind on their own.

          “You know, unnie, I’m still really proud of you for this album.” Dasom said as they freshened themselves up in the restroom. “I know the physical sales weren’t what we expected, but I’m still proud of you.”

          Hyojung smiled as she combed her hair out. The curls she had earlier were a bit too much. “It might sound selfish but I wasn’t really worried about the sales so long as I get to release music that I like and fans like.”

          “And you did.” Dasom started to fix her items as soon as she finished retouching her makeup. As always, she wore quite the little amount today as they weren’t performing.

          “Thanks, Somie.” Hyojung said as she led the way outside the restroom. “I can’t wait until you, Jihyun, and Bora-unnie release your own stuff, you know. But I feel like you’d be the one with the most surprising output.”

          “How so?”

          “You yourself know you’re not made for hip-hop sounds. You can do it, of course, but it’s not the genre you’d focus on.”

          Dasom nodded in agreement. “Well that’s true. But you know what? I’ll just leave it to your words. Let it all be a surprise.”

          “I’d be more surprised if you actually came out with hip-hop, so I’ll be expecting that then.” Hyojung laughed. “I’ll flip if you rap with Mad Clown.”

          “I should join Unpretty like you did to test myself out!”

          Hyojung’s husky laugh mixed with Dasom’s own high-pitched one filled the quiet tenth floor of the SBS building with both of them forgetting that there could be other people and staff passing by. Yet at that point, they hardly cared. It didn’t calm either of them down, too, when Hyojung pretended to rap about Dasom’s interests of cute stuff and then dabbing in the end. Dasom broke out in larger laughs, holding onto the wall for support.

          “You seriously dabbed—“ And the statement couldn’t even be completed between all the laughing and joking. Hyojung was on a roll on her own, after all, and Dasom was her victim for the day.

          Hyojung was the first to calm down, surprisingly, while Dasom was only starting to catch her breath, but every glance at her fellow member caused her to chuckle a little more. The only reason Hyojung stopped, however, was because all the laughing caused her to grow a need for the bathroom again.

          “Okay, I need to pee again.” She said nonchalantly, almost tossing over her bag to Dasom while she rushed inside the ladies’ room. “Wait for me here, Somie.”

          “Don’t take too long.” Dasom called at her, and the only response she was met with was incoherent babbling from a rushing Hyojung. As the door closed, however, Dasom’s focus was quickly shifted towards the approaching young man from the hall.

          Seokjin got to the source of all the echoing laughs, and he paused his tracks momentarily upon seeing a senior colleague in front of him. Had she been the one with all the pretty laughs earlier? He hadn’t expected to see her until a few more days, either, but Seokjin found it a pleasant chance to meet Dasom outside of their work schedule. He smiled brightly at her and bowed in respect.

          “Good morning, sunbaenim!” Seokjin greeted and, as always, remembered to introduce himself. It also dawned on him then and there how little interaction BTS had with SISTAR all this time. “I’m BTS’ Jin. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

          In mutual response, Dasom offered her own smile and bowed (after fully catching her breath, that is), although she realized it was a little harder to do it this time with two bags in her arms. Subconsciously she wondered what could be weighing so much this time in Hyojung’s bag.

          “Of course I know you. It’s nice to meet you, too, Jin.” She said, then quickly remembered the recent achievements of the other idol. She gave him a couple of claps of her hands. “And congratulations! I watched MAMA. Those were great awards you received.”

          Seokjin’s grin was a mix of happiness and shyness, and Dasom chuckled at the expression. “Thank you! The group is very happy about it.”

          “I can imagine so. We’ll be working together soon. I heard it’s your first film.”

          He nodded. “It is. I’m excited for the script reading.”

          “So am I. It’s quite an interesting story, huh?” Dasom’s talk was cut abruptly as the restroom door opened and out came Hyojung. Seokjin was quick to notice and greet her the same way he did to Dasom.

          “Oh, Bangtan?” Hyojung grinned and gave Seokjin two thumbs up. “Congrats on Artist of the Year!”

          If being congratulated once by a senior colleague today was already big, having it happen twice was overwhelming enough for Seokjin. He gave another round of thanks, giving deep bows where they were due. Hyojung commented on his politeness. Dasom teased her on her lack thereof (and later reminding Hyojung that she was really just kidding).

          Dasom turned back to Seokjin. “You must be busy if you’re here at the building, so we’ll leave you to your work. Unnie and I have to leave anyway. I’ll see you at the script reading.”

          “Ah, he’s your co-star?” Hyojung asked, impressed. “Hey, good luck! Acting roles are always great chances for us idols.”

          “I’m grateful for it.” He gave them a wave of his hand as they began to walk away. “Take care, sunbaenim. I hope to learn a lot from you.”

          “See you on the nineteenth.” Dasom grinned at him as she started heading towards the hallway to the elevators. “Let’s work hard. I'm sure I'll get to learn from you, too.”

          Seokjin bid the women his goodbyes, feeling quite happy at the interaction and praise for their group from experienced seniors. At the same time, it seemed that Dasom was approachable enough. Maybe filming won’t be as nerve-wracking as he initially thought. A stirring in his pocket shook him, however, and Seokjin found his phone with a text. It seemed he took too much time wandering the building for his journey to the restroom; Hoseok was looking for him as the meeting would be starting soon.

          “Aish—seriously.”

          The debate on whether he should go and do his business or hold it in for the rest of the meeting started.

I hope you guys liked it! Like always, feel free to tell me what you think.

Also, I’m on AO3 and AFF!

[3one3]

The Sequel - 805

An Untimely Death

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Where’s Chris?” Marco asked his teammate early on Friday evening when he went by the house to see how the move-in was going, and to see his girlfriend who was working on it all day.

“Spain,” André replied flatly. They were in his dressing room, which was much less fussy than Christina’s. His was all deep brown wood and metal, and clean, organic lines. He was unpacking clothes and shoes from boxes.

“Why? I thought you guys made up yesterday.” The Dortmund co-captain referred to the report Zoe gave him on the epic shouting match that went down in the driveway on Thursday, the tear-fest that followed, and the reconciliation that ended it.

“Mata’s grandfather passed away.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, too bad that keeping him company is more important to her now than telling the guys where to put the furniture and hang the pictures, and more important than exercising her horses.” André closed a t-shirt drawer a little too aggressively, and it made some of the wardrobe doors open a little and bang shut, plus the acoustics of the room were kind of echo-y thanks to the lack of sound absorbing textiles. He’d only just begun unpacking.

“He went to her dad’s funeral with her,” the other player pointed out. “She probably feels she owes him. And she’s really good at funerals, man. I didn’t know that was a skill until I saw her in action with Jill’s family. She was devastated but took care of everyone else, including me.”

André knew those things. He liked that Christina wanted to be with her friend during a really difficult time, and that she jumped to go do what she could. She told him during the holidays about how close Juan and his grandfather were, and how influential he was in his life and his career. Obviously the Spaniard was devastated. He didn’t ask her to come to him. She just told him she’d be right there. What upset her husband was that it was less than 6 hours after they concluded Round 14 of The Never Ending Fight. They hardly spoke overnight, he went to training in the morning and she went to the barn, and then they had it out in the driveway when he went there after to see how it was going. The themes rehashed were old: she hated that he doubted her, he hated that she acted like she didn’t care about their life, she was afraid that they would fight forever, he was sure they wouldn’t. It ended when he ceded a bit of ground and asked her to just try it out and see if he was right, instead of insisting that he was. He convinced her that it was the only thing she could do if she wanted things to work out. Christina knew that was true. Her choice was to try- to give his way a chance- or to quit before finding out which one of them was right, and that would only offer one outcome- the one she didn’t want. She wanted everything to work out for them, and she couldn’t fathom trying to undo everything happening around them.

“I know, but now when she gets back she’s going to complain that everything is in the wrong place, here and in the stable. And she was supposed to take Stefanie to get a new car this evening. Stef doesn’t know anything about cars except that her old one was a piece of shit and that it will take a little time for the financing and everything when she finds a new one.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re really concerned about Stefanie’s car.”

“Shut up.”

“Can’t Mario help her find a car?”

“What does he know about used cars? He’s had nothing but brand new Mercedes since he was like 16.”

“True, but I’m not buying that you give a fuck about it.”

“Fine, I don’t,” André relented with an eye roll. “Just one time in her life I want Chris to put our family first. Is that so wrong?” He held up two pairs of shoes in his outstretched arms, fed up and sure he was preaching to a friendly audience. Marco said he wasn’t wrong, but he also said he wasn’t interested in the drama.

In Oviedo, Christina was talking to Juan about how important some things he said to her while they were in Mallorca were to her. He told her when riding and showing became more job than passion, and when she got discouraged, that she should remember how she got to that level. It was advice that he got from his grandfather, and the idea was to remember that they each got to the top of their sports because they loved to train and compete, and it brought them joy, and filled a need in their hearts. That, the footballer said, was the key to enjoying the difficult days and being mentally right to do one’s best. His counsel wasn’t very new. He and his ex-girlfriend had discussed it many times, in many forms, and in different contexts, particularly when they were an actual couple, and Christina was struggling to find purpose and feeling in her riding. Apropos of his grandfather, the two friends had literally just gone over that good advice he passed down, while in one of many contemplative conversations over afternoon wine at the beach house. The rider didn’t know what else to talk about to fill the silence outside on the covered patio at Juan’s parents’. They were sharing the wicker couch, and he was the one with his head in her lap for a change. She rubbed his shoulder and his head and tried to talk about good things while the rest of the family was inside, where it wasn’t so cold and damp.

“Are you warm enough?” she questioned, futilely in her opinion, as she pulled their shared knit blanket over more of the disconsolate footballer. Her instinct was to look after him and dote on him, and he didn’t respond all that much. Christina didn’t feel like she was helping, and it was hard to accept what she knew to be true- losing someone close is the worst, and nothing anyone says or does makes it feel less awful. The quickest way to him was to fly from Düsseldorf in the morning, and that still took 5 hours and a stop in Madrid, so she’d been at the house with him for just a little while. The first bit was meeting more of his family and giving her condolences, and letting Mrs. Mata force-feed her some late lunch. Then Juan just wanted to sit outside, away from all those people. He said no one would let him sit alone, so his best girlfriend’s presence was a welcome workaround. Alone with her was okay to his mom and okay by him. Christina wondered where his girlfriend girlfriend was. She didn’t even think to ask on Thursday night when he gave her the news and said he was flying home right away if Taylor was going with him. It didn’t occur to her that the author might be there until she was already on the plane, and she thought it insensitive to even ask, given the history.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Juan assured about the temperature. “How are you doing? You didn’t have a good day yesterday either.”

“I’d take my day over yours, babe. Don’t worry about it. I’m not.” Haven’t even thought of it until now, she realized. It wasn’t a big ask for her to ignore how upset she remained about the fighting with André, and the reluctance of the peace accord and plan for going forward. Juan’s loss was a decent if unfortunate distraction.

“I’m going to the tanatorio in a little while so my dad can come home. You don’t have to come if you don’t want, or you don’t have to stay.”

“The what?” Christina asked carefully.

“It’s like what you know as a funeral home. My grandmother is there. She stays with my grandfather until the service tomorrow- that’s why she’s not here. My dad is with her right now. Family and friends go there to pay respects today. He’s coming home to be with the people here for some time, so I go sit with my grandparents. You don’t have to come with me and sit for hours next to the casket.”

“Do you want me to, or would you rather be alone with them?” Yeah, no, I don’t really want to sit next to a dead guy and his grieving widow all evening, she grimaced inside. He took two flights over the Atlantic in one day to stand next to me by Dad’s casket though, so...

“Up to you, cariña,” the Spaniard sighed. “You can come with me and then leave when you want- take the car- or you can stay here. No one will be offended if you want to sit in my room on your computer or something, or you can do that thing you do and talk to everyone in the kitchen, distracting them from grief with your accidental charm.”

“I think you’re dramatically overestimating my accidental charm offensive,” Christina chuckled. She thought it was just like him to be quietly funny even when he was so down. His grandfather meant so much to him, and she knew that very well. Their relationship was likened in her head to hers with her old trainer, Eddie. No one cared more about steering her in the right direction, encouraging her, and promoting her riding from the beginning like he did. He always taught her more about life and competition than he did literal riding skills. His retirement wasn’t as devastating to her as a death, of course, and it played out over time instead of without warning. He was available to her if she needed him even after he moved someplace sunny, and she regretted not taking advantage of that. She also resented that he didn’t keep in touch with her. She thought she was special to him. She was, but just one of many in a long line. Still, she missed that relationship the way she missed her original relationship with her dad, and the way she assumed Juan would miss his grandpa, only for him it would probably be worse because the relationship was longer and stronger.

“Come with me, just for a little. I’ll set up the GPS in the car so you can find your way back here when you want.”

“Okay. Should I change? Are jeans all right? I brought a nicer outfit for tomorrow...” Like pants that don’t have rips in them, and real shoes.

“Jeans are fine.” Juan knew her pants had intentional holes. He was idly touching her left kneecap through one of the tears while they talked.

In Germany, the arrival of a large and noisy horse trailer got the attention of the two Borussia Dortmund forwards arguing over the principles of closet organization strategies. André at first assumed it was the moving truck in the driveway, leaving. Marco told him it wasn’t even half empty when he walked by it on the way in, and checked the window. The “his” closet had one feature over the carefully designed and silly-expensive “hers” closet- windows. It used to be the master bath, which had windows at the front of the house. André was confused by the horse trailer trundling by on the main drive to the barn. The rest of the horses weren’t supposed to be there until Saturday afternoon. He decided it was a good time to take a break from clothing and accessories and take a walk over to the barn to see who or what was on the truck. Marco went too because the alternative was Zoe trying to get him to help her hang things on walls.

Things were starting to come together in the facelifted stable. Dirk, Socks, Jelly Bean, and Julian were moved in. Deciding on stalls for each of them was a major drama for Christina and her team. They wanted Dirk somewhere in the middle, on the south side so that he’d have what they were calling “patio access”, meaning a second door at the back of his stall. The boxes on the north side of the aisle had windows instead of doors. Middle-area stalls were considered prime real estate because visitors would primarily be in that central zone with the other aisle, the tack room, the grooming stalls, the office, etc. That was like the town square of the stable. The first stall on the west side of the entrance would have been a great spot for the King of The Stable, except that there was a feed room separating it from that entranceway aisle. He was the most aggressive of all the horses at feeding time, and it would drive him crazy to live next door to the room where the food was readied. It also meant he’d have a solid wall on one side, which Christina didn’t like. He deserved more fresh air. Putting him in the first stall on the east side of the entrance meant he’d have too much fresh air, because the wall on that aisle was all bars instead of just half bars like the dividers between the stalls. Dirk could get too cold. Every time someone opened the doors he would get the draft. Then there were his neighbors to consider. He needed to be next to Calvin because he and Calvin were bros. Rio and Goose also needed to be centrally located because they were people horses and got anxious if they were bored, in a non-stimulating environment, perhaps down at the east end of the barn, furthest from the action. But Goose was also not a horse-horse. He wasn’t friendly with other equines. He lived next to Wizzy in London because Wizzy was another gelding, totally nonthreatening, and not interested in interacting with him. The humans decided Goose should live in one of the stalls with the solid wall, like next to the tack room or wash stall.

André never got the explanation for the final stall chart. When he and Marco strolled in from the west end of the aisle, the easiest and most direct access from the house, they found Socks in the first stall on the right, next to Dirk. Julian was in the third stall on the left, and Jelly Bean’s head was hanging over his door on the other side of the cross-aisle, in the second stall on the left. There were no humans around, but the radio was on.

“Anybody home?” the taller of the two Germans called not very loudly as they approached the “town square” zone. Tom whistled from inside the feed room on the right. There were giant plastic bins in there for grain, stacks of small buckets, three plastic muck tubs, and shelves full of supplement packs. There was also a massive whiteboard on the wall with rations for each horse, and a smaller one with a diagram of the available paddocks. The groom was working on filling that one out.

“This is more complicated than the seating chart at my wedding,” he lamented. “I hope when the horse from Stephex gets here it gets on well with Kimi and the little pony, because I have nowhere else to put him.”

“Is that what’s on the trailer?” André asked.

“No that’s Dezzy, coming over from Holger’s. I have to put her out with Jelly Bean in one of the paddocks behind the house, away from the boys with balls. When Chris’ mare gets here she has to go with them too, or I have to move Jelly Bean in with Kimi and the pony, but I can’t because the other new one will be there,” Tom groaned, extremely frustrated and fist clenched tight on his blue marker. “There is room in the stable for 5 more horses after the rest get here. There is no room in the paddocks for even one more.”

“How did that happen?” The player literally scratched his head. He was disappointed to hear about the problem. They worked on a building plan for months. They fenced another few acres of the property behind his backyard to make more paddocks. Everything was supposed to be perfect.

“She won’t let me put more than two in each field. There is room for three, or even four if they get along, but it’s hard on the grass in summer and on the ground in winter. We don’t have any room to rotate and rest some fields the way you have going in London. I might end up putting some horses out for half the day, and the others for the rest. That won’t work in summer since they all go out overnight. Not all the horses are always at home though. I guess we’ll see. I wanted to fence the grass jumping field and use it for turnout when she’s not riding on it.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he nodded. “What happened to that?”

“Now that we made the only other open field into paddocks- the ones behind the house, you know? She has nowhere to gallop for condition. That’s part of the fitness training. It’s huge for the horses. For her training system to work they need open land and changes in elevation. They only have the tiny hill between the barn down to the rings, and the grass jumping area is all that is left for open galloping. It’s not much bigger than the dirt ring. She can try to go between the fences but that’s harder. The horses will hesitate. It’s a different thing. They need to be out in the open, away from barriers. It’s for their brains. We don’t have any wooded trails here either, which the boys are used to.” Tom was patient with his explanation, and he wasn’t even complaining, or accusing his new employer of negligent planning. He was clearly just trying to be informative, or educational even. Still, André was taken aback.

“She didn’t tell me that there would be this problem,” he commented, more to himself than to Tom or Marco, who was scurrying away to give Stefanie and her newly fit mare plenty of room as they rounded the corner from the short aisle toward Dezzy’s new home, the stall next to her longtime stablemate Jelly Bean. They were about to have a great reunion.

“I think she was going to ride on your front yard until there was the idea to put the hedge up to separate the horse part from the house part.”

“She should have said something.” André was still absent in his limited and rueful remarks. He leaned against the doorframe with folded arms and stared at the rudimentary diagram of the paddocks drawn on the board. I wanted this to be perfect for her, so there would be no excuses- so she can’t point to some problem with the property and blame that for a bad result or something, and then say it would be different if she didn’t have to move here, he reminded himself.

It was news to him that there was a deficiency. It was news to him that aspects of their new home were going to fundamentally hinder Christina’s training, or be less ideal for her horses. It was absolutely no secret to anyone in her circle and in the horse show world that her unique training methods and horse management were a big, big part of her success. Not all of her colleagues did the bulk of the exercising and schooling for their horses between competitions. Not all of her colleagues mixed up training routines by riding “cross country”, out in the open, and working on dressage, and going trail riding, to help keep the horses sane and prevent boredom and complacency. Not all of her competitors could use the land to improve condition. She did long rides in the open to build stamina in her animals, and used hills for muscle and strength in the topline and hindquarters. Not all of the show horses on the circuit got so much turnout, which is good for the mind and even better for the body. Christina taught her partner about the benefits of turnout for the digestive system. She said that the horse’s body is designed to be constantly moving and constantly eating forage. She said being still and eating a lot of grain is terrible on the digestive system, which leads to ulcers and other problems, which leads to sourness under saddle and poor performance, and that show horses are already under lots of stress from travel, constantly being in new environments, and being pumped full of “artificial” nutrition in the form of supplements for their performance-specific ailments and considerations. Stress has a direct influence on digestion. She thought the least she could do for her horses was let them go out for every minute possible. And it wasn’t just about their performance and their fitness to her. André’s wife felt she owed that to her animals- that they deserved it, and were entitled.  

“Why? So you could fix it? There is no fix for a property with boundaries,” Tom told him while filling in more names on his chart. The stable manager knew a lot more about the player’s wife than just her horse-related habits and preferences. He seemed unable to resist taking a veiled swipe based on his knowledge of her ongoing frustration with André’s “I can make it perfect if you just trust me” mantra. It made the BVB man defensive.

“Well I could have not paid €10,000 for that hedge.”

“I don’t think it would be that useful to use the yard anyway,” Tom shrugged. “Can’t gallop over the driveway. Chris would have to do small circles on either side, or break to the walk to cross over.”

“Could we make the yard into more paddocks if she needs in the future?”

“Yes, if you want to lose the lawn and have to take out all the plantings. And for the back and front of your house to smell like horse shit in the summer.”

“Fantastic.” Man. I wish she told me about these things. Okay, maybe it wasn’t evident until after we bought the property, but we could have figured something out to give her the things she needs. Instead she just swallows it. André was aware that his girl tried really rather hard not to make waves. For example, if her footing had been even remotely serviceable, she probably wouldn’t have said anything about it. She had to already be in a cranky, bad mood for her to make an issue out of the stall door mistake. He assumed whenever she realized they were going to be very tight on turnout space and that making more paddocks ate up her riding space, she concluded that it was neither fixable nor worth bringing up, so as not to make trouble or extra burden. It was things like that that he couldn’t factor into his analysis when he tried to figure out if or verify that he was being fair to his girl. He thought she was getting another dream facility that met or exceeded all of her needs. If it wasn’t as good as he thought, then it wasn’t properly accounted for. He needed the right “value” for it because he balanced the concessions asked of her against it. Having to move wasn’t so fair if she was forced to accept hindrances to her training and career.  

The balance was something André took seriously, and which Tim and his financial planner helped him analyze comprehensively. They even looked at things like distance to the nearest airport that could accommodate shipping horses, because it mattered to Christina that her horses didn’t have to travel far on a trailer before getting loaded onto a plane, and that the quarantine facility available to receive them after trips abroad had a good reputation. They made sure there were international schools at every level within a reasonable commute in case she really did want Lukas to learn in English forever. They checked zoning laws to ensure that if they ever wanted to build an addition to the house, or put up another barn or any other structure necessary, they wouldn’t run into restrictions. They checked what impact the relocation would have on the cost of the insurance policies for the horses. They researched doctors for Christina and the baby, and André solicited recommendations from his teammates and their partners for everything from farmer’s markets and gourmet shops to hair salons and spas and personal shoppers. The whole concept of moving was transactional to him. He thought he could cancel out inconveniences or dependencies by delivering equivalent goods and services. That way he could feel like Christina wasn’t making undue sacrifice to move and he didn’t indiscriminately inflict damage on his family when he decided to transfer to Borussia Dortmund. His system was proving flawed.