#I already had issues letting go and saying goodbye because I hate loss so you can imagine where I’m at now. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whiteqnn · 4 years ago

Text

PURE [4] - Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

A/N: I’m back. Shout-out to my sister @mojajasnoscmrokirozproszy , who encouraged me into finishing this part.

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 5

PURE [4]

Corpse was confused, to say the least. He stared at the screen with his brows furrowed, not exactly understanding what just happened, or what caused Y/N to leave so suddenly. He thought they were all having fun, or at least that’s the impression Y/N gave while interacting with other players.

Was she just pretending she’d had fun when in reality, she didn’t want to spend time with them?

He knew it was none of his business. They didn’t even know each other, outside of these two short games they’ve both been part of. But Corpse was quick to get attached to new people, and Y/N’s sweet voice, her innocent demeanor, and pure personality made him instantly like her...

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly a good thing that he felt so worried when she left, given the fact that two of them have spoken maybe for a few minutes since they met each other. But Corpse couldn’t help it, and certainly couldn’t stop this weird feeling that something was wrong and that he needed to make sure that Y/N was okay. After all, he was the only one who knew that she left. Except for his audience, of course.

So the moment her white little astronaut suddenly disappeared, Corpse went on a killing spree. He didn’t even care about that whole finish my lyrics thing he decided to terrorize his friends with, he just wanted to finish this game and check on Y/N. It was obvious that she wasn’t telling the truth. Even though it looked like she was trying really hard to contain her emotions, he could still hear her quavering voice. It was too hard to hide, and he knew it firsthand. That’s why he made it his point to at least check on her.

“Jesus Corpse, you just went full berserk on us...” Felix murmured when the last person was killed, and Corpse could see a sign victory on his screen. It didn’t make him smile though, not how it usually would.

“It was great though! Let’s do it again, but maybe on the other map?” Sykkuno suggested, clearly very excited about this hide and seek game they’ve come up with.

“Sure, let’s get the first one maybe?”

“Actually, would you guys mind if we had a little break?” Corpse asked before they could start another game. “We’ve been playing for a little while now...”

“Ah, yeah! Bathroom break!” came Rae’s response, followed by a few hums of approval. Corpse sighed in relief. He was afraid his worried voice would draw the attention of other players, but they didn’t seem to notice it.

“All right, is ten minutes good?” asked Sean, and when everyone agreed, Corpse excused himself from his audience and muted his mic. He grabbed his phone and unlocked it, only to be hit by a sudden realization.

He didn’t even have Y/N’s number.

“Fuck...” he cursed quietly under his breath, running a hand through his hair. How the fuck was he supposed to check on her? He couldn’t use discord, he was still streaming after all... Maybe Twitter would work? Nah, she probably wouldn’t even notice his messages. What was left then?

Of course.

Sean.

Corpse didn’t even think about any explanation as he quickly typed in a message to the said man, asking if he had Y/N’s number. The response came almost immediately.

“Yeah, I have. Why?”

Okay, now what? He couldn’t just tell him what happened. Corpse knew that Sean and Y/N were close, but he felt like it wouldn’t be fair towards the girl if he told Sean what happened. Maybe she didn’t want anyone to know... Maybe she didn’t want to speak to anyone.

Him included.

But Corpse felt as if he had to do it because that was something he wished someone would do for him if the roles were reversed. To at least show that he cared, that she wasn’t alone with whatever it was that bothered her...

Was he being intrusive, for wanting to make sure that everything was okay? And what if she was totally fine and he’d just end up making a complete fool out of himself?

“Not that I haven’t already made a fool out of myself...” he mumbled under his breath, his fingers quickly typing the response to Sean. However, before he could finish it, the said man’s name appeared on his screen with an upcoming call.

It was so unexpected that Corpse almost dropped the phone.

“Um, hey man” he said after picking up, his hands trembling as he tried to come up with some good explanation as to why exactly he needed Y/N’s number. “Look I-”

“Does this have something to do with her disappearance?” Sean cut him off, leaving Corpse with his mouth hung open, utterly shocked.

“I um- no. I just wanted to call her and... cause I don’t have her number...”

“Corpse, I heard what she had told you...” Sean sighed into the phone “I was flying around you after you murdered me.”

“I...” Corpse tried once again and again found himself at the loss of words. His brows furrowed suddenly as he realized something “Wait- are you still streaming?”

“I left for a moment to grab something to drink and call Y/N. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t say anything on the stream.”

Corpse sighed in relief. If Sean managed to somehow play it off, then his fans maybe haven’t figured out what was going on. He didn’t want them to attack Y/N’s social media with tons of questions she obviously wouldn’t answer.

“Do you know what happened?” Corpse asked quietly, hoping that maybe Sean knew something more that would ease his nerves. He hoped that it wasn’t anything serious, that maybe Y/N just had a bad day. “She left so suddenly and I got a little worried...”

For a moment there was silence between the two of them, Corpse impatiently awaiting an answer and Sean thinking about the right words... or wondering whether he should tell him the reason for Y/N’s disappearance in the first place.

“It’s- ugh.” Sean groaned, before letting out a heavy sigh “It stays between us, all right? I don’t want others to start texting her out of nowhere, asking if she’s okay. She would probably kill me.”

“Yeah, absolutely” Corpse nodded his head rapidly, even though Sean couldn’t see him.

“Okay... So I don’t know the exact reason of her disappearance...” he began, and Corpse felt his heart sink in disappointment. “But I have some suspicion.”

“Can you be a little more specific, Sean? We don’t have much time before the next game...” Corpse didn’t want to sound rude but he was slowly growing impatient, and even more nervous when he still wasn’t able to check on Y/N and make sure that she’s okay.

“She received lots of hate after our last stream.” Sean finally explained, although his voice sounded quite reluctant. “And when I say lots, I mean lots, Corpse.”

“What?” Corpse grunted, his brows knitted together in confusion “What do you mean?”

“Oh you know, man... Comments on Twitter, on her Instagram, even under her latest video...” Sean let out an exasperated sigh “Apparently, some people are not happy that she’s playing with us.”

“Why?” Corpse managed to utter, completely shocked at the news. For some reason, it was the last thing he expected Sean to say. It didn’t even cross his mind that someone as sweet and polite as Y/N might have to deal with this kind of issue.

She was always so kind, why would anyone hate on her?

“You know how some people act online...” Sean murmured, his voice clearly gloomy, as opposed to his usual cheerful tone. “They think she shouldn’t be playing with us cause she’s not popular enough. Some consider her annoying, not funny enough, and so on...”

“What does popularity have to do with who we’re playing with?” Corpse almost growled these words, feeling anger slowly bubbling up in his stomach. He couldn’t comprehend why anyone would act this way towards Y/N, towards this little angel as Sean put it last time they played, towards this sweet, innocent girl, his partner in crime...

“That’s what I told her before the stream” Sean explained with a sigh “And that she shouldn’t worry about what strangers think of her... but it’s easier said than done.”

“You think she received another text or something?”

“I don’t know man” Sean sighed “I tried calling her like ten times already and she didn’t answer. It’s not like her to leave so suddenly, without saying goodbye. I’m worried something happened...”

Corpse clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a second. If Y/N didn’t answer Sean’s calls, why would she answer his? They barely knew each other, while Sean was her best friend.

“Maybe... I’ll try calling her?” Corpse suggested anyway, his voice low and almost shy. He figured it was worth at least a try.

Sean was quiet for a moment as if contemplating what to do. They were already running out of time, and Corpse didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he didn’t want to end the stream and leave his fans, he felt bad at the thought alone of disappearing so soon and disappointing them... But on the other, he couldn’t just leave Y/N like that. Especially, since as Sean explained, it wasn’t like her to act this way. It only proved that whatever happened was rather serious.

“Y’know what?” Sean suddenly said “I’ll give you her number, maybe she’ll pick up from you.”

“Thank you, Sean” Corpse said quietly, ready to end the call, only to be stopped by Sean’s words.

“Look... I know I shouldn’t be asking you to do it, but... could you maybe try talking some sense into her?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable with this request “I feel like you’d be able to calm her down...”

“I...” Corpse stuttered, running a hand through his hair “I’ll try, okay? I’m not sure if she’ll want to talk about it though, I’m basically a stranger, so...”

“Corpse, she agreed to join us only after reading your last tweet.”

Oh.

His heart fluttered with something that didn’t seem like growing panic. And even though his face was expressing his worry, his lip corners formed a small, bashful smile. And whether he liked it or not, his cheeks turned completely red.

“I’ll... I’ll see what I can do” he managed to reply, before ending the call.

Corpse ran a hand through his locks and down his face, releasing a heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding. He considered getting Y/N’s number a difficult task which, however, turned out to be the easiest one. Now came the real challenge. Calling her.

For a moment, he just stared at the screen of his phone, scanning the new message from Sean, which consisted of Y/N’s phone number. It looked as if he was memorizing the number when in reality, he just felt panic overtaking his body and complete chaos in his mind.

Let’s say she picks up the phone, and then what? Should he just say hi? Introduce himself?

“Hi it’s me, the guy you basically don’t know and who became paranoid after you disappeared from the game”

Yeah, sure. Perfect introduction for the pep talk he was supposed to deliver.

Why was it always that he acted almost as if on instinct one second, only to start having second thoughts a moment later. He couldn’t back out now when he had already got her number. Not when there was also another person counting on him. Not when he still didn’t know what the fuck happened, and for some reason was determined to find out.

And then was the problem of his voice, which suddenly seemed stuck in his throat. It was a very weird feeling, typical for one to get while being on the verge of a panic attack. As if there was a need to talk, but the body refused to. As if his vocal cords were paralyzed and not eager to cooperate.

As if it was him who just experienced something strongly upsetting, not Y/N.

Corpse fidgeted with his phone for a moment, before deciding against the idea of calling the girl. He figured he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word if she picked up the phone from the unknown number in the first place. If she did though, she’d probably consider it some misdialed call or some prank. Which was the last thing he wanted her to think.

Instead, he opted on sending her a text.

He sat still for a moment, thinking about a message that wouldn’t right away reveal the cause of his concern, but which would say enough to figure out who sent it. His thoughts drifted back to the game they were both playing, remembering his stupid comments and her gentle voice. His fingers typed out the message almost automatically.

“Wanna jump into the lava with me?”

He hesitated just for a second, before sending the text, his heart doing a backflip in his chest the moment he pressed the send button. Corpse gripped the phone tightly in his hands, his eyes staring at the screen and waiting impatiently for those three little dots indicating that the other person is typing a response to appear. He waited and waited, and a lump slowly formed in his throat when Y/N didn’t respond immediately.

Was he really getting paranoid?

Maybe he was just tired. Or she had a bad day. Or she just found this game boring.

Or she didn’t want to play with them. Or she thought his comments were annoying.

“I’m an idiot” Corpse muttered to himself and slapped a hand on his forehead, pushing those thoughts away. Deep down he knew that wasn’t the case, but the longer Y/N didn’t respond, the louder was the voice at the back of his head, telling him that her problems were none of his business and he shouldn’t be asking for her number in the first place.

But it was the right thing to do. He knew it, Sean knew it, and Corpse also hoped that Y/N did not perceive his text as some pathetic joke. He waited for a couple of minutes, before typing another message:

“I’m here, partner, if you need to talk.”

He felt the need to assure her that despite the ongoing stream and the other players probably already waiting for him to return, he was there for her. That’s what he considered the best option, not to force her into talking, but to let her know that she wasn’t alone. And that it would take just one word from her to make Corpse drop everything and listen to her.

After what seemed like an eternity of staring at his phone and analyzing his own messages, Corpse put his phone away, realizing that Y/N wasn’t going to reply anytime soon. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself, and guilty as well. Perhaps it would be a better idea to call her, but at that moment he wasn’t able to trust his own voice. He thought about sending her another message but decided against it. Another new text was probably the last thing she needed, with her phone being drowned by hundreds of notifications from angered, and worried fans.

All Corpse could do was hope that she saw his texts and that she knew she wasn’t all alone. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make her feel as if she was obliged to confide in him. After all, he was a stranger.

Then again... sometimes to understand a problem and look at it from a different, new perspective, what one needed was, indeed, a complete stranger.

The next two hours felt almost like an eternity. And a complete hell to Corpse. He tried his best to focus on the game and interacting with his fans, but no matter what, his eyes would drift towards his phone every now and then. Hoping to see Y/N’s name pop up on his screen, with a message saying that everything was fine.

But then again... would it be enough to calm his nerves? Maybe she’d write something like that just so he wouldn’t worry. Just so he would leave her alone.

She might as well just tell him to fuck off...

The fact that he received so many notifications all the time, especially now, during a stream, didn’t really help. Each time his phone lit up with a new notification, he would crane his neck with the hope of seeing Y/N’s response, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be just some new comment or someone tagging him in an instastory. Something that usually made him really happy now was the reason for his irritation.

He couldn’t focus on the game itself either, finding it difficult to do his tasks and form some logical arguments during discussions. He didn’t really care, to be honest, when people threw him away almost at the start of the game. Winning or being the best Impostor was currently the last thing on his mind.

So when he said his goodbyes after the last round of Among Us and ended the stream, after thanking his fans, Corpse didn’t know what to do with himself. The game, even though he didn’t really pay much attention to it, provided at least some distraction from his phone, which was still silent when it came to Y/N’s texts. She either didn’t see them or didn’t want to see them. Corpse could only guess what was her reaction if there was any.

He’d exchanged a few messages with Sean though, the man asking about Y/N during the stream and after it ended. Corpse couldn’t stop the guilt from growing even more when Sean expressed his concerns regarding Y/N and her absence. He knew the older streamer counted on him when it came to checking on the girl, but, obviously, he failed at getting a simple message from her.

What was he even hoping to achieve in the first place? That she will text back right away, telling him everything that bothered her, confessing all her problems? He would have to be a total idiot to expect this girl to react to his messages.

It was all so overwhelming and frustrating at the same time that he felt almost nauseous.

Leaving his phone in his room, Corpse walked to his small kitchen to grab a glass of water. The cold liquid brought much-needed relief to his burning throat, giving him a momentary sensation of comfort. He tested his voice, clearing his throat carefully and mumbling some nonsense under his breath. A sigh left his lips once he realized he could talk again and this weird feeling disappeared.

He splashed his face with cold water and returned to his room, plopping down on his chair and giving his phone a quick glance. Perhaps he didn’t expect Y/N to reply to his texts at all because at first, he didn’t even notice her name on the screen of his phone. He looked back to his computer, almost out of habit, glancing between the tabs he had opened on his screen before.

And it struck him suddenly, making him almost jump out of his skin when he realized that she did text him back.

Grabbing his phone quickly, he unlocked it and opened the messages, almost hitting the one with Y/N’s name on it.

“Hey, partner.” was all the message said. And yet it made Corpse’s heart almost jump out of his chest, both from relief and a sudden feeling of panic.

She texted him back. Now, what the fuck was he supposed to do?!

He stared at her text for a second as if trying to convince himself that it was real and he didn’t accidentally pass out on his desk, dreaming that Y/N takes his comments and texts seriously.

When he came to the conclusion that the text was, indeed, real, and Y/N probably expected him to write something back, he thought about the best way of asking her what happened. On one hand, he knew from Sean what could possibly be the reason for her disappearance. On the other, what obviously mattered was Y/N’s version. How to get it out of her though, without being too intrusive?

Corpse decided that the best option will be to make some dumb, small talk, which would ease her (and his) nerves.

“Y’know, I almost didn’t manage to finish the mission without you” he texted her, concluding that playing along this partner thing would maybe work. In his text, Corpse referred to the one time he was the Impostor after Y/N left, and which happened to be completely boring without her running around “Had Toast and others suspecting my every step all the time.”

This time, much to his relief, the three little dots appeared almost immediately.

“I’m glad you managed to kill’em all nevertheless.”

He imagined her saying it with that sweet voice of hers, which made him snicker, whether he liked it or not. While thinking of some right response, Corpse couldn’t help but wonder how did she know that he managed to kill every crewmate during that round... she wasn’t playing anymore then, so that could only mean she watched his stream.

“Not gonna lie though, everything would go way smoother hadn’t my partner in crime left me on the battlefield all alone :/” he texted her back. Corpse watched intently as the three dots danced next to Y/N’s name and suddenly disappeared, then appeared back again after a few moments, only to disappear again. And for a second he panicked, that maybe this text sounded passive aggressive, or that it made Y/N blame herself for leaving the game...

However, when her response finally came, he realized he was wrong.

“Can I call you, Corpse?”

For the first time in a really long time, Corpse was so eager to agree on a phone call.

He replied frantically, telling her that of course, she could call him, and then waiting impatiently for the call. And when she didn’t call immediately, like he expected her to, he found himself wondering if she suddenly changed her mind and decided against the idea of calling him.

But then his phone buzzed and her name appeared on the screen.

The device almost flew out of his hands, his heartbeat quickening and a lump forming in his throat once again.

Relax, man. It’s Y/N, your partner in crime. You’ve heard her voice before.

But this was different. The circumstances were different and the reason for a call was different too. And now it was just the two of them, as opposed to a lobby full of friends. And Corpse tried so hard to figure out how to convince her that all the hate she receives on social media didn’t mean anything, that for a moment he forgot she was still calling.

He pressed the green button carefully, as if he was defusing a bomb, and found himself unable to utter a single word, just like before. There was silence on the other line too, as if Y/N expected him to speak up first.

So Corpse build up the courage and took in a deep breath, before letting out a quiet, almost shy:

“Hi”

The word left his mouth almost as a whisper, and for a moment he thought that the girl didn’t even hear it, but then her voice told him otherwise.

“Hey... Corpse” she mumbled. She sounded so different, almost as if she was sick. Her calm and soft voice was so quiet that Corpse had some trouble hearing her at first. She sounded so tired, so hurt, so defeated, that he completely forgot every advice he had managed to stock in his mind before this call.

“It’s good to hear you, partner.” he said after a moment, realizing that asking what’s wrong wasn’t the best thing he could do at that moment. He felt that she’d probably hung up on him if he did... “I didn’t think I’d hear from you after you aborted the mission.”

He heard her sigh out a laugh at his words, his tone playfully accusatory. The girl cleared her throat and wondered for a second, before replying:

“It wasn’t exactly my mission... And if I remember correctly, you were the one who broke our partnership, chasing me around the ship.”

He could almost hear the smile behind her words, which made his lip corners curl up slightly. He was glad she still managed to joke with him. It meant that, perhaps, it wasn’t that bad.

“Did I kill you, though?”

“You would if you had a chance.”

“I had plenty of chances Y/N, and I never took one” he replied right away with a chuckle. “I may be the murderer, but I’m no traitor.”

“You say that after luring me to that lava pit and killing me and Sykkuno? It was a trap all along, wasn’t it?” she asked suspiciously, but he knew she was joking “I bet you were conspiring with MrBeast all this time...”

“How dare you” he scoffed, trying to hold back his chuckle “I took you there cause it’s a special place, it was no trap! It just happened to be the wrong place and the wrong time...”

“Sure, partner”

“I’m serious!” he laughed “Besides - I apologized, and if I remember correctly, I think we both agreed that I jumped into that lava pit for you after all...”

“After they voted you off! You didn’t have any other chance!”

“Maybe it was all planned?” he said, changing his voice to more mysterious “Maybe I conspired with MrBeast so I could jump into that lava pit... and the only way to do it is by being voted off. So, either way, I kept my word.”

“Fine... whatever.”

Their laughter died down and was replaced by surprisingly comfortable silence. Corpse was happy with how the conversation started - he believed it would be easier for Y/N to explain what happened now, if she wished to explain, of course.

“Y’know...” he began after a second, deciding to change the subject and finally address the issue. “Partners are supposed to help each other... and be there when the other person is in need...”

He was careful with his words, being full aware that Y/N might find it uncomfortable to share her problems with him. He wanted to encourage her, just slightly, if his previous texts weren’t enough.

She sighed quietly and he could sense her reluctance.

“But only if the other person wants partner’s help.” he added after a moment, keeping his voice as soft as he could. Y/N didn’t respond right away, but she didn’t hang up either, which Corpse took as a good sign. He gave her a couple of seconds to collect her thoughts, before asking another question:

“What made you so upset, Y/N/N?”

He could hear her inhale the air sharply as if she had trouble breathing steadily. The line went silent, not that Corpse was surprised. He waited patiently, giving the girl the time she needed to decide whether she wanted to answer that question and what words should she choose if she did.

And when she finally spoke up, Corpse felt as if his heart could break.

“They are just so mean...” she almost whispered, her voice cracking. He didn’t have to ask whom she meant, it was obvious. “And I don’t even know why... I didn’t do anything to those people, and yet they are so mean towards me.”

Corpse hummed in response, allowing her to keep talking. If there was one thing he knew that helped coping with stress, it was sharing it with someone else. And even though he himself had a lot on his plate, he felt the need to be that someone for Y/N.

“I... I don’t want you to think that I’m some crybaby, who takes everything super seriously and can’t take a joke, but...” she stuttered for a moment and Corpse fought the urge to cut her off and tell her that what he thinks of her is the complete opposite. “But those comments... those weren’t jokes, Corpse. I don’t think anyone would find them funny.”

His heart ached at the sound of her quiet, weak voice. And then it angered him, that some anonymous haters managed to upset this cheerful, innocent person. How could anyone do something like that to Y/N?

“I... I’m sorry for telling you this...” she suddenly trailed off, sounding rather awkward and uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with my silly problems...”

“They aren’t silly as long as they are problems to you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but... I’m sure everyone from the group has received such comments at some point of their career... or maybe they still receive them...” she murmured almost embarrassed. “Maybe it’s no such a big deal after all...”

“Let me ask you something” Corpse said, feeling anger bubbling up in his stomach. Not directed at Y/N, of course, but at the people who made her think this way. “Imagine that someone, let’s say me, calls you because of the same reason. Would you consider telling me that online hate, or any hate for that matter, is not a big deal? That those are just my silly problems”

She was silent for a moment, thinking about his question, and probably not expecting it in the first place. However, after a few seconds of initial surprise, she replied firmly:

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you trying to convince yourself that they are?” he asked in what would sound like an accusatory tone, but in reality was just his voice laced with worry. “There’s no such thing as a silly problem Y/N, as long as it bothers you. If you consider it a problem, then it is a problem. And the fact that other people receive similar, or even worse comments, doesn’t mean anything. Maybe just that they are longer on Youtube and they’ve learned to deal with this kind of stuff... And your reaction? It doesn’t make you a crybaby and please Y/N, don’t ever think that way about yourself.”

He said it all so quickly and almost on one breath, letting all his frustration out and trying to form his babbling into some logical statement.

“I understand what you’re going through...” he confessed after a moment of silence between them. “I know what it’s like to go through the ocean of positive comments and find those few which say something completely different... something that is meant to hurt you and humiliate you... Something that ruins your day, or even a couple of next few days or weeks... Something that completely overshadows everything else you’ve read about yourself. Something that people write from the safety of their own computers or phones, without showing their faces and remaining completely anonymous.”

For a moment, Corpse allowed himself to speak about his own experience, thinking that maybe when Y/N realizes that he knew exactly what she was dealing with, it would make it easier for her. “And that is the key fact, Y/N, that they are anonymous. They do what they do because no one can see them because it is comfortable for them to leave a hate comment and not face any consequences. Because they don’t have to face the person their hate is directed towards.”

“Some of the accounts were not anonymous...” Y/N mumbled, and Corpse could clearly hear that she was speaking through the tears. “People were using their public accounts, with photos and everything...”

“But let me guess, those comments weren’t even about your videos, huh? They weren’t about any of your work?”

“Well...” she whispered, thinking about Corpse’s question. “Truth to be said, no. Most of them just looked like some kind of a personal attack on me...”

“Exactly. It’s not even criticism, it’s just plain bullshit cowards are sharing online. They probably aren’t even able to form some logical sentence, they just combine some random words which are supposed to hurt you.”

“It works...”

“Y/N...” Corpse sighed into the phone, hearing her defeated tone. “Let me ask you another question, okay?” she hummed in response, and Corpse cleared his throat. “Tell me, whose opinion matters to you the most?”

“My friends... and my fans’“she said.

“Okay.. and whom do you consider your fan?”

“Someone who finds the content I create interesting and entertaining and takes his time to watch my videos.” she replied right away.

“Okay. Do you think that people who left those comments took their time to even watch your videos?”

“Probably not...” she replied after a second. “Look, I know what you mean Corpse... That I shouldn’t worry about it because they are not my fans and therefore their opinion shouldn’t matter... but that’s not the case. It’s the fact alone that for some reason people spend their time hating me when I didn’t even do anything to them.”

“You didn’t do anything to them.” Corpse repeated her own words in his deep voice. “And they didn’t watch your videos. It seems like they don’t have any reason to leave those comments, right?” he asked. “I know that it’s hard Y/N, I really do, but the truth is, you can’t really have everyone leaving positive feedback under your content... There will always be someone who will consider it a good idea to send you a hateful message, just because they can, not because they have any specific reason to. Now I don’t say that’s okay... but it’s in a way like some disease. The one there’s no cure for. Even though you can’t cure it, you can make yourself immune.”

“How, Corpse? How do you make yourself immune to messages saying that you’re a fucking annoying bitch, that you don’t deserve what you have? That you don’t deserve your friends, and you are not good enough to play with them? To spend your time with them? How do you deal with comments suggesting that you should go and kill yourself, because you’re not famous enough, and you will never be?”

Her voice suddenly rose, and Corpse felt as his heartbeat quickened with each comment she described. He gripped his hand around the phone, his knuckles turning white and his brows furrowing in an expression of pure fury.

He considered her words for a moment, trying to come up with the best advice, but realized there wasn’t any that would satisfy her. He could imagine the state she was in, she probably wouldn’t take any of his advice seriously. And he wouldn’t blame her for that.

“I’m sorry for snapping on you...” she suddenly said, her voice back to its soft tone. “It’s just too much for me to handle...”

“It’s all good, Y/N, don’t apologize. You have the full right to be angry and to show it. I just want you to remember that...” Corpse gulped the lump in his throat, feeling his cheeks getting warmer. “Those comments are not what define you. As a matter of fact, they’re not even about you. You know why? Because people who write them don’t know you. They don’t even take a moment to acknowledge what an intelligent and talented person you are, not to mention how kind... but I do. A-and everyone else too.”

She was silent for a moment, and Corpse panicked, that maybe he said too much, or made things awkward again. But then she spoke up, her slightly less weak than before.

“I suppose... maybe you’re right, Corpse.” she said, still sounding a little bit unconvinced. He understood, it was clear his one pep talk wouldn’t suddenly make her forget about it. It would be like telling a person with depression to stop having depression and expecting them to suddenly feel better. “Thank you. For listening to my pathetic babbling... and for not telling me to just pull myself together.”

“First of all, your babbling is not pathetic...” he began “Second of all... I know we don’t really know each other, but... If you ever feel the need to talk to someone, I’m here.”

“And for that I’m grateful, Corpse” she said, clearly smiling. “Sorry, I mean, partner.”

“Partner.” he chuckled into the phone, smiling from ear to ear.

“It’s getting late...” she yawned into the phone. “Sorry. I think I’ll go to sleep, I’m really tired...”

“Of course” Corpse replied, hiding the disappointment in his voice. He really enjoyed talking to her, just to her alone, but he understood that the whole conversation and the event preceding it probably exhausted her.

“Hey...” she suddenly said, and Corpse could swear that her voice sounded as if she unexpectedly became shy. “Um... it was really great talking to you, you’re a really good listener, Corpse.”

“Glad to hear that” he smiled happily.

“Um... would you mind if I called you tomorrow too?” she asked so quietly that he almost didn’t catch it, his breath hitching in his throat. “If you have time that is... if you don’t, or if you have some super plans, then I understand, it’s fine-”

“I don’t have any super plans, Y/N” he couldn’t help but chuckle, finding her nervous banter adorable. “Call me whenever you want.”

“Okay...” she sighed, almost in relief, but Corpse didn’t want to point it out to embarrass her even more. “So... let’s say, around 2 pm?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Great.” she said, her voice trailing off a bit. “I’m falling asleep here, Corpse... Thank you once again, for everything.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

“Good night, partner.”

“Goodnight, partner.”

Part 5 coming soon. It will probably be the last part of this series, I’m not sure yet though.

TAG LIST FOR PURE IS CLOSED.

TAG LIST FOR CORPSE REQUESTS/OTHER FICS IS OPEN (if you want to be tagged, please send me a text)

@slytherin-chan @pillowjj @afuckingunicornn @love-and-virtues @ignooynim @crapimahuman @hannahjsworld @laugh-like-the-moon @fallengoddess772 @kingric03 @dolphinpink310 @paigeyisme @bunnychano3o @dxrtygxrl28 @z-nyx @baby-iyania @trashygeek @qmalley @yn-dreamlife @queenshadow142003 @daughterofsmokeandbone23 @my-little-art-world99 @yoongi-holland @rinarecommends @psychoticunicornsblog @goldensunshinestyle @unstableye @pastelvixenbeauty @weallneednamjesus @benakenalove @corpsesimpp @xenos-sonex @jellicorn05 @must-be-a-weasley-92 @keijikunn @infinitely-kate @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @summerbbygirl @mygirlviolet @eat-your-veggies @evans-dejong @jeffxx @weepingdonuthumancookie @myinnergayistakingover @i-love-scott-mccall @thecanterburywitch @annshit @blood-of-fandoms @namjoons-crabssss @guadu-chan @harleyharleycrow @stormyskys13 @soft4kei @ukai-hoe @that-chick212 @campcampie @cookiewhoree @ukiyolixx @princess-skate @newtaholic-staygold @unknown-and-invisible @cherry-piee @marvelenthusiast3000 @apples-of-february @lovelybrit @wineandionysus @faepetersen @vincent-stargogh @idalinette @ggsmashgg @browneyespinkhair @uwucorpse @fluffylittellama-blog @yoshigguk @queentorresstuff @becihadshawn @winged-reader @x3musicismylife @musubipost @missdox @honeyames @dark-o-room @izthefangirl @l0verl0ser @laurenfangirlsout @asianfrustration13 @hopelessfluff @sacrifice-me-please @stopicouldhaavedroppedmycrossant @sleepingalaska @strangenerdsstuff @otakuartist05 @blossom-702 @astream-ofconsciousness @mythicalamphitrite @infinitelycharmed23 @ s1utforfictionalcharacters @ abrokenlink @ lestrangeesme @laazullii @ avesagittarius @ smiithys

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #imagine #corpse x reader #youtubers x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband imagines #fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

The Kind of Girl You Take Home to Mom (part 3 - FINALE) | Andy Barber x reader

(part 1) (part 2)

summary: andy knows how to take what he wants, and he wants you.

word count: 5.6k

warnings: SMUT, subtle dubcon elements, loss of virginity, infidelity (obviously), wedding ring kink (shocking!!! jk),

a/n: wow, after all this time I FINALLY finished this series. sorry it took so long. I still have an alternate ending that I want to write... but I wanted to go ahead and get this out first. thank you everyone for your patience! I kind of expect this to flop despite being the most requested thing ever, but idgaf.

“Honestly? I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends.”

For the second time that day, you choked.

“Wh— are you okay?” Jacob gasped, running over to you as you coughed up water.

Your attempt to respond was useless as you could only sputter and cough, trying to communicate that you were fine with a casual wave, but only managing to flail your arm wildly.

“Was it something I said?” he pressed.

“No, I just—” you wheezed, but interrupted yourself with another coughing fit as your eyes watered from the lack of air.

He slapped your back to try to help you along but it wasn’t very effective, just adding one new source of pain to your predicament. I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends, that was what he’d said. What does that even mean? Did he mean it like “I always had this fear, for no good reason,” or did he mean it like “I was always afraid of this, and now it’s come true”?

The way Jacob was looking at you— kind, concerned, patient— it didn’t seem like he suspected you of anything. He probably would’ve led with that if he knew something, right?

When your airways finally cleared and you were able to start catching your breath, you finished getting ready for bed quickly and hopped into bed. You couldn’t handle any long conversations with Jacob, though you tolerated some cuddling before you fell asleep.

You dreamt that night that you were drowning. Andy was holding you, his arms wrapped around you from behind as he pulled you to shore. Or was he pulling you under? Either way, you figured you’d had enough water in your lungs for one day.

You probably should’ve let them win at Scrabble… you just couldn’t help yourself.

“I have…” Jacob trailed off as he counted in his head, “177 points.”

“209,” Laurie announced, reaching over to rub Jacob on the shoulder sympathetically. “Sorry, honey.”

“384,” Andy grinned, setting down his pen and pad triumphantly and looking to you for your score.

“Um,” you stalled, almost embarrassed to say now. “I got, uh, 559.”

Laurie and Jacob erupted into sputters of confusion, demanding that you recount your points as if they hadn’t all seen you play ‘quixotic’ on a triple word space.

“Good game,” Andy murmured with a soft smirk as he stood up and left the table. You smiled back at him quickly, the other two too busy recounting the numbers on your pad to even notice.

So, that was the end of board games for the night. Jacob suggested a movie but you just knew that would just be you and him cuddling under one blanket… while Laurie and Andy cuddled under another. You weren’t sure you could take that. Instead, you decided to read your book outside— even though you figured Laurie was disappointed you didn’t want to do anything more social. Complimenting her beautifully landscaped backyard eased the blow, though.

It was hard to get comfortable on the patio couch, not because of the couch itself but because you knew it wouldn’t be long until somebody bothered you. When you heard the door open, you were a little disappointed to see Jacob approaching you.

“Hey,” he smiled, sliding in next to you on the couch and wrapping an arm around you.

“Hey,” you greeted in reply, slightly flat in your affect as you immediately dove back into your book.

“You’re feeling okay, right? We could go for a drive if you need some space,” he offered, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“No, I’m alright,” you mumbled. “You know me, I like my peace and quiet when I can get it.”

“You… like them, don’t you?” He must’ve sensed that you didn’t understand what he was referring to at first. “My family, I mean.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s not the issue, really. I know we’re going back home tomorrow but I still need to decompress a little bit. I’ll be more social tonight, promise.”

When you looked up at him, his face was closer than you’d anticipated. It reminded you of when you two met, at a party where the music was so loud that you’d had to stand about this close to be able to carry a conversation. Well, technically that wasn’t the first time you met, because you had him in one of your classes that semester, but it was the first time you’d talked. He was fun, he was new, he was friendly. I can’t stay long, I’ve got a test in the morning, you’d yelled your explanation. You’re gonna ace it anyway, he had dismissed at the time, so you should stay and have fun! You deserve to have fun.

Maybe that was what had made you attracted to him: you couldn’t think of anyone else who had been so worried about what you deserved. But now, Andy was added to that list. You hated to imagine that Jacob had inherited that nature from his father. Is he treating you right? Andy has asked you that night, and you really weren’t sure even now what the answer was. He certainly wasn’t treating you poorly, but was that enough?

Back in reality (and not in your whizzing, anxiety-ridden thoughts), Jacob leaned in and kissed you softly. The kiss was just like him: patient, gentle, but also somehow energetic. It was… nice. Comfortable. Feeling a surge of boldness, you set your book aside and leaned into him, pushing the kiss a little deeper.

He let out a tiny little noise, nearly a moan, as your tongues began to slide together. His hand reached up to cradle the back of your head— you remembered that he did that a lot when you were making out, but all those times felt so foreign now. Your hands reached up to rub against his chest through his t-shirt; that dark maroon one he wore all the time, so much that it was forming a few holes at the hem. His hand slid down to your back and—

“Am I interrupting something?” Andy’s voice tore you both from the moment and from each other’s arms.

“Dad!” Jacob protested, sounding particularly immature with the way his voice rose to a shrill yelp of shock.

“I was just coming out here to let you know that your mother wants your help with dinner,” Andy explained, “but I wasn’t going to let an opportunity to embarrass you like that go by.”

“You never do,” Jacob sighed, giving you a quick kiss to the cheek as a goodbye as he stood up and walked inside. You felt Andy’s eyes on you as you looked to the ground awkwardly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. A few seconds after the door was shut, he spoke again.

“I couldn’t let you two get too hot and heavy, and besmirch this innocent patio couch.”

“You’d better not be mad at me for kissing my boyfriend,” you frowned as you stood up. “That’s the most normal thing that’s happened all weekend.”

“I’m not,” he assured, beginning to step closer to you. “Jealous? Slightly. Not that I see him as competition or anything.”

“Uh, you probably should,” you disagreed, raising your eyebrow in a mix of confusion and challenge.

“Honey, I saw you kissing. It was nothing to write home about,” he laughed. “He doesn’t seem to realize that, since he brought you here. Can’t blame him—-” he stepped closer to you and ever-so-delicately brushed his fingers against your arm— “but you know you can do better. You know nobody can make you feel like I do.”

“Andy,” you murmured, trying to step back as you glanced to the window by the backdoor, through which the both of you were clearly visible to anyone who sat in the living room. It was empty now, but it was too close for comfort. “Someone could see…”

“They’re in the kitchen, don’t worry,” he soothed, leaning down to ghost his lips over your cheek and neck, “nobody’s gonna see us, angel, s’just you and me…”

You didn’t want to, but you melted into his touch anyway. Just those little circles that his fingers drew on your back made your entire body erupt in shivers. “Andy,” you found yourself whispering as if you needed to remember who was doing this to you.

“I’m gonna fuck you tonight,” he whispered against your ear.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Are you scared?” he teased. “Afraid my cock’ll split you in half?”

Embarrassed, you nodded.

He grinned, pulling back from your neck to force you into a deep, dominating kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to his shoulders, eagerly allowing his tongue access as it pressed into yours. A little moan escaped you, causing him to pull your body even closer. You had worried that kissing the two of them in a row like this would lead to an inevitable comparison, which would be beyond disgusting. But nope, this kiss made you forget that you’d kissed Jacob at all. Not that that exactly stopped it from being disgusting.

You knew if you didn’t stop yourself now, you wouldn’t be able to soon… and you really needed this kiss to end before you two got caught. Pushing on his chest, you pulled back with a sigh.

“We shouldn’t—” you began.

“No, you’re right,” he agreed with a reluctant nod. Still, you missed his touch now that it was gone. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later. It’s just hard to keep putting on a happy face when all I want is to grab you and bend you over the table and—”

“Oh god, you can’t talk like that,” you laughed nervously. “You’re gonna drive me crazy, I swear.”

“Haven’t I already?” he smirked.

You nodded, because he was completely right. With a quick wave, you opened the door to step into the house. He called your name, getting your attention as you turned around. In his hand, arm outstretched, was your book. “Almost forgot this,” he smiled.

“Right, thanks,” you nodded, taking it and going back inside.

You spent the rest of the day reaching new heights of anxiousness. Shaking your leg, chewing your lip, scratching your wrist— how could you relax after what Andy had said, how could you act casual? You were just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the obvious opportunity to arise and for Andy to be inevitable like he always was.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but he did. He got Laurie and Jacob to leave you two alone in the house. With his influential career, he was probably used to getting what he wanted, but you hadn’t anticipated that he was so good at the hard work it took to get those things.

He got you, though. Not that that took all too much hard work.

“Enjoy the movie you guys!” you told them as they were making their way out the door. Jacob leaned in for a goodbye kiss, and softly asked one last time if you wanted to come.

He pulled your shirt up over your head, and you hadn’t even gotten it all the way off before he undid your bra with a quick motion. You hated to think about Jacob in that moment, but those few times you’d fooled around with him to this extreme, that part of the process had taken quite a bit longer.

When your breasts were free his hands latched onto them instantly; the rough pads of his fingers felt good against the sensitive skin, and his hands were so damn big. You felt your back arching into his touch.

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on these,” he purred, “but I need to see all of you first.”

You yelped as he picked you up and tossed you back onto the bed. He took off your socks first, which made you feel a little hot for some reason, and then reached down to pull at your shorts. You lifted your hips to make it easier, looking up at him and gnawing on your bottom lip nervously.

As he tossed your shorts and underwear aside, you suddenly felt very naked compared to his clothedness. Probably because you were completely naked and he was completely clothed. He smiled down at you before grabbing your ankles and resting them on his shoulders, starting to kiss up your leg slowly while never breaking eye contact.

You whined impatiently. “Andy, please, need you…”

“Shh,” he soothed, “we’ve got time baby, I finally got you all to myself and I’m gonna savor it.”

His lips moved up your calf and thigh, but irritatingly skipped anywhere salacious to get straight to your hips and belly. “Hnng, Andy—”

You choked on your words when he licked over your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth. It instantly hardened between his lips and he smiled. “Baby, you’re so sensitive,” he cooed against your skin as he kissed his way to the other and did the same.

Your hips bucked up and made contact with his clothed thigh; you let out a high-pitched moan and did it again, rubbing yourself against his suit pants. The rough material sent shocks of pleasure through you as Andy smiled and left little love bites along your neck.

"Look at you, such a needy little girl," he tsked. "Rubbing your cunt on me like a whore. You're gonna make a mess, baby."

"'m sorry I just— oh, fuck," you sighed, your head falling back onto the pillow with a soft thud.

"It's only fair," he shrugged. "I don't mind spending the rest of the night with your come on my slacks. So long as you spend it with my come still in your cunt."

You gasped, trying to imagine how you would hide that from Laurie and Jacob…

But you couldn’t keep on that train of thought for very long as he started to kiss down your stomach again.

“Please, Andy, need— fuck, I need you to— um, taste me, please,” you whimpered.

“Hmm, beg a little more,” he smirked.

It was a long line of nonsense after that; some barely-intelligible string of ‘please’ and ‘Andy’ with a little flair of embarrassing whining. He laughed a little before he finally did what you’d asked, latching his lips onto your swollen clit. Your back arched instantly as your hands clenched at the comforter beneath you.

It wasn’t at all like you’d imagined it would be— it was so warm, and he alternated between surrounding you with his mouth and teasing you with the tip of his tongue. You let out a long, deep moan when his tongue slipped inside you, twisting and massaging your walls so perfectly. Your hands carded through his hair, accidentally tightening and pulling when he licked right over your clit. He didn’t seem to mind, though, just moaning against you and doing it again and again and again until your legs were quivering.

Just as you were about to tell him that you were close, he instantly pulled away to speak. “I can tell you’re close,” he purred as if he’d read your mind.

“Please, don’t stop,” you begged, but he continued to sit up and started to open his belt.

“It’s not time to come yet, honey. It’s gonna feel so much better when you come while I’m inside you— for both of us,” he grinned.

As his sweater was discarded and his trousers were pushed down, you bit your lip. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to seeing his cock, especially when it had leaked enough pre-cum to leave a wet patch on his boxer briefs.

He was on you the second he’d finished stripping, caging in your body with his, growling as he started to kiss your neck. You whined and arched your back, your heart racing as you tried to cope with the fact that this was happening, this was really happening. It was surreal, or maybe it was more than real— you were going to lose your virginity. To Andy fucking Barber.

“I think you’re ready for me, don’t you?” he asked teasingly, his hips moving forward to press his cock against your inner thigh. You nodded as you swallowed thickly, gasping as he reached down and started to rub his swollen head through your folds.

“Please…” you sighed, even as your chest tightened with distant fear.

You had wondered if what he'd said about his marriage to Laurie being sexless was true. It certainly would be a convenient lie to garner your sympathy and make him look better. But you had no doubts it was the truth when he pushed his cock into you; he moaned like a man who had dreamed of this moment for years, who had been so deprived of affection for so long.

It hurt less than you’d expected, although it was certainly overwhelming.

“Oh fuck, Andy,” you moaned,

“Say my name again, baby,” he demanded with a groan.

“Andy!” you repeated, a little louder right as the tip of his cock hit so deep inside you that it hurt— and for some reason, you wanted him to do it again.

“Fuck, you need to be quiet, or the neighbors’ll hear you,” he hissed as he pumped into you deeper and faster. “Can you do that or do I need to choke you to shut you up?”

You whimpered from fear at that idea and he laughed a little.

“Don’t act so innocent, baby, I know who you really are: you’re my dirty little slut.”

“No I’m—” you began to disagree. A quick slap to the face, not too hard but stinging nonetheless, shut you up.

“You know you are,” he hissed, “so say it.”

You could barely carry this conversation, his cock filling you so completely that you couldn’t think about anything else. “Andy, I—”

“Say it.”

You gulped but managed to pant between heavy breaths, “I’m… I’m your dirty little slut, Andy…”

He grinned and began to move faster, deeper, somehow. You clutched at his shoulders, kissing him and groaning into his mouth. When his hips slammed into yours, you moaned louder than maybe you ever had before. "You want it rough, honey?” he taunted. “Want me to fuck you hard?"

"Yes, please!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and desperate now.

He grabbed your hips and made good on his offer of brutality, and then some, making you nearly scream. He kissed you again, perhaps in an attempt to keep you quiet, although it didn’t work that well, as you mouth fell open with every cry. His teeth captured your lip as he growled above you, holding your hips up so the angle was perfect to send his cock right into the end of you, so deep— too deep, in the most perfect way.

His cock stroking against your walls was indescribable; each thrust made your entire body erupt in shivers. The stretch was difficult but you loved it, you loved the way his body pushed yours to its limits.

"Gonna come inside you, honey," he moaned, "gonna fill you up so good, gonna mark your body with my come and make you mine."

"Oh god, Andy, please," you sobbed.

"You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he encouraged.

“Yes, so close—” you cut yourself off as you choked on nothing, you entire body beginning to tighten and seize up as pleasure spiralled higher and higher.

“Just like that, come on my cock,” he demanded, but you couldn’t do anything else even if you tried— the coil snapped as your vision went spotty. Just as you started to close your eyes, he held your neck and stared down at you. “Look at me when I make you come.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open with the intensity of sensation washing over you, but you didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed. Those blue eyes pierced through you as you shivered underneath him, and with your walls constricting his cock just felt even thicker inside you. “Andy,” you whimpered, your fingers and toes erupting into pins and needles as you felt him flexing inside you— and he must have been coming in you in that moment, with the way he sighed and his thrusts pumped deeper yet more erratically.

Warmth spilled inside you as numbness decorated your extremities and fogginess clouded your mind. You lost focus as he collapsed beside you— even when he pulled out, you still felt full, due in part to his come inside you and in part to being ruined so thoroughly by him. Maybe you’d feel normal again tomorrow, or next week, but right now it was impossible to forget that you were fucked, in every sense of the word, by Andy Barber.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed your neck slowly, his breathing slowly returning to a stable pace as his chest pressed against your back. He was mumbling something about how you were his girl, how you did so good for him, but you were already drifting into sleep even though it was barely nine o’clock.

You woke up the next morning in the guest room with Jacob beside you, who informed you that he’d found you already asleep when he got back from the movie he’d gone to see with his mom.

You left just a few hours later, waving goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Barber as Jacob pulled the car out of the driveway.

three months later...

The sun was just starting to set as you made your way home after your last class of the night. Campus was gorgeous at this time of day, but you weren’t really taking the time to notice it as you focused instead on how wonderful it would feel to kick your shoes off, slip off your bra and slide into bed. What you didn’t anticipate when you unlocked your dorm room’s door was to find Andy sitting on your bed as he waited for you. You shut the door quickly so none of the girls mulling about the hall would see him.

He looked so out of place in your dorm. He was so… adult, and yes, everyone there was an adult, but he was a whole new level of adulthood compared to the other residents of the honors dorm.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reminded him.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he questioned casually.

“Because your son is on the other side of the hall,” you explained, unamused. “What if he sees you here? What if he sees your car in the garage?”

“You worry too much. I don’t give a fuck if my son lives nearby, if I wanna visit my girlfriend then I’m gonna do it.”

He’d never used that word for you before— or at least, not in front of you. It made you feel nervous, glancing to the floor as he stepped closer towards you. "I think I'm too young to be your girlfriend,” you decided.

"Perfect age for a mistress, though."

You stammered as you tried to balance the way that word made you feel sick with the way it made you feel aroused. He lifted your chin with a finger, his other hand pulling you closer at the waist. "Are you trying to act innocent, honey?” he smirked. “Do you think I didn't realize that it turns you on?"

"Wh-what turns me on?"

"The sneaking around. The secrets, the lies; the fact that it's wrong, forbidden, taboo. It's why you haven't broken up with my son yet and it's why you stare at my ring all the time— yes, I noticed."

You frowned, crossing your arms impatiently. “I haven’t broken up with Jacob because my relationship with him makes a great cover for my relationship with you… I’m doing that for us. And do you think I like the ring? I hate that stupid chunk of silver, seeing it on your hand makes me so livid because it just reminds me that I don’t have you all to myself and—”

“Baby, you know I’m all yours,” he purred, kissing down your neck as your back began to arch. “Meanwhile, I have to share you with him.”

You were amazed that he could refer to his own son with such disdain, but then again, you knew how jealous he could get.

“If you’re mine then take the ring off,” you suggested between panting breaths.

“If you’re mine then take it off for me,” he countered. His left hand was travelling up your neck and you grabbed it by the wrist. He pulled back to look at you as you brought his fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of them before sucking on his ring finger, deeper and deeper, until it was poking down your throat and the ring was at your lips. Lubricating it with your spit and spinning it with your tongue, you used your teeth to pull the ring slowly off of his finger. He gasped a little as you opened your mouth and displayed it for him on your tongue, before spitting it out and across the room; it made a tiny little clinking noise as it hit your floor.

“Fuck,” he growled, the sound deep in his throat and dripping with desperation.

It felt like his hand never left your neck that night, like he was trying to claim you in every way he could all at once. He was so possessive over you, ironically. It was hard not to feel like your whole life was waiting. Waiting for the semester to end so the next one could begin. Waiting to graduate and get a job and finally begin your real adult life. Waiting for the marks Andy left on your skin to fade so you didn’t have to wear a turtleneck in June.

Waiting for Jacob to find out, like he inevitably would.

Waiting for Andy to leave Laurie, or at least do something to make it seem like this was going somewhere.

The thing about Andy was that he had this magical ability to make you stop worrying, in a way nobody and nothing else could. When you were apart, reality would set in again and you’d decide you needed to confront him the next time you saw him. It wasn’t even that you needed him to commit to you, specifically, you just needed to know what was going on— because how could he stay married through all this? He needed to leave her, not for you but for himself. You would get yourself all worked up and then he’d show up and soothe you until you forgot what you wanted to say in the first place. When you were together, the future didn’t matter anymore, and neither did everything that was wrong about what you were doing.

It was like living in a dream, a really strange dream. You were drowning in him, just like you’d known you would, but you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to stop the secret dates when you gave your friends and boyfriend some excuse about having to study, the rendezvous in the back of his car, the midnight phone calls where he was whispering so his wife wouldn’t hear.

You figured that after all this time of being a good girl— the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend, the kind of girl you’d take home to mom— you deserved to let go. You deserved to have fun.

#andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #I FUCKING FINISHED IT #stay tuned for the alternate ending

1K notes · View notes

hockey-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Should Have Seen it Sooner ~ Vince Dunn

Summary: You make the decision to go visit your brother, Sammy, after graduating university. But that visit quickly becomes much more than you ever would have anticipated.

Warnings: verbal arguments, language, smut (nothing overly detailed)

Word Count: `13.5k

A/N: Let’s all pretend that Vince isn’t about to be traded ahahaha...I’m sad.

Your brother had always been your best friend. Even when you were kids and you refused to do so much as admit you liked him. He was the one who you would run to in the middle of the night when you were six and going through a phase of horrible nightmares. He would walk you back to your room, check under the bed and in the closet and lay with you till you fell asleep again. And when you were a little older and started having bad anxiety at school you would sit in the guidance counsellor’s office and refuse to talk to anyone but Sammy, who they would reluctantly pull out of class to come calm you down. When he had a bad loss in a hockey game he would come home and watch terrible reality tv with you, never wanting to talk about the game. He was the first person to make fun of you when you got a bad haircut but was also the first person to come to your defence when someone else made a comment about it. He picked you up drunk from many highschool parties, promising not to tell mom and dad. You helped him with girl issues, carefully constructing text messages to girls he liked, planning his dates for him and giving him pep talks before those dates.

So when he moved to St. Louis and seemed to be settling in there for awhile you had to admit you were quite upset. Of course growing up with him in hockey you were used to long periods without him, stretches of time when he was on the road. But him moving so far wasn’t easy for you. Then you moved away for university and while it wasn’t any easier, the distraction of new people, new places, and new experiences was enough to make it more bearable.

But once you graduated you were back to square one, realizing you were lost without your brother. So you took your degree and ran straight to St. Louis to spend whatever free time you had between graduating university and starting your life and career with Sammy.

It had been two weeks since you got there, making yourself comfortable in Sammy and Vince’s spare bedroom. You had only briefly met Vince prior to the trip but you were quickly becoming acquainted with him, despite the fact that he spent most of his free time playing video games which you were not about to distract him from.

“Why are you even going on a date?” Sammy asks, sprawled across the guest room bed with his phone in his hands as you stand on the other side of the room in front of the mirror over the dresser, curling your hair. “You’re don’t even live here.”

Glancing at him through the mirror you let a strand of still hot hair fall over your shoulder. “Do you only ever go on dates if you’re imagining spending the rest of your life with the person?”

Sammy looks over at you, his nose crinkling. “Gross.”

“What?” Your eyebrows are furrowed as you set your curling iron down, turning around to look at Sammy.

“You’re just going on a date with this guy to get fuck-.”

“Stop,” you exclaim, eyes widening. The last thing you wanted was your older brother thinking about your sex life. “No, I’m just meeting people, going out, having fun. I’m not just trying to get…fucked,” you tell him, turning around to look back into the mirror and continue on with your hair. “If that was the case I wouldn’t be putting this much effort into my appearance when it’ll just get wrecked in-.”

“No,” Sammy exclaims, pushing himself up off your bed. “I don’t want to hear it.” Laughing you watch him walk out of your room, shaking his head.

An hour later you’re in Sammy’s car after he convinced you to let him drive you to your date instead of taking an Uber. “Call me when you want me to pick you up,” Sammy tells you as you climb out of your car.

“Okay, dad,” you joke, rolling your eyes as you say your goodbye to Sammy, closing the door.

And call Sammy you did, only it was much earlier than you had expected. The date had gone terribly. It was only twenty minutes into the date, the drinks you had ordered not even at your table yet, when he suggested just leaving and going back to his place. And the suggestive comments didn’t stop, till ten minutes later and you were wondering if he was even going to let you leave at the end of the night without putting up a fight. So you excused yourself to the bathroom, pulling your phone out and dialling Sammy’s number. But he didn’t answer. So you called again, and he didn’t answer. Four more times and you were about to hang up and get an Uber when the dial tone cuts out.

“He didn’t answer the first ten times, why would he answer now?” It’s Vince’s voice, annoyed but also distant and you’re pretty sure that means he’s in the middle of gaming.

“Where’s Sammy?”

“The shower,” Vince tells you, too preoccupied with what he was doing to even so much as question the six, back-to-back phone calls.

“Can you tell him to come pick me up as soon as he’s out of the shower?” You ask, sniffling as you feel an overwhelming wash of panic come over you. This meant you would have to go back and sit with that man for even longer. “Or, could you just go like knock on the door? Tell him to hurry…please?”

“What’s wrong?” Vince asks, his tone shifting slightly.

“I…he-he’s weird,” you mutter, anxiously running your fingers through your hair. “Creepy,” you add, making him aware that it wasn’t a matter of simply not clicking on a first date.

“Text me the restaurant you’re at.”

“What? Sammy knows,” you tell him.

“I’m coming to get you.”

You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to. You hated burdening people, hated asking for help. But that was far outweighed by your anxiety about the man at the table on the other side of the restaurant. “Thank you, I’ll text it to you now,” you tell him, saying a quick goodbye before hanging up and texting the address to Vince.

’on my way’ Vince sends back immediately.

You spend another few minutes in the bathroom before heading out to the restaurant, slowly making your way to the table. “Hey, I just got a text from my friend. I have to leave,” you tell him, leaving a ten dollar bill on the table, more than enough to cover the drink you ordered but never even got a sip of.

Outside you stand near the entrance of the restaurant, not wanting to stray too far from the brightly lit entrance. You’re surprised when you see Vince’s car pull up in front of you. Not because you didn’t think he would show up, but because you weren’t expecting him to be there that quickly. Hurrying to the passenger’s side door you hop into his car, silent as you stare out the front window, pulling your seatbelt across your body.

“That bad?” Vince asks, putting his car back in drive and pulling away from the restaurant.

“Yes,” is all you’re able to mutter leaning back in your seat, elbow on the window sill as you rest you head in your hand.

“Too bad,” Vince comments, glancing over at you, “You look good tonight, sucks it was wasted on an asshole.”

Your cheeks get warm, palms sweaty, and you’re not sure why. All you can manage to do is glance over at Vince and mutter a simple, “thanks, I guess.”

The next thing you know you’re in a Dairy Queen drive through and Vince is looking over at you. “What do you want?”

“I didn’t…wait, what?” But Vince is pulling up to the speaker before you have any longer to question it so you tell him what you want and wait in silence till he pulls ahead. “I didn’t realize we were getting ice cream.”

“And we’re going to watch that shitty tv show you’re always trying to get Sammy to watch,” Vince tells you, clearly having already constructed a plan for how he was going to turn the night around for you.

“Thank you, Vince,” you whisper and he glances over, eyes meeting yours before shrugging casually, as if it was no big deal. But it was. It was a big deal. He had already gone out of his way to pick you up, something he didn’t need to do. Now he was committing to trying to cheer you up.

Before you know it you’re back at Sammy and Vince’s apartment and Sammy is lost beyond hope regarding the situation. “It’s okay,” you assured Sammy when he asked you about the six phone calls the second you walked through the front door. “Vince came to get me.”

“Why?” Sammy asks, glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“Because you have terrible timing to go have a shower.” Tugging your jacket off you hang it up on the hook by the door. “I should have listened to you, dating is just a bad idea.”

“Well I didn’t exactly say that,” Sammy mutters, following after you and Vince as you head towards the living room. “What happened?”

“My date was a creep, I called your phone…a few times, and Vince answered after he got annoyed with listening to it ring.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” Vince chimes in, flopping down onto the end of the couch.

Rolling your eyes you glance over at Vince, shaking your head. “Don’t lie, I heard how annoyed you were.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” Vince repeats, eyes locked on yours.

“Fine,” you comment, but you were still convinced it was a lie and he was just trying not to sound like an asshole after finding out about the situation. “We’re going to watch Selling Sunset, want to join?”

Sammy furrows his eyebrows, glancing over at Vince. “You’re going to watch Selling Sunset?” He asks, directing his question at Vince.

Walking over you sit down on the opposite end of the couch from Vince, pulling your legs and crossing them as you reach for the remote.

“Yeah,” Vince replies, looking over at Sammy while grabbing the remote for you and handing it to you.

Sammy stands in a stunned silence for a minute, staring at Vince in disbelief. He could barely ever convince Vince to let him pick a series and now here he was, willing to watch a reality tv show about Los Angeles real estate. “Okay,” Sammy finally mutters, settling into the love seat on the other side of the room, exchanging silent glances with you. Silent glances that asked, ‘what’s going on?’ But you couldn’t answer, verbally or silently, because you weren’t really sure where this behaviour was coming from with Vince.

A few episodes later and you decide to put Vince and Sammy, who were trying their best to seem like they actually cared about what was on the screen, out of their misery. “I’m going to head to bed,” you tell them, handing the remote to Vince as you push yourself off the couch, stretching your arms over your head. “Thanks again, for everything tonight,” you tell Vince.

“Anytime,” he replies, watching as you walk out of the living room and into the guest room down the hall.

It’s not long before there’s a knock on your door and you look up from where you were laying on the bed scrolling through your phone. Sammy pushes the door open, taking two bounding steps before throwing himself onto your bed. “What happened tonight?” He asks, his tone a serious shift from his actions of throwing himself around like a ragdoll.

Shrugging you lock your phone, setting it down and adjusting higher on your pillow so you could see your brother without fully committing to actually sitting up. “My date was just creepy…he kept trying to get me to leave with him like 5 minutes into the date.”

Sammy visibly tenses up when he hears this, shifting to sit up as he looks down at you. “So you called Vince?”

“I called you,” you exclaim, laughing as you reach other, grabbing a pillow and swinging it towards him. “But you seemed to think the date was going to last longer than half an hour.”

“I’m sorry,” Sammy tells you, and you can tell that he really means it. Normally you were sure he wouldn’t care about not being able to pick you up at the exact moment you wanted him to. He was your brother after all, he cared, but he wasn’t sweet about it. This was just a different type of situation, you knew it, he knew it, and thankfully, Vince had figured that out too.

“It’s fine, I just won’t rely on you…ever again,” you joke.

“That’ll last like twenty minutes,” Sammy replies, laying back down along the foot of your bed. “Till you find a spider in your room and refuse to come back in till I kill it for you.”

“Don’t put that in the universe, that’s so mean to wish that upon me.”

You and Sammy continue talking till you’re about to drift off to sleep and he sneaks out of your room, like he did when you were six and had a nightmare.

A couple days later Sammy and Vince had to go on a five day road trip and you considered going home, brought up the idea to Sammy. He pointed out the fact that you had a key to the apartment, you had gotten comfortable there, and it was only five days. So you agreed to stay, relatively easily at that. Because if you were being honest, you missed being around Sammy, and you were happier there than you had been in awhile.

The morning they were leaving you were saying your goodbyes, hugging Sammy quickly. “Good luck, I’ll miss you. I promise I won’t throw any parties,” you joked. You were used to sad goodbyes with Sammy, after he would come home during the summer and you would have to say goodbye for months. This one felt so different though, knowing it was only a few days apart. It was comforting.

When you pulled away you looked over at Vince, hesitating a second before throwing your arms around him too. “Good luck,” you told him, his arms tight around your waist. It was different than your hug with Sammy, of course it would be, but you weren’t prepared for just how different. You weren’t prepared for the the scent of his cologne, the way he held you tight to his body, the warmth radiating from him, would make your stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ll miss you as well,” you added, playing it off as a joke, but you knew it wasn’t really a joke.

Vince had chuckled in response, your body absorbing the way his laughter rumbled through his body. “I’ll miss you too,” he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine with the quiet tone of his voice. He had pulled away, looking at you once more before the two of them headed out.

You went about your normal routine while they were gone but the quietness of the apartment was starting to get to you around day three, leaving you longing for not just your brother but Vince as well, to be back. So when Sammy told you the time they would be back you went all out, going grocery shopping and picking up all of Sammy’s favourite foods and the few you remember Vince mentioning liking. And you were halfway through cooking dinner for everyone when they got back from their trip.

“Hey,” you called from the kitchen, sautéing a pan full of vegetables, music playing loudly from the speaker on the counter a few feet away. “I’m making dinner, if you guys already ate I’m going to be sad.”

“We didn’t.” Shockingly it’s Vince who’s greets you first, walking up behind you and leaning over your shoulder to look into the pan.

“How was the flight home?” You ask, turning your head to glance up at Vince. He’s closer than you expected and you can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face. You’re convinced it’s because you’re just glad to have people around again, and not because you had really started to like Vince.

“Pretty good,” Vince tells you, stepping to the side to lean against the counter beside the stove. “How was your week alone in my house?”

Rolling your eyes you set the spatula down beside the stove, looking up at him. “Fantastic, your bed is so much more comfortable than the one in the guest room.”

“Oh, really?” Vince chuckles. “I’m willing to share.”

You’re caught off guard by Vince’s comment, unable to come up with a witty response before Sammy is in the room as well. “What are you making?” Sammy asks, walking over and giving you a quick hug before immediately plugging his phone into the nearest outlet and unlocking his phone, typing quickly.

“Stir fry…who are you talking to?” You ask Sammy, your tone teasing.

Sammy shakes his head but his little smile tells you that it’s not nothing. “Ooh,” you laugh, stepping away from the stove to try to look at Sammy’s phone. But he pulls it away quickly and the next thing you know you’re wrestling for Sammy’s phone like you’re both teenagers again. “Just tell me,” you laugh, hand grasping for his phone as he pushes your arm back with his free hand.

“Her name is Anna,” Vince says.

Pulling back from Sammy you glance over at Vince, shocked at his willingness to let you in on Sammy’s business. “Oh,” you hum, picking up the spatula again to stir the vegetables in the pan. “So, who’s Anna?”

“A girl I’ve been talking to for a few weeks,” Sammy tells you easily. There was never really any need to keep it a secret, he was just playing the part of an annoying older brother in trying to keep it a secret. “We went on a date a couple days before we left.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going on a date?”

“I actually didn’t think it would lead to anything,” Sammy confesses.

“Like Y/N’s dating life,” Vince quips.

You whip your head in Vince’s direction, gasping at his comment. “You’re an asshole,” you exclaim, laughing. “I’ll let you know, I could have a boyfriend if I wanted…I’m just not trying right now.”

“Seemed like you were trying,” Vince chuckles.

“I swear to god, Vince,” you mutter, wielding the spatula you were holding with a joking threat.

“Can one of you shut up so we don’t burn the house down, please,” Sammy chimes in and draws your attention back to the vegetables that were starting to stick to the pan. As you go back to finishing up dinner the boys continue on with their own conversations, discussing things that happened over the trip and the upcoming schedule for the week.

After you all finish dinner you’re back in the kitchen to tidy up and do some dishes, but Vince is at your side at the sink quickly after. Nudging you to the side Vince grabs the wash cloth from your hand. “I got it,” he tells you.

“I don’t mind,” you retort, not moving much further away from the beside the sink. “I’m sure you guys are tired.”

“I slept on the flight,” Vince informs you, running the cloth over a mixing bowl in the sink.

Huffing you step away from him, “fine.” Walking to the cupboard you grab the box of tea you bought a few days prior, taking a mug down as well as you turn the kettle on. “Want some tea?”

Vince chuckles, an obvious enough answer, but he follows it up with “no, thanks,” anyway. “So did you go on anymore dates while we were gone?”

Rolling your eyes you hop up onto the counter while you wait for your tea to steep, watching Vince do the dishes. “No, nobody here was to rescue me if it went poorly.”

“So what did you actually do the whole time we were gone?”

Shrugging you bring the tea to your lips, taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Hung out with some friends a few times, explored the city, watched all your games.”

“Friends?”

“Yes, Vince, I’m capable of making friends,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Vince chuckles, glancing over at you. “I just mean, like, you’re just here visiting and you’re still making friends? Where did you meet them anyway?”

“The gym,” you inform him, your voice quiet and deflated. You didn’t really like to think about that fact, about the reality that you would have to make some kind of move soon. You couldn’t live in this vacation-like reality forever. No matter how much you wanted to.

After the dishes are done Vince heads to his computer to play video games and you head to the living room to watch some TV till Sammy was done unpacking and you could convince him to hang out with you and give you all the details about Anna.

And two days later Sammy was beyond glad that he had given you all the details about Anna when he sent you a panicky text. The boys had the day off and Sammy had gone out to run a few errands while you were hanging out at the house with Vince. ‘I told Anna I would cook her dinner at my place.’

‘that’s dumb, you can’t cook’ you replied quickly, sitting on the couch and watching Vince play video games. You were trying to be more involved with that after he had started watching the occasional episode of Selling Sunset with you.

‘that’s not the issue’ ‘I’ll figure that out’ ‘You and Vince can’t be there, it’ll be awkward’

Sighing you glance up from your phone screen to Vince. “Vince,” you call, standing up from the couch and making your way across the room. “We gotta go.”

“Where?” Vince mutters, not peeling his eyes off the screen in front of him.

“I don’t know,” you confess while sending Sammy a text to tell him you were on it, to give you twenty minutes and you’d be out. “Sammy is kicking us out.”

“What?” Vince asks, spinning in his chair once his game had ended.

“He needs the apartment for a date, now hurry up, we’re going out for awhile.”

Vince groans and sets his controller down, reluctantly pulling himself off the chair. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“I agreed on your behalf.” Walking into your room you grab a jacket, your wallet, and keys before hurrying back towards the door where Vince was already pulling on his shoes. “Have anything you needed to get done?” You ask him once you had your shoes on and you were on your way out the door behind Vince.

“I would have already been doing it.”

Rolling your eyes you reach forward and shove him playfully. “If you don’t stop being an asshole I’ll drop you off at the library for four hours.”

“It’s my car…and I’m driving.”

“No, please, let me drive,” you ask, shuffling quickly in front of him and spinning around so you were facing him. Sammy had given you permission to drive his car while he was out of town and you had loved exploring the city, not really knowing where you were going, just driving.

“No, I’ve seen you drive.” Vince keeps his hand folded firmly over his car keys, gazing down at you.

“That was one time,” you defend.

“One time we almost died.”

Rolling your eyes you cross your arms over your chest. “You’re so dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.”

Suddenly Vince has his hands on your arms and he’s spinning you around, pushing you towards the car. “Get in the car,” his voice is filled with urgency and you notice Sammy pulling up towards the apartment parking lot.

Giggling at the whole situation you hop into his car, watching Sammy pull into his parking stall. Neither you or Vince had to bring up the idea of staying in the car and doing a little light-hearted spying, you were silently on board with the idea. You watch Sammy get out, trying to make it to the passenger’s side of the car to open Anna’s door but she’s already getting out and you watch as the awkwardly fumble around the door for a second. Both you and Vince glance over at each other at the same, bursting into laughter.

“No, but they are cute together,” you comment through your giggles, watching as they laugh off the exchange, Sammy closing the door behind her.

“He wouldn’t shut up about her over the trip.”

“That’s cute.” You watch as they head into the apartment building together before turning your attention back to Vince. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Vince turns his car on, putting it into drive and pulling out of the parking lot, no real destination in mind.

“You must have someone you can’t shut up about…I mean, look at you,” you comment absentmindedly, not really thinking about how it would come across.

“Are you calling me hot, Y/N?”

“Well,” you hum, laughing as your cheeks redden slightly. “I think it’s like, objective, you know. Anyone would say you’re hot.”

“So you don’t personally find me hot?”

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, shaking your head as Vince simply chuckles. He was really trying his hardest to keep you from getting out of that one easily. “Where are we going?”

“The library, I’m leaving you there,” Vince jokes.

“Great, books are more entertaining than you anyway,” you quip.

“I was going to take you to get a coffee but maybe not now.”

“No,” you whine, laughing. Vince had clearly noticed when all three of you would get in the car to go anywhere the first time thing out of your mouth was ‘can we get a coffee’? “I take it back then.”

So a few minutes later you’re in the drive through at Starbucks and you don’t even need to tell Vince your order because he has it memorized, which you’re surprised by. He pays for your coffee even though you insist that you can buy it. Then you’re driving again and you end up parked in front of a shoe store.

“I actually did have something I needed to get done,” Vince tells you, chuckling.

“Oh, so you were just being rude for no good reason then,” you comment, hoping out of the car after him and walking towards the store with Vince. “Does this mean I get to help you pick shoes?”

“Uh,” Vince mutters, glancing down to your shoes. “No.”

“Take me to the library, you’re so mean,” you whine, playfully pushing his arm.

Vince laughs, reaching over and grabbing your hand as you push him. “Come on,” he huffs jokingly, pulling you along into the store. And you suddenly can’t focus on anything but his hand, the way it so easily wrapped around yours, warm and secure. But it makes you nervous, the way it causes butterflies to fill your stomach, so you pull it away quickly.

You’re in the shoe store much longer than you though, Vince taking an excessively long amount of time to make a decision. But you don’t mind because in all honesty, you simply liked being around Vince. Your next stop is for dinner and Vince picks the restaurant, still acting as an unofficial tour guide for you.

By the time dinner is over you had expected to receive a text from Sammy, letting you know that it was fine to come home. But you get nothing, so you and Vince go get ice cream and drive to a lookout, listening to music and eating your dessert. Your conversation flows easily and you would happily have sat there for hours with Vince, talking and joking. But you get a text message from Sammy shortly after telling you he was taking Anna home.

“We’re safe to go back,” you tell Vince, pulling your seatbelt back on.

“Too bad,” Vince mutters.

“What?”

Vince glances across the interior of the car at you, silent for a second as he tugs his seatbelt on. “It’s just been more fun than I thought this would be.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” you laugh. It was nice to hear he had been having a good time, but you didn’t know if you should be upset that he was anticipating it not being a very good time.

Vince chuckles, not saying anything else about it as the two of you drive back to the apartment. You’re back before Sammy and you head for the living room, Vince following after you and not putting saying anything as you pick the movie for the night.

‘going to get an uber now’

You had gone out with your new group of friends for the night, one drink turning to two and two turning to a count you had lost long ago. You had been texting Vince all night, though it wasn’t anything new. The two of you had fallen into a routine of texting almost anytime you were apart. He had picked up on your dwindling sobriety throughout the night, as almost anyone reading your messages could have. So when you told him you were getting an Uber he was quick to reply.

‘I’ll come get you, where are you?’

So you sent him your address, you and your friends paying your bills before heading outside for everyone to wait for their rides. Shockingly it’s Vince who shows up first and your friends are quick to make comments about how none of their real boyfriends were that quick to get there. You brushed it all off, making excuses that he was just a good friend, that he was probably speeding anyway, that you didn’t live that far. Anything to not admit the fact that you and Vince might have a connection that was becoming more than just friendly.

“Hi,” you greet, cheerful as you climb into Vince’s car. It was so unlike the first time he picked you up and Vince was grateful for that, not just because you were in a better mood but also because it meant you hadn’t been out on a date.

“How was your night?” Vince laughs.

“Good,” you giggle, looking over at him as he drives back to the apartment. And you can’t help but think about how attractive he truly was, how he made your heart beat just a little faster. He was your brother’s best friend and you knew the feelings you were having towards him were complicated. “Yours?”

“Probably not as good as yours,” he jokes, taking note of the way you couldn’t stop smiling, primarily a result of the alcohol in your system. But there was also a part of you that was just happy to be around him.

“So anyway, Michael has been staying late at work all the time and Lily is starting to get suspicious about it,” you ramble as you walk through the apartment door with Vince. It’s quiet in the apartment and you realize you hadn’t texted Sammy in awhile, wondering if he was in bed. “Sammy?” You call, stumbling slightly over the edge of the doormat.

Vince wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you as he laughs. “He’s in bed,” Vince tells you. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” you admit, clutching onto the arm Vince had wrapped around your waist. “Just wanted to say hi to him.”

Vince chuckles and nods. “I think you should go to bed too.” He gently guides you further into the apartment, reaching over to turn the deadbolt on the door while keeping one arm around you, as if you couldn’t stand on your own.

“Hey, Vince,” you whisper although you didn’t need to get his attention.

“Yes, Y/N?” He steps closer now, looking down at you in the silent apartment, waiting to hear what your drunk mind was coming up with.

“Thank you, for everything, for letting me stay here this long. I promise I’ll leave soon. I know you didn’t sign up to have two roommates.”

Vince smiles softly, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it. I like having you here. I don’t, you know, want you to leave if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh,” you whisper, processing the idea that you weren’t annoying Vince with your extended stay. “I mean it though, thank you.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Vince says, changing the subject as he guides you through the apartment to the guest bedroom. He hovers near the doorway, clearly wanting to make sure you were settled in bed before leaving you.

You knew he was there, you knew you should ask him to look away if he wanted to stay till you were in bed, but you don’t. Instead you simply pull your shirt up over your head, exposing a lacy black bra you had worn for no real reason except that it made you feel confident. Shimmying your jeans down your legs you toss them aside carelessly. You don’t even look over at Vince as you reach behind you to unhook that bra, missing the way he stood there, stunned and frozen with his eyes on you. You let your bra fall to the ground, your body angled away from Vince as you grab a t-shirt from the dresser.

“Y/N?” Sammy’s voice calls through the apartment.

“Fuck,” you mutter, clutching the shirt to your bare chest. Your wide eyes look over at Vince who comically steps back and forth between the wide-open bedroom door, clearly not knowing what the correct move was. “Just close it.” And Vince does exactly that, from the inside. “Vince,” you groan.

“You told me to,” he defends, his hand still resting on the doorknob.

“From outside,” you tell him. “Now this just looks…weird.”

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Sammy calls through the closed bedroom door.

“Yeah,” you call back, spinning around to leave your back facing Vince as you pull your t-shirt on, grateful for the size and length of it. “Just getting ready for bed.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Home. Your eyes flick over to Vince, trying to see if he caught onto the same, subtle insinuation. But he still just looked panicky as he stands beside the closed door. “Yeah, I’m just going to bed now.”

“Can I come in and say goodnight?”

Your heart begins to race as stare at Vince in silence for a second. “Yeah.”

You couldn’t say no, he would immediately know that something was wrong. Sammy pushes the door open a second later and Vince looks to you in panic. “How was-,” Sammy begins to ask when he spots Vince, looking back and forth between the two of you. “What’s going on?”

You weren’t sure why you felt so guilty. You hadn’t done anything with Vince, it wasn’t a lie to say that nothing was happening, that he was just making sure you got to bed safely. Maybe the reason you felt so guilty was because that wasn’t all you wanted to happen. “Vince picked me up, was just making sure I got to bed safely.”

Sammy nods slowly, not seeming convinced. “Well I got it from here,” he mutters to Vince, nodding towards the still open door. Vince glances back at you one more time before leaving, the silence in the room painful. “What’s going on?” Sammy repeats once it’s just you and him.

“Nothing,” you exclaim, flopping down onto your bed and climbing under the covers, hoping to make it obvious that you didn’t have anything else to say.

“You two are getting really close,” Sammy points out. “Are you sure it’s nothing?”

“Yes,” you huff, dramatically yanking your blankets higher up around your shoulders. “Go back to bed.”

“Don’t have to be so moody,” Sammy grumbles, turning off your light and closing the door behind him as he leaves your room. Once he’s gone you lay awake for most of the night, your mind racing with thoughts of Vince. Thoughts you knew you shouldn’t be feeling towards him but the more you tried to think of anything other than him the more vivid the thoughts became till your mind eventually silenced itself completely and you drifted to sleep.

“I’m spending the night at Anna’s place,” Sammy told you a few days later as he was grabbing his keys off the counter and heading for the door.

Giggling you glance up from the book you were reading, shooting him a knowing look.

“Don’t be weird,” he comments, chuckling.

“What do you mean? I didn’t say anything,” you joke, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know where Vince is, he left while you were at the gym, don’t know when he’ll be back,” Sammy informs.

“Have fun tonight,” you call as he walks out the front door.

A few hours later you’ve migrated to the kitchen, finishing up baking some cookies while you were trying to figure out how you wanted to spend the rest of the evening.

“Hey.”

Jumping you whirl around to face the direction of that the sudden voice comes from. Bringing your hand to your chest over your racing heart you laugh in relief when you see it’s just Vince. “You scared me, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry,” Vince chuckles, reaching over and taking one of the cookies off the cooling rack on the counter. “Where’s Sammy?”

“He’s at Anna’s place for the night,” you explain, leaning against the counter. “Are they good? It’s a new recipe.”

“Yeah, really good. So we’re alone tonight?” Vince asks, elbows on the counter as he leans against it, eyes focused on you.

“Can’t believe he left us without supervision,” you joke, pulling the last tray of cookies out of the oven before turning it off.

“What do you want to do?”

“Movie night?”

“Sure,” Vince agrees, shrugging as he pushes himself off the counter. “Let’s go pick up dinner first.”

After a quick trip to the grocery store and your favourite sushi restaurant you’re back at the apartment, pouring yourself a glass of wine while Vince was already opening up the boxes of sushi. “Want some?” You ask Vince, gesturing to the wine.

“Uh,” he hums before shaking his head. “I’ll pass on that,” he chuckles, walking to the fridge and grabbing a beer for himself.

“Should have figured,” you giggle, putting the white wine back into the fridge.

In the living room you two settle onto the couch to have dinner and pick the first movie of the night. Halfway through the second movie you’ve lost your focus on the plot, eyes on your phone as you curl into the corner of the couch, scrolling through your instagram feed.

“What is more interesting than this movie?” Vince questions, gesturing to the tv and the movie he had picked that was playing on it.

Glancing up you roll your eyes playfully. “Almost anything.” Scooting down the couch you settle in beside Vince, letting him see your phone screen.

And within seconds the movie is long forgotten as he chuckles at a meme you scroll by. The transition from Instagram to TikTok is quick and so is the movement from you sitting beside Vince to you being tucked under his arm and leaning into his side. You’re both giggling at the short videos and the time slips by quickly, the credits on the tv rolling and reminding you of the fact that you had planned a movie night. “Do I get to pick the next one?”

Vince reluctantly hands you the remote, wrapping his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. His body is warm and his embrace is comforting and you know you shouldn’t want to stay like this with him forever, but you do.

The next movie is more interesting but you find it just as hard to focus on with the way you were wrapped up in Vince’s arms. You’re not even sure what compels you to look up at Vince, he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t moved. But he notices and turns his attention to you a second later. “What?” He asks, voice low and rough in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Nothing,” you whisper, barely able to make any sound come from your mouth as your cheeks get hot. And you want to say the flushing is from the wine but it only started when Vince’s eyes landed on your and you know he wouldn’t believe your lie.

“Are you sure?”

You swallow hard, shifting slightly towards him. “I don’t know.”

Vince’s lips curl into a soft smile, eyes lingering on your lips as he reaches forward to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “Then just show me what you’re thinking.”

It’s an invitation and you know he’s saying it because he already knows exactly what you’re thinking. But it’s risky and you both know that, too scared to make the move when the potential of it ending poorly is so high. But you can’t hold back any longer. So you lean forward, just enough for him to get the message and he takes over, hand around the back of your head as he leans over and kisses you.

And he kisses you like he’s making every second worth it if things do end poorly. When you pull back your mind is racing a million miles an hour but your body is begging to do it again. You wait a second, hoping Vince would say something. But he doesn’t, and you don’t either, and you can’t think of anything better to do than lean back in and press your lips back against his. This time it’s heated in a way that you had never felt before and you’re climbing into his lap, hips grinding down on him. You weren’t aware of just how badly you needed him to touch you until that very minute when his lips brushed against yours.

“Are you going to actually share your bed with me tonight?” You whisper against his lips when you finally pull back.

“I would’ve shared my bed with you any night you wanted.” Vince grasps your hips, gently pushing you away from him and helping you onto your feet before standing up with you. “Are you sure?”

Smiling you lean up, kissing him quickly again. “Yes, of course.”

Vince wraps his large hand around yours, slowly walking you through the apartment. As if he didn’t want to seem too eager, careful and tentative around the whole situation.

But once you’re in his room, on his bed, Vince is far less careful and tentative. And the night ends with you feeling barely able to move, body having ridden through more highs in one go than you had ever felt.

As soon as you’re done Vince goes back to being careful, considerate as the two of you shower together and he lets you pick out a t-shirt before curling up under the covers of his bed.

“Should we have done that?” You finally whisper after laying next to Vince with your head on his chest in silence for what felt like ages.

“I’m not sure,” Vince admits with an obvious reluctance, running his hand along your bare arm.

“Sammy was already suspicious of us.”

“I figured,” Vince tells you, sighing. “After the night I picked you up?”

“Yeah…I told him it was nothing…I mean, like, I know it was nothing, but-.”

“It wasn’t,” Vince interrupts, pulling you a little closer and pressing his lips to your forehead. “This isn’t nothing to me, Y/N. If I just wanted a quick fuck I definitely wouldn’t pick my best friend and roommate’s sister, no matter how hot you are.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, caught off guard. “Well then, what does it mean?”

Vince is quiet for too long after you ask, the only way you could tell he was still awake in the dark room was his hand still running up and down your arm. “I have feelings for you, but other than that…I don’t know,” Vince finally mutters.

“I think we need to give it some time, not tell Sammy this happened yet.”

“Just go back to the way things were?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Vince moves his hands to your waist, pulling you on top of him.

“Vince,” you exclaim, hands clambering for support till they find his bare shoulders, holding you up as you look down at his silhouette below you.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Vince chuckles, his thumbs running along your upper thighs, large hands now wrapped around the backs of them.

“I think you can,” you assure him, leaning down to press your lips to his. But the fact that you could feel him getting hard again makes you a little wary about whether he really could. “Maybe,” you whisper, moving your hips back as you reach down, wrapping around his length.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back on the pillow. And the last thing you had expected when you crawled into Vince’s bed after the first few rounds was to be doing it again. But you were making up for lost time. It’s slower this time, both of your tired bodies just searching for another release. And you find it, easier than normal, on top of Vince still in his t-shirt, panties simply pushed to the side.

When you finish Vince is quick to help you get cleaned up again, letting you remain collapsed on his bed. You can’t stop your heart from fluttering with excitement with him, at how considerate and caring he was. And when he finally settles back down you curl back into his side. “We need to agree on something.”

“Alright,” Vince mutters apprehensively.

“We can’t hook up when Sammy is here, it’s too risky.”

“Fine,” Vince finally agrees after a couple minutes of contemplation. The two of you drift to sleep very shortly after.

Your eyes flutter open to a gentle shaking of your shoulder. “Hey, babe, you have to wake up,” Vince says, voice quiet. “Sammy and I have practice in a couple hours, he’s going to be home soon.”

Groaning you roll away from him, head buried in his pillow. “It’s too early.”

“I know,” Vince chuckles sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hand along your arm. “You’re the one who doesn’t want your brother to find out.”

“Don’t act like you want him to know you railed his sister the first time he left us alone,” you mumble, still half asleep.

“When you put it that way,” Vince chuckles, head whipping towards the bedroom door when he hears the sound of the front door closing.

“Shit,” you whisper, suddenly fully awake as you sit up completely straight.

“Just stay here, I’ll tell him you haven’t come out of you room yet this morning,” Vince suggests.

Nodding you run your hands through your messy hair, anxiety creeping up on you. If you were going to tell Sammy anything at this point you would rather just admit that you and Vince had feelings for each other, not that you spent the night in his bed.

“Don’t worry, it’s believable. It’s not like you don’t normally sleep in till one in the afternoon.”

Scoffing you roll your eyes, flopping back onto Vince’s bad. “Whatever,” you grumble. “Text me when you two are gone,” you mutter, glad your phone had been in your pocket when you made your way to Vince’s room the night before.

And when you finally get a text from Vince saying they were gone you pull yourself out of bed, making it behind you before wandering out of the bedroom. The apartment is so quiet and you make yourself some coffee, still just in Vince’s t-shirt. Something about it feels so right, so comfortable. After making a coffee you settle down on one of the barstools at the counter in the kitchen, opening your laptop and navigating to Indeed and before you’re even fully processing what you’re doing you’ve sent out a handful of resumes to jobs in St. Louis.

After you finish applying to jobs you move on to getting ready for the day. When Sammy and Vince finally get home you feel the weight of so many secrets on your chest. Of not telling Sammy about you and Vince, of not telling Sammy and Vince about applying for jobs in St. Louis.

“How was your night?” You ask Sammy as he walks into the kitchen, looking up over the top of your laptop.

“Good,” Sammy replies, grabbing himself a snack from the fridge. “How was yours?”

“Good,” you reply simply, looking back down at your computer.

“Up late?” Looking back up you stare at Sammy for a second, feeling like he was trying to catch you in a lie. “I mean, you were still in bed when I left this morning.”

Nodding you pick up your mug, shrugging. “TikTok is pretty addicting,” you comment, brushing it off as you take a sip of your coffee. “I’m going grocery shopping, do you have anything in particular that you need?”

“Just the regular stuff we keep in the house,” Sammy shrugs, not wanting to have to actually think about it.

Rolling your eyes you close your laptop and slide off the stool you were sitting on. “Really helpful, can I borrow your car?”

Sammy groans loudly. “What if I wanted to go out?”

“Well do you?”

“I’ll just take you,” Vince chimes in, walking into the room.

Glancing over your eyes linger on Vince’s for a second, wanting so badly to be able to say something or hug him, something…anything. “Thanks,” you finally mutter, realizing you needed to say something and not just stand there and stare at him.

“Want to go now?”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree, gathering your things and pulling on a hoodie on your way out the door. Once you’re outside you glance behind you and up at Vince. “So, since when are you so interested in grocery shopping?”

“Since it means being with you…away from your brother,” Vince chuckles, hands on your waist, tugging you to stop and pulling you into him. Leaning down he presses his lips to yours, your head tipped back and to the side, fingers clutching at his arm.

“You’re not being very secretive,” you giggle, pulling back and looking around the front parking lot of the apartment building.

“Fine, I’ll wait till we’re in the car.”

Rolling your eyes you get into the passenger’s side of Vince’s car. “We’re going to get groceries…that’s it.”

You drive to the closest grocery story and head inside with Vince, pushing the cart down almost every aisle, the two of you talking and making jokes the whole time. It’s such a mundane task, grocery shopping, but somehow doing it with Vince makes it enjoyable and fun.

Back at the apartment you lug an armload of groceries inside, seeing Sammy sitting on the couch, xbox controller in this hands. “Thanks for the help,” you call to him sarcastically.

Sammy chuckles, barely glancing in your direction. “You’ve got Vince.”

Your heart beats a little faster at that comment, dropping the bags onto the counter and looking over at Vince. You know that he didn’t miss the comment either by the smirk on his face, the way he walks over and wraps his arms around your waist. “See, he’s already accepted it,” Vince whispers jokingly.

“Shut up,” you giggle, rolling your eyes as you playfully push him away and turn around to begin putting groceries away. Vince continues to make subtle moves, sliding his hand along your lower back as he walks by to put a box of crackers into the cupboard, stepping up behind you to take the can of chickpeas that you were struggling to put onto the top shelf out of your hand and doing it for you. It takes you two forever to finally put everything away and once you do it’s time to start making dinner. “Are you going to help me or just be in my way?” You tease.

“I know you like having me around.”

Shaking your head you look down at the recipe on your phone, unable to argue against that. You really didn’t want Vince to leave, even if he was really just getting in your way. Because you liked Vince, a lot more than you should.

A few days later you received a call from one of the businesses you applied to asking you to come in for an interview, to which you easily agreed. It was during another four day span of Vince and Sammy being gone so you were able to get ready and go for your interview without any questions. There was something about admitting to the fact that you were trying to find a job in St. Louis that scared you. Perhaps it was simply because it was a little crazy. You would need to find a job willing to arrange a visa for you, you would need to find your own apartment, and quite frankly, you probably just hadn’t thought it through enough. But you didn’t want to leave either, you were having a good time here with your brother and Vince, although you were trying to convince yourself that Vince had nothing to do with the decision.

The interview went well and the next morning you got a call with a job offer. You accepted it quickly, not just because it meant you could stay in St. Louis but because it was also a job you were more than interested in.

Sammy and Vince get home later that afternoon and you pull Sammy into the living room. “I have some news.”

“Okay?” Sammy mutters, eyebrows furrowed, hands folded nervously over his knees as he sits on the edge of the couch.

“I got a job.”

“Oh, congratulations,” Sammy says, the news processing in his head as you watch his body language sink a little. “Does this mean you’re going back home?”

Shaking your head you fidget with a piece of thread on your hoodie sleeve. You weren’t sure why you were nervous to tell him that you had found a job there. “It’s here.”

Sammy has his arms around you quickly, pulling you to your feet and into a tight hug. “You’re staying here?”

Laughing you pull back from him, staring up at him in shock. You hadn’t expected him to be that excited about it. “Yes…I mean, I’ll obviously get my own place and car and everything but I’m going to be in the city.”

“What’s going on?” Vince asks, walking into the living room.

“I got a job here,” you tell him, voice quiet and apprehensive. You were a little worried that Vince wouldn’t be happy, that maybe he had only been into you because he figured you would be leaving, that it was a short term thing.

“Here? Like, you’re staying in St. Louis…for good?”

Nodding slowly you glance down at the ground, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Congratulations,” he tells you, walking over and pulling you into a hug.

“Thanks,” you mumble, pulling back to look up at Vince, trying to read his expression. Unfortunately you come up with nothing, sighing as you step away from him.

It’s not till much later that night when you even get the chance to talk to him more, Sammy barely leaving your side as he excitedly looked through apartment listings with you, even though he assured you that there was no rush for you to move out.

Once everyone had gone to bed you sneak out of your room and down the hallway to Vince’s bedroom, pushing it open slightly. “Vince?” You whisper, trying your hardest not to wake Sammy up in the process.

“Hey, babe,” Vince says softly, making your heart flutter so easily. “Are you going to come in?”

Slipping through the door you shut it softly behind you, fumbling through the dark bedroom to Vince’s bed. “Hey,” you mumble, climbing onto the empty side of the bed and sitting with you legs crossed, watching Vince sit up and lean against the headboard.

“What’s wrong?”

How he knew so quickly that you were worried about something was beyond your comprehension. Normally you weren’t easy to read but Vince saw right through it. “I just…if you thought this was something different because I was going to be leaving, I totally get that. We can go back to just being friends…or not, if you don’t want. We don’t have to tell Sammy, I can move into my own apartment and we can pretend this didn’t happen, it’s fine,” you ramble.

“Y/N,” Vince says quietly, reaching over and placing his hands around your waist, guiding you closer as you slide onto your knees. “I like you…I have feelings for you. I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I just thought, I don’t know. Your reaction earlier wasn’t what I expected.”

Vince pulls you over his lap, hands running along your thighs. “Because you don’t want Sammy to know about us and I didn’t want him to be suspicious if I seemed too happy about it.”

“Oh,” you whisper, sliding your hands along his bare chest, resting them on his shoulders.

Vince chuckles, pulling you closer and leaning up. “I didn’t want to be the one to suggest it, but I was hoping you would look for a job here,” Vince admits before pressing his lips to yours. And you kiss him back eagerly, arms around Vince’s shoulders.

Grinding your hips down into Vince you feel him already getting hard. And you needed him, more than you had ever felt you needed someone in your life.

“Our agreement,” Vince mutters against your lips.

You can feel his breath on your lips, can feel how hard he was below you, can feel every little shift of his fingers along your skin. “Vince, please,” you whimper.

“Fuck, you can’t say it like that and expect me not to cave,” Vince groans, hands on the hem of your t-shirt, yanking it up over your head swiftly. And it comes off easily, your lack of a bra leaving it easy for Vince to immediately bring his lips to your chest.

Tipping your head back you close your eyes, every single kiss, flick of his tongue over your nipples sends waves of anticipation through your body. “Vince,” you moan, rocking your hips back and forth against him, desperate for some kind of contact.

Reaching down Vince slides your pyjama shorts down your legs as you move from one leg to the other, helping him take them off. His hand slips between your bodies, fingers up along your folds towards your clit. He eases his way towards it, circling around your clit till your nails are digging into his back and your body is writhing in desperation. When he finally gets to your clit the wash of pleasure is enough to bring a quiet cry of relief from your lips.

“Fuck, I love hearing you, but I need you to be quiet,” Vince mutters in your ear as he brushes gentle circles over your clit. “Can you do that for me, baby girl?”

All you can manage to do is nod and hum out a muffled “mhm.”

“Good girl,” Vince mutters, replacing his fingers on your clit with his thumb, fingers travelling down towards your entrance, one finger sliding inside of you. You’re trying your hardest to stay quiet, head dropping down to Vince’s shoulder as you bite down on your bottom lip. “Fuck,” you whisper a few minutes later, a few muffled moans slipping from your lips as you reach your high.

Coming down from it you stay on Vince’s lap, pulling your head away from his shoulder to look into Vince’s eyes. Remaining where you were you reach down, hand guiding Vince towards your entrance, a heavy breath leaving your lips as you sink down onto him. Vince groans, hands on your hips as he shifts further down the bed. It’s unbelievably quiet in the room as the two of you find a rhythm, both of you fighting with every ounce of your self-control to remain quiet. You stay on top of Vince the entire time, both of you too scared to be too loud to switch positions. But it doesn’t take you long to reach your second wave of pleasure, your body already sensitive from the first. And it’s only a couple seconds after that Vince reaches his, groaning quietly as his grip on your hips tightens. When you climb off of him and collapse on the bed beside him Vince hops up, grabbing a towel for you and returning quickly to start the cleanup process.

After using the washroom you return to Vince’s bed, curling up at his side, head on his chest. “I shouldn’t sleep in here.”

Vince sighs, running his hand along your back. “We’re going to have to tell him.”

“Do we really, Romeo?” You joke, tugging the blankets up higher on your body despite the fact that you had just told Vince you weren’t spending the night.

There’s a few minutes of silence, Vince’s hand pausing on your back as if all his energy was being funnelled to his brain. “What?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” you tell him.

“You think I’m going to get your Shakespeare references?”

“At least you knew it was Shakespeare.”

Vince chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m not that stupid.”

“Well…,” you giggle, tipping your head back to look at Vince.

“Oh, really?” He laughs, grabbing your wrist and flipping you around onto your back. He hovers over top of you, pinning your wrists down. “That was kinda rude.”

“Too bad I’m actually into this,” you whisper, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you bite gently on your bottom lip.

Vince groans quietly, rolling off of you and flopping back onto his back. “Why is everything you do so hot?”

“Kinda glad you think that way, seems like it gives me an upper hand.”

“Looking like that you definitely have the upper hand, for sure,” Vince chuckles, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pulls you into him. And the two of you continue talking, the whole time you were fully intending to make your way back to your own bed.

But you don’t ever make it out of Vince’s room that night.

“Get your lazy ass up.” You’re startled away by a voice yelling through Vince’s door, fist knocking a minute later. “We’re going to be late for practice again, enculé.”

“Oh, shit,” you mutter under your breath, grasping at the blankets on Vince’s bed yanking them up over your bare torso as you sit up. “Vince,” you whisper, shaking his somehow still sleeping form.

“Hmm?” He hums, rolling over to face you. “What’s wrong?”

But before you have the chance to say anything Vince’s door flies open and your eyes meet with Sammy’s. You watch him visibly try to process what was going on in front of him, eyes wide and fists clenched.

“Sammy,” you begin, watching him step back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sammy, wait, I…it’s not what it looks like.”

“Really?” Sammy counters, obviously knowing that it was exactly what it looked like. But he’s already on his way back out of the bedroom and you make a move to stand up but Vince grabs your arm before you have the chance.

“Give him a second to process,” Vince suggests, glancing down at the way you were clutching his blankets to your naked body. “And maybe put some real clothes on.”

Nodding you crawl out of Vince’s bed, pulling on the pyjama’s you were wearing when you showed up in his room the night before. Vince gets up a minute later, pulling on a pair of jeans a hoodie, glancing at his phone. “We are going to be late,” he mutters, his back to you as he gathers his keys and wallet, jamming them into his pockets.

“Vince, I’m scared.”

Vince turns around quickly, eyes on you. You had your arms wrapped tight around your body, eyes teary. “Hey,” Vince says gently, walking over and pulling you into a gentle hug, resting his chin on top of your head. “It’s okay, everything is going to be fine.”

“Did you see him? He looked so upset…he’s going to be mad, Vince. I can’t, I can’t handle him being mad at me.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying till Vince pulls back, reaching up and wiping away the tears from your cheeks. “He won’t be mad at you, he’ll be mad at me. I’m the one who started this.”

You’re caught off guard by this, laughing softly. “That’s a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“I kissed you on the couch,” you remind him, your hands wrapped around his forearms as you stare up into his eyes.

“I came home early and skipped going for drinks with the guys that night because Sammy told me he was going out for the night. I was hoping for what happened that night.”

You’re caught off guard by his confession, speechless and frozen in place.

Glancing over you see Sammy step into the doorway, slowly pulling away from Vince “We have to go.”

“Yeah,” Vince mutters, reaching over and grabbing your hand, squeezing it as he steps out of the bedroom with Sammy.

You watch them walk away in silence, not leaving Vince’ bedroom till you hear the front door close. Slowly making your way out of the bedroom you try to busy yourself with tidying the apartment to keep yourself thinking too much about the situation.

“Y/N,” Sammy’s voice calls later in the day, walking into the living room where you were sitting on your laptop, scrolling through apartment listings.

“Hey,” you say quietly, looking up at him. Reaching forward you slowly close your laptop, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you. “How was practice?”

“Fine,” he says, sitting down on the love seat beside the couch you were on. Sammy watches you glance in direction of the hallway. “He went to Jordan’s place.”

“Oh,” you whisper, feeling your heart sink a little.

“It wasn’t his idea,” Sammy tells you, noticing how disappointed you seemed. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Oh,” you repeat, not knowing what to say. Your brother had always known the details of your relationships, telling him all about your crushes, dates, when boyfriends would upset you. This had been the first time you kept something like that a secret from him, and now you were regretting it. Perhaps if you had told him earlier, when you first started to develop feelings for Vince things would have been different. But now it seemed like you two knew there was something wrong with what you were doing, needing to keep it a secret.

The silence in the room is heavy, and it feels painful as you fidget in your seat. Sammy staring at you for a few minutes before finally saying anything. “Why?”

Staring down at the ground you try to come up with an answer to his question. “I like him,” you whisper, shrugging.

“Why him? Did you not even think about what’ll happen when things end between you two?”

“That’s really optimistic,” you mumble, eyes focused on your fingers as you pick a few pieces of lint off of your jeans.

“Well what?” Sammy asks, voice raising in frustration. “You going to marry him?”

Finally looking up at Sammy you roll your eyes, sighing loudly.

“God, now I see why mom got so mad every time you rolled your eyes,” Sammy mutters. “Why the hell are you even rolling your eyes?”

“Because I’m not even thinking about marriage…with Vince or anyone else. That’s crazy,” you reply, your voice getting louder and louder with each word.

“So you’re going to break up with him, or he’s going to break up with you and then my friendship with him is going to be fucked,” Sammy snaps. “You really didn’t consider that? That you’re ruining my friendship with Vince…and for what?”

“Stop yelling at me,” you yell back, hoping up from the couch and staring down at him, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I don’t know what to say, I like him.” Sniffling you reach up, wiping away tears from underneath your eyes.

“I’m not okay with it.”

Wrapping your arms tight around your body you try to compose yourself, try to stop the tears from continuously flooding your eyes. You hated that you cried during conflict, hated that when it was conflict with Sammy that reaction was always heightened. “What do you want me to do then?”

Sammy glares up at you, shaking his head. “You already fucked it up, it’s too late for you to do anything.”

It feels like someone just punched you in the stomach, physical pain radiating through your body in response to his words. But you can’t think of a single defence for yourself. “Fuck you,” is all you manage to croak out before turning around and hurrying in the direction of the front door.

“Where are you going?” Sammy calls, following after you.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, yanking on a jacket you had hanging up on a hook beside the door. “Does it really matter? I mean, I’m such a fuck up anyway.”

“I didn’t say that,” Sammy exclaims, watching you pull on a pair of shoes. “Can you just stop? We’re not kids anymore, you can’t just fucking run away.”

“No, we’re not,” you snap, standing up straight again. “So why are you treating me like one?”

“Because it’s my goddamn life you’re messing with.”

“You don’t have to be such an asshole,” you whisper, tears now streaming down your face with no chance of you being able to contain them. “I’m sorry I developed feelings for your friend, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about, I’m sorry I acted on it…I’m sorry I came here, I don’t know what you want me to say.” You’re reaching for the doorknob a moment later, yanking the door open.

“Don’t say that, stop, Y/N, where the fuck are you even going to go?” Sammy asks, reaching for your arm which you pull away from him before he has the chance to grab you. “You can’t just wander around alone crying."

“Well it’s not like this apartment is feeling overly hospitable right now,” you tell him, wiping the tears off your cheeks. “I never would have thought you would be such an asshole over me falling for a guy. I’m sorry he’s your friend, I wasn’t trying to make that happen. In fact, I was trying not to. But you don’t really care, do you? Because the situation isn’t perfect for you so why should you even try to accept it?”

With that you leave the apartment. You take an Uber to one of your new friend’s houses, thankful that she had replied before your Uber even got there that she was free and wanted to hang out. After a brief explanation of what was going on you settle down on her couch, her puppy curled up in your lap as you two talk, able to get your mind off of the situation with Sammy and Vince, even if only for a short period of time.

You two order take out and lay on the couch, sending each other dumb tiktoks for the majority of the night.

‘Are you okay?’ It’s a text from Vince and you switch from the tiktok app to your messages.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’m at my friend’s place. You’re home now?’

“Vince texted, I think he just got home,” you tell your friend, sitting up on her couch with a sigh.

“Did he say anything about the situation?” She asks, turning her head to look over at you.

Shaking your head you look down at your screen, watching the three dots inside a text bubble, waiting to get the text he was typing. ‘Yes, when are you coming back?’

‘I don’t know. I guess soon, I just don’t know what to do.’

‘About what?’

‘Sammy’ ‘Us’

‘Can I come pick you up?’

And twenty minutes later you’re leaving your friend’s house, promising to keep her updated on the situation.

“Hey,” you greet as you get into Vince’s car, glancing over at him while pulling on your seatbelt.

“Hey.” Vince reaches over, placing his hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. “How did it go with Sammy?”

“Not great,” you admit, placing your hand on top of Vince’s, sliding your fingers between his and folding your hand over his. “Did you guys talk?”

“A bit.” Vince says, pulling out of the parking lot of the apartment. “What did he say to you?”

“That I’m messing up his life,” you mumble, your eyes filling with tears. “Basically I fucked up and whatever the fallout from this is it’s all my fault.”

Vince’s hand clenches around the steering wheel as he drives with no particular destination in mind. Of course Sammy was one of his best friends and that wasn’t about to change over one fight. But friends didn’t always agree on everything, didn’t always get along. And by the way Vince’s jaw was clenched, eyes glaring through the windshield in front of him, it was clear that was the case. “That’s such bullshit. You know that’s not true...right?”

“What if it’s not?” you croak. “Are we being selfish? Your friendship with Sammy, jeopardizing that when this ends?”

“It doesn’t have to end poorly and ruin anything,” Vince points out. “It doesn’t have to end,” he adds.

“Vince,” you whisper, glancing down at your hands folded together. How perfect they fit, how comfortable you were with him. “That’s crazy to say right now.”

“I know,” he admits, squeezing your hand. “So it might not last forever, but no matter what happens we’ve already started...whatever this is, so why does it matter when it ends?”

You can’t really argue with that point. Your options are end it now or give it time, see how things play out. “But…Sammy,” you whisper.

“Give him time.”

The two of you drive around aimlessly for a little while longer till he pulls into the parking lot of the apartment building, glancing over at you. “You okay?

Nodding you pull your hand from his, resting it on the console as you lean across it and Vince is quick to react, bringing his hand to the side of you face to cup your cheek. His lips are gentle but eager, moving with intent but not pushing too far. And for a moment it feels like everything else has faded away, worries and stress blurring till they’re no longer visible anymore. “How do we do this?” You whisper, pulling back from Vince.

“Do what?” He asks, sitting back in his seat, body angled towards you.

“Deal with being in there, together, with Sammy.”

Vince is quiet for a moment, tapping at his steering wheel. “We’ll just figure it out when we’re in there, see what he’s like.”

Nodding slowly you open the car door, slipping out and walking towards the apartment with Vince. With every step closer you feel a growing anxiety, each and every possibility running through your mind. Would Sammy still be mad? Would he try to pick up the argument right where it ended? Would it be worse if he just decided to ignore it? Would you all need to sit down and have a conversation like an awkward family meeting nobody wants to be a part of?

When you step into the apartment after Vince you hear the sound of the TV from the living room. Slowly making your way into the living room you notice Sammy with an Xbox controller in his hand, eyes trained on the TV. “Hey,” you greet, sitting down on the couch and alternating between watching the game he was playing and glancing at Sammy.

“Hey,” Sammy mutters, finishing up his game before tossing the controller down onto the coffee table and sitting up to turn and face you. “Did running away solve everything?”

Shaking your head you pull your legs up to your chest on the couch. “Should I have stayed here and let you yell at me about fucking up your life instead?”

“I didn’t say you were fucking up my life.”

“Maybe not in those exact words,” you retort. “But you may as well have.”

Sammy sighs and leans forward, his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he grumbles, looking over at you. “I just…fuck, I hate it so much. Like why him?” His tone is different now, lighter, easier than the last conversation.

“I mean…look at him,” you say, trying your best to to lighten the mood even more.

Sammy chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “I guess I really should have seen it sooner,” he comments, staring down at the ground.

“What do you mean?”

Sammy looks up from the ground, eyes meeting yours. “You’re exactly his type and he’s been spending way more time just hanging around here since you got here. I’m such an idiot for not thinking this would happen. I pretty much set it up.”

You wait a few seconds in silence, processing that information. You had really just assumed Vince spent that much time at his apartment normally. You figured they were on the road a lot, when they were back in St. Louis he would just want to relax at home playing video games and watching TV. You never would have thought that you played a role In keeping him there. And you definitely wouldn’t have assumed you were exactly his type either. “So you can’t really be mad then…you said it, you set it up.”

Sammy laughs, sitting up straighter and shaking his head. “I didn’t say that either…But I’m not mad, I don’t like it…maybe that’ll change, I don’t know. But I’m not mad at you. You know I can’t stay mad at you.”

You smile softly, standing up and walking over to the couch he was on, dropping down beside him and throwing your arms around him dramatically. “Good, because I can’t handle you being mad at me,” you tell him. Pulling back you let your arms drop from around him. “So, will you come look at apartments with me tomorrow so that Vince and I can-.”

“Stop,” Sammy interrupts, pushing you away playfully. “I don’t want to hear it, you’re so gross,” he says, both of you laughing as you lean back in response to Sammy pushing you.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Vince walk into the room hesitantly and you give him a reassuring smile. “Sammy admitted he actually set us up.”

“I did not,” Sammy exclaims, laughing. “I said I pretty much did…not on purpose though.”

“Close enough…I’m going to make dinner. I don’t know how you two are going to survive when I get my own apartment,” you laugh, standing up and walking over towards Vince, grabbing his hand and pulling him with you towards the kitchen.

“You can come over and cook us dinner,” Sammy calls as you leave the living room.

Shaking your head you make it to the kitchen, only there for a second before Vince is pulling you into him, leaning down and kissing you gently. “I knew it would be okay,” Vince mumbles against your lips.

Bringing one hand to the back of his neck you press your body closer to his, confident that Sammy would be avoiding the kitchen now that you and Vince were in there alone. “No you didn’t,” you giggle. “You just said that because I was panicking.”

“Kind of,” Vince admits.

“Well I’m glad it worked out,” you whisper, sliding your hands to his shoulders. “Because if we never got around to you pinning me down like you did last night I’d be really disappointed,” you joke, looking up at Vince through your eyelashes with a mischievous smile.

Vince groans, shaking his head. “So that’s all I am to you?” Vince asks, playing along.

“Of course,” you joke. Pulling out of his grasp you begin to prepare dinner, but the absence of touch doesn’t last long, Vince stepping behind you and placing his hands on your hips. “Someone is a little needy.”

“I’m hurt after your last comment,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist, watching you chop up some vegetables.

Pausing you turn your head to the side, looking up at Vince. “Fine, I like you for more than just sex,” you tell him.

“So when are you letting me take you on another date…a real one.”

“Anytime,” you tell him, glancing over at him as he stands beside you, leaning against the counter. You can’t help but get caught up in staring at him for a little too long. A few months ago you never would have imagined your trip to St. Louis would even last this long, let alone end with you moving there and falling for a boy. And of course you weren’t sure how it would end, but for the time being you were happy with the new adventure you were embarking on.

#vince dunn #vince dunn fic #vince dunn imagine #vince dunn fanfiction #vince dunn fanfic #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl one shot #st louis blues imagine #st louis blues fanfic #st louis blues fanfiction #st Louis blues one shot #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #hockey one shot #Hockey Fanfiction

567 notes · View notes

buglife · 4 years ago

Note

Ghost and Tiso? Maybe about how they became friends?

Depictions of injuries and some sad stuff ahead, but this the longest request to date! Apologies my eyes are bad lol.

Tiso didn’t know what to think when he first laid eyes on the little knight, sitting alone on the sole bench in Dirtmouth. They were one of the strangest beings he had ever saw, with their big white helmet-like head, their weird little nubby body, and the fact they had a nail. How could something this tiny hold a nail? It had to be someone’s lost grub, he was sure of it. There was no way this little squib wasn’t about to be ambushed by some angry parent, furious that they were carrying an actual nail. He waited a moment and looked around, but nobody came.

He supposed someone would come sooner or later, he had a mission after all. He had wandered the wastes since he came of age with just himself and his shield searching for some sort of purpose in life. Sure, he had over time, became a rather competent warrior, but he failed to find challenges that would actually test his mettle. Then, he heard tales of a lost Kingdom where many bugs have gone and never returned. Said Kingdom was rumored to have an arena where one could compete for glory. Tiso had already bested many arenas and moved on, ever searching. If there wasn’t an arena than he could at least look around and recount what he saw.

Maybe here, he’ll find himself, and find a measure of happiness.

His shield felt heavy as he sighed and looked at the well. The Elderbug, kind as could be, had warned him of the dangers below. Bugs sometimes lost their minds, trapped in a dreaming world where they couldn’t remember anything but a bright, burning light. Bugs died from the claws of the infected, most no more than empty husks driven by a malevolent will. The thought horrified Tiso, he had never heard of such a thing. The dead walking? Still, the old bug was serious as he let his old gaze drift around the nearly empty town.

Tiso was inclined to believe him.

So there he was, ready to take the plunge down below and took one last look at the grub sitting on the bench. He happened to catch their eyes, and the little grub straitened up a little. He was surprised to see them leap off and stride toward him quickly, waving their arms.

“What do you want, Squib.” Tiso had no mood to deal with any little kids.

He watched them move their hands out from under their cloak, their tiny paws and equally tiny claws making a flurry of movements. They then stared at him expectantly.

“Uhhh...the fuck was that?” He had no clue what the little grub was doing with their hands. They deflated a little and then brightened, reaching into themselves with a hand and suddenly, they had a little book and a pen.

“...what...did you, did you just reach inside yourself!?” Tiso boggled, the hell was this? What the hell was this kid?

He watched in stunned silence as the little being ignored him to start scribbling quickly, turning over the book once done to display their writing.

“Hello, please be careful down there. It’s dangerous.”

“Ppfft. Nothing dangerous for the likes of me.” Tiso couldn’t help but grin. Aw, how precious, they were worried about him. “I’m a seasoned warrior, I faced a lot and I am sure I can handle myself.”

The being frowned, at least, Tiso thought they did. They tilted their mask in a way to convey some measure of unhappiness and then started writing again. They turned over the book with a flourish once done, the ink smeared a bit in their haste to write it.

“I am also a warrior and there are things down there that can kill you without hesitation. I’ve seen corpses of better armed and armored warriors scattered below. All thought the same that you did. Please be careful.”

Of course Tiso ignored most of the writing to focus on the first part. “Oh, a warrior you say, you know how to use that nail you have there?”

They nodded, shoulders tense as they again, pointed to the part about the dead bodies. Then tapped it.

“Obviously they weren’t as good as me then.”, he huffed. “Say, if you do fancy yourself a warrior, I hear there’s a place for us, an arena of sorts. Maybe we’ll meet up there, and you can show me what you know.” He held up his shield, the metal glinting in the lights of the lumafly lanterns. “That is, if your parents let you, Squib.”

The grub sighed with their whole body, and wrote back to reply.

“I am not a kid. I’m probably older than you.”

Tiso couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Okay, okay, whatever you say. You got a name, little Squib?”

The being rubbed their face for a moment and wrote back. “My name is Ghost. You?”

“Heh, you’re speaking to Tiso! Remember that name, it’ll probably be famous.” He preened a little, slightly disappointing to find that the little Ghost was just staring at him. Once again they presented their scribbles.

“Or I’ll remember it to put on your grave marker.”

Bummer, kid. Tiso at first thought the squib was mocking him. He opened his mouth to call them a little shit, but he took a second look at them. They looked tired and weary. They looked like someone used to hearing bad news. Inside, he felt a little guilty at this. Clearly this thing...Ghost...was genuinely worried about his safety and he went and spit it back in their faces. It seems that foot-in-mouth disease is a reoccurring issue with him.

He sighed. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I promise that I know what I’m doing. If things are too bad, I know when to cut my losses and run, alright?”

Ghost brightened up at that and nodded. Tiso snickered to lighten the mood, reaching down to pat them between the horns (something they radiated a scowl at, but said nothing about).

“No worries, if anything, I do wanna see what you can do sometime!”

And with that, Tiso jumped down the well.

---

Well, Tiso should have listened to the little Ghost. Because he had to fight every inch of the way to reach this one stag station. He had learned the name of this wretched section, ‘the Forgotten Crossroads’, and he wished it could be forgotten. He had barely landed on the stonework below when an infected bug lunged out of the darkness, hissing. He had swiftly decapitated it, getting some orange gunk all over his shield. He had wanted to clean it off then and there, but the buzzing sound of vengeflies made him rethink his plan. The feral Tiktiks and Crawlids didn’t give him much trouble, except the time he stepped on one by accident and their spikes hurt like hell. The vengeflies were bastards like usual, screeching as they tried to dive bomb him.

And oh, the aspids. The fucking aspids. How he hated them. He felt so much satisfaction every-time he threw his shield and popped their horrible little glowing abdomens. The only problem was the orange that splashed out burned any exposed bit of chitin he had. Never before, had he been glad to own his armor. He would be extremely happy if he drove those little bastards to extinction. The husks though, were very horrible. Not in a fighting way, in there they were stupid in that they only knew how to run straight at him. He could take their heads off at a distance, shield returning to him with a flash of soul. In the end, he pitied them. They were once bugs, like him, but something had changed, and they became infected. He had been happy to find a hot spring that he could scrub himself and his equipment clean. He didn’t know if he even could be infected, but he decided to err on the side of caution. The orange...goo...he couldn’t call it proper hemolymph, didn’t seem to cause him trouble for now. But still, better safe than sorry. He made camp there for the night, but not only because he didn’t want to get out of the water.

He had braved the crossroads again the next day, ducking under aspids and slaughtering husks until he found the relative safety of the stag station. He sighed and sat on the bench, leaning backwards to rest a spell.

Then came the sound of rumbling. He was instantly alert, shield at the ready and his eyes trained to the tunnel. He expected many things to come out of that tunnel, but he didn’t expect to see little Ghost so soon. The stag they are riding slid to a stop, bending down to let the little warrior off. The stag spoke to him, Tiso didn’t catch what exactly, and watched the warrior wave goodbye as the stag took off down the tunnel again.

They turned and saw him and seemed just as surprised. They bounced a bit in delight and rushed over, waving.

“Hello to you too, little warrior. See? I’m perfectly fine.” Tiso gestured to himself with a grin. “Though I will admit, those aspids suck.”

Ghost nodded rapidly in agreement, going as far as to draw their nail and stomp a little. Tiso laughed.

“No worry, If you’re going up I have thinned their numbers a bit. Seems like having a big gross abdomen makes it easy for someone to cut you down. It’s the perfect target! You can’t miss!”

Again Ghost nodded in agreement. Remembering that he couldn’t understand those weird hand sign things, they took out their journal and pen once more. It was once of those fancy ones that held the ink on the insides but still needed refilling from time to time. They hopped up on the bench to join him, there was plenty of room after all.

“So,” Tiso began, “What have you been up to?”

“I’m trying to figure out a way past the fungal wastes.” They wrote. Tiso could easily look over their shoulder so they didn’t have to keep turning their book around.

“Fungal wastes?”

Ghost chirped, which absolutely did not make Tiso jump a little. They were just, so quiet. They were obviously mute but he didn’t expect them to make sounds. Tiso hid his reaction and watched as they fucking reached inside themselves again and pulled out a map. They opened it up, showing an incomplete map, each section in a different colored ink. Tiso whistled, impressed.

“You did that all on your own?”

They shook their head and wrote out. “Cornifer sells basic maps. I find all the hidden stuff.” They gestured to the various lines on the paper. Some of the ink was newer than others, which meant they back tracked and found new places. They even did little doodles of interesting things they saw. The sheer amount of drawn spikes and thorns make him question just how much fun he’s going to have traversing some of this kingdom.

“That’s still hella impressive for such a little grub.” He teased. He was arrogant, but he could recognize talent. “Maybe if being a warrior doesn’t work out, you could be a map maker in the future.”

Ghost just held their map for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. It looked like they wanted to write something, but passed it up to put on a more cheerful demeanor. “It’s nice you think I’m that good.” They wrote.

“Heh, I can recognize talent. By the way, since you’ve been all over the place, have you figured out where this arena is?”

“I hear that it’s called the ‘Colosseum of Fool’s. It’s somewhere near the City of Tears, I think.” They make sure Tiso read what they wrote before drawing a line with a claw from the stag station where they sit to somewhere east. They had a place marked ‘Crystal Peak’ and ‘Resting Grounds’, so it was probably near those places.

“Thanks, Squib. You probably saved me a lot of walking.”

Ghost innocently pointed to the stag station’s bell.

Tiso shook his head. “Oh no no no, true warriors don’t convenience themselves like that! True warriors make it to where they go on their own efforts alone.”

He was so full of shit and he could tell that Ghost knew. He honestly didn’t’ want to be in any dark, tight spaces. He couldn’t help thinking of the colony he grew up in. How dark and how crowded it was. You couldn’t find a moments peace to yourself and cave ins could happen at any time. How close the walls were to each other. How you never knew when the ground would rumble and stones would start to fall. No sir, he won’t take the stag way.

Ghost gave them the ‘whatever you say’ look before they rolled their map back up and tucked it away again.

“Where the fuck are you putting all that?” Tiso exclaimed as Ghost also put away their book and pen. They only shrugged in response and then gleefully bounced away with a wave goodbye. He heard the patter of little feet, and then the shriek of a vengefly, only to hear the sharp slice of a nail and the silence after.

Hrm...perhaps this was a warrior after all?

Tiso leaned back, determined to rest a little more before continuing his journey. With how big this place is, he wasn’t sure he’d see the little warrior again, and something about that statement saddened him.

---

Tiso had no idea there’d be an entire lake this big in Hallownest. Sure, water in caves was common, it’s how the caves were made after all, but this was something else. He sat on the sand, a campfire crackling softly as a tiktik roasted on a stick. All around him were fossils of shells, creatures long since gone and lost to time. One made for a nice seat and he wondered a bit to whom it may have belonged to. Some water snail, maybe. The water was clean and clear enough that he could take a dip to rinse off the grim of travel and found it most refreshing.

It had taken him a couple days to make his way here. Some paths were blocked off, either to cave ins or rusted closed, so he had to improvise. Moving through the Resting Grounds was eerie. It was full of graves, yeah, but once you fight empty husks for a while, tombstones start loosing their spookiness. There he had run into another stag station and swiftly turned back around. He took another pathway he didn’t try and ended up here, at this lake.

He thought of all the empty houses along the way. He poked inside to take a look here and there and only took things that he needed. The dead weren’t going to use them, he was sure no spirit would begrudge him for taking a few spices or a blanket. It did make for useful places to rest, as he could just shut the doors and windows to keep out husks. But still, he couldn’t help but feel like a trespasser in this dead kingdom.

He mused on this as he poked at the roasting tiktik. It’ll be done soon and then he can eat and continue his journey. A warrior needs their energy after all.

He poked up his antenna as he heard a distant noise over the crackling of the fire. He turned and looked over the lake, watching a white dot in the distance grow steadily closer. Water kicked up around bent air currents as the figure flew just above the surface. When close enough, he spotted the horns.

Oh, it was them. Small world, huh?

Little Ghost seemed to spot him as well. As soon as they reached the beach, they cut off whatever power they were using to run straight at him. They were all waves and ‘smiles’, tilting their head up to look at him in obvious glee.

“Hello, Squib!” Tiso grinned, he wouldn’t admit it but he was glad to see the little bug. “Still in one piece I see?”

They nodded and gestured to himself.

“Yeah, told you I’d be fine!” He took a moment to poke at the tiktik again and caught a flash of light on metal. Little Ghost had drawn their nail and was holding it out for Tiso to see. Oh, it seems like they got a new one, or they fixed up their old one. The other was dull, and this one had a soft pale light to it. Nothing fancy so far, but he could tell it was sharper.

“Nice.” He was impressed. “But I’m a shield guy. I don’t know much about nails other than that you shouldn’t get stabbed by them.”

The little bug ‘laughed’, huffing air in amusement as the reached over and pointed at his shield. They looked at it, and then back at him, titling their head.

“Sure, you can look, but be careful, because it can do this.” He attached his shield to his arm and squeezed his hand just so. There was a click, and the sides of the shield unfolded into blades, a perfect circle of pain. Ghost vibrated in response, the dark eyes within their mask shining brightly in the light of the fire. Tiso grinned and flexed again, withdrawing the blades to make a normal shield again. “And that, is how I deal with aspids. It can also come back when I throw it.”

He wasn’t sure why he was telling this to Ghost. Weren’t they going to fight sooner or later? If so it would be best to hold his cards close to his chest and keep his surprises as surprises. But there was just...something about this bug that made him want to talk about the things he knows. They were paying rapt attention, eyes scanning all the details made in the shield. Bugs that only wielded shields were not very common, he had found, so maybe they just never seen something like the one he has before. Maybe he wanted to be the one to cause the air of wonder and awe in someone else.

Maybe he just wanted a bit of attention that didn’t result in getting bruises.

Ghost touched the shield gently with a paw, feeling the metal a little before they withdrew, satisfied. They nodded their approval and sat down, looking up at him expectantly.

“Oh? What’s this? Do you want tales of how I used this shield?” A giddy happy feeling welled up in his chest as Ghost nodded rapidly. They moved their hands, signing a word he didn’t’ know how to understand. He could figure it either meant ‘thank you’ or ‘please’, either way they were polite. They shuffled and got comfortable and watched Tiso as he began to talk.

Tiso talked for so long that he forgot all about his tiktik.

–

Tiso sat on the bench, the roar of the crowd above him shaking loose the dust on the ceiling. It fell around him in motes of light reflected from the fires in the pit. There were other warriors there too, waiting their turn to engage in the carnage above. So this was the Colosseum of Fools. A crowded arena where a corpse sat as the seat of honor, empty gaze watching as the combatants did their damndest to kill each other. Geo was rapidly exchanged between hands as fighters either won, yielded, or died. Most died, but so it was in the way of the arena. He had taken time to watch to get a scope of what he was dealing with and concluded that the bugs in this kingdom were fucking insane. He was not used to this style of games, but he supposed he’d have to learn. He met the little fool chained up and dangling from the ceiling. He paid his fee and waited for his turn in the pit. There was a shriek above, and something big slamming into the ground. He imagined that he could expect to fight more beasts than warriors.

What he was not expecting, was little Ghost to jump down into the pit.

“Hey, you made it!” Tiso couldn’t help but exclaim as Ghost ran over to climb on the bench as well. “This is the place for us, I can feel it. There’s finally a challenge for me here.”

Ghost nodded, and in a flash held their journal and pen. “Are you doing the trials?”

He snorted, “Of course I am, and you?”

“Not yet, just exploring.”

“Hey what, are you afraid of being paired against me?” Tiso tugged his hood a little, smoothing down his antenna to try and stifle the intense smell of infected hemolymph. For a moment, he felt a flash of relief at Ghost’s prior statement. He didn’t quite believe that this bug was an adult, but they seemed to be a good sort. Did they really need to do this, taint their soul with battle just for the glory of it? For a bug like Tiso, he was okay with it. He was okay with it ever since he found himself alone with only a shield to protect him and bad memories to keep him company. He had to get tough, but did this little being who asked him for stories really need to get tough?

They shook their head as their shoulders shook with mirth. “No, I have things I have to do. I’ll fight you later and I’ll make you the one scared.” Their shoulders kept shaking, so Tiso assumed this was all said in jest.

“Bold words from a little shit.” Tiso was interested in seeing just what they can do, but later in a spar. Away from a place like this. This wasn’t a place for them.

They nearly rolled over, chirping in laughter and getting strange looks from the other waiting combatants.

Tiso rounded on them. “Mind your fucking business.” He snarled, and the combatants averted their gaze to go back to polishing their weapons. Good.

Ghost took a few deep breaths to calm themselves down. “You don’t have to be mean.”

“Sometimes you gottah be mean.” Tiso countered. “If they tried to throw you out or something, I would have cut off any limb that touched you.”

Woah, where did that thought come from?

Ghost looked at Tiso for a moment, really looking at him. Tiso felt like those eyes could see into his very soul and he suppressed a shudder. Ghost looked back to their book and wrote again.

“Why?”

Tiso gulped, time to bullshit and fast. “Well, because we were practically destined to battle each other. Hell, we keep running into each other in this dead fucking kingdom. What are the odds of that? What are the odds of both of us, meeting multiple times, and then meeting up here? It’s destiny!”

They tilted their head.

“If we are going to have a proper spar, none of us can get hurt before then. We have to be at 100%, right? So I won’t let anyone lay a claw on you until then.” There, nailed it.

They nodded and tapped their pen against the bottom of their mask in thought. They took a while to write, in which Tiso glanced around to make sure the other combatants weren’t about to get bored and try to pick a fight. Finally, they tapped his arm and showed him what they wrote.

“I understand. That means you have to promise to be okay until then.” They gestured above as more dust shook loose and rained down in a shower of gray. The crowd roared again, along with the sounds of something big screaming.

“Sure, I can do that. If I break my promise I’ll give you five thousand geo.” This was a prop bet for sure. He didn’t have that kinda money yet, he’d have to earn it in the arena. But he was confident in his abilities, he would be fine and he’d be able to take off time to have a proper spar with his little companion friend buddy fellow warrior.

They nodded and held out their hand, which he took and shook. Gods, they had such little paws. “Good doing business with ya, Squib.”

They did their odd version of ‘smiling’ again. “I got to go, gonna try and go up more.”

“Good luck with that.” Tiso watched them put away their book, and with a hop, skip, and a jump, vanished up the pit. He had time now, to sit and sort out his feelings. He had that weird ‘big brother’ urge, and it wasn’t because they were so small. Nah, this person listened to him and liked him. He figured he can try and do the same.

---

Tiso was in a world of hurt, agony seeped into the broken crack in his chest. Hemolymph kept flooding his lungs and dripping out the corners of his mandibles. There was a fog around him in his mind, his barely open eyes blurry and seeing only smudges of green and blue. Flecks of white occasionally crossed his eyes before vanishing again. He had long since given up on trying to move, each pull of muscle only made the hemolymph flow faster. He struggled to recall what was happening as the pain moved in and out, like it was happening to someone else.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The only thing he can do was just lay there and breathe wetly. Each breath he had to mentally will and it took up all other functions for now. He had no mental power to spare on anything else, so when a bigger fleck of white took up his vision and didn’t leave, he had no clue what to make of it. What the hell? He took a breath, momentary forgetting too when he pondered the white. A cough tore into his chest and he could feel the broken edges of chitin rubbing together. Something was touching him. Something was trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t spare the thought.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The white vanished suddenly and Tiso found himself unable to bring himself to care or wonder about it. He had to keep breathing. Something deep and hot within himself had refused to give up. He had something to do that was very important and he couldn’t miss it. He wouldn’t. The weight of his shield was his only current comfort. Just as suddenly, the white appeared again, with a flash of red and gray. He peered at the smudges as distant sounds tickled his antenna. Was he underwater? Why couldn’t he understand them? A flash of pain and suddenly his world twisted. Colors spun around and around and it made it hard to concentrate on breathing. More sounds. More pain.

Breathe in. Breath out.

Breathe in. Brea-

It seemed like only a second and he was consumed in fire. A burning ache spread over himself as he saw only darkness. The darkness and a shriek as round orange pustules throbbed and vibrated. The sickening sound of hot fluids spilling and the nasty pop as pustules burst in a shower of gore. He was there. He had his shield, as a giant thing of teeth and screams jumped into the arena. He could barely raise his shield and then there was so much pain.

Trapped. Trapped like the fallen tunnels as the air got stale and lungs burned. Instead of the cries of the dying there was the roar of a crowd.

Take my breath, his sister had said. A little tiny thing with a tiny heart. A stone had hit her. The cave was too crowded and there wasn’t enough air. She was dying. Tiso couldn’t move the stone or she’d die faster.

Take my breath, she said. Then she breathed no more.

She always wanted to be a warrior.

She wanted to help people.

She never got to grow up.

You wasted her breath, the mawlurk shrieked as it fell toward him. You wasted it. You wasted it to die like a Fool!

Then was falling and falling and falling and falling an-

He felt cool hand in his, so tiny and small. They held on tight and Tiso stopped falling.

---

Tiso cracked his eyes open, still blurry and still in pain. He felt odd. The pain was there, but a large portion seemed locked away, just barely felt on the surface. He felt a hand in his, and with a colossal effort he managed to tilt his head to the side.

He was in some hut, on a bed, and holding his hand was the little Ghost. They must have felt the movement, because their head snapped around and looked on his eyes. A rapid flash of emotions, anger, grief, relief, joy, and others he didn’t have the ability to process, cycled through their very being. His hand was gripped with both paws now and a dribble of black welled up in their eyes to drip down their mask. Tiso wanted to say something, but it was taking a bit to remember how to do so. A large shadow fell over him, and he instinctively turned his head up to look.

Standing over him was an enormous beetle with a nail the size of Tiso himself. They looked down disappointingly at him.

“You must be Tiso, eh?”

He could only nod in response.

“You have to be the luckiest bastard in this whole dead kingdom.” The beetle moved over to a table, clinking glasses together and pouring some liquid. “You landed in just the right spot for Ghost to find you and close enough for me to come get you.”

He returned and handed a glass of water to Tiso, waiting for him to grip it before letting go. “I am Nailmaster Oro and you are here because my pupil insisted. You are going to be bed ridden for a while. Be glad I am more patient than my brothers, because after a whole week of putting you back together, I’m going to be glad when you leave.”

Tiso gratefully took the water and sucked it down, letting the liquid cool his dry throat. Once hydrated, he looked down to the ocean of bandages covering his front and one of his arms. His shield lay tilted against the bed, in arms reach. A whole week was gone, just like that. Oro must have felt the questions in his mind, because be continued to talk.

“You nearly got crushed to death, you goddamn idiot.” Oro tutted, looking over the bandages with the bedside manor of a primal aspid. “The Colosseum of Fools is just that, a collection of fools looking to die for no good reason.”

Tiso opened his mandibles to retort but only managed a wheeze. His lungs felt particularly awful and Ghost patted their hand in sympathy. Ghost let go just long enough to run over to Oro, tugging on his cloak. Once Oro bent down, Ghost gently embraced as much as he could, which wasn’t a lot. He saw Oro sigh with the tiniest glimpse of affection, before roughly patting them on the head. He glanced back to Tiso, and scowled when he realized that the ant saw the whole thing. Ghost stepped back to return to Tiso, taking his hand again.

“You’ll be okay after a bit of healing and time in the hot springs.” Oro went to squat by the fire, stirring something that smelled wonderful in a pot. “But I hope you found what was so damn important up in the coliseum.

Yes, Tiso thought to himself, I did find something. He looked at Ghost in a new light, and smiled as best as he could. They couldn’t replace her, but maybe, he could learn to not be a colossal fuck up. Maybe in that way, he can be okay with himself.

Ghost patted Tiso again for a bit and then reached in their ‘whatever’ space to pull out a pre-written piece of paper. Seeing what was written on it made Tiso almost want to take back everything he had just thought.

“You owe me 5000 geo.”

#hollow knight #fanfiction #tiso #ghost #nailmaster oro #tw: injury #tw: suffocation #found family #the knight #big brother tiso #tiso doing tiso things #ghost adopts yet another random bug #tiso is a dudebro #Anonymous #my writing

67 notes · View notes

smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

Text

Confidentiality - Chapter 1: The Conference Call

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Four months. Four long months that she’s been hiding in lockdown. So when everything starts to go back to normal again, she’s going back to work as Jensen’s handler for the first Supernatural convention after the pandemic.

Chapter Warnings: A little angst, a dash of fluff

WC: 1703

A/N: For this fic, let’s pretend Jensen is single and the pandemic was over and done with after four months. Also I’m sorry ugh, it’s been a while since I wrote Jensen.

Beta’d by: @dean-winchesters-bacon <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

It’s Monday and Y/N is sitting in a darkened room as she starts up her laptop for today’s work meeting. She had drawn the blinds already, hiding her surroundings from her workmates.

The light on the nightstand illuminates the room enough for the people in the video call to see her features. That’s all they need to see, really.

Logging onto her laptop with her password, she clicks open the email client, and selects her calendar. The cursor travels over the highlighted block and she clicks on it, searching for the login link to the Zoom meeting.

It’s 4.56 PM, she still has four minutes left. Wonders if she should click on the link and let the computer connect or if she should wait. She’d hate to be one of the first ones because that’s always awkward. She would spend time talking nonsense with whoever was as eager as her to join a meeting too soon.

4.58 PM. Now is a good time, probably. Not too early and she’d hate even more to be the last one.

Moving her mouse over the link, she clicks on it and a window with the meeting pops open. There’s another click and then she’s there, her laptop camera lights up with a green light, signaling that she too can be seen.

Seeing herself on screen is not something she enjoys. She nervously rights her hair, arranges it so nobody will notice the hickey that she tried to hide with concealer ten minutes before. It’s a fresh one, one he just gave her an hour ago, even though he knew full well that she’s going to have a meeting. It's her own fault because she had let him, always gets so fucking weak when he nibbles at her throat.

Y/N joins as the six people are talking about something. Nonsense, she guesses. She doesn’t really listen.

There should be ten people in the meeting to discuss the upcoming Supernatural Convention. The first convention after the lockdown.

“Hi,” she says and waves, because that’s what every newcomer does and she’s greeted with Hello’s and Hi’s back.

But there’s one guy already sitting in there, looking like he owns the whole fucking internet, and she doesn’t know how he does it with the lighting but he looks downright pretty. It’s not really fair.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jensen greets her by name. Of course he does, because he likes to rile her up. He’s also the only one who’s so abso-fucking-lutely cheery. “How are you?”

She smirks, “I’m fine, thank you. I hope you are too.”

Keeping it professional, that’s what she can and will do.

“Good,” Jensen nods and opens his mouth to say something more but he gets cut off by her boss who’s taking the lead.

Y/N doesn’t say much, doesn’t have anything to say anyway during the first ten minutes of the conversation. Lowering her face, she takes notes because it’s a prep meeting where they get informed how it will work out and to see how the spirit of the people involved is for the upcoming convention — which she’s really excited about. It has been a while.

Jensen and Jared do a lot of talking, as they want to know the details on how to make the experience great for the fans after everyone’s been holed up for so long. And she loves that. She always loved how they actually really care, unlike other show’s leads. There are some points that still need to be talked through and Y/N just sits back and watches. She could watch Jensen talk for days, it’s really mesmerizing.

His hair is long, his beard too. Jensen’s new look is completely different from Dean. It makes him look softer, and rounds up the edges of his jawline. The graying of his beard doesn’t make him less attractive, and that’s also something that she thinks it’s unfair. She hopes they will let him keep it for the convention. Hopes that he won’t let them talk him out of it because ‘some fans might want to meet Dean and not Jensen’. It’s going to be another month until they go back to filming, so it’s actually feasible. She’s sure that apart from a select few, the majority of fans would love to take a photo with this look and she can’t blame them one bit.

It’s going to be weird when the look is gone. Honestly, she needed some time to get used to it herself, but it has really grown on her. Maybe she’ll mourn the loss — just a little.

“So, let’s recap,” Gina, her boss, says and Y/N snaps her mind back to reality, “Jared’s flying in on Friday already because you want to visit some friends, right?”

“Correct,” Jared nods his head in approval. “You did book the hotel for three nights for me, right?” The question is directed to her co-worker, Julian, who’s responsible for the boys' travel arrangements.

“Yeah, I did,” Julian says with a nod of his head.

Gina nods, “Good, so Jensen, I see that you’re flying in on Saturday evening as per usual?”

“Yes.” Jensen says. He looks into his screen and licks his lips. She hates that she knows that he’s looking at her.

“I want you girls to be there on Friday evening at the latest? We’ll also go for dinner on Saturday and go over the Sunday schedule.”

“Uh, yes. I’ll be there,” Hannah and Kristin say in unison. Kristin is responsible for Misha but since Misha is also attending Sunday, she sits into the meeting as a formality.

That’s Y/N’s cue.

“I-I’m, uh, sorry, I’m still in the middle of booking my flight but yeah, I’ll be there on Friday.”

It was a huge issue with Jensen and they’d argued today about the flight. He doesn’t want her to leave until the last possible minute but now she has the confirmation that she has to be there on Friday already.

She sees Jensen raising an eyebrow and hates him for it because he distracts her.

“Okay,” her boss nods, “Jared and Jensen, I’ll have someone picking you up.”

Jared smiles, “Okay.”

“Great,” Jensen huffs out. She can see that he’s a little irritated about something.

The others don’t seem to have noticed, but she does. Jared notices as well, but apart from him clearing his throat, he doesn’t say a word.

“Right, I need to hurry to another meeting. Boys, I’ll see you Sunday!” Gina addresses the boys before waving goodbye, and disconnects. People in the meeting follow her and disappear one by one.

Y/N too, disconnects and is about to shut down her laptop when a skype call interrupts her.

Ugh.

It’s Jensen.

As soon as she picks up, her screen lights up and the view of his face almost blinds her. Honestly, it’s like staring into the sun. Nonetheless, she rolls her eyes because of the things he pulled in the meeting.

“Why are you rolling your eyes at me?” He asks, seemingly oblivious.

She groans with another eye roll, “Because you tried to distract me the entire conference call!”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t the one who was trying to undress you with my eyes.”

Y/N cocks an eyebrow, frowning at him. There’s a beat of silence until he groans.

“Fine, alright, I did. Sorry, okay? And why didn’t you say that we’re going to fly in together on Saturday like we said we would?” There’s something about the way he looks and she detects disappointment.

“As far as I remember, we did not settle on that because you ended up distracting me again and gave me a fucking hickey. And besides,” she sighs, “Nobody should know.”

“Would it really be so bad, Y/N?”

“Jensen, are we really going to have this conversation over Skype?”

“Fine,” he scoffs and stands up abruptly, walking out of the frame.

Great.

Abandoning her laptop, Y/N proceeds to walk to the window to open up the blinds again. Walking back, she switches off the only other light source, and as if on cue, the door opens.

“Shall we have the conversation face to face instead?” Jensen asks as he barges in, walks to the bed of his guest room, and sits down. He rubs a hand through his long hair, scratches at his beard before he looks at her.

“I rather not have it at all, but yet here we are, huh?” She strides over to stand in front of him and Jensen looks up, his features are so fucking soft, it makes her weak.

“Why don’t you want them to know? And I’m sure they would let it slide if you flew in on Saturday instead of Friday. You’re only responsible for me anyway and we’re a good team.” His hand reaches out for her, tugs at her wrist, uses his strength to pull her onto the bed with him.

Y/N lands on her back with a squeal and Jensen takes the opportunity, looming over her and looking down at her. Her hand goes up, strokes his hair back, fingertips tracing along his beard.

“Because the only reason I’m still employed is because you let them put in the contract that you want me as your handler and no one else. They would absolutely hate it if they found out I was fucking their talent.”

Jensen chuckles, his nose touching hers, “That’s not true.”

“What’s that?”

“If anything, it’s me fucking you.” His irresistible smile makes Y/N melt a little before he kisses her.

He lingers too long, kisses her too softly, too sweetly, knowing what effect his kisses have on her.

Pushing at his chest, she makes him break the kiss, “I should look for a flight.”

“No,” he chuckles and pecks her lips.

“Jensen!”

“Okay, fine,” he pushes himself up, “but only because I have an interview scheduled.”

Right, he does. It’s going to be an hour long.

“You want me to make dinner to have it ready when you’re finished?” She asks while she sits up and walks over to her laptop.

“Nah, I’ll eat you,” Jensen winks before he walks out.

Chapter 2

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#confidentiality #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fan fic #jensen ackles fan fiction #jensen ackles series #nathalie writes

289 notes · View notes

kerosene-insomniac · 3 years ago

Text

To Be So Lonely

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Midoriya Izuku

Warnings: Strong language, sexually explicit smut, violence, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, cancer sub-plot, major character death {not bakudeku}

Word Count for Chapter: 2,791

Summary: Midoriya Izuku has always wanted to be a musician. Something about the lyric working with a melody to convey his feeling just made his heart race. After his father died when he was three, Izuku has always relied on his mother. She worked two jobs to care for him and always supported his dreams. But when his mother is diagnosed with breast cancer just after he graduated high school, Izuku has to shift his focus. Now he’s working two jobs and takes care of his mother with the help of his gay neighbors.

In an attempt to learn self-defense, Izuku takes a few classes at a local gym. It’s there that he meets Toshinori Yagi, an older beta who used to be a professional heavyweight boxer. Yagi notices Izuku’s potential and encourages the small omega to eventually go pro. So, in order to make more money, Izuku eventually agrees.

Bakugou Katsuki has only ever wanted to fight. Orphaned as the young age of four, Katsuki has been fighting to live for his entire life. Fighting is all he’s ever known. After fighting underground for a couple years, Katsuki is noticed by Todoroki Enji. The older alpha takes him in at 19 and names him the official successor of his legacy (especially since all of his actual kids hate him).

Now, Katsuki is 25-years-old and the professional heavyweight champion.In a whirlwind of events, Katsuki meets Izuku in the unlikeliest of places. He watches the small omega perform and can’t help it feel extremely protective and absolutely enamored with him. The older alpha gets to meet him and say goodbye without even learning the omega’s name. Katsuki isn’t sure that they’ll ever meet again.

That is, until Katsuki officially meets Izuku at a professional lunch with his manager’s rival.

{OR}

The one where Katsuki is a professional alpha boxer with arrogance issues and Izuku is a stubborn omega that’s way little too reckless with his well-being. With a wacky cast of characters (including three idiots, a manly best friend, a traumatized bastard with daddy-issues, and many more) absolutely hell-bent on getting them together, neither men can seem to catch a break

***

———- Continue Reading ————-

{0.1} Sweet Like Honey

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.”

― Laurell K. Hamilton

K A T S U K I

“C’mon, Bakubro! Smile a little!”

Katsuki scowled even more as Kirishima dragged him towards the run-down bar. On some level, he wants to be here and have fun with his friends. On another, however, he knows that he’ll have to deal with a hangover tomorrow.

And fuck that.

The shitty bar smells vaguely of coffee and beer, as well as a mix of pheromones. It has a decent amount of people inside, but not enough to feel overwhelming.

“How did Pikachu find this shitty place?”

Kirishima gave him a look, as if he was a scolding parent. “His boyfriend actually did. It has live music and decent alcohol.”

Katsuki huffed, pulling his hood over his hair. “Who the fuck would want to court Pikachu? He’s annoyingly dumb.”

“Well, not everyone thinks that.”

Before Katsuki can argue, sweet-smelling arms wrapped around his neck.

“Blasty!! You made it!” Mina screeched, already smelling of red wine.

Katsuki growled, immediately pushing the omega off of him and towards her alpha. Kirishima caught her easily. “Don’t touch me, Raccoon Eyes! Ever hear of personal space?!”

Mina giggled, whispering loudly into Kirishima’s ear. “He’s so grumpy already.”

“I know. It’s pretty funny.”

Katsuki bristled, baring his teeth. “Fuck off, Shitty Hair!”

Kirishima chuckled, ignoring Katsuki directing them further inside. Closer to the bar was Kaminari and a purple-haired beta who obviously didn’t get enough sleep the night before.

The audacity.

Kaminari glanced their way, his face lighting up. “Bakugou! It’s nice to see that Kirishima-“

“Shut it, Dunce Face.” Katsuki grumbled lowly. “I’m just here to babysit you idiots.”

Denki shrugged, taking a shot of something that smelled suspiciously like Fireball. “Whatever you say, Bakugou. Hitoshi is already our babysitter for the night.”

The purple-haired beta blinked in Katsuki’s direction, taking a sip of his water bottle. He looked like he was silently analyzing and judging Katsuki, which immediately made the older alpha bristle.

“Calm down, Blasty.” Mina snickered, leaning against Kirishima. “You scowl too much.”

Katsuki scowled even more, watching as everyone ordered drinks.

Kirishima glanced at him, offering a sympathetic smile. “Just chill, Bakubro. Shinsou says the live music is really good!”

That’s unlikely.

“I know the performer.” Shinsou murmured, still studying Katsuki. “He’s a childhood friend.”

Katsuki ignored the insomniac troll doll and took a seat next to Kirishima. “This better be good, Shitty Hair. You know how I feel about music.”

Kirishima nodded, accepting his drink from the bartender. “Well, Jiro also speaks highly of the dude. She’s as serious about music as you are, so I’m sure he’s pretty great.”

That’s a little reassuring.

Before Katsuki could speak again, a small voice came from the stage.

And god, Katsuki’s interest immediately heightened.

A small man climbed onto a stool with a guitar in his hands. He had dazzling green eyes and a head of green curls that made him look soft. He was wearing a grey hoodie with ripped skinny jeans, making him look even cuter.

And the freckles.

Katsuki took a deep breath, immediately freezing as omegan pheromones washed over the small bar.

Chocolate and cherries.

He’s so screwed.

“Our first request of the night is called ‘Save Yourself’.” The omega murmured, his voice sweet as honey.

The small omega started strumming a dingy guitar, making it look effortless. But Katsuki knew better than to assume.

It weighs heavier on one's heart

I could tell right from the start that sweet ones are hard to come across

Well there is more than meets the eye

A heart like yours is rare to find

Someone else's gain will be my loss

“Holy shit…”

For once, Katsuki could agree with Pikachu.

Shinsou chuckled lowly, earning glances from everyone else. “I’m glad that you think he’s good. I’ve tried telling him that, but he never wants to hear it.”

“He’s adorable!” Mina squealed, almost a little too loudly.

Katsuki gave her glare, which didn’t go unnoticed by Kirishima. In fact, the red-haired alpha grinned and followed Katsuki’s gaze.

Woah, woah, oh oh

Oh woah, woah

Woah woah oh

Hey hey

Well little things that make you smile

Dancing barefoot in the dark

If only I had strength to change your mind

Oh for what you need

You will not see

Choose your words before you speak

Can you see that all you've got is time?

Katsuki couldn’t fucking breathe.

The small omega sounded soft and sure, obviously confident and lost in the song. A stray curl rested on his forehead, moving as he strummed the guitar.

Whatever it was about him, Katsuki couldn’t look away.

Woah now

Save yourself

Oh you save yourself

Oh darling save yourself for someone else

Yeah, save yourself

Oh darling save yourself

Oh won't you save yourself from someone else

Woah

Don't give in to their feelings

Don't give in darkness and faith

You should be safe, yeah, with someone else

Tell your secrets to the night

You do yours and I do mine

So we won't have to keep them all inside

Oh, for one so pure

Count these off

Let your feelings take control

Hold on to the world that he's begging for

“What’s his name?”

Shinsou looked at Kirishima, almost as if he was bored. “He’s not comfortable with me telling people. He’s a very private person.”

Mina pouted, whining slightly. “But he’s so good! Wouldn’t he want people to know his name?”

“He’s going through a lot right now.”

Katsuki glanced at Shinsou, immediately meeting the beta’s gaze. “For once, I agree with Raccoon Eyes. Private or not, he’s obviously good enough to go somewhere with a voice like that.”

The beta raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that you complimented people, Bakugou. Not everyone is a cocky boxer with arrogance issues.”

Ex-fucking-cuse me?

“At least I know how to fight, you knock-off troll doll!”

Shinsou blinked, obviously unaffected by Katsuki’s words. “Just because you’re a professional boxer doesn’t mean shit, Bakugou. If I remember correctly, you were underground once.”

Katsuki glared, scowling harshly. “Underground?”

“He’s an underground boxer, Bakubro,” Kirishima murmured, looking amused with the whole interaction. “He’s pretty good.”

Whatever.

Katsuki focused on the musician again, obviously pouting.

Woah now

Save yourself

Oh won't you save yourself

Go on and save yourself for someone else

Yes darling save yourself

Oh won't you save yourself

Go on and save yourself for someone else

Woah are you going to break?

Are you going to break?

Woah aren't you going to take me?

Yeah are you going to break?

Are you going to break?

Woah what's it going to take?

Yeah, are you going to break?

Are you going to break?

The small omega strummed the last few notes, his voice cracking slightly as the last lyrics finished. He shyly smiled at the crowd, using his bandaged hand to brush his curls out of his face.

Wait.

Bandages?

Katsuki watched with narrowed eyes as the small omega talked with the crowd, obviously trying to take more requests. Something about him was off and it made the alpha slightly suspicious.

Why does he look like that?

I Z U K U

“-and thank you for coming out! Goodnight!”

Izuku waved at the crowd as he exited the stage, his heart in his throat at the small amount of applause. His guitar felt heavy in his small hands, matching his equally heavy shoulders.

Music doesn’t have the same relief it used to.

The small omega chewed on his bottom lip anxiously as he placed his ratty guitar in it’s case. Izuku had saved up two summers worth of money to buy it, so he definitely felt more attached to it than most.

“Here’s your tips, Midoriya.”

Izuku snapped out of his daze as the female omega handed him the money, his pretty green eyes looking a bit grey. “Thanks, Jiro. I really appreciate this.”

Jiro smiled warmly, her dark eyes completely gentle as she watched him place the cash in his case. “It’s no problem, Midoriya. Tell your mom and the dads that I said hi!”

“I will!”

Izuku waved goodbye and made his way towards the exit. Hitoshi normally waited backstage to take him home, but he’s currently on a date with someone. It wasn’t like Izuku was afraid, but walking alone at night did give him some anxiety.

After all, Izuku is an omega.

In their current society, it was extremely easy for omegas to be victimized. They were completely at the mercy of outside forces, which caused a lot of weaknesses. Dominant pheromones from an alpha could completely shut them down and make them vulnerable to orders.

Alphas didn’t lack in strength like many omegas did, so they could easily overpower anyone slightly weaker than them.

While alphas experienced ruts or periods of extreme arousal, that was nothing on omegas. Omegas experience heats every month, which was a mess of fevers and the need to be knotted.

Ruts could easily be controlled and ignored.

Heats were the opposite.

If an omega was to go into heat while in public, that left them at the mercy of any alpha nearby. An alpha could take what they want, regardless of consent, and not be held liable.

So, yes.

Walking alone made Izuku slightly nervous.

As Izuku walked down the dimly-lit street, he was aware of the different smells. He could smell cigarettes and cheap perfume, all containing a mix of omega pheromones. It was slightly fruity and stale, making his stomach churn.

Don’t focus on -

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Fucking fuck.

Izuku’s blood ran cold as someone yanked him backward, grabbing at the soft skin of his cheeks. “I’m just walking home. I-I have people waiting on me, so-“

Bright blue eyes locked with his.

Dabi.

Shit.

“I almost don’t recognize you without the mask, bunny.”

Izuku’s soft green eyes immediately hardened as he shoved the drunk alpha off of him. “Don’t touch me, Dabi. We both know that I can kick your ass in or out of the ring.”

Dabi growled, grabbing Izuku by the hoodie again. “It’s a shame you got such a smart mouth, bunny. I might’ve considered marking you.”

So fucking gross…

“Get fucked, Dabi.” Izuku snapped, pushing him back again.

The blue-eyed alpha huffed, causing the intense smell of alcohol to waft over the omega. “Why are you being such a frigid bitch, bunny? Sounds like someone needs a nice kn-“

Izuku pulled his arm back and punched the alpha square in the jaw.

Dabi released him and shot back, muffling a bunch of curses as he rubbed his jaw. Judging from his pheromones, he was obviously pissed off.

But then again, so was Izuku.

“You little bitch.” Dabi growled, standing at his full height.

Izuku scoffed, widening his stance and shifting into an all too familiar position. In the street light, the bandages on the omega’s fingers were much more visible than before.

The small omega clenched his jaw. “I’d stop it with the insults, Dabi. I’d hate to kick your ass again.”

Dabi lunged, but Izuku quickly ducked.

In a quick move, the small omega landed a harsh kick to the alpha’s stomach. It was a cheap move, but Izuku didn’t care.

He’s always hated pigs, anyway.

Before the small omega could move, though, Dabi growled and grabbed him by the hair. He yanked Izuku upright and shoved him towards the wall of the alley.

Shit.

Dabi chuckled lowly, placing his knee between Izuku’s legs and wrapping his hands around his throat. “You look pretty with my hands around your throat. Maybe I should-“

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The scarred alpha froze, his blue eyes flickering to the entrance. After a few seconds, Dabi immediately scowled. “Mind your business, golden boy.”

Golden boy?

Izuku struggled under Dabi’s grip, feeling slightly light-headed as the seconds continued to pass. “Le-let me-“

“Fuck off, staple-face.”

And just like that, the pressure on Izuku’s throat was gone.

Izuku coughed and gasped as his world adjusted, his green eyes landing on the mess of fighting alpha’s in front of him. The smell of cigarette ash was now accompanied by caramel and cinnamon, which shouldn’t have made his heart race.

Alphas.

Izuku inwardly scoffed, rubbing his throat as he slowly made his way towards the exit. The sooner he got home, the better.

He really doesn’t want to be yelled at by Aizawa.

“I’m sure your dad would hate to watch me kick your ass, stitches. He probably wants to do it himself!”

Izuku snickered softly, glancing back to look at the fighting match.

Dabi was completely unconscious on the ground, nearly overshadowed by the mysterious alpha. This same alpha was dressed in a black hoodie and baseball cap, which hid his face pretty well.

The small omega made a mental note to remember this when he fights Dabi next week. These nicknames were top-notch.

The alpha fixed his jacket, spinning to face Izuku.

Shit. Shit. Abort.

Izuku squeaked and turned to bolt. At this point, plenty of people were exiting the club. Plenty of people would probably help him if he screamed.

“Not so fast, freckles.”

The small omega was pulled back yet again.

Izuku spun around, his green eyes sharp as he bared his teeth in an obvious snarl. “Don’t touch me! I’m not sucking your dick just because you felt the need to play hero.”

Red eyes locked with his.

And for a second, that split second, Izuku felt like the world stood still. Instead of some ugly alpha with questionable intentions, this alpha simply looked annoyed and frustrated.

Not the usual type to defend Izuku in an alleyway.

“What the fuck are you doing out so late by yourself?”

Izuku blinked, pulling himself out of his daze as sweet caramel greeted his nose. “Does it matter?”

The alpha’s eyes twitched. “I think it does. Any omega with a bit of common sense would know not to be by themselves at this time of night.”

“I’m not most omegas.”

Izuku’s words caused the tiniest smirk to dawn on the alpha’s face.

This mysterious alpha was much taller than Izuku and definitely stronger. The hood of his jacket covered ash-blond hair, but no amount of darkness could hide those eyes. And even more so, it was obvious that he had a resting bitch face.

“Hah?! A resting what?”

Ah, fuck.

Izuku blushed bright red, chewing on his bottom lip in an attempt to keep his mouth shut. “I-ignore that. I tend to mumble a lot.”

The alpha narrowed his eyes. “I can see that, freckles. But what the fuck were you doing out here by yourself?”

I’m not helpless…

“I can handle myself. I don’t need your help.”

The alpha scoffed loudly, his scowl becoming more prominent on his face. “Don’t be fucking reckless. If I wasn’t here, Stitches would’ve done worse than choke you.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “I had it handled.”

“Stop lying to yourself, freckles.”

The small omega clenched his jaw and pulled himself free of the alpha’s grip. His skin felt hot with fury and annoyance, especially since this alpha seemed so arrogant.

Izuku walked out of the alley, adjusting the strap of his guitar case and glancing around. The sidewalk was still full of people, so he was probably safe to finish walking home.

Before he could do so, however, a warm hand grasped his arm.

“Hold on, freckles. Let me walk you home.”

Izuku froze, glaring suspiciously at the alpha next to him. “I’m not helpless, you know. I don’t need a big, strong alpha to walk me home.”

Thank god for sarcasm.

The alpha shrugged, releasing Izuku’s arm and waited to follow him. “I’d feel much better knowing that you got home okay. I don’t want to see your fucking face on the news, freckles.”

Freckles? That’s the best you got?

“Fine.”

The small omega looked away from the alpha and started walking home, his heart fluttering in his chest as the smell of caramel enveloped him. Izuku’s never been good with attractive people, though.

Especially alphas with red eyes, which is his favorite color.

“What’s your name, nerd?”

Izuku blinkled, adjusting his hoodie. “I have enough survival instincts not to tell you. Stick to the shitty nicknames.”

The alpha huffed. “They’re not shitty!”

“I’m not convinced.”

Blondie {which Izuku decided to call him} growled in obvious annoyance, easily keeping up with the short omega. “Don’t you want to know my name? I’m sure you’re curious, shitty nerd.”

Izuku shrugged, glancing both ways before crossing a dimly-lit street. “Not really. It’s not like I’ll ever see you again.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Because it’s obvious that you’ve never been here before.”

Blondie gave him a sideways glance, his red eyes glinting in the street light. “I’m that obvious? What gave it away, freckles?”

Izuku chewed on his bottom lip, slowing down as his apartment complex came into view. “If you were, then you would’ve known that I can handle Dabi. This won’t be the last time he tries to kick my ass.”

Silence.

Hehe.

“So he does that often?”

Izuku stopped in front of his complex, turning to glance at the red-eyed alpha. “More than you’d think.”

The alpha nodded, looking up at the apartment complex. “Well, I’m glad that you let me walk you home. Should I follow you inside?”

“I’m not too comfortable with that, Blondie.’

Blondie froze, shooting Izuku a scowl. “Don’t call me that, shitty nerd.”

Izuku snickered, punching a code into the door and opening it. “Thanks for the entertainment, Blondie. I’m sure that you’ll get better with the nicknames.”

He went inside, leaving alpha outside.

Thank god that’s over.

*****

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I’ve caved and decided to cross-post here! I’m loving the community on here and definitely enjoy the responses I’ve received!

All the love love love,

Ash <3

35 notes · View notes

broadstbroskis · 4 years ago

Text

ivy- morgan rielly

a/n: i wrote a thing, don’t hate me. very much inspired by ivy from the absolutely incredible new tswift evermore album (you should listen to the whole thing if you havent already and def this song)

warnings: infidelity (it’s a central theme), angst (lots)

-----

The arm draped over her waist tightens just as Ophelia begins to move away. She bites her lip and closes her eyes and she feels Morgan bury his face in her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t go.” He whispers.

“I have to.” She wouldn’t. She’d stay here all night if she could. She’d stay until morning, she’d stay forever...but she can’t. “You know that.” It’s just as quiet, as if they’re both afraid of breaking the spell over them, but by now, they both know that prolonging the inevitable leads only to more pain, more difficulty leaving.

Morgan presses another kiss to the top of her head before rolling away; she feels the cold of his absence immediately, a loss that’s going to stay with her until she manages to find an escape to be with him again.

Her clothes are scattered everywhere tonight, it seems, which merely means she feels Morgan’s eyes following her around his room as she gathers them. “Stop that.”

There’s the smallest of smiles of his face when she looks up at him, after pulling her sweater back on. “Stop looking at you? Never.” And she’s really supposed to be leaving, but how’s Ophelia not supposed to kiss him after that?

Morgan’s thumb strokes over her cheek after they break apart, a gentle caress that expresses so much of all the things she knows he can’t-or won’t-say. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

“I will.” Ophelia squeezes his hand gently, understanding the true message behind his words, the I love you, that’s just too much to say outright. And then, because it’s too much for her to actually say goodbye, she squeezes his hand once more, and then slips out of his room.

It’s dark still when she opens the door to her apartment a few floors down and the silence is deafening. By all accounts, it should be warmer and homier than the bachelor pad she just left. She’d put a lot of work and effort into making it a home, a place for a relationship to grow, to start a family.

Right now, it just felt cold and unwelcoming, and Ophelia drops her keys on the table by the door in their usual spot, making a beeline for the master bathroom, not turning any lights on in the apartment until she makes it there. The sound of the shower finally drowns out the silence that’s ringing around her, stops her thoughts from running wild, and only when she steps inside does she let the tears fall.

-----

Ophelia blinks once, and then again, adjusting her eyes to the bright sun shining in through the windows. The other side of the bed is empty, but warm still, like it’s only been recently vacated, and she musters up the energy to climb out of bed and find her slippers before she wanders out into the kitchen.

“‘Morning.” Jon’s scrolling through his phone at the table, likely checking emails, or possibly moved onto his morning social media read thru, his coffee still steaming in front of him. “There’s more in the pot.”

“Thanks.” She returns the small smile he’d sent her and pours a mug for herself, settling in at the table next to him and taking a moment to get used to the usual silence. “When’d you get in last night?”

Jon hums for a second, like he’s thinking about it. “3, I think?”

“Jesus.” She shakes her head; she doesn’t need to look at the clock to know that it’s too early for him to be up and dressed to go back to the office already then. “You need to sleep more.”

Jon stands up with his mug and kisses the top of her head. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

The thing is, she’s not sure he’s kidding. It’s an attitude that he shares with the rest of his firm, a top financial group filled with people just like Jon, always pushing themselves to do the absolute most. It’s not-she’d never begrudge him his success, but really, how well can he be taking care of himself when all he does is go to work, go to the gym, and travel for days at a time?

“That’ll be sooner than you think if you keep going on four hours of sleep.” Ophelia chides gently, standing to send him off.

Jon laughs. “I’ll be home early tonight; how’s that? We’ll go out somewhere for dinner and then come back to bed,” He waggles his eyebrows. “And then go to bed.”

“Hmm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Ophelia says, and accepts the kiss he presses to her cheek on his way out the door.

(He doesn’t make it to dinner, but Ophelia's not shocked; she hadn’t bothered to change out of her gym clothes and orders takeout for herself instead.)

-----

Probably a long shot, but are you free at 3 to go see a house? Ophelia sends Jon the second their realtor confirms the showing, unsurprised when he sends back a thumbs down emoji. She sighs, and confirms with the realtor that she’ll be attending alone-again-and then scrolls around the neighborhood, looking at other houses for sale. If she’s going all the way out to Etobicoke, she may as well check out a few others while she’s there.

Showings confirmed, she dresses for the spin class she’s hitting first and makes her way downstairs, catching Morgan in the parking garage. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He smiles. He’s got a couple teammates with him, the only thing stopping her from burying her face in his neck and slipping her hands into his hoodie pocket. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” She answers truthfully. It’s been a couple days since they’ve talked, longer since she’s seen him, even just in passing like this; he’s been out of town a lot this month for games. “You happy to be home for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Morgan nods, meeting her eyes, and she hadn’t intended the question to be anything more than what it is, but she catches the double meaning in his answer right away. “I am.”

“Yeah.” She catches herself mindlessly agreeing with him, forgetting about the teammates standing with him watching their every move and smiling gently at Morgan, instead. “It’ll be nice.”

Someone coughs, lightly, but it’s enough to break the moment. She suspects, from the look on Morgan’s face, that whichever one of his friend’s had interrupted had done so on purpose, is putting some kind of story together, and she’s taking that as her cue to go. “I’ll talk to you soon, I’m sure. Catch you in the halls.” She tries to joke, but it falls flat, so she makes her goodbyes instead, and even though they’re not alone, it’s impossible not to reach out and brush her fingers against his arm for just the quickest of touches as she passes.

-----

“What do you think?” Ophelia can feel Pam studying her, but she bites her lip before she answers, knowing that she’s being an absolute pest.

“I just-I don’t really love it.” She says finally, and to her absolute credit, her realtor doesn’t even blink, even though this is the fifth house this afternoon she’s said that exact same thing about.

“What didn’t you love?”

What didn’t she love? Jesus, fucking everything. The bedrooms were too small, the kitchen was laid out terribly, the whole floor plan was a mess. Even petty little things, like the shape of the breakfast nook bothered her about this house. She explains her issues with the house, promising to make a list of what she’s absolutely looking for, and to send over any places she wants to take a look at, before slipping into her car and taking a deep breath.

There’s a text waiting for her from Jon. Going to be late at the office tonight, working on a pitch. Don’t wait up.

Another deep breath. She shoots off a response, a quick ok, and then swipes to another thread. Are you home?

Morgan’s response comes almost immediately. Yeah, just about to order dinner. You want in?

She does, absolutely. Be there in an hour.

Morgan has dinner waiting in takeout containers and plates ready, but Ophelia’s perfectly happy to ignore both of those in favor of pressing herself as close to him as she can and pushing up for a kiss. “Hi.” She says, a little breathlessly.

“I’m certainly not complaining, but what’d I do to deserve that?” He pulls her back in, entangling her fingers with his one hand and using the other to pull her closer. She loves when he holds her like this, keeps her so close that it feels like nothing can come between them, that nothing matters besides the two of them.

She traces a pattern along his hand and feels him pull her in even more tightly. “Just for being you.” It’s a little sappy, too sappy maybe, but she cherishes every moment she’s gotten to spend knowing him and growing with him.

The kiss Morgan pulls her in for at that is soft and promising, but he pulls back, looking as if it almost pains him. “Dinner first?” And because she can hear his stomach rumbling, she nods in agreement, with a smile and the smallest of laughs.

“Dinner first.”

-----

It’s snowing.

It’s snowing and the pond is frozen, but it’s empty, surrounded by evergreens and mountains, already coated in white. The air is crisp, that winter crispness that can only truly be felt in the middle of nowhere, and Ophelia breathes deeply, taking in the distinct scent of winter that she never really gets in Toronto, before it’s overpowered by a familiar one.

When Morgan skates up behind her, he doesn’t stop; instead, he only slows down enough to catch her arm and pull her along with him.

“Morgan!” Ophelia scolds, but she’s laughing when she does, so he can’t possibly take her seriously.

“Ophelia!” He mimics, picking up speed, ignoring her sudden shriek and skating around in front of her to take both of her hands.

“Showoff.” She nods at him, still leading the two of them around the pond, only moving backwards now, so as to still be looking at her.

“Nah, just want to look at that pretty face more.”

When she stops, it doesn’t even catch him off guard; Morgan just glides the half step closer to her, still grinning as she teases him. “You get to look at my face all the time now.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m ever tired of it.” She loves him so much. How open and honest he is, that he always says what he’s thinking, from the sweetest things like that to anything he’s unclear about. His gentle touches, the warm caresses. His stupid dad jokes. She’d spend forever laughing at them just to see the smile on his face when she does.

“Not yet, at least.” She teases. “‘Ever’ is a lot of time.”

“Still not enough.” Morgan says, and then slips one of his hands into his pocket, coming back out with a velvet jewelry box. “Maybe forever?”

“Hey.” It doesn’t sound right, too distant and too unenthusiastic; it doesn’t match the pure joy in Morgan’s eyes looking at her.

“Yes.” She says, smiling and nodding at him.

“Phel,” there’s a gentle nudge against her neck and she blinks awake. There’s Morgan...but…she blinks the fuzziness of the dream away. He looks unhappy, reluctant, and she gets it, suddenly, when he continues. “It’s late.”

“Oh.” She says quietly, swallowing the lump in her throat. He presses a kiss to the back of her neck, another one on the soft skin where it meets her shoulder. “Mo-“ Morgan lifts his head to look at her, but there’s nothing she could say right now that would bring happiness to his face, nothing that would come even close to the unbridled excitement in her dream, so she keeps the memory close to her heart and gives him a soft kiss instead, before she has to go.

-----

“Glass of red, as requested.” Ophelia smiles in thanks as Jon passes her a glass, but her attention is directed at the monstrosity of a tie that his coworker and best friend has shown up to a corporate event wearing.

“Kevin.” She says, and from the grin on his face, her disbelief is clear. “What is that?”

“It’s fashion, Ophelia.” Kevin says, putting an act of superiority on, but then going right back to his usual, kind of goofy, self. “Naw, I found it when we were in Dallas last week. It’s lit, isn’t it?”

“Lit.” She repeats dryly, taking a sip of her wine to hide a smile as he and Jon laugh.

The laughs don’t last long, as the three of them are approached by Jon’s boss, and the small talk begins. There’s a client there they want to land tonight, or at least make dinner plans with for a later date, and that’s top priority, but don’t forget to make time for this person too because their contract is up in March, and of course, you can’t ignore the Leafs, especially not so-and-so from the such-and-such’s office because they’re looking to renew the sponsorship agreement after the season, and...

She blanks on all the names. All she needs to do is smile pretty anyway.

She excuses herself after Keith Williams (the client, who agrees to dinner later in the week, another night she’ll be alone) to refill her wine glass, and is waiting by the bar when she feels someone slide in next to her just a step too close. Instead of feeling tense though, it relaxes her immediately, and she leans against Morgan. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles back at her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Ophelia’d noticed him the minute he’d walked the door, noticed the way his suit was perfectly cut, that the navy brought out his eyes, had had a hard time looking away. “You look okay, I guess.”

Morgan laughs. “Okay, I guess?” He repeats, nudging her side.

“Very handsome.” She accepts her glass of wine from the bartender and smiles in thanks before he leaves them. “It’s a good suit on you.”

She’s sure he’s going to make a comment about how it’s an even better suit off him, but they’re interrupted. “Mo!” Someone says behind them, and Ophelia hadn’t even realized how close they were standing, that she’s curling into him and he’s leaning back, until they have to separate to turn around.

“Mitchy.” Morgan greets, sounding as calm as usual, while Ophelia feels like her heart’s going to beat out of her chest. “Finally made it, huh?”

“Matts couldn’t decide on what shoes he wanted to wear.” Mitch grumbles as the blonde next to him snickers into her palm.

“Worth the wait.” Ophelia looks over at the voice and realizes it’s one of the teammates Morgan had over the other week. She quickly realizes from the look on his face that he’s putting together the same pieces.

“Was it though?’ Mitch is asking him. “That’s the last time we agree to carpool.”

He’s ignored though. “We’ve met before, yeah?”

Ophelia nods. “Uh yeah, I live in the same building as Morgan.” She transfers her wine glass to her left hand to offer her right hand out to shake, catches the blonde’s eyes immediately go to her ring, and ignores the feeling in her stomach as she introduces herself to them.

They’re all friendly enough-Auston, Mitch, Mitch’s girlfriend-but she can’t help but feel like they’re just trying to feel her out for something; she makes polite chit-chat for a few minutes and then excuses herself away from them to go back to Jon.

“Hey.” She says quietly, slipping back into his side.

“All good?” He asks quietly. “You were gone for a while.”

She nods. “ Just ran into someone I know.” He hums noncommittally and she feels a moment of fear for Morgan, but then they’re moving toward that guy from the Leafs office he’s supposed to be talking with and he’s back to all business.

-----

“Can we talk about this later?” Jon zips his suitcase and then looks over at her. “I’ve got to go.”

“When do you want to talk about it?” Ophelia cries frustratedly. “You’re always fucking going.”

Jon glares at her.” Jesus Christ, Ophelia.” He starts rolling his suitcase down the hall and she follows, unable to resist.

“Should I even bother looking at houses still? Or should we just stay stagnant?”

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Ophelia. I don’t care right now.” The door slams behind him, but for once, she can’t bring herself to be mad about it, too furious about the fight they just had, shouting in circles about things they’ve already fought about.

Stewing in her anger isn’t going to do her any good, so she changes and heads to the gym, each pounding step on the treadmill relieving the thrumming under her skin. She’s feeling better, by the time she slows it down to her cool down- not quite calm, by any means, but enough that she feels she can run the errands she needs to for the day without snapping at anyone who doesn’t deserve her ire.

She’s in the grocery store when her phone starts ringing. “Hey.” She smiles when she sees it’s Morgan.

“Hey.” She can practically hear him smiling, even through the phone, her airpods still in her ears. “I’m home.”

She’s in the snack aisle at the food store, absolutely beaming at the simplest words, just because he’s been gone for a week. “You are?”

“For a few days now.” He confirms.

“You want to come for dinner tonight?” She studies the cart in front of her. “I’ll cook.”

“You’re cooking? Tell me when to be there.” Morgan already sounds excited. It’s not often she gets a chance to cook for him, but every time she does, he raves about it.

She laughs. “I’m at the store now; I’ll text you when I get home.”

He’s actually waiting for her in the parking garage when she pulls in and she laughs at him fondly as she parks her car. “Welcome back.”

“Hmm, good to be back.” The kiss he gives her in greeting is quick, too quick, but he makes up for it when he pushes her back against the counter as soon as they’re in her kitchen and the groceries are on the counter.

“Do you want risotto tonight or not?” Ophelia laughs against his lips, laughs again as she watches how torn Morgan looks. “We have time.”

He squeezes her hand. “Never enough.” And she kisses him again, because it’s true. These stolen moments, this borrowed time, none of it felt like enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough to show him all the love she has for him, to show him everything he does for her, all the pain he takes away and the joy he brings to her life.

“Could you go pick out a bottle of wine?” She says quietly, nodding toward the wine fridge, instead of saying the things they both know are true, but will only lead to her saying something stupid, like asking him to run away with her.

-----

The house comes in Pam’s daily email and Ophelia loves it from the first picture. She requests a showing for as early as possible and goes through her morning routine, trying not to get overly excited each time her phone buzzes with a new notification, until finally, Pam responds that she’ll meet her there at noon.

It’s only two hours, but it’s two hours that she can’t seem to fill, no matter what she does. Time feels like it’s stopped, until finally she gets in her car and drives over.

The stone exterior is even more beautiful in person than in the pictures. The kitchen is straight out of her dreams. The bedrooms are spacious, the family room is open, the basement is huge. She walks the entire house once, goes through again and again, smile growing wider each time.

Ophelia can picture it perfectly. The laughter filling all these nooks and crannies. A small blue-eyed boy always bouncing around, begging for anyone to play hockey with him. A girl, the shine of her dark hair catching all the natural light, eagerly trying to keep up with him. Morgan throwing his bag down the second he walks in the door and scooping them both into his arms to say hello, before coming to her and a baby, greeting them both just as tenderly.

It’s abrupt, the crash back to reality. This house, this beautiful, gorgeous, house can’t be hers. That life isn’t hers. It can’t be hers. It won’t be theirs.

Ophelia doesn’t feel her legs crumble out from under her, but she finds herself on the floor, hand brushing over the carpet. She doesn’t feel the tears start either, but it’s not long before the sobs are wracking her entire body and she’s unable to stop.

#morgan rielly fanfic #morgan rielly imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #toronto maple leafs imagine #my hockey fics

130 notes · View notes

redeemed-wren · 4 years ago

Text

What up lads new Philza Lore dropped

Been thinking about this since it's been revealed that c!Phil is immortal, or at least centuries old. I like analysing things, and my brain has been chugging away analysing c!Phil since this new revelation and I finally found time to sit down and get my thoughts out.

Unless specified, I'll be talking about the character Philza from now on! Let's get into it. Putting a cut in because it gets long. Also most of this is gonna be from memory because it's getting late and I'm not digging through 4+ months of vods!

remind me to never use the new Beta posting layout it gave me a word limit and then yeeted like 800 words i hate it here lets see if i can remember what I wrote

I’ve moved a lot in my life. I think on average about one new city every four years. This has meant a lot of goodbyes, a lot of meeting new people and breaking into new circles. When this new information was revealed, I instantly felt things click - I could relate to Phil suddenly.

Being centuries-old would create similar emotions, I think. Constantly being around people you know you will outlive, constantly finding yourself in new circles and groups. It takes a toll.

Being centuries old effects how Phil views relationships, people and countries.

Because I’ve moved a lot, I’ve noticed that I’m starting to get the attitude of ‘I can’t be bothered.’ I can’t be bothered going out of my way to meet new people, to make new friends I’m likely to move away from in a few years.

I’d imagine Phil would feel much the same way. Making close connections to people is impossible for him, really. He knows he’s going to outlive those around him and so the effort to put into growing relationships seems pointless.

I think this is most seen in his and Wilbur’s relationship. Wilbur clearly wants his attention - his pride - and clearly hasn’t gotten it to the extent he wants. (“I wonder if Phil would be proud of me” comes to mind. Plus I’m sure there’s something there with his relationship with Fundy and that cycle of bad parenting. And yes, it likely contributed to his spiral into madness, but this post is about Phil, not Wilbur.) But from Phil’s perspective, he knows Wilbur isn’t going to live as long as he is.

It explains why he’s so quick to kill Wilbur as well. Wilbur is too far gone, and Phil makes the decision to kill him before he does more harm. He’s long ago accepted the fact that his son will die before him, and so he is able to kill him.

Likewise, his relationship with Tommy reflects this. He doesn’t reach out to Tommy because there’s no point in making a new bond with someone who he will outlive. (especially with Wilbur’s death so fresh). However, he does make it clear that if Tommy reached out to him, he would have answered - more on that later.

His age also means he’s always looking at the big picture. He’s likely seen countless countries and empires and kingdoms rise and fall and he knows that they’re all temporary. He doesn’t see the importance in them like those who live and die within the lifespan of a nation.

He doesn’t see the small details. He doesn’t understand why Ghostbur is so upset about a simple sheep’s death - one with unlimited lives as well. In his mind, it’s just an animal. In Ghostbur’s mind, Friend is a friend, an important small thing. Phil is so used to moving on from things, he doesn’t understand the importance of pets and nations and a home.

This is all temporary in his mind, and lives are more important to him than a country. L’manberg was corrupting people (Tubbo, quite possible Wilbur in his mind) and thus it didn’t serve its purpose and needed to go before it hurt more people. (plus I wonder if there were some underlying anger and frustration towards L’manberg for the loss of his wings. It’s basically canon now (everyone say thank you Sadist!) that Phil’s wings were damaged during the explosion, and I would imagine for someone so old, losing limbs like wings and being grounded would be a shock and some of that may have been projected onto L’manberg)

(I also want to talk briefly about his and Techno’s relationship. While we haven’t had any canon confirmation, I don’t think Techno is fully mortal and it makes sense for Phil to gravitate towards other ancient beings. Plus my friend pointed out another theory in that Phil could be a patron of some kind for Techno, something Blood God related, I don’t know we need more information Techno please give us character lore I beg of you)

OKAY! I rewrote what I already had sometimes I hate Tumblr anyway onward let’s write this out before I pass out I’m tired.

Phil is willing to create relationships - but on his terms.

I said Phil is distant and hesitate to create bonds with people but this isn’t necessarily true. I want to point out Fundy and Ranboo and talk about his interactions with them and then talk about Tommy.

At the start of season two, Fundy, Ghostbur and Phil were really driving the lore. Phil seemed to be trying to bond with Fundy, and I think a lot of that likely had to do with guilt from what happened to Wilbur but there’s something deeper to it. He makes an effort to be there for Fundy and to help him.

Likewise, he went out of his way to save Ranboo from lava (though the overlap for in character and ooc is large there, I think it still applies), and brought him home after Doomsday, saving him from his own mind.

Phil seems himself as a benevolent being. He sees himself as right, and part of that is being there for his grandson, or helping out a hybrid in trouble.

However, it’s important to note - this is on his terms. He’s lived so long, he doesn’t want to put energy into relationships that won’t give him back something. For Fundy, I think a lot of it was making up for what happened with Wilbur and family responsibility, but he enjoyed spending time with Fundy (it’s been a while I need to rewatch some of those vods I think).

With Ranboo, again I feel like there’s a small part in fulfilling some need of Phil’s to feel like he’s being ‘good’ and plucking this kid out of a warzone makes him feel good. But at the same time, Ranboo is polite, quiet, generous - the perfect kind of person to put energy into building a relationship with. Plus, I would not be surprised if Ranboo reminds him of Techno.

If a relationship takes too much, or isn’t worth it - Phil drops it and doesn’t bother trying to fix what is broken. Why would he? He’s just going to outlive whatever the problem is. He lived in L’manberg, but he was never a part of it. He dismissed Tubbo so quickly when he saw Tubbo was being corrupted by his power and position. He didn’t follow up on Fundy or check that he was okay or make any effort to reach out to him when things started to go down.

And that brings us to Tommy. We’re all upset at how Phil reacted to Tommy’s exile and the following, but I think it makes so much sense. Like I said before, he doesn’t put the effort into reaching out to Tommy, but he would have gone to the Beach Party if Tommy had reached out to him. He was happy to see Tommy at Techno’s place, he was willing to create that relationship and bond.

But from Phil’s pov, Tommy was thrown aside by his home, found shelter with Techno, and then betrayed Techno by siding with the people who threw him aside. (and Techno is loyal to the few he trusts, so a betrayal like that will hit hard and Phil can see that). It makes sense that Phil decides that isn’t a relationship he wants to put energy into fixing.

(Also to clarify, I’m not saying Tommy was wrong to side with L’manberg and Tubbo, or that Techno was right in lashing out like he did. I’m just saying it’s a complex issue, and seeing all sides of it is important - they were both betrayed that day).

Living so long means Phil only cares to put effort and energy into relationships that benefit him, in whatever way. If someone is too difficult or needs too much effort, then in Phil’s mind there’s no reason to pursue that relationship.

Being so old makes Phil overly confident in himself.

Philza is always in the right. Full stop. End of story.

He’s lived so long and has so much more experience than anyone else that he thinks he is in the right all the time. His fatal flaw is his pride and - much like Techno - he refuses to see anything from anyone else’s point of view.

He saw L’manberg’s corruption, saw that it as a nation was hurting people and made the decision that it was doing more hurt than good so of course he joined Techno and Dream in destroying it.

He sees the big picture and so of course Friend’s death doesn’t matter, Friend was just an animal. Ghostbur is too naive and foolish to understand that now.

Unless he learns to listen and see someone else’s point of view - which will be very hard, because he’s so old and connecting with people is hard for him - he’s going to continue to think he’s always in the right.

Conclusion

There’s a few things I want to see/think might happen with Phil’s character, one more likely than the other.

First off - Karl.

If anyone knows how to look at the big picture, if anyone knows how insignificant the simple things are and how pointless it can be sometimes it’s the server’s resident time traveller. But where Karl differs from Phil is that he cares.

Karl goes out of his way to help, risks his memory and sanity to make things better for his friends. Pours time and effort and energy into relationships that may be onesided or temporary - heck, have you seen how much effort he goes to to be liked by everyone? Sometimes too much.

I’d love to see some Karl and Phil interaction. Maybe in a Tales episode (young Phil? Backstory? Maybe?) or even in regular canon. It’s unlikely probably, but I think it could be an interesting discussion. Someone write a fic.

Secondly - death.

CC!Phil has made it no secret that his character is probably going to die at some point (if only for ghost WINGSSSS). Honestly? I think it could be a great direction to take the character.

If Phil could find something worth dying for, could find the joys in the small things, could focus on the little details enough to realize - ‘oh. This does matter’ I honestly think that would be cool. A sacrificial death, maybe even for something as ‘insignificant’ as a pet (although pets can be important on this server). I’m not sure, but I think making peace with death would be a great way to take an immortal character’s arc.

There’s more I could talk about - for instance, I haven’t even mentioned the ‘not as painful as what I inflicted on their enemies’ comment and Phil’s whole ‘angel of death’ vibe, or the fact that he’s always only had one life. But it’s getting late and I’ve been writing this for like an hour and a half and I’m really tired. Feel free to add on!

#dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #philza #philza minecraft #this was fun #please reblog i put a lot of effort into this and i'd love people to see it!#let me know what you think ^-^#i'm going to have to find some songs and write something at some point probably #anyway sleep time #this is nearly 2000 words guys #im putting my highschool english essay skills to very good use

47 notes · View notes

abused-sides · 4 years ago

Note

Ooh, I was looking at the prompt list, and thinking about a bunch of different ones, but it gave me an idea. Going back to the Roomates AU, what if Roman and Virgil got into a really bad fight, and Virgil was in the wrong, and he thinks everyone is super super mad at him, so he thinks he has to leave, and he talks to his ex about going back, because he thinks he deserves to be in a bad situation, but Roman finds out and he explains that being wrong sometimes doesnt make Virgil a bad person?

A/N: For context, this takes place before Virgil and Roman get together romantically, but while they’re getting closer. Also before Logan comes out as nonbinary, so he still uses he/him.

A/N: Also, super sorry, but this prompt is changed up a tiny bit. The fight is concentrated with Virgil and Patton (although Roman was definitely involved, prequel later), and it’s actually… someone else who gives Virgil the Talk.

Trigger warnings: ABUSE SURVIVOR AU, self-destructive/self-harm behavior (not violent), manipulation & gaslighting from an unsympathetic oc, fighting between the sides (resolved), past lashing out, minor panic attacks

Virgil had been locked up in his room for days.

His roommates argued over what to do. Logan insisted he just needed some space to decompress and think the situation over, but Roman and Patton couldn’t stop worrying.

“What if he hurts himself?” Patton asked.

“What if he thinks we hate him?” Roman asked.

“He’s going to come out when he’s ready.” Logan sighed and took their dirty plates away to the sink. “There’s nothing we can do right now. We can’t talk to him if he won’t even open the door.”

Patton pulled his coffee mug closer and worried his lip between his teeth. “I guess so,” he mumbled.

In his room, Virgil stared at the pile of letters Patton had hid from him for three months. They were all opened, but not by Virgil. Virgil hadn’t touched them since he dumped them on his desk a few days ago.

How did he find me?

He drew in a shaky breath and grabbed the first envelope.

My dear Virgil,

I’m at a loss for words. What could I have done that was so bad for you to leave, without even telling me? Didn’t I at least deserve that?

Guilt churned in Virgil’s stomach. He had to leave without telling him, his ex wouldn’t let him go otherwise. Right? He wouldn’t have let Virgil go.

My home— our home, will always be here, waiting for you. You can always come home. I won’t be mad. I promise.

I won’t lie, I’m very sad. It’s been hard to go on. The house is quiet without you. And the fact that you’d leave it for where you are now? I can’t even pretend to understand.

If this is what you really want, then you should do it.

But don’t I at least deserve a goodbye?

It was signed with his name.

Virgil had already read this one, several months back when it first came in. It didn’t have the same impact it did before, not with everyone else’s words swimming in his head, proving his ex wrong. It still hurt.

He picked up another letter.

My dear Virgil,

Do I not deserve a response?

I hate to make you uncomfortable. It’s why I don’t show up at your door, like I could, and demand your attention.

I’m always thinking about you. Are you thinking about me? Do you want to come home?

You can come home.

Another.

My dear Virgil,

Something is telling me you aren’t getting these letters. Even if I wasn’t granted a response, I’d at least see a reaction.

Virgil’s stomach dropped. A reaction?

Are your roommates protecting you? Isn’t that a little unfair, a little rude? To meddle with our relationship? We can solve this on our own.

Don’t you want to come home?

He flipped the envelope over. There was no stamp, only a return address. These were hand-delivered. Virgil might have thrown up.

He thought back to his life before. The one thing that always got him was how dreadfully boring it was, the same thing over and over again, no end, never leaving. He had his plants and his sketchbook and his cooking, but that was all.

But is boring really the biggest complaint he has?

A lot of people go through worse. Roman— Roman went through worse. Roman had a reason to leave. Virgil was starting to think he didn’t.

Another letter.

My dear Virgil,

I just wanted to remind you that I still love you. I won’t be angry if you decide to come home. I just want to take you back and lie you down in bed, wrap myself around you like I used to. If you come home, we can lay in bed and watch T.V. all day. We’ll order in. I’ll buy you a whole garden, if you want it.

I’m willing to change.

Don’t you want to come home?

Virgil hated how it affected him. He fought back a smile, pressing the letter to his forehead and simultaneously trying to remember and forget.

There weren’t many days like his ex described. They were rare, in fact. Did that just make them more special? Not many days where they cuddled under the blankets, the heater going as the snow fell outside. Not many days where Virgil didn’t have to cook, where they ordered from his favourite restaurant and ate in bed. Not many days his ex wrapped his arms around Virgil’s middle and pulled him close and murmured that he loved him.

With Roman, that could be any day. Multiple times a week, sometimes. Did that make it less special?

He didn’t want to leave Roman. But did he deserve Roman?

E.,

Do you really want me back?

His hands trembled as he wrote. Once he started, he found he had a lot to say. Some of it felt demanding, but if he was going to go back, there had to be some change, or he’d lose his mind. He didn’t ask for much. Barely anything, in fact. Some more days to eat in here, some days outside there. His own bank account. Maybe a day where he could borrow the car.

It could be better, right? No more than he deserved, but better.

He wondered if being with E. for so long, only really interacting with him, is what rubbed off on Virgil, or if he was like this from the start. Did it come from his parents? Did it come from him? Was it just him?

Virgil hid the letter and came out of his room.

“Virgil?” Roman jumped to his feet, but stayed at the kitchen table. His eyes were wide with worry. “Virgil, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he promised softly. “Where are the others?”

“Logan’s with Remus and Janus. Patton’s dropping off some orders.” He hesitated, drumming his fingers over the table. “Do you…?” He opened his arms.

Virgil pursed his lips. He wanted desperately to fall into his boyfriend’s arms, but his stomach churned with guilt. He crossed the room to nuzzle into him, trying to ignore how bad he felt by rationalizing he would be gone soon.

Something crinkled. He froze. Roman’s arms were around his waist, squeezing against the letter tucked in his waistband around his back. He waited.

“We need to talk about what happened,” Roman said, and Virgil slowly relaxed.

He pulled away. “Okay.”

Roman cupped Virgil’s face. “We’ll wait until Patton gets back, okay?”

Virgil nodded.

Roman and Virgil sat in the living room together, watching movies while they waited for Patton. Roman sat on the couch with Virgil at his feet, working in his sketchbook. Roman eventually leaned forward to rub Virgil’s back. Virgil pressed his forehead to his knees, eyes fluttering shut.

When Patton got home, his eyes widened. “Verge, hey!” He set his keys on the table and inched into the living room. “Are you feeling okay?”

Virgil hesitated, and shrugged. “We need to talk, right?”

Patton settled in the armchair nearby. “I think it would help.”

They all hesitated, then Patton said, “I’ll start. I’m… I’m really sorry I hid the letters. I was really scared.”

Virgil frowned. “Why?”

“Well…” He avoided his eyes. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

Virgil’s chest squeezed. “Right. I- I’m sorry about that.”

“And I didn’t want you to be, I don’t know… tempted?” Patton forced a smile and wiped his eyes. “But you’re stronger than that, I know.”

Virgil frowned. His brain faltered a little, and he opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

They must have mistaken his struggling for silence, because Roman said, “We understand why that happened,” he squeezed Virgil’s shoulders, “but we need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” Virgil promised instantly. “It won’t, I promise.”

Patton and Roman looked at each other nervously.

“That’s good, kiddo, but how do we know?”

“Trust me.” Virgil blinked back tears, his voice thick. “It won’t. I won’t let it.”

“That’s not really how it works, stormcloud. You didn’t choose to lash out, so you can’t really choose not to. It happened because of something else.”

Virgil stood on shaky legs. “Please trust me. I… I’m working on it. I’m working on something.”

Patton and Roman stood as well. “Can we help?” Patton asked. “You don’t have to do this alone, Verge. It’s why we’re here.”

Virgil shook his head. “No, I don’t need help. I— I need a walk. I’m sorry, I need… I just need some space.”

“Okay,” Roman said softly. “Thanks for talking to us.”

Virgil quickly kissed Roman’s cheek, then grabbed his coat and hurried out the door.

Part of him was terrified of walking alone— What if E. came by and snatched him without warning? All his stuff was at home and his friends would never know what happened to him.

But it was good to get some space to breathe. He walked to the post office and slipped his letter in the box, then took the long way home.

A few days later, he got a response.

He made a habit to check the mail himself, three times a day. Everyone assumed he had a bit of trust issues now, which wasn’t entirely wrong.

My dear Virgil,

It took you a while to get back to me.

Virgil frowned, shifting uncomfortably.

I was afraid you’d given up on me. Of course you’re still allowed back home. When can I pick you up?

Virgil breathed shakily.

They wrote back and forth over the next two weeks, negotiating pick up, travel, times— Virgil didn’t realize he was stalling. He kept wondering if it would be better to tell his friends or keep it to himself. He didn’t want to worry them. He didn’t want them to feel guilty, and obligated to stop him. He just wanted to quietly go and not bother them anymore. Not infect them anymore.

That is what he wanted, right?

One day, he came out to get the mail and frowned. The box was empty. At this point, he’d been getting a letter from E. every day. They weren’t exactly slowing down with their communication— they’d just agreed Virgil would meet him in a few days. E. was excited.

A door creaked open. “Virgil?”

Janus leaned in the doorway of his and Remus’ apartment, a letter between two fingers. “We need to talk.”

Virgil paled. He felt like he was going to pass out.

“Come on. Remus is at work, let’s talk.”

Virgil hesitated, then reluctantly followed him into the apartment. Janus shut the door and handed Virgil the letter.

My dearest Virgil,

I’m so excited to see you again. I promise, you’ll be happy. I’ve already made some changes to the house that I think you’ll really like. And we can keep talking about the car thing, too, if you really must.

Virgil smiled a little.

He gasped as Janus snatched the letter back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He hissed.

Virgil shrunk in on himself. “I… I have to go back, you don’t understand.”

“What, because you blew up, once? Because someone invaded your privacy? Something you just got back after three years of nothing?” Janus crossed his arms over his chest. “You have to go back? Have to?”

He scrubbed at his eyes, collapsing into the desk chair. “Yes. I— I fucked up. I’m just going to keep hurting them—”

“People hurt each other,” Janus snapped. “That’s what they do. You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?”

“I didn’t even realize what I was doing,” Virgil whispered. “I just… got mad. And I couldn’t stop yelling, and…” Tears dripped down his face. “I couldn’t control it. I can’t— I can’t be like that, I can’t put them through that again.”

Janus crouched down and forced Virgil to meet his eyes. “You are not a bad person,” he stressed. “You just got out, what, a year ago? Less? It’s not like you’ve got a weekly therapy appointment. You’re figuring this out on your own, it’s going to be hard.”

“Stop making excuses for me,” Virgil begged. “I can’t explode on people like that!”

“You can’t make a habit of exploding on people.” Janus sighed, elbows on his knees. “You made a mistake. Nobody wants to banish you for it. Sometimes people hurt each other. Fuck, Roman and Remus hurt each other twice a week— that’s a toxic relationship. But they’re working on it. That’s all you have to do. This?” He held up the crumpled letter, and spat, “This will not help anything.”

“I deserve—”

“Nobody deserves that.” Janus narrowed his eyes. “Nobody.”

Virgil buried his face in his hands as he shook with sobs. Janus stood and rested a hand on his shoulder. He stayed silent while Virgil cried it out, eventually finding Janus’ hand and gripping onto it for stability.

“What do I do?”

“First things first, you need to tell your roommates about this.”

“What?” Virgil’s head snapped up. “No! I—”

“You’re clearly in a destructive head space, and I can’t stop you from self-sabotaging yourself every time.” Janus raised an eyebrow. “This was almost bad. They need to know.”

Virgil sniffled. “I don’t— I can’t.”

“I’ll go with you. Alright? You need to tell them, and I’ll help you.” He held out his other hand. When Virgil took it, Janus helped him up. “Come on. Let’s go tell them.”

Virgil wanted to throw up. He wet his lips, and nodded. “Okay. Okay. I can do it.”

He followed Janus out.

help me afford the jams with commissions, full fics or $3 for a triple drabble

reblogs > likes

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #patton sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic janus #sympathetic virgil #abuse tw #virgil writes #roommates au #virgil #janus #roman #patton

40 notes · View notes

missskzbiased · 4 years ago

Text

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Lose You (5)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Han X OC

WC: ~ 5,3K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?)

Notes: This chapter is a little bit more angsty. I’d say this is the most angst of the one I’ve written until now (11 chap), from here it will take a lighter turn. Kind of.

It contains a description of an anxiety attack. Though I already warned about it, I think I should do it again. The way I described the anxiety attack and the bipolarity of MC’s mother has to do with my own experiences and none of it necessarily reflects all kinds of manifestations of those above.

Feedbacks are always appreciated.

REMINDER: I’m neither a psychologist nor a psychology student.

Updates: I’ll update it once a week [Tuesdays] because I still have to write the chapters to come and review the ones I already wrote

///

Hyunjin came into the classroom with wide steps, graceful as always, and you burst out laughing.

He waved friendly to Paris before blushing ─ flustered with your outburst ─ and averting his eyes, walking quickly to his seat as all of you waited for Professor Lee. He sat down next to Paris, making sure he didn’t look your way; eyes focusing straight ahead before Paris turned to him smiling, talking about something you didn’t pay attention.

Last night came back to your mind.

The last thing you expected when you came into your place was to see Paris and Hyunjin sitting on the couch holding ice cream pots ─ both of them with their knees to their chin, a spoon hanging from their mouth as their eyes focused on the screen ─, completely taken aback by something that happened on a movie. Therefore, after you came into your dorm complaining about your day, exhausted by your classes and your work, to witness this scene, you could only stop in your tracks, mouth agape as you watched both of them distracted.

You giggled, eyeing them before muffling your laugh with your hand, shaking your head in disbelief.

You wished you had filmed them.

You could remember clearly how Hyunjin widened his eyes when he saw you dumbfounded, holding the doorframe; his knees straightened abruptly, letting the pot fall from his hand to the floor, the spoon falling to the couch as his mouth opened and closed a bunch of times. He cursed under his breath as he picked up the pot, bashfully trying to fix his mess and avert his eyes, floundering as he mumbled, excusing himself because it was already too late and he had classes in the morning.

“—Don’t you think, Y/N?” Paris turned to you, smiling brightly, and you nodded ─ even though you didn’t hear a thing ─, frowning as you heard Hyunjin gasp, clearly surprised by your answer, making you wonder what you got yourself into this time “So that’s it! We’re going to a party this Friday” She decided and you choked, coughing to recompose yourself.

“We’re doing what?!” Hyunjin muffled a laugh, looking amused at you as you widen your eyes, surprised “You know we have to finish our project! We can’t just go partying!” You whined, making Paris roll her eyes at you as she mouthed something silently, mocking you “Hey!” You nudged her “I mean it! We have work to do!” You insisted but this time Hyunjin spoke up.

“Would you be writing something Friday night?” His face showed he knew you wouldn’t, looking at you with a smug expression that made you poke your tongue against your cheek, bothered “Exactly!” He smiled at himself, proud you didn’t answer him, taking it as a victory.

“But I would write on Saturday! So if we party on Friday it’ll disturb our work on Saturday” You retorted, making him roll his eyes “What? Not everyone is unoccupied like you! I work every day, remember?” You scoffed, and Paris sighed.

“Come on? For me?” She looked at you with puppy eyes “It’s been ages since you came to a party with me! We could even invite Han and Chan! It will be fun” her eyes twinkled as she clasped her hands, waiting for your answer.

“Okay… Why invite him though?” You tsked before muttering, resting your cheek on your hand, your elbow on the desk as you watched Mr.Lee finally arriving. Paris chuckled and shrugged before opening her notebook and looking ahead too.

“I think you two should hang out a little bit, know each other so we can make a good project! Don’t you want to ace this?” She smiled triumphantly, knowing you would never turn down a chance to ace anything. You narrowed your eyes at her, scoffing.

“You’re a sly one, I see…” She laughed, turning her attention to Mr.Lee, who was clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention.

The classes didn’t have anything too different this time, few discussions now and then, some people complaining about the project… The usual. When the bell finally rang, you turned your head to Paris as you wiped everything inside your bag, watching her doing the same, ready to get up and meet up with Han.

“Do you want to eat with us?” She asked Hyunjin, a friendly smile on her face “We’ll be eating with Han today” She added, waiting for his answer. Your eyes darted to Hyunjin, who shifted his weight, an unease frown on his face. You realized he would probably be uncomfortable to come along with you considering he fought with Han.

“Maybe next time? Han mentioned he wanted to talk to us” You lied, noticing how he seemed to relax, looking in your eyes, puzzled. He probably didn’t understand why you jumped in to help him. It wasn’t really about helping him though, it was about making sure your lunch would go smoothly, a peaceful day ahead of you.

“Yeah, next time” He nodded “I’m going to meet Chan today anyway, so… Yeah” You arched your brow; sure he was lying as well. Paris didn’t seem to notice anything, so she just waved goodbye and followed you to the halls, meeting an anxious Han out there. He eyed you both, smiling awkwardly when his eyes stopped on you.

“Hey?” He said in a high pitch, making you narrow your eyes “So… You’re okay?” You tilted your head, confused, nodding to him. What the hell was that about? You three made your way to the stairs, chatting up, and you couldn’t help but notice Han was acting really weird for now. You got on the line ─ each one of you choosing something different to eat so you could share ─, before finally sitting down, looking at your friend as he focused on his food, pretending not to notice you.

“Okay, what’s the deal?” You sighed, resting your fork on the plate, the tinkling sound getting Paris and Han's attention “You’re acting weird! If this is about Hyunjin, I already know you punched him, you don’t need to hide it or whatever” He shot his brows up, clearly surprised by the reveal, but not as much as Paris.

“You did what?!” She dropped her fork on her plate, mouth agape “Why would you hit him? Can’t you be expelled or… I don’t know, I don’t understand your sports things!” Her eyes were worried and alert, unlike her usual attitude, and Han swallowed his food, weighing his words.

“You see… No, I wasn’t expelled because no one is really talking about it… I didn’t do much, it was only two punches and he didn’t make a scene either” He explained “Yeah, I know it was irresponsible, I could have lost my chance in this match, I know” He rolled his eyes before Paris could speak up “I just… When I saw you crying, I was so sure he had played you!” He looked at you, ashamed, and you snorted.

“You thought what?” Your voice was high pitched, amused by his delusional self “Han, I don’t like him! I told you a million times, for lord’s sake! I was watching him that day because I was curious, man… I told you! I don’t have a crush and I will never have a crush on Hyunjin, you have to get this on your brain” You whined, making him laugh.

“Wait! You thought Hyunjin had hurt her feelings and you just went straight to him and punched him?! Han, you could have lost your chance!” Paris scolded, far more serious than you and him. She was upset, the frown on her face made it pretty clear; her clenched jaw didn’t let much doubt either.

“She’s right! You shouldn’t even have thought about getting in a fight, in the first place! It’s ridiculous” You were fast to agree with her “What did you think? That you were going to defend my honor or something? Also, you didn’t even explain yourself! He’s thinking you were mad because of a random girl!” He frowned at this, confused.

“No, he knows exactly why I punched him” He tilted his head, a lost expression on his face “I said that he deserved it for making you cry… Chan even scolded me after this and…” He eyed Paris, unsure “And told me it was a family issue” He decided to state, searching any signs of anger on your eyes for what he just said.

You were dumbfounded.

“Wait… He knew you hit him because of me?” You asked surprised. You had a clear memory of him saying Han should have done it because he was jealous of his face. You weren’t crazy. Also, Chan knew it? If Chan scolded him, he surely was close to the fight… He even told Han it was a family issue? So why the hell he didn’t expose Hyunjin?

Then it struck you.

“I can’t believe it! He lied to me” You rested your back on the chair, arms falling to your sides as you looked taken aback “I mean, he’s a liar, okay!” Paris snorted at that, tilting her head as she looked at you, curious about what you were thinking “Hyunjin lied to me but he knew I would discover Han knew I had a family issue” You explained, your thoughts running fast around the place “So I think he lied to protect something important from me! It couldn’t be about Chan telling Han about it, because He knew one of them would talk about this sometime… It can only mean he knows it too and he was trying to hide it?” You grabbed your chin, pensive.

“Well, I don’t know if Chan talked about it with him… He talked to me in private” Han pointed out “He could be mocking me just because he’s an asshole” You considered his statement, wondering if he would do something like this.

Yeah, He would.

“I don’t think so” Paris interjected “He’s not as bad as he seems! I don’t think he would mock Han behind his back like this without a reason… It’s not like it would upset you that much either” She looked at you, and you nodded “I mean, of course, you wouldn’t like him badmouthing your friend but he didn’t insist on it, right?”

“Yeah, he just said and dropped it. It’s not like him… Usually, he likes to bug me a lot more” You agreed “So He was actually worried about me?” You gasped “What the hell?!”

“I’m saying it!” Paris whined “He’s not as bad as he seems… I think you two would get along if you weren’t so settled on hating him” She shrugged “I think he knew you would feel awkward, so he just lied to cover it up” You nodded, flabbergasted.

“I would never guess he had some decency in him” You admitted, making Paris laugh.

“So now we like him?” Han spat, mad “He’s still an asshole! He has been teasing you for years and he’s a fuckboy! He’s just being nice because… Actually, why were you together?” He asked suspiciously. You rolled your eyes. Paris chuckled, resuming to her eating, her eyes attentive on both of you as she ate.

“We have a project together” You clarified “The three of us” You pointed to Paris as well “Why are you so afraid I’m hanging out with him? Do you think I will fall for him and be crushed? It would be easier for me to crush him” You snorted but he remained serious.

“That’s probably exactly what all the girls he dumped thought too” He picked up his fork, bringing food to his mouth, averting his eyes from yours “I just don’t want you to get hurt… There are tons of guys out there for you” He said shyly. Paris hummed, like she knew something, before looking at you mischievously.

“He’s worrying too much” She assured “I think Hyunjin can be a fine guy, he just needs some love… I’m his psychologist, I would know” She joked, and you laughed along with her.

////

Paris waited for you on the couch, her notebook on her lap.

You sighed as you closed the door, expecting it to happen since you needed to do your project and could only discuss things with Paris at night, after work. She looked at you sympathetically, knowing that even though you suggested doing it like this, it would be hard on you. You sat down across her, cross-legged, dropping your bag to the floor and resting your elbows on your knees, your face burying into your hands as you let out a huff of air, tired.

“So, let’s start this shit?” You asked, raising your head to meet her eyes.

“So… I read your essay…” She began awkwardly, eyeing you worried “And I think we should begin from your… Hm…” You snorted, pitying the way she seemed concerned to hurt you. Paris had been worried about you since your outburst on Friday ─ when you explained to her a lot of your problems with your mother and your father─ and you couldn’t blame her. You weren’t the one to cry, so she was probably really concerned about it.

“You can say it, Paris” You reassured her “I have abandonment issues, I know” You chuckled. She seemed relieved that you had said it, sighing as if you took away all the weight from her shoulders, adjusting her notebook on her lap, and nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, and I think we should talk about this” She stated, looking in your eyes “So, tell me about your father” She asked, and although you found the situation amusing ─ Paris looking like a psychologist waiting for you to talk about your inner thoughts ─, you couldn’t smile when you spoke up.

“Well, He left me alone with my mother because He didn’t know how to deal with her illness…” You shrugged “My mother is bipolar and she wasn’t diagnosed correctly in the beginning… They said to us that she was depressed, so she treated her depression, and my father took care of her when she was depressed” You tightened your lips, pausing for a moment before a bitter smile took over your features “Then she got normal again… And then she got maniac” You scoffed, hand trailed to your hair; fingers sweeping it with no need, trying to dissipate the distress “She wasn’t the same woman that he met and loved” You spat, remembering clearly the way he said those words to her.

“So he couldn’t deal with her illness and abandoned you” Paris concluded, noting something down. You laughed humorlessly, head turning to the side for a moment, a habit you had when you were feeling overwhelmed.

When you needed to look away from something that bothered you.

“He abandoned us” You agreed bitterly “He left his ten years old daughter behind with a madwoman!” You raised your voice, anger filling you again before you felt your eyes stinging “He left me there to take care of her all by myself! I don’t want and I won’t forgive him!” Your hands turned into fists, your nails digging deep into your palms “He can’t just come back and say he loves me! He can’t expect me to love him back! He shouldn’t have left me behind!” Paris got silent, attentive as you got things out of your chest.

“Would you prefer if he took you with him and left your mother all by herself?” She asked; no bad intentions on her voice but it still hurt you. You chewed your lip, averting your eyes, ashamed “Is that why you think you abandoned her now?” She asked, referring to your previous rant on Friday, and your eyes darted to hers.

“It’s not that I would prefer he took me with him… I wanted… I wanted someone, okay? I wanted someone” You sighed “How did he think I felt then? She wasn’t the mother that I knew! She wasn’t loving, she was uncontrollable! She was mean, she was… She was a monster” You hid your face behind your hand, feeling the tears coming to your eyes “And then she got depressed again” You choked when you scoffed, holding down your tears as you could “Because he left us… Because she didn’t want to live without him…”

“Did she try to…” Paris didn’t dare to ask, so you shook your head.

“No, we got her on her pills again. This time the doctor knew for sure what she had, so it was a little bit better” You explained “Every time she got a little bit excited though, I thought she could be ill again at any time… We didn’t have enough to all the expenses, so we had to move out. I started to work as soon as I could, and it took all my time… School, work, and take care of her. That was all I had. That was all I was” Paris grimaced, pity written all over her face “Don’t” You said sharply.

“I know how it is to not be able to do the things you want… It’s hard to be closed up in a world you don’t want to belong” She admitted “But in the end I got someone, and I think you do too” She smiled at you, reassuringly.

“Don’t you dare say to me that my father is back and now he loves and cares for me! It’s not the same! Your mother always tried to protect you! He didn’t give a shit!” You slammed your fist against the couch, wrathful. Paris sighed, shaking her head.

“That’s not what I meant… You have Chan and me now, Y/N” She reminded, a small smile on her face “You have Han and maybe even Hyunjin…” She risked, checking your reaction. You snorted, your fingers brushing your hair again before you rested your cheek on your hand, looking at her, discouraged.

“What is it with you? Why do you want me to befriend him?” You felt gloomy, the anger fading away with the sudden change of the subject, the curiosity taking your best “You invited him to a party, you invited him to our lunch, and now you’re trying to make me think he can be our friend?” You tilted your head, widening your eyes in realization as you detached your cheeks from your palms, lifting your head “Do you like him?” You asked surprised.

“What? No!” She looked at you as if you were dumb, grimacing and moving her head backward, getting a double-chin “I think you guys should talk, okay? I read both of your essays and I just think you guys would click! Both of you have a mom issue and abandonment problems” She clarified, widening her eyes as she realized what she had just said, “Don’t tell him I said it!” She pleaded quickly.

“Oh? Does he have mom issues? What a surprise!” You sneered “That explains a lot, actually… So he’s just a needy guy who hides behind a fuckboy facade” You hummed “Disappointing but not surprising if you wanna know my opinion” You chuckled “He just keeps dumping girls around because he has some kind of abandonment issues… I can’t believe I was so curious about him for this” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not following you… Why are you so against him? ‘Cause I can’t believe you despise him so much because he’s needy and has some problems that you also have” She tightened her grip on her notebook, probably expecting you to say something mind blowing for her writing, expectant.

“It’s just that he doesn’t take responsibility! He just hurt people around him and he doesn’t want to face the consequences!” Paris narrowed her eyes, tilting her head, pensive.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” She moved her hand, pencil hovering over the notebook, eyes focused on you, apparently following an interesting trail of thoughts in her mind. You frowned, voicing your confusion, not quite getting what she wanted from you “What you said just now. Why you don’t like him” She repeated, eyes unwavering.

“He’s irresponsible…” You repeated warily “He can’t stop hurting people around him, and he doesn’t want to face the kind of person that he is” Paris nodded, noting things down, reading those few words, again and again, going back a page and comparing something, humming in the end.

“Now tell me again why you’re hating on yourself” She asked calmly.

“I don’t hate myself” You countered right away.

“Interesting... Because my notes disagree with you” She pointed out “You clearly blame yourself for leaving your mom to come to college” She tapped her pencil twice on the page, eyeing you. You nodded, seeing no point in denying something you had verbalized to her before “I know I’m not a psychologist but as a Music Major and as a future lyricist I noticed some things about your writing and your speech… Never once you wrote you abandoned your mom to come to college but you said it twice to me” She looked like she had just discovered something incredible.

“So what?” You blurted, completely confused about what was so revealing about it.

“You also presented in detail a lot of things about your father… How he abandoned you and obviously how you hate him because of this” Your eyes lit in understanding, letting out a scoff “See? You’re also in denial” She smirked, proud of herself.

“Look, I blame myself because I don’t want to be like him… It doesn’t mean I hate myself, okay?” You spoke as if she was a kid “I never wrote that I abandoned her because I don’t like this word and—“ She interrupted you promptly.

“Because you’re in denial” She added, still proud of herself.

“I’m not in denial” You retorted, fuming “I just don’t want to be like him, so I didn’t phrase it like…” Paris eyed you knowingly and you shut your mouth, defeated “I’m in denial…” You realized, eyes widening. Great, that was all you needed! Not only you sucked but you also didn’t want to admit it.

“I know you’ll get angry now… But listen to me, okay?” Paris licked her lips, eyes analyzing you briefly before she decided to speak up again “You also said your father was irresponsible for leaving a child behind to take care of another human being… And you kinda were hurt by him… And you may think he doesn’t acknowledge his mistakes and stuff like this…” You bit your lips, nodding.

“I get it, I’m projecting my father on Hyunjin” You concluded, sighing, the conversation was making you worn out “I can’t believe it… All those years thinking he was a jerk and it turned out I’m the jerk after all” You whistle, taken aback by all your talking. You should have known it before… It was obvious you didn’t give a shit about his grades or the fact he seemed to have everything in the palm of his hands… Chan wasn’t exactly a humble boy and you were best friends with him.

“If I may say it, I think you’re not only projecting your father on him but also your self-hatred” She confessed, shifting her weight in her chair and biting her lips, clearly uncomfortable “I mean, you’re in denial, right? You also didn’t acknowledge in your essay the consequences of your acts… You said you left your mom with your father, and I know you think you’re being like him by doing it but… That was it” You looked at her in wonder, thinking about what she was saying.

“You mean I’m not facing the consequences of my acts” You decided to clarify, eyes narrowing “Just like my father” You added, scoffing. You never felt so disappointed in yourself, the shame washed over you, disgust filling every fiber of your body “I mean… I never thought I hated myself before… I work hard, I study hard, I do everything I can to be perfect and more than enough… I always thought it made me better than him” You sighed “Sometimes I thought it made me better than other people too” You confessed, embarrassed.

“I don’t think you’re like him, Y/N… I think you have to stop overlooking what you really feel” She looked at you sympathetically, eyes filled with pity “You overwork yourself and I think you do this because you can’t stand being alone with your own mind” You shut your eyes, all the things she said sinking into your mind slowly.

It hurt you.

“You’re right… I hate myself” You agreed, voice faltering. You could feel the pang in your heart, the shattering feeling that consumed you “I hate that I’m turning into someone I always despised… What is my excuse for hating him now? He abandoned my mom and so did I, Paris” You felt the tears coming to your eyes, each broken piece you tried so much to ignore and hold together falling apart “He lived his life without a care and I’m living mine now… The first chance I got to run away… I just did it… And I keep telling myself that I left her with him, that I wouldn’t leave her alone… But what if he didn’t come back, Paris?” You let the tears roll freely, the last string that held you back snapped just like this.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You curled yourself, fingers fisting your hair, pulling it as you rocked your body back and forth; heart aching on your chest like a thousand hooks were stinging and dragging it against your will. You were so determined to bring your focus back that you didn’t even hear her getting out of her chair, hand on your back startling you more than helping.

She rubbed circles there, trying to calm you down. The gentle touch was just one of the things your mind had to face right now, wild thoughts spreading everywhere, making you unable to focus on just one of them. Your mind sounded like a riot, thousands of thoughts and voices trying to make their way to your brain ─ trying to make a point ─ and you couldn’t hear any of them, although they were all you could hear right now. Somehow her voice made its way to your brain, a gentle tone in contrast with all the chaos on your mind.

The gentleness was strange.

Unwelcomed.

Like it didn’t belong there.

Like you didn’t deserve it.

“I’m a monster, Paris” You managed to say, voice cracking, fragile “I’m just like him! Just like him!” You spat, pulling your hair harder, trying to focus yourself back with the pain you felt on your scalp “I would abandon her just like him… I would leave her all by herself, Paris, all alone! And now he’s here… He’s here and he’s taking my place! He’s taking care of her and she’s forgetting me, Paris! She hates me! She thinks I’m the reason why they broke up!” You rocked your body faster, hyperventilating, your grasps for air didn’t seem enough to fill your lungs and for a moment here you felt like this was it, you were going to die.

You couldn’t discern what you were saying, what was true and what wasn’t.

You just voiced it.

Everything your mind could bring up.

You grasped for some air, desperate, one of your hands shot to your throat, groping it, trying to feel something you weren’t sure what was. Maybe you wanted to feel the air going through your throat. Maybe you wanted to make sure you were breathing; that you weren’t really suffocating, that you were going to make through it. Maybe you just wanted to feel your veins and arteries, the soft throbbing as a concrete sign that you were indeed alive, even though it felt like your heart was going to burst any second now.

“Y/N, listen to me! Listen to me” Her tone was firm but as hard as you tried to lift your head to look at her, all you could concentrate was on your heart drumming inside your chest and your lungs burning inside your thorax. You breathed deeper, harder, faster, trying the best you could to get some air, feeling suffocated. Your thoughts weren’t behind; they tried to suffocate you, giving you no space to think, no time to breath, making you unable to focus on her voice.

You were sure she was repeating it over and over again but you couldn’t hear it.

Her voice was a soft scratch in the back of your mind.

“She’s right… It was my fault! My fault!” You blurted, watching as your tears wetted your pants “I should have made him stay, Paris… I shouldn’t have let him go!” You choked on your own gasp, coughing while trying to catch your breath, your fingers leaving your throat to hold your face, nails digging into your cheek as you tried to recover some control of your mind, the pain being the only way you could think of.

Then you suddenly did it.

Your heart started to slow down, the loud bang on your head still present; your gasps started to be enough to fill your lungs, tears starting to dry on your eyes, throat hurting from your crying and grip, body trembling as you felt you could uncurl yourself, scalp hurting and head clouded.

“Breathe” She said, frightened by your outburst; watching as you embraced yourself, small on the couch “Are you better? Do you want some water? Nevermind, you’ll drink water” She got up from the couch, getting a bottle on the minibar and coming back, handling it to you “Drink, you have to calm down… Oh my god, you startled me” She sighed, relieved it had ended “Y/N… You’re not a monster for following your dreams, you know that, right? You didn’t leave her behind, she’s with your father now” She reminded you.

“What if she wasn’t?” You asked again, drinking the water eagerly “I know… I know it wasn’t my fault that he left… I’m… I mean, I was a child, I couldn’t make him stay” You sighed “I know that, It’s just… She thinks that I’m the one to blame and… Well, I took care of her all this time, Paris. I literally did everything I could, I left everything I could have behind just to take care of her… And she thinks I destroyed her life”

“She doesn’t think that” She assured promptly “Y/N, she’s ill. She’s in a crisis. Right now, when you said you were the one at fault you didn’t mean it, right?” You shook your head, and she grabbed your shoulder, squeezing it “See? You weren’t in your best state of mind and you said things that you don’t believe… Whatever she’s saying now, she doesn’t mean it”

“She… Well, she used to say that she loved me” You muttered, embarrassed “When she was okay… She said she loved me… She thanked me once” You didn’t know why you felt the urge to say it but it seemed right when Paris smiled at you, encouraging “It still doesn’t change the fact that I would leave her if I could” You sighed and her smile dropped.

“You know you would do something about it… Chan could have helped you… You could bring her to live closer, live with her… You wouldn’t leave her behind because you’re not a monster, Y/N, you never were and you will never be” She reassured, and you smiled weakly at her “I never saw a monster helping someone as you did, okay? There’s no way you’re a monster”

“I… Thank you, Paris” You said sincerely, looking at her, grateful you had her by your side, “I think I needed to hear that”

83 notes · View notes

vrednic · 4 years ago

Text

COLLATERAL DAMAGE (PT. 2)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: After Scott refuses to join his pack, Peter Hale turns Serena McCall into a werewolf. Will her transformation be for better… or for worse?

Word Count: 3,285

Author’s Note: This series will skim the events of seasons 1-3. I have a lot of content planned, so there will be some skipping around at certain points, but it will all work in unison, I promise! I hope you all enjoy part 2! Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE IS HERE. *

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Werewolves.

The topic of lycanthropy was one I hadn’t visited since freshman year english. I thought back to the unit of Greek mythology, and how we had been assigned research projects on famous Greek myths. My english teacher gave us the liberty to choose our own myths, and I had naively chosen Lycaon of Arcadia. Lycaon, the king of Arcadia, attempted to trick Zeus into eating human flesh, testing to see if he was truly all-knowing. Angered by Lycaon’s blasphemous actions, Zeus punished Lycaon by turning him into a wolf.

Oh, the irony of it all.

For the past three weeks, I have been given gradual insight into the world of the supernatural. The full moon was fast-approaching, and I needed to learn everything I could as quickly as possible. I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about my transformation. I was amazed at how quickly I began noticing changes. Overnight, it seemed, my senses had been dialed up to a thousand. I was stronger, faster, and more confident. I could smell, hear, and sense things other people couldn’t. One of the most fascinating things about my newfound abilities was that my body’s healing process was nearly instantaneous. The only downside of it was that I had yet to experience the brutality of the full moon. I was afraid that I would see things differently after, that I’d realize that I’d never be able to control it. Would my supernatural powers really be worth being enslaved to an insatiable bloodlust every month? Would it be worth putting my friends and loved ones at risk, especially when one slip-up could mean death for any and all of them?

I had been training tirelessly with Scott every day since I was bitten. Before school, after school, and during free periods. He had effectively taught me how to make my claws appear and disappear at will, how to partially shift into my werewolf form, how to follow scents, how to decipher chemo-signals, and how to trigger the healing process of an injury using pain. I was impressed with my progress, but I knew that I had only been exposed to bits and pieces of the extensive supernatural spectrum that I was now a part of. I had always been good at the technical side of things, so I knew that learning the basics of lycanthropy wasn’t going to be an issue. I considered myself to be on the smart side-- I had no problem displaying resourcefulness or creativity or administering critical thinking in complex situations. One thing I wasn’t very good at, however, was regulating my emotions.

When our parents got divorced, Scott and I handled things very differently. He was always a mama’s boy, and I was a daddy’s girl. Our father was an alcoholic and a cheater; something I knew all too well, but was also something I wanted to remain oblivious to. I’m assuming this realization is what made it easier for Scott to hate him, to be okay with moving on without him. It was harder for me to cope with his absence because our dad had always been my rock -- my hero -- and I couldn’t picture him ever hurting anyone. Especially me.

The night my mom kicked my dad out of the house for good, he had come home drunk. He instigated an argument with her over something, as usual. But with them it was never just an argument; it always ended up with them screaming at each other. Scott and I shared a room back then, and it was located right by the staircase, which was where they happened to be arguing that night. Not surprisingly, their heated voices turned into shouts, and we were both awoken. We peered through a crack in the door as our parents fought. My dad could barely keep his balance; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes crazy, violent words spewing from his mouth fueled by intoxication. I remembered vividly how he had lost his composure and grabbed my mother by the neck, slamming her against the wall. I let out an audible gasp and stood frozen in horror. Scott flung the door open and rushed into the hall, immediately wedging himself between our mother and father. My dad grabbed Scott’s arm, attempting to pull him out of the way, but yanked my brother with too much force. He was flung against the railing of the staircase, and he tumbled down the stairs. He was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs for maybe 30 seconds, and when he came to, he didn’t remember a thing. My mother ushered us back into our room and put us into bed. I fell asleep crying that night, but I didn’t know exactly for whom I was crying. Had it been for my brother? Had it been for my mother? For the loss of my dad? Or was it for me?

I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to him. I woke up the following morning, expecting him to be there, bags in tow, waiting to talk to us one last time. But he was already gone. I knew he didn’t deserve it, but I couldn’t help but miss him. When the plea for divorce was initiated, there was never a discussion about shared custody or visitations. Once the divorce was finalized, I knew that he was never coming back. It was because of his betrayal and abandonment that I grew up with issues when it came to trusting people. I was filled with this deep, aching feeling of isolation, and it made me angry. Very. As I grew older, I got better at suppressing it, but I knew that somewhere deep down, it was still there. With the full moon prodding and poking at my resolve and self control, I knew it was only a matter of time before those feelings resurfaced.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day of my first full moon, I felt the effects as soon as I got out of bed in the morning. I felt my heartbeat rising with every breath that I took. When I got to school, my senses immediately began to feel overstimulated. Everything was brighter, louder, and more jarring. The sound of the bell ringing made me feel like someone was hammering nails into my skull. The people I passed in the hallway blurred together, all of their emotions and scents hitting me like a door to the face. At lunch, the sound of people’s voices and laughter made me want to tear their heads off. I looked around the cafeteria, feeling myself grow angrier and angrier, for seemingly no reason at all. Rationally, I knew that these people had done nothing wrong. Emotionally, they were the piece of gum stuck under my shoe. My gaze locked on Jackson Whittemore, and I fantasized about how good it would feel to tear his tongue right out of his head. He had always been an asshole to my brother, so why shouldn’t I kill him? It would be extremely satisfying to watch the smug look on his face disappear as I stood over him, my hands drenched in his blood, as I began to tear him limb from limb…

“Uh, Serena? Are you okay?”

Scott’s voice brought me back to reality. I was suddenly overcome with anxiety as I realized the vile intrusive thoughts that I was just experiencing. What was the matter with me? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a killer. Only, maybe that wasn’t exactly true anymore.

I nodded, fabricating a smile. “Yeah, no, everything’s great. I was just thinking about my research paper for… biology. It’s due tomorrow and I have no clue where to start.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “But remember that it’s perfectly okay for you to be feeling on edge today. It’s your first full moon and I promise nobody will blame you for not feeling or acting like yourself.”

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease ever-so-slightly. I nodded once more, reassuring him that I was in fact okay. I felt better knowing that out of all of the things that had changed, our sibling bond hadn’t. He’d be there with me to make me feel safe and to teach me control. Before long, I would be able to be just like him. I trusted him, and I knew he had faith in me. That meant only one thing: I had to have faith in me too.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later in the evening, as the sun was setting, I began feeling the effects of the full moon amplifying. My heartbeat was nearly erratic and Scott was nowhere to be found. I was in the bathroom, standing over the sink and looking at myself in the mirror. There was a flicker of golden yellow in my eyes, and I nearly sobbed out of pure anxiety alone. I balled my hands into fists, trying to focus on anything other than the impending sense of dread that I was experiencing. I felt a warm, slippery substance course down my wrist. Blood.

I opened my fist up, revealing four deep punctures on both of my palms, where my claws had dug into. The temporary flicker of pain was small, but enough to bring me out of the frenzy. I took this opportunity to set out to find Scott.

I didn’t remember the way to the Hale house all too well, but what I did remember was its scent. The smell of charred wood and smoke would be very hard to miss. I maneuvered my way through the darkness, making sure every step I took was careful and calculated. Scott had mentioned that Beacon Hills Preserve was littered with traps set by hunters. It was also a full moon, so I knew there would not be any shortage of hunters roaming around town tonight, hoping to catch and kill their next supernatural victim.

As if on cue, I heard voices from a distance. By the sound of it, there were maybe four or five of them, all men. I swallowed, trying to think of an escape plan. I couldn’t run. It was fall, and the weight of my body against the leaves on the ground would give my location away immediately. I could have hidden, but I knew that they probably had some sort of a thermographic camera. If they happened to get me in one of the shots, I would have considered myself dead.

I tried to weigh any and all other options, but I had none. The best chance at escape that I had right now was simply to run. They sounded far away enough so that even if they did hear me, my superhuman speed would give me an advantage. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and began moving. I tried to keep to the shadows, not daring to make any unnecessary sounds. I noticed too late that I had no idea where I was going. I looked around me, but I couldn’t pinpoint any familiar landmarks. I could have sworn that I was heading back in the direction I came, but judging by my surroundings, that wasn’t the case. I stopped for a moment, attempting to gather my thoughts.

“Come on, Serena,” I whispered to myself. “Think.”

I was jolted away from my thoughts when I saw a red light from my peripheral vision. I was frozen, completely unsure what to do. More red lights emerged from the darkness, pointing straight at me. Lasers. It was then that instinct spoke to me, telling me to run. And that’s exactly what I did.

I turned on my heel and bolted away from where the hunters had been. I didn’t take the time to care about the tracks or the noise I left in my wake. I had the advantage of speed, but they had the advantage of knowledge and experience. These were professional killers. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew what move I’d make next even before I did. Through the commotion, I almost forgot why I had been in the woods in the first place. The fury of the full moon hit me, unforgiving. It was as if she allowed me only a few moments of peace before the storm. I looked up at the sky and the moon glimmered at its peak. Almost instantaneously I was overcome with an animalistic urge to go back and rip the head off of every single hunter that was on my trail.

My claws and fangs appeared as if by magic, and my eyes were aglow. I felt angry-- so angry. But it was that anger that gave me power. I felt strong… unstoppable. Against all rational thought, I turned back around, using my infrared eyes to see through the darkness. A few rows of trees ahead was where I spotted them. Two of them were kneeled down, examining the tracks that I had left behind, judging the direction I must have taken. The other three were behind them, standing guard. They looked around, weapons drawn, ready to fire at any given moment.

I growled. It was a sound that conveyed equal parts rage and purpose. I was hiding behind a tree, looking for the perfect moment to attack. Just as I was about to launch myself in their direction, a pair of hands snagged me from behind with tremendous force. Before I could growl or scream, the person used one hand to cover my mouth and tucked me against his chest, making sure our bodies were still shielded by the tree. I tipped my head back to see who it was, and was met with the fiery gaze of Derek Hale.

He broke eye contact first and peered over my head, trying to come up with an escape tactic. His stone cold composure made it clear that it wasn’t his first time evading death by the hands of werewolf hunters. I, on the other hand, was terrified. I felt an equal amount of shame and embarrassment once I realized how foolish I had been. It was a night of the full moon and I wasn’t in control, for one. I also felt extremely stupid for walking into woods that were infested with hunters; ones that wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between my eyes. Another shame-inducing component was the fact that Derek just had to be the one to find me. I had gotten a brief description of him from Scott, so I knew that he was hardcore. He also hated liabilities, and at the moment, that’s exactly what I was.

“Now’s not the time to wallow in shame,” he whispered to me, his voice gruff. “If you hadn’t noticed, they’ve got us completely surrounded. It’s a miracle they haven’t seen us yet.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Don’t bother denying it. The smell of embarrassment is rolling off of you like a stench.”

Your commentary isn’t exactly helping, I wanted to say to him. But I knew better than to push his buttons, especially when we were on the brink of being discovered. I kept my back against the tree, waiting for further instructions. After a few minutes, Derek finally spoke again.

He lowered his mouth next to my ear, his warm breath sending a tingling sensation onto my neck and down my back. “On my signal, you run. I’ll stay behind and cause a distraction so you can get away.” He pointed behind him to another row of trees. “Run that way. Get out of the woods as fast as you can.”

Before I could get a word out, he was gone. He roared loudly, capturing the attention of the hunters that resided a few yards away. As they ran to him, he turned back to look at me, flashing his icy blue eyes. That was my cue. I took off running in the direction he had said. I heard the commotion of the fight almost the entire way. Growls and roars from Derek’s end were met with the sound of guns firing. I found myself secretly hoping that he would be okay, although in the back of my mind I knew he would be. He was Derek Hale, after all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I made it out of the preserve after only a handful of minutes of running. At the end of the treeline, right where the road started, a vehicle’s headlights cut through the darkness. The closer I got, the more details I could make out. It was a blue 1980 Jeep CJ5. Standing beside it were two silhouettes, both male. I let out a sigh of relief.

I jogged the rest of the way and launched myself into Scott’s arms. He squeezed me tightly and ushered me into the Jeep. Stiles drove onto the road, taking the route that led back to my house. Scott turned to look at me from the passenger’s seat.

“Why the hell were you in the woods?” He asked. His tone was firm but still held a touch of delicacy. We both knew it was more for my sake than his. “Didn’t I tell you about the hunters? The preserve is not a safe place for a werewolf on a night of a full moon. Argent and his hunters have memorized every square inch of those woods. You’re lucky Derek found you when he did. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Gerard would’ve turned you into a human kebab by now.”

I felt my throat tighten in frustration. “The imagery really isn’t necessary. I know what I did was stupid, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like I was losing control and you weren’t there, Scott!” My voice caught on his name, and I had to take a few moments to collect myself. “You weren’t there and, quite frankly, I have no one else to turn to on this. I don’t have a best friend like yours. I don’t have one that’ll pick up my call in the middle of the night and be willing to be a part of the world of the supernatural. I don’t have a best friend who’ll chain me up on a full moon and help me find restraint. I was all alone in my home, which I could have easily torn apart if I had lost control of myself tonight. I was counting on you to help me, and you weren’t there.”

The air was thick with tension. I could sense the sadness emanating from both Scott and Stiles. I felt guilty for taking all of my frustration out on my brother, but everything I said was true, and I wasn’t going to apologize for how I felt. Scott was a natural leader, and I admired that about him. Being a leader meant taking on responsibilities, and I understood that he wouldn’t be around all the time. Over the weeks following my transformation, I got a chance to see just how much people needed him. Peter wanted him in his pack. Derek wanted him as an ally. Stiles wanted him as a best friend. Hell, even the lacrosse team needed him as team captain. But tonight was the one night that I needed him. I needed my brother, and he wasn’t there.

“I’m so sorry, Serena. I can do better, I promise. If you’ll just let me--” he began.

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk. Just take me home.”

With that, I turned to face the window, looking at the blur of lights, cars, houses, and dark, desolate streets passing me by. Scott sighed, but he didn’t protest.

We rode in silence the entire way back.