#but let’s talk about better matters aka this face card | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neko-rogers · 4 years ago

Text

But It’s Better If You Do

Trying to keep your relationship with your professor was easy enough, until you learned that someone had found out about it.

words: 7,424 tags: manipulative!peter, explicit noncon/dubcon elements, degredation, implied overstimulation, blackmailing, kidnapping, college student and professor relationship,

a/n: whew this had a lot of words compared to what i usually write. plus, since im bad at titles, i’ll just use my fav song titles lmao. (ps. erik lehnsherr aka magneto is here and im just glad i could put him in my little fictional world bc im d biggest slut for him)

A complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

The man in front of the class was practically pouring his heart out into the lecture. The chalkboard was filled with white letterings from left to right, not knowing where to start as you take down notes.

“It is important to keep in mind that bimolecular structure and function are dictated by the properties of the medium in which they are dissolved,” your professor explains while continually pacing from one end to the other among the students seated at the first row.

You decided to seat around the middle to the last row, knowing it was the least obvious way for other students in the class to notice how much you fawn over your Organic Chemistry professor rather than the subject itself.

Honestly you could listen to him talk for hours. All those information he had been discussing would not actually process through your thoughts. You knew that better than anyone.

But who honestly would invalidate your reason? Everyone can probably relate to hating Chemistry, no matter what subcategory it is.

Considering that this was probably one of the most difficult courses you had in your program. You were just thankful and lucky enough you landed on one of the hottest professors amongst the campus.

“Hey what did Professor Lehnsherr say about the problems during synthesis of proteins?” Peter asks.

In spite of being fortunate about everything else about this subject, you were not quite happy about Peter Parker following you around like a lost puppy. Especially during the classes you both have alike.

The boy constantly asks so much questions as if you were the teacher already. In addition, he seemed smart enough to figure things out yet somehow he keeps on bugging you for reassurance.

You did not want to be rude. He has not done anything to completely deserve your rage, however he was definitely getting on your nerves.

Honestly you would not want to be infuriated over his consistent queries, but you were just as distracted as he was, maybe even more. With this, you were looking dumber to him each day.

To anyones pride, it was probably a kick in the stomach. You knew you were not the brightest in this class, but it was best to leave the information to yourself. No need for anyone to point out how mindless you were.

And you really were not. You had other Science subjects you totally excel at. Sadly, Chemistry was just not one of them.

“Well, uh, I don’t think I got that part either.” You look aside where he was seated and awkwardly smiled at him before mentioning an apology, “Sorry, Peter.”

In return, Peter smiled at you and dismissed the question. You were not so sure whether to forget about it or take even the least bit of offense. You felt a little mocked by how easily he did it and innocently he smiled, but maybe you were just overthinking this through.

“It’s fine,” he tells. “I just didn’t get the third bullet, but I’ll try to review it in the textbook when I get home.”

“Oh okay, sure.”

“Speaking about reviewing,” Again, Peter tries to start another discourse.

“I was wondering if you got reviewers for the upcoming text for next week? We all know how difficult Professor Lehnsherr’s exams can get, right?” He lets out a forced chuckle, assuming it could lighten the mood.

As much as he tried to make small talks with you, almost everyday, today you really feel like you did not want to return the favor. Especially after having to bring up the test next week.

“I don’t really make reviewers, I usually just scan the books I have at home.”

Lies. You probably have a box full of index cards and sticky notes in your room.

You tried to use every studying tips every corner of the Internet could give. All those study-life hacks that really did not help much but pile up to your disorganized state of mind.

You fucking tried to study Chemistry. You really did.

“What, you don’t?!” He suddenly exclaims, not realizing the loudness of his voice as it almost caught the attention from people at front. “You seem to be busy all the time though. It’s like I always catch your writing or reading something in class.”

Maybe your mood was just off but it definitely seemed weird for him to say that. Though, you did not want to make something from what he said. It was not worth your time.

“I guess people are not always what they seem to be, yeah?”

Again, Peter gives out that soft chuckle and smile, “Then I guess so. You do make a point.”

He does not argue with you any further.

“Can I at least borrow your Physics book? I only bought Chemistry and Biotech for the semester. Didn’t know they would actually utilize it for once,” he scoffs.

At first you hesitated. You were reviewing for it too, but you already felt bad for being no help whenever he asks a question and often times disregarding him when your mood if off. Plus, you did just make it look like you were not much of a study-freak.

“Okay.”

He instinctively fist pumps the air and looks at you with a wide, grateful grin. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“Don’t mention it.” You grab the book he needs from your bag and hands it to him. He accepts it and places it inside his while also clearing the rest of his things.

Looking at his digital wristwatch wherein he raised his index finger up as if he figured something out of it, he says, “He’s going to dismiss the class in a few minutes. We should get ready for Cell Biology next period.

Oh how you hated it. Were you jumping to conclusions? Or was this boy really trying to be too close with you? Or was he just being nice and informing you to prepare ahead?

God, you did not give Peter Parker the right to cloud up your thoughts like this.

“Thanks,” you say, “but I need to talk to Professor Lehnsherr after class. Have to, uh, consult him about my concept paper that he made us submit last week.”

As he tidies his notebooks up and carelessly shoves it inside his backpack, he immediately looks back at you with a confused expression, “Oh, I can always wait for you–”

“It’s fine, Peter. Thank you though.” Two of your hands were instinctively waving in front of you, a meek gesture for him to stop coddling you or whatever move he had been trying to make at you.

“Are you sure? I–”

And if you were ought to be saved further from lashing out over Peter’s incessant attempts, you finally heard the words any student was longing to hear. “Class dismissed. I’ll see you all on Monday.”

“Eri–err, Professor Lensherr just dismissed the class. Better catch up to him before he heads out,” you hurriedly said. And with a loud slam from your notebook, you quickly shut him out. In addition, you practically shoved every thing in front of you into your bag without sparing a second glance.

One strap of your back was slung over your shoulder as you hurriedly flew down the aisle. Professor Lehnsherr was midway into packing his things before you interrupted and approached him.

“Professor,” you call out. “I have a question. About the paper I handed in last week.”

“Uhuh.” He faintly furrows his eyebrows, trying to hide his already obvious bewilderment. “I forgot which assignment was that, Ms. Y/L/N.”

There were students still exiting in class. So you tried your best to make your conversation with him less suspicious. He was most likely doing the same.

“It was about the Chemistry-proposal thing.” You snapped your fingers a few times as you gathered your train of thought, but realizing it was not going effectively. “Well I just wanted to confirm it since, you know, I was hoping for any feedback from you throughout this week.”

“I’m not sure if I have read it. I’ve certainly been busy this week,” he clarifies. “Nonetheless, we can talk about it later. Thank you for bringing it up. I’ll make sure to follow it up in my schedule, Ms. Y/N.”

Both of you made your way out the door once there were only a minuscule amount of students left in class. You probably had been looking at your professor with gushing stares, but you doubt the other people in the room could notice it. They were farther away from where both of you stood, much less would they be able to hear what the two of your were talking about.

“Oh thank you so much, sir!” You almost cried out and jumped in joy while reaching through the threshold. Moreover, you composed yourself before mumbling out, “I’ll see you later, Eric.”

In which you were certain no one would have heard it besides him.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

“I’m sure you’ll get a good grade in the exams, Y/N,” Eric leans back to his seat with a humble smile upon his face.

“Really? I doubt so, there’s a kid in your class that keeps bugging me out to a study date, or whatever you call it,” you sneer. You lick your lips as you finish taking a sip around the wine glass, setting it down and looking back at the man you were having dinner with. “It’s getting very annoying though, he surely knows how to get on my nerves.”

“I’m sure he’s just trying to flirt with you, like any other college boys do.” He optimistically and maturely lays out the options. “It’s pretty normal for anyone to chase someone they are fond of, especially for young adults like you.”

It was a pretty obvious sign that he was trying to let his message reach you.

“Well, I apologize for my standards of men,” you say. “I just want to skip the whole heartbreak in college and character development. All that stuff you usually see in a typical teen romance movie.”

You sigh, looking down and saying, “I already found a man for me. Why would I stoop down for some guy who’s most likely wanting something from me, and dumping me once he got what he wanted.”

“Y/N, I don’t blame you for liking men that’s ten years older than you,” Eric assures. “But I want you to realize that you still have a lot to look forward after graduating

“And I look forward for you too!” You tried to not raise your voice, though having dinner in his house wouldn’t really catch anyones attention. “I can’t wait to finally graduate from second semester and be able to spend more time, publicly, with you.”

“Yes, I understand, honey.” He places his hand over yours as he tries to calm you down. “Like I said, I just want you to make sure that you’ve clearly thought this through.”

Eric adds, “There’s plenty of men out there. I don’t want to take away your opportunity of experiencing something new at such a young age.”

“I’m turning twenty-four! I promise you I’m thinking everything through.” Your voice was much weaker than a few seconds ago. The evident tone of strength fades even with one glance from the man in front of you. You felt yourself shrink in your seat. But you were sure he does not intend to frighten you into compliance.

“Sorry,” you pout. “Didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“I understand, and I won’t pressure you any more tonight, okay?” He tries to uplift your mood, detecting quickly the shift of the room’s atmosphere. “You deserve a good dinner tonight, like I promised, sweetie.”

His smile made you calmer. It was then that you realized why you were attracted to a man like him even if he was still your teacher.

The way he handles you in any given situation so sensibly. Though it may feels intimidating at first, he consequently tries to override the tone of the conversation which cheers you up.

With one hand, he hold yours and gently draws it towards him at the same moment he leans his head down. Eric presses a kiss against the back of your hand and you butterflies immediately fill inside your stomach. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Every doubt you had entirely disappeared now. If there were hints of you hesitating to continue seeing Eric, they were certainly long gone now.

“Let me drive you home after dinner,” he offers, like the gentleman he is.

Eric always does make sure you get home safe. However, you both agreed that he drops you off at least a block away from your house. Just in case people around your neighborhood might catch you, or worse your parents.

It was not like you were ashamed of your relationship with Eric. Cautious was the term.

You were only a few months in seeing him. Fair enough, he was your second semester professor and the both of you met before that period.

You were not only risking the wrath of your parents once they hear you’re dating an older man, let alone your Chemistry teacher. But you were also putting him at risk if ever his faculty finds out.

Eventually, the two of you pack up and end your conversation. Other than talking about college, the two of you also talk more about yourselves which has progressed you into learning more about each other’s personalities and likes.

He helps you out of his house and into the passenger seat of his car. It had been more than thrice wherein he drove you home, and the familiar scent of leather and the typical Glad air fresheners has clung onto your nose. You strap on your seatbelt on just as he was getting inside the driver’s side.

The ride was not entirely dead silent. Eric made a few more small talks before finally turning a right which was where he usually drops you off. It amazes you how instantly he remembered the way to your home, as you instructed him the first time.

“Thank you for tonight, like always, Eric.”

As always, you made your way out of his car prior to giving him a kiss. You only had to walk straight ahead, glancing at your home which had one dim light illuminating through one window.

Upon entering the house, you figured your parents were already asleep and a hint of the living room lamp was present. Taking the benefit of not having to be interrogated by anyone, you rushed upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the lights, and immediately closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. A smile was also visible after recalling your night with Eric.

As you made your way towards your bed, a piece of paper lays obvious in the middle of it. Your sheets were flattened and tidied, so you could obviously detect when something is placed on top of it. You have no memory of leaving it early in the morning before you left too.

When picking the paper up, you realized it was a piece of polaroid film. Its back was facing you, having no idea what to expect at the front.

At that point, the smile from your face turned into horror and all the color in you basically drained away.

The picture displayed you and Eric at one dinner night out from a few days ago, you still remember. It could have been anything but malicious, but the way his hand was intertwined with yours as both of you laugh away without worries. It was clear as day, the light shining perfectly at the both of you. Anyone can conclude what was happening in the picture.

You did not know this day would come. The picture was taken from Eric’s home to prevent such things like this from happening. So it puzzled you just as much at it terrified you.

This was definitely someone who had been stalking either one of you. It was not a mere instance like paparazzis who catch celebrities dating on the streets of New York.

Someone definitely have been observing the two of you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Days have passed, a week almost. Examinations are scheduled for tomorrow.

And you prayed that the picture you received would be the only thing terrorizing your dreams. But you were completely wrong.

From thereon, you started to receive more pictures, specifically one every morning and night, from your past hangouts with Eric. It were simple shots but had the power to completely jeopardize either one of you, mostly him at stake though.

It was obvious that the person behind this was definitely observing the two of you for a while. Probably even during the most earliest weeks when your relationship with him started.

Though it may seem unfair, you did not mention anything about it to Eric. It was enough the he was keeping with you, his job, and himself private – which clearly was not working out so well. You felt like it was your responsibility to handle this situation. You were so sure you did not try to publicize anything and kept it on the low.

Nevertheless, it was out there. Eric had not mentioned anything so you assumed he did not receive a picture like you did.

Currently, you were seated at the farthest row at the back of the room, somewhat near the corner. Physics was your last subject and you could not wait but finally leave.

In addition, you texted Eric that you would not be seeing him until after the exams. It was an easy excuse not to see him, saying that you wanted to focus on studying for it; however, you knew that you would just be busy thinking about the creepy stalker gallery you have been receiving.

“Hey.” Unsurprisingly, a familiar voice whispers next to you which disrupts your heavy train of thoughts. “You finished studying for tomorrow? I’m about to end my review with Chemistry later.”

“Cool.” Probably the one of the most basic replies in the universe. “I haven’t finished studying, I’m kind of dealing with a lot of things recently.”

You made sure to generalize your answer, but enough for him to sympathize and at least give you some space.

“Oh, sorry to hear about that.” Peter frowns. He takes his seat a few desks away from your left, leaving you to continue thinking. You were thankful for his gesture too.

Surprisingly enough the boy barely bothered you for the entire lecture. You were still engrossed on finding out whoever was stalking you, even so dating back to boys you evidently rejected during the first semester – who badmouthed you immediately afterwards. There were not a lot of names, so it was easy to remember who was who.

You traced back to each boy and remembered what they said after you told them you were not ready to enter a relationship – a complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

Just as you expected from any of them, rumors have spread out about you which was mostly shaming you physically or mentally. Some were milder insults than the other yet at the end of the day you did not care.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. “Who was that boy at Liz’s party.”

Your eyes were sealed shut, recalling a list of names while using your thumb and middle finger to massage your temples. It was getting frustrating and mentally exhausting.

After some time, you had so much word filling in and our of your brain that you were not aware that your own name was being called. Your heart practically skipped a beat after hearing it the first time, assuming that you were being called to recite an answer. But you became content after seeing that it was just Peter, who started tapping your arm to get your attention.

“Huh?” You lightly shake your head before turning your head aside.

“Oh, class was dismissed a few minutes earlier than usual–”

“Don’t forget to answer the assignment regarding thermodynamic concepts found it the book. You’ll hand it in immediately on Wednesday.” The professor addresses the class as they were already carrying their bags and themselves out the room.

You start placing your stationeries inside yours, packing your other things up until it was only a pair of earphones and your phone left in front. Peter stood near the aisle while looking at you just as you were zipping your bag shut.

“Oh shoot, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he states out of nowhere causing you to furrow your eyebrows at him. “I forgot I still haven’t returned your Physics book I borrowed last week.”

Nodding your head and standing up, you shrug it off. “It’s fine. You can return it tomorrow.”

“Sure, but how will you do your Physics assignment?”

Oh yeah. Your professor literally reminded the class a few seconds ago.

“I think I might be able to do it overnight. How many pages is the task?”

“Eight, or nine I think.” He frowns looking very guilty at you.

“Shit,” you swore. That was a lot of pages than the usual assignments given.

“Yeah, professor said it could help add points if you somehow get a bad grade at the tests.”

“Never mind,” you tried to set his mistake aside. “I’ll try to do it within overnight tomorrow. I can ask for help from my friend tomorrow morning and–”

“Wait! I realized you can stop by my apartment to get it.”

“Oh–er, Peter, I don’t think I have time to–

“It’s just nearby the campus, I promise,” he assures and adds, “it wouldn’t be a hassle, it’s probably on your way home anyway so it won’t make a difference.”

“Uhm.” You were doubtful of him.

However, you did realize that you did not have anything to do after class. You were keeping distance with Eric for the meantime which meant that your schedule was mostly vacant after this.

“Please,” he begs, “I feel so bad for keeping it the whole week. I swear it’s like a few blocks from here.”

“Would it take more than twenty minutes?” You purse your lips, convincing yourself that you would rather force yourself to study at home than spend it at someone’s apartment.

“I only take around ten minutes to walk so,” he answers. “Unless you’re a slow walker, of course.” The tone of his voice seeming to be joking.

Again, he pleads. This kid will not fucking budge.

“Fine,” you blurt out. Though, you realized your sudden-almost lash out moment at the boy that you made sure to reiterate it but slower, “I mean, sure. I can stop by your apartment to pick up my book.”

An awaited smile and sense of agreement washes over you.

Peter then leads the way as you walked behind him, maintaining a short distance so people would not throw out any suspicious looks. Like in every college, everyone knows just how fast gossips formulate and rumors spread.

If you think about it though, it might avert anyone’s suspicion – mainly pertaining to your creepy stalker – with you and your Professor. But you were not prepared for that yet, maybe some time when you can finally think about its consequences through.

True to his word, as the both of you exited the campus, it took a short time before the boy in front of you told that you were about to enter through the entrance to the building of his apartment. You were not so sure if it was really a momentary walk or because you were so focused on thinking and keeping a distance.

At some points he did often look back in case you got lost from following him. Plus, like always, he asked you simple questions either about your day or your subjects to make small talk. In which case, you were barely answering him but definitely progressed compared to when he attempted for previous times during class.

In addition, as the two of you walked down the block, the number of faces you could only assume was in college decreased. Meaning that the glares at you eased up.

“Well, here’s my location.” A loud huff follows as he uses a key to unlock the door for the entrance to the building, “It wasn’t that far, was it?”

“Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that far.” You agree as he holds the door for you and then walks right after you.

As Peter leads you upstairs onto around the fourth level, he proceeds to walk along the corridors. The array of same beige colored doors with small golden indents of unit numbers paraded along it too. Eventually he stops and inserts a key into the lock, twisting it until hearing the unlocking sound.

For a moment you hesitated to follow him. You just wanted your book and you were sure he can give it to you on a shorter span than your walk from campus to here. Was it that troublesome?

Entering his complex, you discovered how minimalistic it looked. To be fair it seemed quite small, the living room instantly greeting you through the entrance and a kitchenette at the side. But since his things were tidied up, it looked roomy.

You instinctively close the door behind you, slightly aware that it did not create a locking sound. Following Peter, you took a few more steps until you stood still at the passageway between his living room and entryway.

“Do you want a drink?” Peter asks.

“No thank you.” You were still trying to subtle. “I just want my Physics book, Peter. Please?”

He looked at you and paused for a split second. You could feel the frown behind the expressionless look. “Yeah. Okay. Sure,” he nods for a few times before turning around and proceeding to a seemingly narrow hallway. “I’ll get it in my room. Be back in a second.”

Your feet faintly paced back and forth, still where you stood a few meters between the entrance and living room. After a few more minutes, Peter emerges carrying the familiar book with one hand.

He approaches you within a few stops but stops in his tracks, leaving a distance from you. “Well uh,” he starts as his chin was tucked.

“I just want to tell you something before I hand you back your book.” He looks up at you with really pleading eyes. During other instances in university, you were definitely familiar with that look. However, this one probably ranked as one of the most downhearted ones.

You did not want to feel regretful for him. Though it definitely feels like you just kicked a puppy.

“Was is it?”

“I love you,” he blurts out as his face goes back from hiding and looking down.

It seemed awkward. You were somewhat expecting it, but you were also hoping that this day would not come – or not at least until you graduate and leave the university.

“Oh.” You honestly did not want to react.

Were you going to say sorry? How about thank you? Would it be better if you said you did not like him back? Or will the best response be that you are already taken?

“Peter, I–”

“Are you really dating Eric?” He shots up with eyes appearing almost teary.

What. The. Fuck.

“No,” you mutter. It was not much of an answer to his question. It was more on being quite horrified as your mind started jumping to conclusions.

The amount of things running around your mind right now was immeasurable.

Firstly, anyone could make two and two out of what he said, especially knowing that no one knows it even so around your circle of friends.

Secondly, you should have thought better. Your doubts with Peter should have been grater and you totally underestimated him. However, some part of you prayed that he was just an annoyingly awkward nerd who follows his friends regarding flirting tips.

Lastly, you turned around and ran.

You probably got your way with opening the door and taking two steps out. It was not long before you felt arms wrap around your waist and either side of your arms. You were then lifted and pulled behind while you tried to kick at the air as an escape. Did not work though.

Peter was surprisingly stronger than you thought. He already seemed fairly muscular at class, hiding behind those long sleeved sweaters and flannels.

Eventually the last thing you remember was the image of the door of his apartment open while you get sucked into the room further. Everything went black afterwards.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

When you felt that you were slowly restoring to consciousness, you were aware of the pounding at the back of your head and your arms.

You tried to move your hands, wanting to press against the parts of your body that were aching. But you felt incapacitated as your wriggled your wrists around and felt an unfamiliar sticky fluid enveloping around them.

“Glad you’re awake,” a voice says. “Does your head hurt?”

You tried to open your eyes, the dark lighting of the room not cooperating with your vision. A light from the window and a lamp were the only things that helped you form something out of the void.

From there you saw Peter Parker sitting closely beside you at the edge of the bed.

Hell please let this be a nightmare.

“What–” You groan, “What do you want from me.”

Your mind was building up your anger yet your body says otherwise. You felt exhausted and heavy.

Peter shushed you in a caring manner, “We’ll talk when you feel better. I’ll let you get more rest okay, sweetie?”

“Uhh.”

That was what you could remember the most. If you have awoken for other times in between your sleep, then you surely did not have an idea of it.

When you finally woke up, the level of your grogginess felt little to none already. You looked around and saw that the room was still dark and seemingly still nighttime.

As your head was twisting from side to side, you saw Peter appear from the doorway carrying a translucent cup filled with water in one hand. “Hey, you’re finally awake.”

Instead of replying to him, your wrists writhe beneath the fluid that you are still not familiar of. You could not really look up to get a good view of what it was, but it was wet, sticky, and felt like super glue.

On the other hand, both your legs, ankles, and feet were free. The back of your thighs bounced against the bed as you struggled, but it would not do much since your arms were practically stuck.

“Fuck,” you grumble.

“That won’t help. You’re pretty much stuck there,” he says, Then he takes a seat at the edge of the bed, alike where you remembered him positioned from earlier, “Might as well talk to me until I let you go.”

“Okay then, when will you let me go?” Your voice was calm hoping you could talk your way out of this mess.

“If you behave for me like a good girl, okay?”

Shivers went up your spine as you cringed at his statement.

Immediately, your mood shifts from calm to furious after hearing his disturbing bargain. Then purposely rolling your eyes for him to see. “How the hell will I behave if you’re a creepy stalker! You disgust me!”

Peter hums, displaying a look wherein he seems like he was thinking. You were not sure if it was sarcastic or not, either way it annoyed the hell out of you. “Creepy stalker sounds overstated, it was more on being curious.”

You scoff as well as exclaim, “You sent me photographs of me and Eric at his house! Fucking hell, Peter.”

“Oh yeah that part.” He slyly pouts his lips to the side as he comes to realize what he had done, “I guess it was a bit creepy–” “What do you mean a bit? That was invasion of privacy!”

Despite being trapped, both your hands balled into a fist, feeling very furious at his dense answers. “I was living my own life! I kept my relationships to myself,” you cry out.

“Yes, but you weren’t completely living your life,” he whispers while gently combing his hair through the front of your hair. “You deserve much more than someone who couldn’t proudly tell that you’re his girl. Is he even a man? Do you really enjoy that kind of life, sweetie?”

“We were happy,” you weep. The evident crack on your voice was a signal that you were about to cry though you were not sure if it was because you were held hostage or because you were worried for Eric.

No one would understand your situation with him right now. Especially Peter.

“Trust me you weren’t,” he scoffs. “You deserve so much more, and I can give you that.”

“I’d rather be alone forever than be with you, asshole!” Your voice was inconsistent, clearly affected by how fast Peter’s mood also shifts quickly.

You also figured you were not looking entirely fresh while crumbling beneath him. Drops of tears and sweat were all over your face and neck, both your eyelids felt swollen, and your nose was almost stuffed.

Peter stand from the edge of the bed and advances to his desk from the side. A harsh bang echoed throughout the room as your body twitched out of shock.

“What does that dick have that I don’t?!” He grits his teeth as the curves of his jaw intensifies. A displeased look was written all over his face.

“P-please let me go.”

“I need you to answer, sweetie. We going nowhere unless you answer!” He was never going to let you go if you were not going to cooperate.

Every step he takes closer back to the bed just increases your heart beat further. He had rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to the edge of his elbows and you felt threatened looking at how firm his arms looked.

“Peter, p-please,” you hiccup.

As Peter returns to the edge of the bed, he does not hesitate anymore to keep a distance. His hands hover to either sides over your body and sets the left side of his head on your midriff, laying while also getting a good view of your vulnerable state.

He does not even look life he was struggling to make an effort to keep you down, but you could feel how heavy he was and was barely giving you a chance to move around.

“I can give you so much more, Y/N.” The way his gaze directs at you was definitely one of the creepiest things you have experienced. He had so much emotions yet completely lacked sympathy for your state of mind.

Shutting your eyes, you only cried further. You felt a hand cup one of your cheeks as its thumb wipes away the pouring tears. Like a broken record, you only pleaded more, “Please let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why.” You bawled, realizing he has no plans of releasing you anytime soon despite it. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I p-promise.”

“I know that,” he says, “but you’re going to run back to Eric, probably tell him too, right?”

You did not want to answer, merely shaking your head as you resisted a cry from your lips. It was somewhat what you had planned, but now you were just scared shitless.

“You won’t tell anyone but him cause no one knows about it other than you two, right?” He corners your words.

“Eric would lose his job if someone, especially your parents find out, right?” Hell he was correct. He most likely had been stalking you for so long to find out about it.

“You love him so much, you wouldn’t want to hinde

It was terrifying that someone had been learning about you and your life for a while without your awareness.

“Please stop. What do you want... money?” you whimper.

Peter did not seem likes normal college boy; he does not think like one, too, for sure. Anyone with a right mind would not do something like what he did. No one would have the guts to do so.

“I just want you, Y/N. I want to give you what you deserve,” Peter answers as he sits up and leans his face closer to yours. His mouth leaves a small gap from your right ear as he whispers, “Let me make you feel good.”

“No–”

He cuts off your plea with a proposition, “If you let me, I might consider letting you free.”

“You want that, right? Want me to let you go...” His hand combs through the other side of your face, “just let me show you that I can do way better than him.”

Every ounce of your blood was trying not to give in. You were smart, you ought to find a way out of this. However, you realized that it will not be enough. You already struggled so much from the super glue around your wrists and you could not imagine how much more would it take now that Peter was on top of you.

Eventually you stopped struggling and let him be. There was no way out of this than to let him do what he pleases.

You feel his lips press against your ear first and then progresses over your cheek. His grip around your arms loosen after detecting that you stopped struggling beneath him. You could feel him smile on your skin, “That’s it, relax for me. Good girl.”

His hand reaches to undo your pants as his lips drifted on yours to force their way on making out with you. Another hand then presses under your jaw and throat. “P-Peter,” you choke, feeling lightheaded after being unable to breath properly though your mouth until the grip had loosen.

“Sorry, babe.”

He soon descends from your face to your neck and collar region. You were so sure he was leaving marks on you as you felt him suck and nibble against your skin. Like a controlling asshole he was, you expect to see bruises on your skin by tomorrow.

Despite having your hands fastened, he still moves your shirt upwards past your head. It halts and hands loosely around your arms as you emerge topless beneath the boy.

“Fucking beautiful,” Peter compliments your body under his breath.

Although he seemed to have time on his hands, he does not leave a second wasted. He also goes to haul your pants past your legs and ankles. The growing look of impatience on his face says it all.

Peter moves from your side and welcomes himself between your legs. He spreads them out to have enough space for his body and you could not feel more embarrassed than this.

You grit your teeth over each other as you felt him press fingers against your cunt. Instinctively, you clench around nothing as he continues to play with your entrance, making sure you get entirely soaked under his touch.

“You know you shouldn’t hold back. I know you’re loving it so far, your body says otherwise,” he teases before laying on his stomach and moving his head closer to your pussy.

Without a warning, he licks a strip of you making the back of your thighs quake lightly. Peter senses your reaction and continues to do so, using his tongue to play around and poke inside of you until you were slowly giving in without even realizing it.

Just as you thought you were getting used to his actions, he then inserts fingers inside you, feeling your warmth around it as he pushes it in and out.

“Oh,” you moan.

He continues, making sure he also does not leave your bud of nerves behind. The tip of his fingers and tongue alternate on playing against it, making you throw back your head out of pleasure.

“I bet he doesn’t please you like this,” he scoffs.

Eventually, at your vulnerable state, you could already feel yourself closing to an orgasm. Your toes curled as your temples throbbed, sealing your eyes shut as you accepted on giving in.

You bit onto your lower lip, trying to resist a moan. Somewhere inside you, you were still trying to fight back and not let Peter have the satisfaction he had been craving.

“You’re being so tight... Just let it out.” He coaxes and you hate how you did what he told you so.

The extensive grin on his face seemed priceless. He pulled back and you were aware that you seemed exhausted beneath him. You assumed he was done with whatever he wanted to do with you.

But when he started to take off his sweater and unbutton his pants, you realized it was far from over.

As he presents himself just as naked in front of you, he again welcomes himself between your legs. This time you get a better view of him and his muscles and abs. He gets a good view of your body too for sure as his hand reaches to start stroking his dick.

He places one hand on your thigh and pushes it farther to give him more room. Finally, he inserts in inside you and you automatically felt him throbbing between.

There was a growing heat between the both of you, and it only intensified as Peter started to thrust his hips forward and backwards. There was not even a rhythm from him as he moves harder after hearing you softly moan underneath.

The slapping sound echoes through the room that would eventually reek of sex and you felt ashamed that your body was enjoying all of this.

“Ah… ah… ahh… agh….”

“You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?” He brags as one hand was reaching for your breasts while the other holds your thigh up. “Fucking slut.”

Your body and mind were tired and could only hold so much longer. It was not a surprise when your stomach started to churn your the muscles in your thighs were cramping up.

Peter did no help after seeing you starting to wear out. He tried leaning in to make out with you and expect to moan into his mouth. You did for a moment, a combination of both your drools were streaming down from the corner of your mouth.

“We’re making a mess, huh,” he mumbles. “But I know you’re already a dirty fucking girl.”

He proceeds to deprave you with statements, “Can’t believe you’re enjoying my cock better than that old man’s... Such a fucking whore.”

You twist your head aside, trying to hide the fact that you feel like your temperature were burning up. You were so sure he could feel the increasing warmth of your walls either way.

Your eyes were rolling back as you resist arching your back, which was not really a success as the amount of pleasure was overwhelming.

As you writhe beneath him, you felt a hand on your cheek. It pushes your head back onto looking at front and at Peter. “I want you t look at me when you’re going to cum, sweetie,” he orders and you could not do much anyways.

The second time you came was a whole other level. You never felt this with any person you slept with so far, rather not this fast and intense to say. “That’s it, fuck, you’re tighter than I could ever imagine.”

Peter continues until it was his time to cum. The bed continues to move along with his pace and your body was basically abused to his liking.

And even if you were not aware of it, the boy was practically thankful that his agency decided to agree to soundproofing his whole apartment – his motive being for personal reasons, which they did not question any time soon.

You were helpless, you knew that. All you had in mind now was rest. Your eyelids were heavy and your mind was drifting to slumber.

The last thing you remember was Peter moving over your body to come all around your chest like a painter with its paint brush creating a masterpiece from your chest to your core.

“I love you.”

a/n: ily pls leave comments <3

1K notes · View notes

natsukitakama · 3 years ago

Text

What kind of Yandere Floch is ?

Could I please get Yandere Floch since I’m really curious what type of yandere would he be but with a fem s/o who isn’t member of yeagarits and she’s with Hange and others instead, wanted to stop Eren. She’s also afraid of Floch since she can sense something odd about him

Hey I’m that anon who request yandere Floch with a reader who isn’t a yeagarist, well just so you know they’re not dating but perhaps they are friends and the reader is type of person who’s not ready to be in relationship even if she has a crush and Floch is aware of that. you could reply this ask at the same day when you post this request

Hey it’s me again, the same anon who request yandere Floch, there’s something I want to add more is that the reader figure it out that eren was using and manipulate Floch and the reader was telling Floch that he’s being used so really curious what would he tell her. Once again reply this ask until this request is posted which I know you’ll take long but I’m fine with it since I’m patience

Author note : Hi there, first of all thank you for being so patient with me ! I hope you’ll enjoy your request. It’s like a HS of my what kind of Yandere are they with two part : part 1 and part 2, the only difference is this headcanon got context

Before we started, let me reminds you those relationships are TOXIC please be careful. No one should treat you the way they did in this headcanon, you’re precious and deserve someone who’ll be able to take care of you properly.

Warning : violence / Mention of stress / Toxic relationship and behavior / slight nsfw / mention of violence / Spoiler from season 4/manga if you didn't catch up with the manga you might be spoil so be careful

-->if you don’t feel confortable wit those kinds of things don’t read, I want you to feel good on my blog this is a happy place.

Masterlist

We’re going to start with the basic, during a long time you guys got a hate/love relationship

None of you knew if you hate each other or if you were too into each other, like you were always teasing each other, always trying to get on the other’s nerve.

It was kinda cute until it became an obsession for Floch.

He didn’t notice it though. Not at first, he thought that he was genuinely crushing on you. I mean you were pretty hot, you got a big mouth not afraid to tell whatever you had in mind, you were even bold enough to argue with Floch with that damn smirk of yours.

Before he could acknowledge it he was already in his kneel for you (not literally not now though).

But to you, you were just friends. With your life and what was going own outside of the wall you knew it wasn’t the right time to get in a relationship, so even though you were in love with Floch you decided that it wasn’t appropriate to start dating.

But Floch disagreed with you. It was already too late, he was into you. He wanted to be by your side, he was craving for your attention whether it would be by arguing with him, fighting (not in a bad way you know just teasing each other) or even romantic attention.

He wanted to get everything that you might give him.

And he was ready to do everything in order to get what he was craving for.

At first you didn’t mind it, you didn’t even notice how bad the situation was. I mean, you were in love with him and as you got to know him you realized that he went through a lot of things. You were aware that the Shinganshima’s event left a huge mark on his soul and now he was dealing with a trauma that might stay forever.

It pained you to see him sometimes struggling with his dream because he was always dreaming about the death of his friends, the way he almost dies and for nothing. Yeah they got Shinganshima back but now they needed to be strong in order to fight the whole word outside the wall.

He needed to be strong so he wouldn’t live this again, he needed to be strong so no one would be able to touch you. He knew at this point he became addict to you and you were the only who can maintain a sort of serenity around him.

So yeah when it came to Floch you weren’t exactly unbiased, you cared a lot about him, so you couldn’t manage to just straight up and tell him to let go.

And he knows it oh boy he knows and he is not afraid to use it against you.

Especially when it was time to choose your side, would you be a yeagerist or would you stay with Hange ?

He expects you to make the right choice ( aka follows him in case you were wonderin)

But it was more complicated than that, of course you were afraid. Since you’ve realized that your nightmare started because some people outside of the wall (who used to be your boundaries) decided that you were monster who needed to be killed because some of your ancestor made war against them. You weren’t a fool, you were aware that talking won’t be enough, it’s been decades since the outside hated you, but you weren’t ready to use such a powerful and dangerous power (aka the rumbling) against people without being a hundred percent sure there weren’t a way out.

So for now you decided to follow Hange much to Floch’s dismay

Not gonna lie he was ready, I mean he knew everything about you so of course he kinda expected you to not follow him easily (where’s the fun then ?)

Even if he expected you to confront him and not follow him already, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I mean why you wouldn’t follow him while all he was doing was fighting for a better word for both of you ? Why wouldn’t you agree with him when he was protecting his people ? Why would you disagree when he was obviously right

So yeah he felt bitterness against you, especially because since you’ve decided to join Hange’s side all you were doing was to confront him about his relationship with Eren. « He is obviously manipulating you ? » « Why are you following him ? I thought he was an ass ? » « We didn’t even try to talk to them how could you be so sure there is no other way ? »

Quickly you came to realize that you couldn’t change his mind which pains you, even though you weren’t ready to be in a relationship for now, you couldn’t help the feeling of emptiness each time you were thinking about him.

Yeah you were missing him, you missed the way you two used to tease each other, you missed his cocky smile each time he was showing off to own some of your precious praise.

But sometimes you swore this man was scaring you, the way his eyes was always on you no matter what (he could have been talking to some of his companion his eyes would remain on you)

Sometimes, you swore that he was following you even though you didn’t have any proof that he was doing it, you just felt it. He was here no matter where you were he was here looking at you from your usual spot to your training spot, you were even starting to think that he was here when you were showering or when you were sleeping.

This sensation was driving you crazy, everyone started to believe that you were a little bit paranoid (yes the man was always looking at you but he told you he was in love so it’s normal right ?)

The feeling became stronger after one of your last confrontation because his behavior (and himself) change brutally :

When you decided to follow Henge-San no matter what, you knew that it would affect your relationship with everyone especially the one you got with Floch. After all he decided to become a yeagarist and to betray everyone in order insure paradis’ safety. In his mind everything made sense, his trauma, all the things he had to go through was because of them, because some people behind the wall decided that paradis was the real danger and needed to be annihilated. What he couldn’t understand was why you hadn’t join him yet ? His goal was noble, he was doing everything to provide you safety. Why were you against him ? Why would you meddle into his plan ? At first, he thought you were playing hard just to amuse him, because you used to love teasing him and while he was enjoying a little opposition coming from you, now that he was about to betray everyone including his superior by changing them into titans he needed to have you by his side. He couldn’t wait anymore, the plan already begun so he needed to convince you to follow him.

That’s why you were here now, in jail behind the bar while Floch was looking at you a frown on his face. No, it was more than that, it was the face you made when you were about to scold your child from acting like a brat. He looked disappointed and quite angry, though you got some ideas why he might be angry you couldn’t however understand why he was so disappointed. After all, you told him that his plan was insane so why was he acting like this ? To be honest you should be the one being angry, he got the nerve to send some rookie from the survey corps find you to arrest you so they could bring you to your jail. You’ve been here since your last argument with Floch and it was like a week ago.

« You know I always knew you were a bad looser but I didn’t expect you to bring me into jail for not being cooperative. Don’t you think it’s a little bit excessive ? Like a LOT »

« Always sassy right Y/N »

« It’s not sassiness at this point it’s just being rational »

« Rational ? You are talking about being rational while being the one who claimed that my plan was full of shit ? »

« I didn’t really say that I just underlined the fact that we still got some cards to play before sending whatever Eren want to send »

« The rambling »

« Yeah whatever that’s not the point »

« It’s definitely the point »

« Absolutely not there is plenty of things to do before even consider sending them titans to kill a whole population »

« A WHOLE POPULATION ? Did you hear yourself y/n ? THEY kill us, THEY were the reason we don’t have a home anymore THEY are the reason so many people died and for what uh ? »

« Not because their government want us dead does it mean the people want our death most of them are probably innocent. There are other way Floch »

« There is no other way y/n the world has to be fix »

« Fix ? Now you are scarring me Floch »

« It doesn’t matter what you think y/n »

« May I ask you why ? »

« Because you’re not leaving this jail »

« I beg your pardon ? »

« Look, here you’re safe from both them and the yeagarist »

« I’m not afraid I’ll kick their ass »

« I won’t take the risk of losing you, so you’re going to stay here all you cute for me yeah ? I Wont be too long I need to work on a little problem then I would be back and you could yell at me as much as you want ok ? I’ll be back »

« No no no Floch look come back OI come back ! I’m not going to stay here you now I’ll find a way out »

« No you won’t nobodies know you’re here I told the yeagarist that you were dead. They won’t look for you, your friends believe you’re dead too. I’m the only person who knows where you are. But it’s okay, it was always about us right ? »

With that he just left your jail, without even a look, all he could was your scream but he didn’t care. The jail was hiding under the military court no one would even think about looking for you here. Besides the wall was thick enough so no one would hear you screaming, for now he decided that you will remain here until he was done saving paradis. But of course, he promised himself to take great care of you so don’t worry.

After this « incident » (aka his way to save you from the trouble outside according to him), his behavior change toward you. You noticed it, he became possessive and rather paranoid when it came to you.

So you might ask what kind of Yandere he is ?

Possessive : I mean he was already possessive before he became the Yandere that he now is, he just lost so many people that now he was afraid that you would be next. So yeah he always makes sure to have his hand on some part to your body mostly your hips or even better holding your hand, since you were attracted to him you let him do his things. But as he falls gradually into darkness, his touch which used to be light touch became more rough. Floch wasn’t holding you anymore he was grabbing you, as if to demonstrate to everyone that he owns you. It wasn’t a mark of affection, but a way for him to illustrate your affiliation to him (as if you were wearing a leash). Speaking of leash, he started to think about it when he notices way too many people was looking at you as if they didn’t understand that you belong to him. And when you two started to be intimate, he was more than ready to mark each inch of your body whether from his teeth, mouth or even from the way he is grabbing at your thigh. It quickly became a habit of him to ask who you belong to especially each time he was giving a rather hard slap from his hips or his hands (because if you think he wouldn’t spank you for being naughty or a brat you’re wrong he loves that) and even though at first you didn’t like the idea of moaning your belonging you quickly discover that it was better for you to just do as he said.

Paranoid : It might because of his trauma from the mission in Shinganshima or because he was more aware about the fact that everyone outside the wall want to erase paradis from the world but he was afraid to loose you. I mean since he joined the survey corps all he has do was losing someone, he lost Erwin, he lost his friends, he lost a part of his mind, he almost lost his life. There is no way he was about to lose you. So yeah as you may notice before, he started by locking you from the world in a jail under the military court after claiming to everyone who wanted to hear it that you were dead. One night he woke up after dreaming that one of the yeagarist would discover you in jail after bringing another prisoner, what if they unlock you ? So after multiple days in jail, without any light, he decided that he couldn’t let you here it was too dangerous, although he claimed to you that he did because he noticed your unhealthy body cause of the lack of light. But since he wasn’t sure if he could trust you enough, he took some handcuff with him so he could link you and him, which made him laugh cause it was as if he put a ring on you. That day he locked you into a house secluded from the world, meaning that you couldn’t reach any city without a horse, it was safe for him and for you and here he was sure no one would ever notice you.

Threatening : Of course, you wouldn’t let him do as he pleased, so some times you tried to kick his ass to steal his horse, or to climb into a tree to help you finding the closest city. You even tried to make him believe you kill yourself so he went completely crazy, screaming, crying so you could knock him you. Unfortunately it never works, and after your failed attempt to leave him he started to threaten you. At first he uses light poison, like he gave you a poison that he mixed on your meal or your drink without you noticing so you were ill during the whole day and you needed to wait like a good s/o that your lovely husband as he calls himself, so he could give you the medicine. Sometimes he even let you believe that he might give you something that will change you into titan like : Do you remember all your officer ? Yeah ? They all drink that famous spinal liquid that change everyone into titan, what if you drank it by accident mh ? Maybe when he gave you food he already mixes your drink with that poison ? Whether it was true or not no one will know, but it works you never attempt to leave him after that.

Violent : I hate to say it, but at some point when dark would entirely cover his mind, he would start being violent against you. Though he would never be something that could kill you, he wanted you to remember that you were living a peaceful live because of him, you were safe because of him. To him you got no reason of being such a brat to him, not when he was giving you everything you wanted. He took care of you, you had no right to be mad at him. So yeah sometimes he had to break your ankle, or maybe your leg so you won’t escape. Sometimes he would strangle you slightly just enough to knock you out. It barely happens because to act like this he needed to be really really angry, like loosing every common sense you know ? So it barely happens but it happens. Your body still have so marks as proof that you shouldn’t get on Floch’s nerve. Despite his physical violence, he tends to be quite violent with his word too so it wouldn’t be a surprise that you’ll break. The emotional amusement in addition with the physical violence would be enough to break anyone so you shouldn’t be ashamed. After all maybe he has been looking for this since the beginning ? Who knows ?

#Attack on titans #aot #aot floch #Shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk Floch #floch forster #Floch x reader #Floch Forster x reader #Yandere Floch x reader #attack on titans x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #Shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk Floch x reader #aot Floch x reader

159 notes · View notes

haven-in-writing · 3 years ago

Text

To be the knife against his throat

TW- There is a bit of violence throughout each chapter so if that makes you uncomfortable please don't read ahead. I try to put the proper warnings when possible but unfortunately I do tend to forget. As this story progresses I will try to be more aware of this. Thank you beautiful people so much for reading!

Catch up with the first and second chapter if you haven't already!

Tag list as of 9/27/21 @avengerstanforlife, @dark-night-sky-99, @emergenciesstory , @bookscoffeeandracoons, @krystallynx

The following morning everyone in the compound was woken up to loud screams. Well, one loud scream coming from a certain trickster god. The team ran into the kitchen area to see you on top of Loki with a knife hitting his metal cuff attached to his armor. Growling in frustration, you punch his side, as he weakens his grip on your hand that holds the knife, you push further and the tip of said knife touches the base of his neck.

“Y/N NO!” The group collectively shouts as you draw a small amount of blood from the pressure you put on the knife. You lean down next to his face, whispering something that not even Friday could pick up on. His Adam's apple dips as he gulp’s from the assumed threat that was whispered. No one tries to approach you in case you decide to plunge the knife into his throat, but without any warning Loki smirks as a flash of green magic pushes you into a portal and leaves you falling in your ass a good distance from the god.

The inhumane growl that leaves your throat stops everyone in their tracks. Staring him down, Loki puts both hands up as a sign of peace.

“I mean no disrespect lady, I simply wished to not be in such a compromising position,” he explains quickly before your knife could find a home in his body.

“Just stay the hell away from me Loki,” you all but hiss at him before stalking out of the room ignoring the team's questions.

The group surrounding them doesn’t make a move, watching Loki for any signs that he will retaliate as Thor walks as quietly as he can slightly behind you. The two of you walk in silence to your private workshop. No one tried to stop and talk to you, practically feeling the tense energy you were exuding. As you entered the shop, Thor gently closed the door and cleared his throat.

“I know my brother can be infuriatingly frustrating to deal with, I do hope that this flaw of his doesn’t make it unbearable to be around either of us,” Thor finishes his sentiment quickly before you have a chance to speak.

“Thor, I promise I won’t actually kill your brother, I’m sorry you have to deal with this at all. Just- just keep him away from me. Okay?” you quickly continue, “He left me to die once, which only taught me that I can rely on no one. I don’t trust this team, I don’t trust normal people, and I especially don’t trust Loki. So back off.”

You leave Thor standing in the workshop baffled by the raw emotions you had shown in your brief tangent. As quick as you left, Loki entered the shop moments later, a flash of green being the only warning Thor had before he was staring at his brother.

“Lady y/n just left so it would be wise to make your leave quickly as I am unsure of whether she will return here or not,’’ Thor warns quickly and quietly.

“I did not realize she was still alive, I didn’t even bother to give her a proper burial,” Loki says, lowering his head with shame. “It was the least I could have done.”

Without another word, Loki disappears with a flash of green light. Thor breathes out gently and turns to leave the workshop. As he is about to switch off the light, a map on the wall catches his attention. A map he hadn’t seen in over a century, when the nations of Midgard were being claimed and fought over. Any doubts in his brother's memory were long gone with this artifact on the wall encased in glass. It was too frayed and battered to be a replica. With more questions brewing in his mind than ever, Thor shuts the workshop door and with a shake of his head, makes his way to his chambers.

He is so engrossed with his own thoughts, he doesn’t manage to catch the red headed spy lurking in the shadows, having heard every bit of conversation from her post.

Until now things had sailed pretty smoothly with the Avengers. Until now your identity has been easily covered up by half truths and diversions. That was until Loki had to come along and cause chaos as always. At least the lore surrounding him was consistent.

Taking a moment to pause and collect your thoughts, you find a way to minimize the fallout heading your way. The team was gonna find out eventually so why not get ahead of that curve. The only way to do that would be going against your better judgement. The only person that could persuade the Avengers to not completely turn you out. Maybe two people? Why would they not completely dismiss you, after all they were just a rag tag group of superpowered freaks. The amount of times you had saved their butts didn't matter, at the end of the day, you lied to people that trusted you. They would never trust you again.

So who was the better option?

Tony treated you like a daughter, always trying to cheer you up when you were down. Y'all even had a secret handshake. He would be beyond insulted that you didn't share this overwhelmingly important detail of your existence with him. Now on the other hand, Director Fury. Would he even care? As long as you were on the good guys team aka his team, he wouldn't let you be taken away. Right? Or maybe he would want to dissect you like the Hydra vermin had tried oh so many years ago.

Fury, like the team, would have no reason to believe or trust that your intentions were as true as you had once said. An impossible situation for the impossible creature you were. What a dilemma.

Shaking off the thoughts crossing your mind, you text one Tony Stank, the only contact you had listed in your phone besides- well, nevermind it’s not important. What is important is the text you’re about to send. If it’s not worded correctly, Tony would assume the worst and immediately try and track you down.

“Hey Stank-face,” you punch into the old flip phone.

“Why did I even tell you that story,” He texted back quickly.

“Because you were drunk and have no filter, duh,” you smile for a moment but quickly mask your face and continue texting Tony, “I have a favor to ask.”

There’s a brief pause before he replies.

“What’s up?” There’s no hiding your smile now, you can always rely on Tony to pull through.

“Meet me by the burger stand, next to the old warehouse at 5pm?” Nervously picking at your nails while waiting on his response, you notice a black bike peeking around the corner of the alleyway you were across from. Shit.

“Sure thing Jelly-bean, everything OK?” No, not ok but it would be. Just have to get ahead of the fallout.

“Yeah Tones, all good, just got something to talk to you about. I would like for this to stay between us for now if you don’t mind. Gotta go, I’ll see you at 5.” Taking the sim card out of the phone you toss it in the trash bin and start walking, keeping an eye on the little stalker you've managed to catch.

#avengers fanfic #avengers fic #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #avengers #marvel #iron man #natasha romanoff #the avengers #vampire reader #loki x y/n #loki x reader #slow burn #so slow it'll make you hurt #loki x vampire reader #vampire!reader #please reblog if you like this #please reblog

69 notes · View notes

becaeffinmitchell · 4 years ago

Photo

Fic: what i have (is who i carry home) (1/1)

Summary: Chloe, as it turns out, loves Valentine's Day.

Of course she does. Beca can't say she's surprised in the least.

aka, five Valentine's Days Beca Mitchell's had.

Note: After ten thousand years, I’m free! Or, you know, after eight years, I’m finally posting my first Bechloe fic. Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone 🥰 Gif credit goes entirely to @evenstars (thank you so much again!)

Words: 4,954

Read below or on AO3!

--------

i. 2012, Freshman Year, Barden University

There are so many other things Beca would rather be doing.

Like go to the dentist. Actually show up for class. Spend time over dinner with her dad and the step-monster.

Okay, maybe not that last one. Nothing in the world would make her choose that.

But here she is, in that stupid red hoodie, holding that stupid bow and arrow, standing in front of people, refusing to sing that stupid song with Amy.

Later, back at the auditorium where they have Bellas practice, Aubrey's voice is shrill and loud. (As always, Beca thinks.)

"Beca, you really need to be picking up the slack. We need every dollar that we can raise so that we have enough to cover our journey to the semi-finals, and you're dead last in our fundraiser right now."

Amy mutters something under her breath, soft enough for Beca to hear something about — the bus? The Trebles? She doesn't really know. Whatever it is, it's not something she wants to get in the middle of.

"Maybe we can think of something new to do." Beca's tone is dry, and she schools her expression into something neutral on her face, her head tilted slightly, knowing that Aubrey has to know she isn't just talking about the fundraising activity.

It's just — she can feel the potential of these girls, okay? And it's such a shame that they're stuck doing the same three songs, over and over. If she could at least try, show them her arrangements, maybe they'd have a fighting chance.

"I have the pitch pipe, and I say we do this exactly how we have been doing it."

Beca is about to say something snarky, something she knows is going to get under Aubrey's skin, when Chloe's voice rang out beside her.

"It's okay. I'll do it with Beca tomorrow."

She hasn't even noticed Chloe approaching them in the midst of this, so her head whips around so fast at the sound of her voice.

"Don't you have a class during that time, Chloe? That's the whole reason why we couldn't pair you up with Beca." There's something about Aubrey's clipped words that is super careful and controlled, like there's more that she wants to say but isn't.

Chloe shrugs, before turning to Beca with a beaming smile. "It's okay, skipping out on one Russian Lit lecture won't make a difference."

Chloe, as it turns out, loves Valentine's Day.

Of course she does. Beca can't say she's surprised in the least. She thinks she doesn't know anyone who's more enthusiastic about everything and anything.

There's something about Chloe that feels like embers starting at the base of Beca's dead, cold heart, warming it up and turning itself three sizes larger.

It's not a thing she wants to unpack right now; she's not the type to get attached to people, and especially not when she's going to go through with her plan, and leave at the end of the school year. It doesn't matter if her dad helps her or not.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Chloe's voice, melodic as it comes, breaks the silence as they walk towards the south quad. She looks ready to go through the entire residence hall, her angel wings bouncing behind them.

"It's a day corporations literally invented to convince everyone to buy cards and chocolates and flowers at jacked up prices, so..."

Chloe lets out a happy sigh. "Maybe so. But it's also a day to celebrate love! And love is so awesome. I love love. And I'm not just talking about romantic love, though that is nice. You can also celebrate the love from all relationships in your life. Like your best friends, or your parents, or your siblings."

Beca raises an eyebrow, because Chloe is just so goddamn earnest. She tugs at her hoodie. "Let me guess, you and shower guy have a date?"

"Who, Tom?"

"How many shower guys do you have?" There's a beat. "Actually, don't answer that."

So here she is, still in that stupid red hoodie, still holding that stupid bow and arrow, standing in front of people, and singing a duet with Chloe Beale.

The next morning, Kimmy unceremoniously drops a box at the foot of Beca's bed, a loud thud waking her up.

There's a sleeping mask, a whole clip of flash drives, two huge jars of peanut butter, and cans of Red Bull in the box. There's also a card, and her name is written carefully in the middle of an envelope.

Happy Valentine's Day, Beca!!!! I've said this before, and I'll say it forever: I'm SO glad that I met you. I LOVE that you love music like it's the one thing you can't live without. It's something that really resonates with me, too. You make us better. :) :)

xoxo,

Chloe!

Beca drifts off to sleep that night, the music still playing in her headphones. She's wearing that sleeping mask across her eyes.

------------

ii. 2014, Junior Year, Barden University

The thing with Jesse is, he really loves these grand gestures of romance.

Sometimes Beca thinks that that's his favorite part. It's almost like he's in love with the idea of being in a relationship.

Worse still, in love with the idea of her, like she's this perfectly scripted character who exists for him.

Last year for Valentine's Day, Jesse had shown up at her dorm. Well, outside of her window actually, boombox on his shoulder. She'd tried not to wince, her lips pressed together into something resembling a smile (she hopes) to the strains of In Your Eyes, at the ungodly hour of dawn.

It isn't even that she had just gotten to sleep like, two hours before that. Or the very clear and enunciated "fuck off!" that her neighbor gave them, complete with a dramatic slamming of her window. At least she doesn't have to deal with that now, now that they've all moved into the Bellas house, newly renovated.

It was just a lot, right? And maybe she should have been a better girlfriend to anticipate it this year, or at least match some of that. Rise up to his level, or something. She just has a reservation to a fancy Italian restaurant in Midtown, and she made that way in advance. So maybe she gets points for that?

January rolls into February, and she dreads it. Every day is a countdown to The Fourteenth.

Here's the more pressing thing: Chloe seems sad. Not all the time, but Beca catches it occasionally.

She presumes she knows her best friend pretty well by this point, until she's doing things like failing a single class on purpose so that she doesn't graduate. For the second year in a row.

And Beca gets it, at least on an abstract level. If she starts thinking about what comes after graduation — and that's in a year and some — she gets nervous, too. But in no version of her reality does she get so paralyzed with fear, that she would opt to repeat her senior year like it’s groundhog year.

She wishes she could know why, for certain. She can't help if she doesn't know what's going on in Chloe's head, but for the first time, it's Chloe's turn to clam up and switch the subject.

So Beca doesn't push. She hopes it's enough to keep her afloat as she works through whatever it is. She doesn't really know what that entails, but music? Music she can do.

She pours her energy into putting together a really solid mix for Chloe; it's all the songs that remind Beca of her, and their friendship. She picks songs and arranges them and removes them before she puts them back in, because it has to sound right.

Beca feels like the world's biggest dork for giving it to her the morning of Valentine's Day.

Well, second biggest dork, because she intercepts Chloe leaving the gift boxes in the room, for her and Amy.

"Hey, uh. Happy Valentine's Day," she says, handing her the flash drive — one of the many that Chloe has gotten her over the years, like she's her supplier — and hoping she doesn't look as awkward as she feels. "It's not anything like your, like, super thoughtful gifts." She gestures in that general direction. "But you're my best friend, so... here."

She gets pulled into a hug, and Beca can't be sure, but it sounds like Chloe's 'thank you' is strained and she's about to cry.

Beca hopes it's enough.

"So, Jesse gave you just the one earring?"

Beca's back from the dinner. It was... nice? There was a string quartet and Jesse made them play John Legend's All Of Me, and Beca didn't actually die of embarrassment when he started singing along, so she'll chalk that up as a win.

"Yeah, it's like — symbolism, I guess. From the movie." Beca shrugs, chewing on the popcorn she's made that Chloe is currently stealing. She thinks about lightly smacking her hand away, but ends up shifting the bowl so that it's nearer to Chloe.

Does she regret putting Don't You (Forget About Me) in their setlist? Maybe.

Probably not, all things considered, because it worked well together with the other songs, and they did win the finals that year. But it elevated the movie to mythical and legendary status for Jesse, and if he does that arm raising motion one more time during squabbles he wants to get out of? Beca might lose it even harder.

"Is it symbolism or a metaphor? I could never tell the difference."

"I think it was a metaphor in the movie," Beca starts, a thoughtful expression on her face. "But more of a symbol for like, me and Jesse? Oh my god." She presses her free hand to her eyes. "You're such a nerd. Stop making me think deeper about this than I need or want to."

"I just think it's nice," she hears Chloe say.

Beca hums, tone neutral. "It's something, for sure. Wait." She whips her head to face her best friend. "You didn't go out tonight? Ms. 'I Love Love'?"

Chloe chuckles lowly, quietly. "I have all I need here in this house, anyway."

When Beca goes to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a glass of water, she thinks she hears the soft strains of her mix playing from Chloe's room.

------------

iii. 2017, Brooklyn, NY

It's apparently the warmest February in New York on record, but Beca is still fucking freezing.

The incessant chill envelops the air, and she pulls her coat closer to her. She's bundled under layers, but the radiator in their tiny little apartment is, as most things in it, almost completely busted.

Jesus Christ. It's cold.

Amy is convinced she's cold because she's moping, because she's sad about breaking up with Jesse.

Beca knows she isn't, and it's not just the long distance thing.

They'd given it a fair go, and it sucked that he got busier with classes and she tried to solve all of the music industry's problems as an associate producer, working hours trying to make tracks sound... sonically unrotten.

It's not just the long distance thing, because if Beca was honest with herself, it was probably a sign that when he told her that he was thinking of completing his studies in California, her immediate response was that of neutral indifference.

So, she is totally fine.

Beca hears Chloe singing softly before the door even opens, and she can hear it swing open too, and she knows Chloe is about to shrug her coat off —

"Don't bother, it's also cold in here," Beca says, from under the covers.

Then, her eyes track Chloe as she walks to the radiator —

"I checked, it's working. Supposedly."

"Aww." Chloe strides the distance — not that it's that long — and sits down on their shared bed. "You're so cute when you're grumpy."

"Aren't you freezing?" she chooses to deflect the comment, hugging herself petulantly. "Hey, how was your date with that guy at the clinic?"

Chloe hums noncommittally. "We went for coffee and he double-booked me with another girl."

"Dude. What a dick." Beca feels a flash of — annoyance? Chloe deserves the world. Chloe deserves everything she wants. "I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay though." Chloe smiles at her. It's that smile that Beca catches that she thinks it's just for her, but she's also a logical person who knows that Chloe has that ability to make people feel like they're the most important person in the world. "I've got all I need right here."

Warmth pools at Beca's stomach, and honestly. It's a nice change from the freezing.

It's 2 AM, and they're cuddling, because of course they are; because Chloe is warm; because Chloe is an embrace personified; because... Chloe.

Beca stirs awake, and she feels Chloe's breath tickle at the base of her neck. She shifts, not uncomfortably. Then, Chloe's hand drifts sleepily, and lands somewhere on Beca's hip.

And then.

There is a sudden, startling clarity in Beca's mind, knocking the figurative breath out of her. Her eyes fly open.

She loves Chloe.

And not in the same way where she loves the rest of her found family in the other Bellas.

Oh no, a voice sounds in her mind.

Oh, this is very bad, she thinks.

She can't believe how still she is right now, feeling the entire weight of Chloe's body in contact against her. Feeling her slow, steady breathing against her back. She's not even cold anymore.

Okay. So she loves her best friend. Cool, cool, very cool. That's totally fine. She can handle this.

Chloe's been such a fixture in her life, at every turn; in every note in between the downbeat and upbeat that is her life. Music is in Beca's veins, her whole life, but music flows right through Chloe. She's tucked warmly in the melody, a motif throughout the entire song.

Holy shit, Beca thinks. She's been in love with Chloe for so long, she doesn't even know when it started.

Okay, so. There's a weird spot on the ceiling, right? And Beca just keeps staring at it, because if she closes her eyes, she will feel Chloe's presence so keenly, pressed next to her.

She can't do anything with this knowledge. She can imagine it now, Chloe giving her a comforting hug but tells her, sorry Beca, I love you but not in that way.

It's five whole years of friendship, of Chloe by her side no matter what, and that is the one thing that she's got that she doesn't want to risk, just because she had this stupid revelation.

God. It's so stupid. It'll pass. Right?

------------

iv. 2018, Los Angeles, CA

What is really fucking weird, even in the grand scheme of things, is journalists asking her if she's doing anything for Valentine's Day.

Which, like. First of all, Beca's not stupid, she knows it's a way to suss out her personal-slash-love life.

She's kept that pretty close to her chest for now.

But also, there's literally nothing to tell. She's not being defensive because there's something to hide away. Beca is knee-deep in work all the time, and she goes home to an apartment that feels too big for just herself. It's a big change from the entirely too cramped apartment in Brooklyn.

Sometimes she finds herself missing that very specific part of her life. Not the struggling and being unhappy doing work with no integrity, obviously. But Chloe is now a message and three hours ahead, instead of being a daily fixture in her apartment, and it leaves Beca feeling off-kilter.

But maybe that distance is a good thing, after... you know. Revelations.

Anyway.

Her work ethic doesn't stop rumors. She's linked to every guy available — and some not — every single time one of them likes her Instagram posts. She's pretty sure she's had at least two full relationships, according to the National Enquirer.

Theo gleefully sends her screenshots. She tells him to fuck off.

Chloe Look out, super star! I'm going to be in LA for a good friend's wedding in February!! If you think we're not going to hang, you're sorely mistaken.

Beca is busy, but she sure as hell isn't going to miss Chloe coming to LA.

Beca You have good friends outside of the Bellas? I am shocked, Beale.

Chloe Don't be jealous 😉

She's not. Not because of that, she catches herself thinking, and frowns at herself. Not because of anything, she decides. It's also exactly how she decides she doesn't have feelings for Chloe anymore, because Chloe is happy with Chicago, and Beca has work, and honestly? Best outcome out of every outcome possible.

Still, Beca offers up her apartment for the long-ish weekend that Chloe would be in town. She's not a monster, and Chloe has like, a mountain of student debt.

It's the least she could do.

(Beca thinks back to that first performance at the Citadel, just under a year ago. Thinks of all the nerves she's never felt before, while she's walking to the microphone. She's always had the girls on stage with her, but not this time. Her family would be seated in the front row, supporting her no matter how far she goes.

She gets to bring them up on stage this time, of course, but it's also a temporary balm and she knows it. But that's fine, she can figure that part out.

It's the after that smarts a little.

After the performance, after the event, after she feels that pit, growing and clawing from her stomach when she sees Chloe lock lips with Chicago.

After she walks away with Theo, trying her level best to carry on a conversation as if she's not affected by what she'd just seen; trying not to think of all the what-ifs.

After, on the plane back home, when she directs a small smile at Chloe's direction. If she's happy then she's happy for her.

It's the least she could do.)

Chloe's flight reaches the airport at 7 in the evening, and Beca's right there at LAX, waiting for her to emerge. She can see a couple of people with the big paparazzi cameras, training their lenses at her, but she doesn't care.

There's a flash of red as she sees Chloe running to her, and thankfully she catches her.

"Oh, I've missed you," Chloe says, so earnest and sincere as always; always, and Beca can hear her own heartbeat. She's almost worried that Chloe can too, like a traitorous Tell-Tale Heart.

"Yeah, well, regular sight for sore eyes, that's me." That's good, right? She hits jocularity right in the bullseye with that, as if she can't feel the top of her ears growing hot.

Chloe just laughs; like another kind of warmth. She draws her in again, hand rubbing up and down Beca's back.

Beca thinks she's stupid, for feeling like she's home.

They get to Beca's place, Chloe appraising the place appreciatively as she wheels her luggage in.

"This is already at least fifty times nicer than our little shoebox in Brooklyn," she observes, and Beca shrugs, a little embarrassed.

"I mean, the label's paying for it, and it's like, it's — it's ridiculous." There's a voice at the back of Beca's head repeating, our little shoebox, and she wants it to shut up.

But it is ridiculous. She has so much space, and two rooms; she sleeps in one and the other one is where she works. She's pretty sure she spends more time in the latter than she does the former.

"Anyway, uh, so here's my sort-of office, it's a bit of a mess right now." She waves her hand around (god, why is she using her hands so much) at the room with her equipment and instruments, before stepping to her bedroom door. "And here's the bedroom, which, like. You should take the bed. My couch pulls out and it's really comfortable?"

"Don't be silly," Chloe tells her, looking back at the king-sized bed. "We've slept in way more crowded spaces. This will be perfect."

Beca swallows, hard. Perfect.

Falling back into a routine with Chloe is scarily easy.

She's been here for less than three hours, and Beca's already back to being attuned to her. They put on some music in the background, she listens to Chloe talk so passionately about school and all the stuff she's learning, and Beca is so proud.

She brushes her teeth and changes into her pajamas after Chloe does, exactly like how they used to, and climbs into her bed.

"Oh, shoot, I almost forgot," Chloe's saying, and Beca cocks her head curiously to see what she's forgotten. Her best friend comes back with a box, and hands it over to her.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Bec. Also, I don't think flash drives are in fashion now," she winks. "So your Google Drive storage has been renewed, for all the audio files you need to back up. Don't worry, I didn't look at anything else."

"Wh — oh. Oh, right, Valentine's Day, gifts and all," Beca says, and looks at the box in her hand. "Wait, is this —"

"Chocolate from your favorite place in New York? Yessss," Chloe says, a laugh coloring her tone. She settles back into bed. "Not that you have a shortage of chocolate places here, but Amy reminded me of the time she ate most of the last box after how you were saving your favorite pieces, so I thought I'd bring some here for you."

Beca's heart clenches.

"Thanks, Chlo." She's pretty proud of how unwavering her voice is. "I miss it."

"It's been tough for me too, not having you in my orbit," Chloe says, bumping their shoulders together.

"Yeah? Must be extra tough, because Chicago's not around either." Then she's scrambling. "Not that I'm like, comparing myself to your boyfriend in any way."

She sees Chloe's mouth twist to the side. Beca's eyebrows knit together.

"Chlo?"

"He's not my boyfriend anymore." Chloe's words are slow, measured. Like she's afraid of setting something off.

Beca pauses, as she takes it all in.

"Oh. I mean — Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's been..." Beca sees Chloe's furrowed brows as she thinks. "Three months, almost. Just right before Christmas."

Beca thinks back to Christmas; to the group messages, the online gift cards and food deliveries made in each other's names. Nowhere in her memory exists this piece of information, and she's pretty sure she's not been that shitty of a friend to miss this.

It feels a little bit like being hurt, actually.

"Oookay," she says, licking her lips a little, letting the air out of her slowly. "Okay. Well. Good night, Chloe."

Beca can't fall asleep, and she's pretty sure she knows why. It's been an hour of staring at the ceiling, and she tries to will her stupid mind to shut down for the night.

She thinks Chloe must be asleep by now; her body clock must be three hours —

"Bec?"

Beca pauses for so long that she thinks Chloe might actually think she's asleep.

"Yeah."

She feels Chloe shift. "I want you to ask me."

Beca wants to be obtuse and frustrating; wants to pretend she doesn't know what she's talking about. Instead, the confusion and hurt win out.

She pushes herself up on her elbows, then into a sitting position. It doesn't feel like a conversation that they should have lying down. She waits for Chloe to do the same, before finding her voice and words.

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Chicago broke up?" Dimly lit by the street lights outside, Beca sees her shift in place, and she feels Chloe's hand reaching for hers. "I thought — well. You know. That we tell each other things."

Which is slightly rich, coming from her, she knows. But still.

Chloe sighs, just quietly. "Because I have feelings for someone else."

Beca blinks, taking that in. It's a weird feeling because she's simultaneously crushed and hopeful, and maybe it's the hour, or maybe it's Chloe's hand in hers, but as her eyes sweep across Chloe's face, Beca is emboldened.

She leans in, and time feels like it's slowing down as she closes the distance and presses her lips on Chloe's, roughly and then temperately.

Beca's not the most impulsive person. In the moments, though, when she is, they always leave her wondering if she'd done something stupid — like punching creepy middle-aged a cappella guys, like leaving in the middle of a fight, like pulling the girls up on stage during her solo set.

Like kissing Chloe Beale in her bed.

So she pulls back suddenly, as quickly as she had started it, an apology already stumbling out. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I just assumed, I'm so sor—"

Chloe makes a noise; something that sounds like no, her eyes so startlingly blue even in this light, and Beca freezes. She's sure her brain is working out some sort of rambling apology or excuse, maybe pass it off as a joke somehow?

But Chloe pulls her back in, both thumbs lightly touching Beca's cheekbones as she meets their lips again.

This second kiss is deeper, slower, more connected. It takes her breath away, as her hand curls at the back of Chloe's neck. Chloe tastes like mint and sweetness and sincerity, and a little like hopeless optimism on Beca's part.

A soft gasp escapes, and Chloe pulls away this time.

Beca has a tentative smile on her face, as she takes in a breath heavily; the questions written so plainly on her face.

Chloe's eyes shine.

"It's always been you, Beca."

------------

v. 2020, Los Angeles, CA

Having your anniversary on Valentine's Day is good. And bad.

Mostly good, because it means that Beca has that to help keep herself honest and not forget it, because it's impossible to.

Also, she won't forget, but, you know. Just in case.

Bad, especially last year, because it fell right around the Grammys weekend, and apparently when you're nominated and win pretty much... every single category you're in, that's kind of a big fucking deal.

(It started with Best New Artist, and by the time she's on that stage a fourth time, she literally had no other words and nothing but so much gratitude.)

But yeah, so last year's Valentine's Day-slash-anniversary was overwhelming. People contacting her from all corners, wanting to congratulate her and get some sound bites; the internet pouring both support, and scathing critique on her and her music.

Beca wishes she could say she rose above it, that she was as cool as her publicist thinks her to be.

Instead, Chloe had to deal with her, a stressful human ball of anxiety and nerves. Amazing, wonderful, sweet Chloe, just happy to be around her during these exciting and utterly vulnerable times.

This year, though. This year she's older and wiser.

Hopefully.

This year, the day falls on a Friday, but they've decided to celebrate it the next day and through the weekend instead, because Chloe has a seminar she needs to attend for school, and Theo had packed Beca's entire day with a long meeting.

Key word: had.

At 7 AM, as she wakes up groggily and checks her phone, the invite has disappeared from her calendar, presumably rescheduled for some other time. She vaguely notes the message from Theo about entire teams not being available, and Beca's not going to question the reason why, because she's immediately looking up flights to Ithaca and books the first one out.

(I'm not private jet rich, dude. Also, carbon footprint. Text to Amy, because of course.)

Here's her plan:

She'll make a beeline to Chloe's apartment (Beca's been here plenty of times, in the past couple of years; met her friends here in Cornell, hung out with them, appreciated that they're her support circle while she's here), and she'll say something incredibly dorky, and Chloe will kiss her, and then, they will properly celebrate.

God, the things Chloe can do with her mouth; the sounds Beca can get her to make.

Beca doesn’t even bother squirming in the plane seat.

Chloe I have a surprise!!!

Whereeee are you? 🥰🥰🥰

Here's what happens instead:

Beca has to fly back home — noun, the place where she lives; noun, Chloe — because while she was spending six hours flying east, Chloe had done the same in the opposite direction; her seminar being canceled (something about the professor being sick?).

She can't believe it.

Okay, she can maybe believe it.

God, the Bellas are going to have a field day with this.

In the group chat, Chloe's taken a selfie of herself in Beca’s apartment and captioned it: I flew here a day early to surprise Beca, but she flew to Cornell instead to surprise me too 😂

Emily OMAG YOU GUYS that is SO CUTE!!!!!!

Beca reads Emily's text, shaking her head, knowing that this is the younger girl's version of restraint.

Flo One time I thought a guy was going to propose to his girlfriend on the plane, but turned out he was having a heart attack instead.

Jessica&Ashley #justsoulmatethings

Rush hour in LA is so horrible, and it's nearly 8 PM when she finally gets back to her apartment. She jogs all the way from the Lyft to her door.

Beca never jogs.

Her own door flings open, and she sees the smiling face of the woman she loves.

"Flying cross country for me is so romantic."

"You did that too," Beca points out, a small smirk on her face.

"Yeah, but you did it twice." Chloe beams, and kisses her again, and again.

#bechloe #pitch perfect #bechloe fic #beca stupid mitchell #and her working through her feelings #kinda #(also please validate me)#my fic

177 notes · View notes

figjelly · 2 years ago

Text

Okay, so, This Guy. We'll call him Richard (Dick). I'd been talking to Dick off and on via instant messaging. We'd met through Reddit (where I meet maybe 60% of dates? 55? 55% Reddit, 44% Okc, 1% Craigslist. Yes, I've met someone via Craigslist. It's been an okay ride so far. Far better than my fetlife adventures).

Anyway, so we'd been talking and he seemed decent. I met him face-to-face at his apartment maybe four weeks ago. It was fine. We watched two episodes of The Bear together, we stayed on opposite ends of his couch, and I had an okayish time. It was okayish because I discovered he had a doctorate and I am very suspicious of people with doctorates who still teach at university (see: this blog between the years 2012-2017 to relive my nervous breakdown while I was working on my PhD). But, I'm always trying to get better about how to reserve judgement and not assume things about people. So I let it slide.

Then, about two weeks ago, I went back over to his place. We had planned on giving each other massages because 1. He'd been unable to attend a chiro appt due to illness so I offered to try and at least offer a bit of relief with some physical contact and 2. I've been touched starved and also wanted to have a bit of relief, even if it was just skin-on-skin contact.

Well, Dick and I start talking about the university. I've taught at the university level for about a decade and will be working on getting my license in teaching middle and high school math next year. I have opinions. He's not good at staying on point and I have to be patient.

He starts off with how younger students lack focus and originality. He's middle-aged so I sort of reply with, "Well, I'm very much constructivist-minded so my approach is looking at the teacher as an expert student who is supposed to help construct the knowledge in a learning environment." They're in a different place in the building process, basically, but everyone is a student and a teacher for one another.

This guy was just insistent that, oh, yeah, he's definitely one of those teachers. I mentally rolled my eyes.

So Dick asks if I want to hear what happened to him, it was bad.. Granted, REALLY bad things happened to me at all levels of my college and post-grad experience. My threshold for what "bad" is sometimes skewed. I understand that we all have our own limits and I try not to assume anything. So I say yes and let him talk without any interruptions or weird face journeys.

The tldr was: Dick reported a tenured male faculty member for sexual harassment. The department did nothing. He was very upset. When he applied for positions in a post-me too era, the department prioritized hiring women. He didn't get the job. A woman from Harvard did and she left Harvard because she had a sexual harassment against HER. He found out about it and was so upset he was sick to his stomach.

My reply: "I don't know what you want me to say."

Dick got upset, tears were welling up. "I'm a human being who is trying to relate to you an experience as another human being."

And I take in a deep breath. I try to figure out how to explain how other people might perceive the situation (aka mine at that moment).

Me: Okay, so. Here's the thing. When I hear that I know [X] things about you that are highly contextual. I know you aren't THAT person. However, I can see where someone who doesn't know you might think you're an old white cis male who is complaining about a job he didn't get.

"I'm not white," he said whitely, whitingly pushing back. "I'm Jewish."

Adonai. I apologize, but I pulled out a reverse Uno card so fast. “I was raised Jewish, so yeah, I mean... but I’m still white? Unless someone asks me or I tell them, I’m a basic white bitch rolling around in the world.” For those unaware, I have blonde hair, light-colored eyes, and am, what a shock, white. No one would ever confuse my race or ethnicity as being anything but Basic Bread European stock. Which, for the most part, is true. More importantly, No matter what I identify as, I get the privilege of not facing as many barriers walking around the world on a daily basis. To others, I’m perceived as a “nice white girl.” That’s a pretty powerful perception to ascribe to. Even more relevant, I was socialized and lived a good deal of my life as a “nice white girl.” Dick had lighter hair than me. Blue eyes. And, surprise, white skin. Since he told me he wasn’t religious and he doesn’t wear a kippah, I’m guessing that most people don’t look at him and go through the mental gymnastics of, “Well, my first thought is that this person is a straight, white, cis-man but everyone is more than the surface I see so maybe he’s actually bi-racial and he’s white passing,” or something or other. Some might, but my guess is he gets to avoid a lot of barriers. I felt like he wanted me to root for him in the Oppression Olympics. And we sort of went on like that in circles for a bit. He just couldn’t seem to grasp that other people might have different biases and perceptions of listening to him. Especially if the person listening was a person who had experienced trauma and harm in the same arena he worked. So, yeah, I left that evening with him placated. We hugged and I gave one of those friendly, “Talk to you later!” things and then immediately decided to never talk to him again. the end!

#adventures with people

4 notes · View notes

caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years ago

Text

you got an ego so big (it'll eat you alive).

roman-centric hurt/comfort (w/ remus, patton and virgil).

11.7k words | AO3 link | warnings: self-hatred, semi-intentional self-destruction, various injuries, arguing, remus-typical jokes and topics.

“At the best of times, Roman’s job was a tightrope act between maintaining a healthy amount of self-confidence and the ability to adapt and take criticism. Throughout his life he walks this line many times, always with the expectation that if he were to fall one way or the other, no one would be there to catch him.

But sometimes when you’re up miles high, it can become difficult to see the safety net on the ground below you.

(aka an expansion on the premise that a bruised ego causes literal injuries and the issues this could cause when you're an insecure prince with a need to please and the weight of the world on your shoulders).”

------------------

To be overly aware of your own self is often associated with negative traits, such as narcissism, self-consciousness or a sensitivity to mistakes. Although to some with a proclivity towards the spotlight, it can become an inadvertent consequence of over-analyzing yourself in order to achieve those flawless performances. Naturally, gaining any sort of notoriety and attempting to retain that positive image means becoming intimately aware of your faults and staying open to change, taking criticism to heart all the while keeping relatably humble. On the other hand, it may also mean letting that same criticism become your one sole focus, tearing you down instead of becoming a rung in the ladder that's supposed to take you to higher places.

Roman often found that navigating these gray areas was a momentous task. To be proud of his work, but not be too unbearably egotistical to the point that it blinded him. To accept criticism but not allow the pursuit of perfection to destroy him.

His role was truly a balance; a thin tightrope he constantly had to traverse.

And on occasion, he would end up slipping.

------------------

I - bonds that tie us.

Roman first learned of his job as the ego when Thomas was young. With Remus at the helm of most of the subconscious and instinctual stuff as his id, perhaps he should've assumed that he would have a similar mirrored purpose beyond simply confidence, however it hadn't ever really come into play until one afternoon when the two of them were busy playing in The Imagination.

They had just concluded a close duel against each other and were putting their weapons away (cardboard ones, since Feelings didn't want them running around with real weapons once he found out they were using them to fight, and because Fear and Lies often fretted about them doing something stupid and getting hurt). Usually neither of them held the lead for long during their matches since they were so well-matched, but today Remus had won easily, which Roman chalked up to him feeling off ("Yeah right. Don't be such a sore loser." "It's true!"). Either way, Remus would be bragging about the victory until the next time they got the opportunity to duel, and that meant he was already rubbing it in as they prepared to leave.

On their way to the exit, Remus had taken the lead at some point and was throwing out ideas about they should do later when Roman unexpectedly paused and doubled over, clutching his head. Remus didn't notice that he'd stopped until he heard a groan and turned around.

"What's wrong? Didn't hit you too hard, did I?" He asked with a grin as if he assumed that Roman was still playing- perhaps trying to make up an excuse for his terrible loss.

"I- Dunno. My head hurts…" Roman cringed, eyes screwed shut.

Remus' smile faltered when he realized it might not be a joke and he walked back, peeling Romans hands away from his forehead. Underneath was a large red patch of irritated skin which looked set to bruise. His frown deepened because he definitely didn't cause that, nor did he witness any incidents during the day which would be the cause. "How'd that happen?

"Dunno!" He repeated, eyes going blank for a moment while he caught up with what was happening outside. The two of them were usually much too distracted when they were in The Imagination to pay attention to everything that transpired in the real world, especially on weekdays like this when Thomas would be in school and Creativity wasn't exactly needed during most classes. "...Thomas was told off for slacking in front of the entire class and he got some bad grades on his report card… He's feeling embarrassed, I think.

Remus was confused by how this was relevant until he pieced together that the two events were linked to what was happening to his brother. His eyes widened in realization before they settled into determination. "Then I'll fight him until he stops feeling bad."

That startled a laugh out of Roman, until his head started pounding and he cut himself off with a grimace. "...’Can't do that."

He laughed too, in hopes that it would lift Roman's spirits again. "Can too! I'll figure it out, then he'll be too busy worrying about his broken bones to care about what some dumb teacher said. Maybe then he'll get to skip school for a while and do something funner like-"

"Remus." Roman hissed over him, overcome with a sudden dizzy spell. His hand found Remus’ shoulder for purchase, which stopped his twin in his rant.

Remus stared at him in alarm. This seemed serious, and he didn't do too well with handling serious things. "Do... Do you want me to get Feelings? Or Learning? Or Lies?"

"No. None of them. I just wanna go home." He whined, leaning more and more against Remus for support.

' Home' in their case was what they called their shared room. It was where they always returned to at the end of a long day, and no matter what had happened, they could always feel their troubles wash away as they sat in their own little world once more. Roman longed for that feeling, to escape the too-bright sun of The Imagination which now felt like it was blinding him and just lay down for a while.

Remus nodded hesitantly, the plans he had spun of pulling a prank on Fear and Lies forgotten. Normally the two Creativities preferred to find the door of The Imagination manually (they claimed it made the experience more immersive when they were out on an adventure), but instead he reached towards the exit and the world twisted around them, ejecting them out together. They came out the other side back in their room, next to their bunk bed. Instead of climbing up to his bed on the top, Roman just about threw himself onto Remus' sheets. Somehow he managed to ignore the weird smell of the fabric that he always complained about, which spoke greatly about his current well-being.

Remus hovered behind him, unsure of what to do, when Roman let out another pained noise and curled up tighter. "What now?!"

"Thomas...parents.

Since that didn't really explain anything, Remus decided to check up on what was happening outside himself. Thomas' parents had asked to see his report card and they were giving him the 'not mad but disappointed talk', while Thomas was shrunk into himself in shame. Yikes, Learning mustn't be feeling too hot about this either. But right now his focus was on his brother, who the sight of in such a sorry state filled him with rage.

"Now I want to fight them too." Remus muttered darkly. "Take the knife from the kitchen that dad uses to cut up turkeys and make them stop talking forever. Then we won't have to deal with this again and you won't-"

Oh right, Roman was still injured. Focus, Remus. Concern. Right, he was concerned for his brother, who was hurting like he had never seen, even after their fights. What could he do about this? He was always so much better at destroying things than fixing them, so having to deal with a situation like this without any sort of guidance made him nervous.

"You can't hurt them." Roman protested weakly.

"Maybe if I want to enough I could!"

Remus walked around the bunk bed and settled down on the side Roman was facing towards. From this angle he could see new bruises spattered along his brother's arms. In a grotesque way, the different shades came together like a watercolour painting. Except instead of a canvas, they were on a body- Remus shook his head. Focus! He could draw sickly yellow and purple-inspired pictures later, when Roman would be in the mood to be more good-humored about it.

"You shouldn't, then. It's bad."

"...Alright then. What should I do Ro-bro?"

Roman cracked open one eye and looked at him. "Stay? Until Thomas feels better?"

Considering he was just grounded for the weekend, Remus wasn't sure how long it would take for this hit to Thomas' self esteem to blow over, but despite knowing this he nodded anyway.

"Okay."

He laid down next to Roman, not commenting when he hid his face against the covers and started sniffling, or when he eventually fell asleep, curled against his side like how they would sleep when they were newly-split. When Learning knocked in their door to tell them that dinner was ready, he made a weak excuse that they were busy and would eat later.

Without even asking he knew Roman would want this to be kept between them, despite how the others would undoubtedly fuss and nurse him back to health. And perhaps that was the reason why. His brother always wanted to appear infallible to the others and did so replicating the heroes from the stories they read, which often meant refusing to admit when he needed help and trying to do everything himself. If you asked Remus, he was trying way too hard to be like the Creativity that came before them, which was silly because they were different now and as they were, they needed each other.

Remus closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep too. This seemed like a big deal, so Roman's pride would have to pass eventually for him to seek help. Right?

------------------

II - even without dying you're dead to me.

In retrospect, Remus had underestimated Roman’s ability to keep a secret (maybe because he was so quick these days to run over to Feelings, now Morality, whenever Remus did something to upset him. Tattle-tale).

Now that they were older and their roles were more defined, their once shared-room had separated into two to adjust to this change. Even though it had been long enough that he should be used to the feeling of being alone, there were still times where Remus had to try to not let it bother him when he looked up at night, expecting to see the familiar underside of a top bunk and instead only finding the ceiling he had painted an underwater-themed mural on.

On nights like this, far too sentimental to enter a peaceful rest, they would go sleep in each other's rooms, saying nothing as they tried to pretend they were as close as they once were. Remus groaned into his pillow, fighting that annoying urge to seek comfort. He was a teenager now, he didn't want to be so attached at the hip to a side who had started looking at him with disgust and fear instead of the fondness they used to share. Sometimes he couldn't help it though, clinging to the days when everything felt simple and the biggest thing they had to worry about was finding time to create the things they enjoyed. At the very least he was glad that Roman didn't mock him for his occasional bouts of uncharacteristic sentiment; that would solidify for him that there were no remnants of the relationship they once had left.

With that depressing thought, he rolled out of bed. He couldn't sleep tonight so he was going to make that Roman's problem; that always cheered him up. Perhaps if he hadn't made such a disturbed face when Remus had talked about the brazen bull he had made earlier that day, he would feel a bit more sympathy for waking his brother up in the middle of the night. Buuut he didn't and he was feeling petty, so without a second thought he sunk out and into Romans room.

"WAKEY WAKEY~!" Remus clashed two cymbals together like one of those nightmare-inducing wind-up monkeys, only to belatedly realize the bed he was facing was empty.

He blinked, both in confusion and to adjust his eyes to the unexpected light of the room. Both of them may be night owls, but Roman would usually be asleep by 2am at least, and it was way past that hour. Looking around the room, his eyes latched onto the vanity where his brother was sitting, looking incredibly startled from the deafening crash of metal against metal.

"Get out!" He yelled once his shock faded into indignation, glaring at Remus.

Remus didn’t respond, staring at the medical supplies spread across the surface. Roman was in the middle of wrapping a compression bandage around his thigh, which he abandoned as soon as Remus had entered.

"Did you get something stuck in your ear again? I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight, Remus. Leave ."

"What happened?" He blurted out before he could even think about the question.

"Doesn't matter. In case you've forgotten, the door's right there. Feel free to use it at any point."

Instead of complying (because when had Remus ever done that for anyone? No no, it was always more exciting to do the opposite of what people ask and see what happens), he crossed the room, ignoring how Roman increasingly looked like he wanted to punch him the longer he lingered.

"Bitch, it obviously does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be looking like you got trampled by a cracked-out horse."

"Lovely imagery." Roman gritted out.

"Lovely avoidance." Remus retorted sarcastically. "Aren't you best friends with Morality and Logic now? Why aren't they here sucking your d-"

"If you don't go back to your own room I'll run you through with my sword." Roman warned with an air of finality.

Remus snorted.

It was hard to be intimidated by the same side who had once cried when he had accidentally smashed an imaginary caterpillar cocoon with his morning star. In his defense he had forgotten to make the handle weighted when he first made it, so he was still getting used to the uneven distribution of the weapon...not like that stopped Roman from getting upset with him. Supposedly he had spent the last week trying to raise butterflies and wanted to show them off to Logic after they had learned about chrysalis in class, but Remus found that somewhat laughable considering he could just create a fully-formed butterfly if he wanted to. So he did laugh, calling him dumb for getting upset over nothing, and through tears Roman pushed him to the ground and told him he hated him for the first time. (After that, he may have spent the next week killing any butterflies that crossed his path, but that was neither here nor there. The point of this tangent provided a lá Remus Sander's brain was was that Roman could be a big baby and therefore he couldn't take anything he said too seriously.)

"Sounds like a good time! Save that idea for later though, because if you don't tell me I'll summon them over here to ask them myself."

"Don't. They don't know about this, alright? For once in your life can you just let it go?"

Huh. Remus tilted his head. It had been years since they first found out about the fun little quirk Roman had, and he just...never told? He figured at the very least it would be a good way to milk even more attention from the others; something Creativity had been seeking more often after Fear turned into Anxiety during middle school and gained a much larger role in Thomas' life. "Why?"

Roman huffed in frustration. "They don't need to. I can handle it myself."

"...Wow! Careful not to summon Lies, because you're full of shit and you know it." Remus fired back. He didn't even know why he was getting so mad. Minutes ago he was cursing his brother's guts for how their relationship had soured, and now all of a sudden it was if all of that dislike had faded into the background for something else. Concern? He hadn't felt concern for anything in years. Roman always made it seem like he could take care of himself, so that's what Remus had believed at first too, though perhaps stumbling across this situation was evidence of the opposite. Reasonable self-care didn't exactly look like 'patching yourself up at 4 in the morning'. At least, that sounded like something Lies would say which probably meant it was accurate.

"Ugh- Shut up. I've been doing just fine so far, without you or them, so you can take your fake pity and shove it up your you-know-where."

Remus didn't rise to the opportunity to poke fun at that statement, his mind going blank (and what a strange and unusual feeling that was). The idea that anything could have been hidden from him seemed unthinkable given how they used to tell each other everything. He hadn't even considered that that habit had become one-sided, given how it had never stopped being true for him. "...Roman, what does that mean? Has this been happening a lot?"

"..."

"Why did you never tell me?! This isn't something you can just keep a secret! If you won't say anything I will-

Remus' mouth snapped shut as Roman ejected him from his room. He landed back on his own bed and when he scrambled onto his feet to tried to rise up again, he found that his efforts were blocked. Roman had kicked him out and locked the door behind him. He never did that, no matter how much they fought or annoyed each other. It was the one thing they did that showed they still cared.

Remus trembled with adrenaline and shock. Taking his pillow, he summoned a knife and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it until all of his pent up feelings were gone and there all that was left was the fluff covering his floor.

------------------

III - interlude.

As it turns out, he'd never get the opportunity to tell, because shortly after that, the newly appointed 'dark sides' were pushed away into their own corner of the mindscape after an explosive argument between the sides (during which Remus tried to ignore how closely Roman stood at Morality's side, sword brandished towards him. He didn't want to think his twin had a hand in their separation, even though it made so much sense).

When he argued about going back with Lies, now Deceit after being appointed the new leader of the unwanted and unloved, he was told through clenched teeth and pained eyes that he shouldn't. Not until Thomas was ready for him. For all of them.

------------------

IV - to the death of me, i'm just fulfillin' my destiny.

After that, Roman adjusted, and did so alone. Teenage years came with many challenges, ones he didn’t always escape unscathed. Despite the occasional rejection here, an unfortunate setback there, he felt as if he had grown a thicker skin for the trials they faced. Into adulthood he wore his ego like a suit of armor; Thomas was outgoing and likable, so of course it became easier to brush aside random negative experiences as minor blips, things that didn’t represent their worth.

This was challenged somewhat as he began pursuing creative outlets more seriously. This meant more work for Roman in general (Woo! Suck it Logan), but it also came with more opportunities to feel ashamed of a messed-up performance, embarrassed by a note sung wrong, hurt by an ill-intentioned piece of feedback.

So he tried to compensate at times. Sue him. Between the nights he spent nursing his wounds and wondering how to do better next time, perhaps he deserved to be a little self-congratulatory about the shining achievements he won for them. There was a certain safety in placing himself up on that pedestal, so high above that it felt like nobody could ever reach him; that he was above it all. But the reality was that this pedestal, gold-plated as it may be, was founded on an interior of paper mache, one wrong move from away from collapsing and sending him tumbling back down to earth.

It was a good thing that pretending came naturally to Roman. So natural that the fear of falling sometimes didn’t register with him at all.

------------------

V - the calamitous corollary of being considered.

Except, it may have been too much to expect nobody to ever realize there was something up with him. The fact that the sides had to work closely together alone meant that the excuse of being busy after every troubling experience could only work for so long.

The first one to find out was Patton, because of course it was. Sometimes Roman felt as if Patton wasn’t given enough credit for his intelligence. Even though he could be a tad slow on the uptake on other things, his ability to detect the slightest change in mood and discern how people were feeling could be uncanny at times. Emotions just happened to be Patton's strong suit, and while that was very much appreciated when it came to sharing excitement or talking through a heated problem, it was not so grand when you were trying to get away with hiding something.

The first time he let something slip was a few days after Thomas had been flat-out rejected when asking someone out on a date. It wasn't that big of a blow, considering they had barely known the guy for more than a month, but Roman had been insistent that they throw caution into the wind and give it a shot, sure that he had been receiving signals that proved that this guy felt a similar interest. Turns out, he didn't, and was very-much straight. At least the rejection had been somewhat carried out gently and he didn't seem too put-off about staying friends afterwards. Nonetheless the wound was still fresh, and Thomas kept internally cringing whenever he thought about it, which didn't help matters. Whatever. Roman dealt with the bruises that arose from the incident and dabbed a little foundation on the ones he couldn't hide with clothing. They'd get over it in a matter of weeks.

It was after the awkward feelings had finally begun to settle when it happened. Roman and Patton had been in the kitchen preparing dinner when Thomas received a message on his phone, and when he went to check it, he face-planted on the couch in mortification.

'Hey man, I just remembered that my cousin is coming to town this weekend. He's gay too so I thought you two could go on a blind date if you're still looking. :) Lmk your thoughts.'

Patton frowned upon sensing the sudden wave of embarrassment, pausing to check what had happened. "Well...That's thoughtful of him!" He chuckled, tone trying and failing to be positive. Roman couldn't share the same sentiment.

"Thoughtless is more like it! He wants to set us up with the first gay person he knows? Who's not even in the city? Does he think Thomas has no standards at all?! How dare-" Roman's indignant protests cut off as he felt the skin around his collar grow tender and swell slightly. He let out a slight whimper when he pressed his fingers into the bruise to double check its location. Why now and in such a visible place?! He's going to get Thomas to drop that guy if it's the last thing he does-

"Ro! Are you okay?"

Right. Patton was still here. Don't panic.

"Y-yeah! I just remembered an injury I sustained earlier. But not to worry, 'tis but a flesh wound!" He joked.

"A flesh wound?!" Patton cried, reference flying over his head. "Let me see."

Gently, Patton moved his head upwards to get a better look at the bruise. It mustn't look good, because Patton, squeamish as he was, grimaced on sight.

"How on earth did that happen? I don't remember that being there just now."

"Uh." Come on Creative skills, work your magic. "A stray whomping willow in The Imagination? You know how they can be. I suppose it merely took a while to develop, bruises can be funny like that."

Luckily it seemed to work, because Patton sighed. "I thought you got rid of them all after that time one almost threw Logan into a lake. Did Remus make more?"

Heh. Good times. That was a slight lie on his behalf when he had told the others he had gotten rid of the trees; he had kept a few of them around because they were once a gift from Remus to quote 'spice up his boring forests'. Not for any sentimental reasons, of course, but because he thought it was funny and it kept him on his toes. "I guess."

Patton made a small 'tsk' noise, mouth still drawn in a frown but he didn't comment further. "Come on, I'll help you treat that. Does it hurt?"

"Of course not." He smiled. "Do you really think I could be bested by a mere tree?"

"Never! I do wish you were more careful when you go on your little adventures, though. It makes me awfully sad to think about you in 'pine'."

Roman knew it had been a flimsy excuse and even though Patton seemed to accept it, there was a hesitation in his eye which spoke of hidden disbelief. After some first aid and many more tree-related puns later, they went back to cooking, finishing up 30 minutes later. When Logan came down to dinner, immediately questioning the bandages around Roman's neck, he repeated the fake story, distracting him with a request not to go into The Imagination with the whomping willow around and packaging the thinly-veiled jab at the way Logan had once freaked out when he was swung around by the semi-sentient tree as a warning. Logan's concern quickly faded and he shot back a sharp retaliation that Roman didn't care to remember. He just laughed, feeling as light as a kite with the crisis averted.

The next time didn't go over as gracefully.

Thomas had found a different partner eventually, one that wasn't some friend's cousin. They dated for months, and just when he had been thinking about inviting his boyfriend to move in so he could be closer to his workplace, he'd been broken up with. On Valentines Day of all days. There was no better way of putting it; they had planned to go out to dinner, managing to book a table at a fairly classy restaurant, exchanged gifts, and near the end of the night his boyfriend had leaned across the table with a sad smile, thanking him for the evening before admitting he didn't see them working out anymore. He said it quietly, as to not cause a scene among the other diners, but that didn't stop Thomas from immediately bursting into tears. The scene had caused his (now ex) boyfriend to leave early after paying his half of the bill. At least the waitress had taken pity on him and brought over more complimentary bread rolls (which he took because he was not a complete fool, heartbroken as he may be), though even that didn't stop the confusion and embarrassment of it all.

As expected, the whole incident caused nothing but chaos; the right-brain sides were devastated, Anxiety was in a state of panic, and Logic had been metaphorically thrown out the window. As Thomas made his way home, they were at a complete loss for what to do. They had started the day, hoping to take a step forward in their relationship, and ended up with nothing at all. What worse is that they didn't even have a clear idea why (admittedly, that could have been due to, as mentioned before, the inconsolable crying).

It seemed like the most sensible thing to do at the moment was to throw the Valentines gifts away and gorge on the ice-cream that had been sitting in the back of the freezer for who-knows how long while watching a comfort show and trying to forget the whole evening. So that's what they did. As Logan tried to sort through what happened and rationalize what to do next, Patton wallowed in his misery as he dealt with the giant mix of feelings Thomas was going through.

After a few hours working through the brunt of it, enough to where his mind began wandering elsewhere, Patton realized with a start that he hadn't seen Roman since the start of the evening. He must have been so devastated too! Patton recalled how excited he was about the day ahead of them, how he spun fantasies of Thomas' boyfriend accepting the proposal to move in and then the future proposals that could come after that-

Patton mournfully sobbed. He needed to stop thinking about this, or else Thomas could start spiraling again. The best thing to do right now was distract himself, and to do that he should go check on Roman. Perhaps they could talk and have a mutual catharsis over the whole thing. Or better yet, he could put his energy towards someone else and he won't have to fall back into the thoughts that had been clouding his mind ever since they had left that stupid restaurant.

Splashing some water on his face to clear up some of the blotchy-ness, he left his room and crossed the hallway towards Roman's. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, so he tentatively knocked. "Kiddo?"

For a few moments there was silence, and Patton almost turned away, assuming that Roman might be blowing off some steam in The Imagination, until a voice cleared inside the room and answered. "Pat? What do you want?"

Patton was taken aback for a second, not expecting such a straight-forward answer. It almost sounded like Roman wasn't upset at all, but Patton sincerely doubted that to be true. His tone was almost too normal, and for anybody else he wouldn't have questioned it, but the lack of dramatics or flowery language was always a clear red flag for the Creative side. "I wanted to check on you since um- You-Know-Who took 'dine and dash' a tad too seriously." He chuckled humorlessly. "...Can I come in?"

There was some shuffling and muffled curses. "Why? I'm fine. Worry about yourself."

"'Why?'" He repeated, eyeing the door warily. "I'm concerned! I haven't seen you in hours and I- I know you must be upset about this too. Can we please talk?"

"I'm not exactly my most princely presentable self right now. Anyway, it's late. Surely this can wait until tomorrow?"

Patton looked down at himself. Instead of his usual garb, he had thrown on some more comfortable clothes hours ago, and they were currently crumpled from laying in bed, sobbing his eyes out. "I'm hardly my best-self either right now, Kiddo-" Before he could go on a spiel about how it was best to not bottle up emotions when they're fresh (and ignoring the hypocrisy of that sentiment), he heard a thump on the other side of the door followed by a quiet hiss of pain. Patton began to panic, and his hand flew to the handle. "I'm coming in!"

Before the other side could even consider protesting, Patton flung the fortunately unlocked door open and stepped into the room, gasping at the sight he was met with. Roman was on the floor, wincing as he clutched his leg. Although he was still dressed in his usual outfit, there were enough injuries on his visible skin that Patton could only wonder how far they went. He covered his mouth and stared in horror as Roman turned to look at him nervously.

"What- How did this happen?!"

Roman licked his dry lips, eyes darting away as he searched for an excuse. "I- The Imagination- This is from earlier-"

"You told me this morning you were going to spend the day helping Thomas write a love letter." Patton said, voice strained with panic and disbelief. "Tell me the truth, please."

Shoot, he had announced his plans earlier that day, hadn't he? He internally cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut, before lowering his head in defeat. "Can you keep a secret, Pat?"

Said side shifted uncomfortably, but his tone was resolute when he nodded. "If it means you'll let me help with whatever this is."

"Okay..." Roman inhaled. "Okay."

And then he explained. Or rather, gave a shortened version of the truth which was less likely to give Patton a complete heart-attack: that bruised egos were something he experienced, but it was never this bad (true) or all that common (also true), and that they weren't something to worry about because he could usually take care of them himself (technically true). By the time he had finished, Patton still looked concerned, but had become less frantic with the information.

"You'll let me help in the future if you need it, right?" He asked, so close to shedding tears that Roman had trouble keeping eye-contact without becoming choked up with guilt.

"If I need it." He agreed.

Finally, Patton smiled, and went to fetch the first-aid kit hastily. As he helped patch him up for the second time that year, the look in Patton's eyes was so pained that Roman vowed to let him see this side of him as little as possible.

For a while, he kept true to this promise to himself, and on the occasions when Patton would drop by to check if everything was alright, if Roman had encountered any bruised egos since, he relished in the relief on his face whenever he would lie and said he hadn't. Distantly he wondered sometimes if this was how heroes were supposed to feel; protecting people by letting them live in blissful ignorance and bearing the burden of the ugly truth alone.

(It was thoughts like that that kept him going.)

------------------

VI - high highs and low lows.

And then came the videos. Youtube had been an excellent ego-boost for Roman. Similar to how life-changing Vine was, the instant gratification of likes and feedback and people liking what they made was enough to send him over the moon, and oftentimes it was able to ward away the downsides that came with it too; the stress of staying relevant, the occasional hate comment, the portion of dislikes that didn't explain what about the video was dislike-worthy-

Overall it seemed like a great idea, especially when the sides became involved. It gave them all the chance to gain their own spotlights, which most of them appreciated. Sometimes this wasn't always so good though. With the videos came more introspection than usual, which meant deeply examining each problem to try to find some kind of moral. And right now, Roman didn't want to do any sort of thinking exercise about how badly he messed up. At this point in their career, a simple audition should have been a cake walk, instead it was an ache walk...Okay, admittedly he wasn't on his best game right now. The point was, he had potentially thrown the whole audition by forgetting something so simple as the lyrics, and now the casting director would definitely only remember Thomas by the way he froze under pressure, which wasn't exactly an appealing trait in somebody looking to go up on stage where the pressure was set to 100.

After everything was said and done, Roman had no choice but to approach Patton for help. In his current state, he was much too dizzy on his feet to even contemplate showing up and trying to play it off cool, which would've been an laughable endeavor anyhow considering how outwardly embarrassed Thomas was. Betrayal from his own-- well. It was a bit too harsh to blame his current predicament on Thomas, after all the fact of the matter was that it was Roman’s fault for not being better prepared.

Anyway, that's how he ended up in his current position, being swaddled in a too-warm bed, injuries patched up and having soup spoon-fed into his mouth. The whole thing felt...strange. Usually during times like this he would be grinning and bearing it, the inner satisfaction he got from fooling everyone with his performance pushing him through the day, but he supposed this was unavoidable. It was better that only one side had to see part of the problem rather than exposing it to everyone, and out of all of them, at least it was Patton. It still didn't sit well that his secret was now out in the open, a throwaway joke to be used before moving along, but hopefully that would play to his favor and they'd view it as his usual dramatics. Not like he preferred to be seen as too incompetent to care for himself, even if it fit with his persona. He supposed it just went without saying that princes are supposed to have someone at their every beck and call, they're supposed to be indulgent and spoiled and ridiculous. But princes were also supposed to be leaders, someone who was caring and brave and ready to face any challenge.

Roman sighed, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He didn't feel very princely at all right now.

“Kiddo, are you doing okay? Does something hurt? Is the soup too hot?” Patton asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was such an open book when it came to the other sides, which meant that Roman knew exactly when he had worried or panicked the fatherly figure. Honestly, it only made him feel worse. Being doted over seemed like a good idea until it meant being the subject of pity and other people’s hurt.

“No no, I’m fine Padre. It’s fine. I was just taking a trip into thought city for a second there.” He cracked a smile, trying to ignore how the bruise at the corner of his mouth pulled at the motion. If only he could think of a more original nickname, perhaps that would be more convincing. He was simply drawing blanks today it seemed. “What do you think the others are up to right now? I’d bet 5 bucks Logan is losing his mind having to deal with Anxiety alone.”

Patton didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sudden change of subject encouraged him to stop any further questioning.

In the end they talked until the others had finished filming. Whatever happened during the discussion must have helped Thomas grow past his feelings, because one-by-one the injuries on Roman's body grew smaller until they had faded entirely. Seeing this, Patton noticeably livened up again, and he cheerily declared that he would take the empty bowl back to the kitchen and check in with the others.

As soon as he was gone, Roman’s face dropped, tired from all the smiling he had been doing, and he slid down further into the sheets. Perhaps he should consider himself fortunate that the others had helped out, but all he could think about was how they now knew about his biggest weakness and how embarrassing that was. Logan and Anxiety were the last two sides he wanted finding out about this, if not for their often-tumultuous relationships, but because they'd never fully understand. Neither of them were as dependent on validation as much as he was. Despite what others thought about them, they would just keep on going, meanwhile Roman couldn't truly thrive without some kind of feedback; he was too shackled to expectations and the need to please for that sort of self-indulgence, it was practically written in his existence. It simply wasn't enough for him to be great, he needed to be great and be appreciated. Without that, he felt as if he would burn out, like a candle who's supply of oxygen had been cut off, leaving only smoke and the charred wick behind as a reminder of the fire that was once there. And sometimes that made him feel pathetic, that so much of his esteem depended on what people thought of him. Other times it just made him envy the others who had no one to please but Thomas himself and what he deemed important.

...He was tired, but he needed to keep going. The least he could do was keep up the image of egotism so that those horrid thoughts of being lesser weren't picked up by the others. If they started thinking of him the way he thought about himself (if they didn't already), he wouldn't know what he'd do. He wouldn't stand to be pitied or mocked or anything that validated what he already knew about himself. He just wouldn't.

Rolling out of bed, he practiced his smile in the mirror, fixed his clothes, and sunk out to make his grand appearance.

He couldn’t let this happen again at all costs.

------------------

VII - an agreeable sort of self-destruction.

More and more often, Roman was glad that he and Remus didn't share a room anymore. From the nights he hunched over scraps of ideas and worked without distraction until the sun was on the horizon, to the days he woke up with tears clinging to his lashes and breath coming out in labored pants, until he realizes the dream about him messing up so badly that he's split apart a second time was merely a cruel trick of his mind.

Currently, there was no greater time to be grateful for their separation than the moment he hastily returned back to safety after Remus' debut to Thomas. If only his brother could see the way he paced back and forth and tugged at his hair, he was sure his other half would merely gloat and poke away at his wounds instead of doing anything to help. Or worse, use it as ammunition in front of the other sides as some sort of proof of his imperfection.

Speaking of, the video was disastrous. He had been out-cold the entire time so he had no idea what was said and had no way of directing the conversation at all, which was possibly the most aggravating part of the whole situation. Beyond that, there was so much that Remus could have told the others without his knowledge. Once upon a time, the two of them were two peas in a pod, and that meant they knew an unnameable amount of secrets about each other. (Like how Remus always used to sleep with this crudely-knitted octopus Roman had made for him when he discovered crochet. Remus claimed to have set fire to it when they were teenagers, but Roman had seen it tucked away on a shelf the last time he had been in his room, before the Great Divide). The room swam a little when Roman thought about it too much. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it wasn't as if he'd done much to earn Remus' loyalty. Why would he take the higher road and keep all of that to himself now, when he had the prime opportunity right in front of him to make himself seem like the better twin?

Hold on... He was thinking about this all wrong. Remus didn't care about good and bad the same way he did. Sure he was adamant that his version of being creative was more interesting, but he never tried to convince any of the other sides that he was inherently better or more worthy of attention than Roman, at least not to the same extent he did. The realization hit Roman like a train on it's way to a damsel tied to railway tracks (for lack of a less Remus-y simile): had he been wrong to push his brother away when he was just trying to help? All this time he had expected nothing but the worst from him, all because he was loud and unapologetic and had gone about his concern in a way that frightened him. Though just because Roman had been scared, surely that didn't warrant the dark sides being pushed aside in such a manner, and clearly the repression wasn't any benefit to Thomas...And was that partially his fault? He had been the one who encouraged Patton to divide the sides up. He had come up with the name for them: light and dark.

When he really thought about it, there wasn't much 'light' about him, not when he had been the source of so many problems.

Making Virgil feel unwelcome and continuing to trample on his boundaries.

His insults toward Logan and attempts to diminish his importance.

Leading Thomas and Patton astray in his pursuits for romance.

Being too quick to side with Janus when he should’ve known that the deceitful side only stood for selfishness and not the fair-played ambition Thomas valued.

And now: his treatment of Remus for most of their lives. Pushing him away, pretending he didn't exist, trying to erase their memories together.

How could he have the gall to claim that he saw Remus as an awful reflection of everything he didn’t want to be, when the whole point of looking into a mirror means facing you and you alone?

Even his metaphors were hypocritical.

It was a shock that nobody saw through that statement or called him out on how he had wronged just about everybody. How truly unfortunate it was that he had been declared the hero when he had done very little to live up to that title. Heroes weren't mean. They didn't make people feel bad about themselves for merely existing. They're supposed to defeat the bad guys, yes, but every time he had thought he was accomplishing that, it turned out that he was always off the mark. At least this time he had it right with Deceit, but still, that didn't erase the history he had with misjudging what was acceptable. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of reflection that must have on Thomas' content. If his creativity, which was supposed to be a force of pure good, had made a countless number of errors, what did that say about the things they were proud of? How many things had they put into the world that were imperfect? That had a misleading message? That was problematic and hurt people?

The realization had his throat tightening in panic. How could he ever have confidence in his work when he had such a flawed system of right and wrong? How-

...Wait.

Roman's spiraling thoughts were fortunately put on pause as he passed by his vanity, being pulled back to reality in an instant and finally noticing the splash of colours that had made themselves welcome on his skin once more. He gaped at his own reflection. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the sight per say, but he hadn’t realized anything had happened today that would affect Thomas’ ego. Remus’ appearance perhaps? He had the feeling that if there was any discussion to be had in light of that it would be on the goodness of his character, which could be a worthy-enough explanation. But if anything wouldn’t that what the large gash on the back of his head (fittingly) represented? So where had the others come from? Unless…

Was it him?

His own self-criticism had never left a dent on his pride before. Usually his injuries tended to be the result of outside sources; the kind of things that come out of nowhere and hit at you harder than you could ever expect. Did this mean that his own words were on par with Thomas’ harshest critics?

Roman shakily sat down. This... was a good thing, right? Perhaps he was finally gaining some self-awareness. He had been trying to make amends for where he had fallen short in the past, so this could be the sign he was making progress.

Yes. This was good. And if it wasn't, then perhaps this was just apart of his repentance. At this point he was sure everyone would agree.

------------------

VIII - the art of learning to let go.

The thing about tightropes is quite interesting. Like most other skills, it is something that needs to be honed. At first you try on a smaller scale and fall off more times you can count, but it's alright because that's why you practice in a safe environment. And then you progress to something more risky, and this time you have other tools to help keep you steady. Before you know it, you're up doing the actual thing; a rope suspended tens of feet in the air and thousands of eyes watching your every move, each one wondering if you really will make it across, or if they're about to watch a great tragedy take place before them. When you misjudge your own abilities and are thrust upon that rope when you're unprepared, however, all of the practice you gained can feel as if it has slipped away. As soon as you take your first step, the rope wobbles and you know somewhere deep down that your fall will be inevitable. But with so many expectant eyes baring into you, what else are you to do but continue forward? Continue until you're halfway across and your balance is so shaky that all you can do is watch as the rope swings backwards and forwards beneath your feet until you give up on trying to steady yourself entirely and-

Roman let go of the rope he had been clinging onto.

There was no grace in the way that he fell. It wasn't even a matter of choosing a side; ego or change. At first he fell so gradually that he didn't feel it at all, placing all of his thoughts and opinions into a neat little box and shoving them aside. Trying so hard to adapt, trying to be feel comfortable clinging to reasoning that contradicted his role, his meaning, his existence- and before he knew it, he was plummeting towards the ground because even then, that little piece of purpose he was forcing himself to mold his worth around did nothing but feed into the self-righteousness that must've always been there, hiding away under the surface.

Roman could only describe the feeling as air-sickness when he sunk out, his very being thrown into weightless uncertainty. Once he appeared back at his safe place, the place he wanted to be most, he felt his body connect with the ground once more as he collapsed onto the floor, body shaking with sobs and wounds he already knew were appearing.

He had been so stupid. Every step he took was littered with mistakes. Just when he thought he had learned, to try to be more accepting, to know when to give up, to listen to others instead of forging his own path, another thing came along and knocked him back to where he started and he was thrown back into the cycle of trying to atone for his actions. A cycle that never seemed to end.

His arm fractured and started to swell.

For once he thought he finally had it figured out. If he just followed the person who should've known what was best for Thomas, even if it meant going back on his own desires, surely then he would be on the right side for once. But all of a sudden that was wrong and now it was all his fault that so many bad outcomes had come about as a consequence of his lack of assertion. He may not have loaded the gun, but he had pulled the trigger, and that made him more culpable than anyone else.

His nose ached as if hit by an unseen force and began dripping blood.

Even his attempts at keeping his ego in check were all for nothing because the moment he felt threatened he lashed out towards Janus, the side who now all of a sudden deserved a seat at the table because he had gained Patton's favor (nevermind that he had agreed with him first. Oh no, that was just Roman being naive and easy to sway if only you stroke his ego a little. What importance could his opinions possibly have?). But that was the thing, wasn’t it? In the end he just couldn’t win, no matter what he did. When he tried to silence his voice it was too obvious and attention-seeking, and when he chose to project his thoughts it was too loud and abrasive. When he spoke out he was punching down, but when others did the same they were punching up up up. It left him wondering how much more he had to fall before it was no longer deemed okay to kick him while he was down. Was it his fault for choosing to sit atop his golden pedestal, making himself seem forever untouchable and unable to be hurt? And would things be different if he was sensitive like Patton? Complicated like Virgil? Respectable like Logan? Had he been making a mistake all along by pretending to be stronger than he was? But how was he ever supposed to let go of the walls he had built, knowing that the second they crumbled, all the things he had been trying to protect himself from would pass through and destroy everything he had worked so hard for? Maybe it was time to accept that this was all he could be; that there was no way for him to change, no way to soften his edges or stick firm to his beliefs that wouldn’t end with him in a losing position.

His ribs ached, bending unnaturally until he felt a snap in his chest.

Perhaps Janus was right by calling him evil. He had proven it time and time again that he was no good for Thomas. In fact, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that he was worse than Remus. At least he couldn't help the way he was, didn't have control over the problems he caused unlike Roman. He was supposed to be the half with all the bad parts removed. The 2.0 version, new and improved. He had no excuse for being as flawed as he was, not really. All this time spent thinking he was the good twin, and it was nothing more than an act of self-delusion. The grandeur of a side with nothing to show for it beyond his words.

His eyelid puffed up and mottled with colour.

...He was bad. Unneeded. Evil.

The capillaries across his knuckles burst and stained them a violent red.

Everything would be so much better if he just-

"Broman?" Oh shit.

Romans eyes flew open. And he realized belatedly that he wasn't looking at his floor; his floor had intricate Persian rugs and a soft fluffy carpet. This one had various stains and burns and felt scratchy against his fingers.

"What the fuck. Princey? You good?"

1) He wasn't in his room. 2) Wherever he was, Remus and Virgil were here too.

"M-my mistake! I must have accidentally sunk out to the wrong place. If you'll excuse me-" He tried, but his voice was hoarse and clearly not okay. Of all times for his acting skills to have failed him.

"Oh no you don't."

Before he could sink out through the floor, two arms latched under his armpits and hoisted him upright. He choked back a gasp at the sudden movement, senses flashing white as his injuries were jostled. He barely heard the shocked exclamation in front of him before the two voices discussed something hastily and he was deposited onto a soft surface. The ringing in his ears faded, just in time to hear Virgil speak.

"What happened? " He asked, voice layered with anxiety and sounding on the verge of a panic attack. Roman would have tried to reassure him if he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire.

"It just happens sometimes, when Thomas’ ego gets bruised." Remus answered bitterly when it became clear his brother wasn't in a position to explain. He then muttered under his breath: "Though this time is different, huh?"

"What? I thought- I didn’t know it got this bad.” Virgil whispers, horrified.

"Sorry you have to see this, Finding Emo." Roman croaked once he began slowly coming back to his senses. He would regret not being more composed later, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything. “I’ll be as good as Gucci soon.”

"No. Shut the fuck up, you don't get to say that." Remus said angrily. Why did he sound so mad? Roman tried to crack open his eyes to check, but the world was still spinning too much for him to really recognize what was he was seeing. On top of that it seemed one of his eyes was swollen shut. Joy. That'll make it more difficult to patch himself up later.

"'Told you before, I can handle myself." He finally managed.

"Yeah? Was that you 'handling yourself' when you dropped in and started bleeding all over my floor? Or when you stopped talking to me and kicked us 'dark sides' to the curb because your sense of superiority was more important? Or when you started acting like a royal prick to everyone just so they wouldn't know you spend your nights licking your wounds?"

"Stop." Roman pleaded, shamefully curling into himself as much as his body allowed in its current state. Remus paused in his tirade before continuing, more quietly.

"If you're uncomfortable just from that, you should try watching your brother slowly self-destruct for years and not being able to do anything about it. That's fucking uncomfortable." Roman heard a sniffle, and his body went cold. He hadn't heard Remus get upset since they were kids. Sometimes he forgot that there was more to his brother than his disgusting unpredictable persona, and the thought that he could've been hurting Remus all this time was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"I'm..." Sorry? Was he sorry? Apologizing was practically second nature at this point, but he couldn't even tell if the words would be genuine if he said them. Was he sorry for his actions or for hurting Remus, or was it the fact that he had been caught at all? If he had it his way, none of this would be happening, so perhaps he wasn't as apologetic as he thought. He really was the worst, wasn't he?

Remus seemed to pick up on what he was thinking about saying, because he laughed; not in his usual cartoon-ish way, but resigned and hurt. The sound pulled at Roman's heart. "Save it. Here's what's going to happen you Walmart Prince Eric knockoff. You’re going to accept our help whether you like it or not, and if you try to pull any self-sacrificing BS at any point, I’m going to eat your entire makeup collection.”

“...You wouldn’t. You don’t like the way glitter sticks to your teeth.” Roman argued weakly, just for the sake of being contrary.

“Try me.”

Roman sighed. He really didn’t doubt that Remus would be petty enough to go through with his threats, especially since he knew it how much it would bother Roman to summon a new set. In any case, he wasn’t in a position to do much of anything at the moment, and now that it was too late to pretend like this never happened, he figured he might as well roll with it. Future him could deal with the consequences later.

“Okay.” He said after a moments pause, looking to the Virgil-shaped figure, as much as the crick in his neck would allow. “...Just don’t tell Patton about this. Not yet.”

The figure shuffled, out of what was probably awkwardness after having watching the twins argue. “No worries dude. We’re not exactly on- uh. Y’know what, nevermind, I’ll just go get the medical kit.”

During the moments that Virgil had shuffled off, there was an empty silence. Roman spent it trying to blink his uninjured eye back into focus, until he was finally able to spot Remus standing across from him, an uncharacteristically glum look on his face. "You look like you're going to a funeral."

"Don't even joke about that. I don't need more thoughts about-"

"Death? I thought that was pretty par for the course."

Remus smiled wryly at him, sarcastic and mocking. "You dying, dummy. D'you think I never imagined it? Something happening and you disappearing because you never let anyone help you- and me not even knowing it happened? Finding out much too late? Being alone?"

Roman didn't know what to say to that. "Sorry." He blurted out, and this time he felt like he meant it. "If it means anything in retrospect, I wouldn't have ever let it go that far. I think."

"'You think.'" Remus repeated. "God, you need some self-care. It's a shame you and Jan-jan weren't friends before. It's supposed to be his job to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen, you know."

Roman felt himself flinch at the mention of Janus' name before he could control it. If Remus noticed, he didn't get the chance to comment on it, because at that moment Virgil came bustling back with a first aid kit.

"I didn't know what else you needed, so I got some water, balms, bandages, frozen peas, and creams. Just in case." He spoke, noticeably out of breath.

"Water?" Roman asked as a glass was held towards him. He pushed himself upright with some effort and accepted it.

"For painkillers." Virgil replied, handing him some pills once he had set the other items down. "Also your throat sounded kinda rough, and when you cry a lot you can get dehydrated, so..."

Surreptitiously, Roman wiped at his face and tried to not feel too embarrassed that the two of them had heard him wail like a toddler who'd had their favourite toy taken away. Before he knew it, he had taken the pills and downed half of the glass while the other two sides unpacked the medical supplies. Virgil really had thought of everything he might have needed.

Roman blinked as he watched them, stunned that he would go to so much effort. "This is very thoughtful of you, Medic Parade."

Virgil paused as he pieced together the nickname, and then scowled. "Mayday doesn't even sound anything like medic- and it's not. I just didn't want to- y'know- get the wrong things and make it worse."

Remus elbowed Virgil in the side, perhaps in an attempt to cheer him up. "Hey, you can't do any worse than what we did the first time Ro got a booboo."

"...And what was that?" Virgil's hesitant tone indicated he wasn't sure if he want to know.

"Nothing!" Remus grinned.

"I'm pretty sure that was just a concussion." Roman stated before Virgil got the wrong idea and thought they were totally stupid, looking upward as he tried to recall the incident Remus was talking about. It felt like forever ago now. "Not like anything could be done, to be fair."

"'Just'-" Virgil made a strange choked sound. "Is this what my life's gonna be now? Having a worry-induced heart attack every 5 minutes?"

"Welcome to the club!" Remus cheered, offering a fist bump which Virgil ignored in favour of burying his head in his hands.

"Goddammit. Alright- let's get this show on the road I guess. Roman, take your shirt off." When Remus' eyebrows started waggling, clearly about to make an inappropriate comment, Virgil waved his hands wildly to stop him. "So we can look at the damage! Shut your mouth Remus!"

"I didn't say anything." He intoned, looking overly smug before turning to Roman expectantly.

Said man frowned, placing the glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Before he made any move, he glanced at Virgil who was looking red either out of Remus-induced embarrassment or frustration. Mood. "You don't have to stick around for this part if you don't want to. It can be a bit much, so I wouldn't blame you."

"I'm not a baby, Roman." Virgil retorted, crossing his arms. "Making sure you don't die or something is way more important than my comfort. I can't promise you'll be safe from me calling you an idiot until you're better, though."

Roman looked away again. Was that condescending of him to ask? He opened his mouth to apologize, before closing it in resignation. No need to make this into an issue; he'll ask Virgil whether he felt belittled later. "...Okay. That's fair."

Instead of going through the pain of trying to remove a shirt with a possibly broken rib, he snapped and it disappeared. He heard a sharp inhale, but in response to what, he didn't know. Roman looked downwards to check. Among the remnants of previous attempts at self-healing (some messier than others), the area around his right rib was inflamed and a large portion of his stomach was splotched with purple. Noticeably, his left arm was also burning red, but luckily it seemed like the fracture there was non-displaced, which hopefully meant it would heal quicker. Other than that, there weren't any major injuries besides his black eye and bloody nose that needed attention. Could be worse, considering how god-awful he felt!

Remus whistled. "You look like someone took a dalmatian and made it the colours of the bi-flag."

"Yeah. That's- weirdly accurate." Virgil winced. "What hurts most?"

"Uh- My arm and my ribs I suppose. They're a little... on the broken side."

"That's what I thought." Virgil muttered under his breath, grabbing the items to make a split. "I'll deal with those first, Remus you help with his nose and the bruising. And if you want to make yourself useful, hold these peas to your eye, dumbass."

"Your bedside manners are impeccable." Roman said sarcastically, taking the bag of peas and exhaling as he adjusted to the cold feeling pressed against his face. "...Here I thought there would be a grace period before you started calling me names."

"Just calling it like I see it." Virgil hummed. With deft fingers, he held the splint under Roman's forearm and began winding the bandages around it. "You should probably make an actual brace later when you're up to it, but hopefully this should keep it in place and remind you to not use it for now."

"But that sides my dominant arm-" Roman whined, about to complain about how he was supposed to get work done until Remus pinched the bridge of his nose none too gently, and he yelped. "Ow! Remus."

"Think of that as payback for the last 15 years." Remus replied lightly. "Tilt your head back."

Begrudgingly, Roman complied, resting his head against the headboard. He stared at the ceiling as his brother and best friend silently worked their way around his injuries, applying topical ointment to his bruises and applying band-aids to small cuts. He didn't even realize they had finished until Remus bonked him on the head.

"All done! Shame it's not Halloween. You could go as a mummy again."

"Ha ha. What a comedian you are." Roman replied in a deadpan, but fought to keep a smile away anyway. The irony of how much he resembled that costume right now definitely wasn't lost on him.

"...I'm sorry for ruining that, by the way." Virgil spoke up suddenly from where he had been packing everything away, breaking the thoughtful silence he'd been in for the past few minutes. "Your costume during the Christmas video, I mean. And saying all of that harsh stuff to make a point."

Roman only stared, taken aback. "All of that happened half a year ago. I'm not upset about that."

"I know, I know. It's just... I've been thinking about it recently, all the times I haven't acted very...good." He bit his lip, averting his eyes. "Especially now, knowing that kind of thing literally hurts you."

"Virgil." Roman sighed softly, taking his hand. Virgil startled but didn't pull away. "You don't need to be 'good' all the time. Wasn't that the point you were trying to get across back then? All of us have made mistakes in our pasts, some more than others, but if you can forgive us for that, then you deserve the same acceptance for your less-than-stellar moments."

"Oh." He said, eyes glassy. His hand tightened around Roman's. "I'm still sorry, if I've ever made things worse for you or if I haven't been supportive enough."

"I- You have-" Roman spluttered worriedly, sitting up.

"It's alright, I already know that we kinda work against each other at times. Part of the job." Roman's mouth closed with a grimace. "Still, it's unfair on you. You shouldn't be expected to perfect, especially not with an asshole like me there to tear into your work. So just...know that it's okay to tell us when you're struggling, okay?"

"Right..." Roman bit his cheek. Virgil seemed well-meaning, but showing that sort of weakness was a concept he still found difficult to accept, even if he had given in this time and allowed himself to be completely seen. Virgil noticed his lackluster agreement and patted him with his free hand.

"Hey. In almost any case we'd embrace you."

"...No one hates you." Roman finished a beat later with a small smile. Virgil's face lit up and moved closer to his side. Upon seeing this, Remus unceremoniously squished himself between the two of them, careful not to bump against Roman too much (although Virgil definitely got the brunt of Remus crawling over him, to his dismay).

"Look at you two, my favourite dorks, bonding over feeling insecure!" He declared, throwing an arm around both of them. "Couldn't be me, but I still love you."

Roman poked Remus' side. "So that wasn't you admitting to being worried earlier?"

"Nope! New phone who dis?"

"You're insufferable." Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. "...I love you guys."

And Roman sighed contently, feeling safe and cared for. Things weren't perfect right now; he still needed time to heal and Remus and Virgil would undoubtedly want him to open up about what happened sooner or later, but for now he was was able to hear that he was loved and believe it to be true, and that was enough.

"I love you both too. Thank you."

#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic royality #my writing #that's a tag now ig #....i've stared at this for so long idk if it's good anymore #bruised but not broken

406 notes · View notes

haokyeom · 4 years ago

Text

last a lifetime | xu minghao

ミ★ synopsis: sometimes forgiveness doesn’t just mean forgiving another person, it’s forgiving yourself too. aka, in which the virtue of forgiveness helps you forgive yourself and open your heart again.

ミ★ genre: virtue of forgiveness!minghao, angst, some fluff

ミ★ warnings: minor character death, mentions of blood

ミ★ word count: 8,824

ミ★ pairings: minghao x female reader, joshua x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! it’s lila, aka, @viastro. you know how it be. uh, this might be one of my favorite oneshots i’ve written? as well as my upcoming oneshot for this collab that’s coming next week hehe. i’m just incredibly proud of this piece even though it is incredibly long. i hope you guys enjoy it, make sure to give minghao lots of love <3

previous | masterlist | next

“Are you seriously going to walk out on me? Without an explanation?” Juyeon asks from behind you, and you clutch the door handle in your hand. You don’t dare turn around, because you know that if you do, you’d fall back into the toxic cycle.

“Yn, please?” You stare at the wooden door, wondering how the cycle first began. How Juyeon became someone you cared about too much, to the point that you’d die for him if necessary. It’s scary how fast you go to him when he needs you, how you’re the shoulder he cries on every time his newfound relationship didn’t work. What’s scarier is that he could never see how much it hurt you each time.

how could he not see that you loved him? You wonder to yourself. You feel his hand rest on your shoulder, causing your breath to hitch.

“Please stay, yn.” Juyeon mumbles, staring at the back of your head with tears filling his eyes. He clutches the back of your t-shirt in his hand as a means to make you stay, and it almost works.

almost.

“I can’t anymore. It hurts too much.” You state, biting the inside of your cheek once a tear falls from your left eye. “What hurts?” Juyeon asks quietly.

The two of you stand in silence for a moment. With him wondering what he did wrong, and you questioning whether you should simply just risk it all.

You decide on the latter.

“Loving you, but seeing you fall for everyone else.” You answer, before opening the door and stepping out of Juyeon’s apartment. You quickly run over to the elevator, pressing on the buttons before Juyeon can make it over to you.

“Yn! Wait!” You hear him call, and you thank the heavens that the doors open just in time. You push the button that closes the elevator doors, and you scream internally at how slow it takes for them to shut. You hear Juyeon’s running feet, and you watch through the sliver of the door, catching his heartbroken expression before they finally close.

You let out a breath, feeling a sense of pain when the elevator begins to go down. You wonder whether it was better to have talked out your feelings with him, if you should’ve stayed. What would’ve happened if you did?

no, juyeon doesn’t love you back.

Your thoughts get cut off when the elevator doors open, and you step out into the main lobby. You head over to the entrance, only to freeze when you hear the call of your name. Turning your head, you see Juyeon standing where the stairs are, and your eyes widen.

“Yn!” You run out the doors, sprinting over towards the crosswalk so that you can get farther away from him. The closer you are to the bus stop, the closer you are to getting away from Juyeon.

“Yn, please! Hear me out!” Juyeon yells from behind, begging for you to slow down and talk to him. You continue to run, not even thinking twice when you step onto the crosswalk. Juyeon’s eyes widen when he sees that it’s not your turn to cross the street, and he turns to see a truck not making any means of slowing down.

“YN!” Juyeon screams, running faster to get to you. You finally turn around at the desperate call of your name, a tone you’ve never heard from Juyeon before. Juyeon’s sprinting towards you, yelling words you can’t decipher. You see bright lights out of the corner of your eye, and you glance to your left to see a truck heading straight towards you.

“Juyeo-” You get cut off when you get pushed out of the way, landing hard on your side. You hear the loud screech of the tires and the slam of the car, and you stare at the ground with wide eyes. The crosswalk light turns green and the signal begins to repeat itself like a mantra. Telling you to walk, walk, walk, as the blood drains from your face when you turn your head to look at what happened.

The signal soon gets drowned out by the sound of your screams.

you never get to learn what Juyeon wanted to say to you, or why he wanted you to stay.

you still wonder what would’ve happened if you stayed.

three years later

“Yn, I need you to go to the coffee shop down the street and buy four iced americanos.” You glance up from your desk, shooting a glare at Joshua, who simply gives you a bright smile in return.

“Why would I do that?” You ask your peach haired coworker. At first glance he seems like an absolute angel, and could never do anything wrong. After working with him for a year though… you learned he’s the exact opposite. However, you have a lot of love for the guy. Even if he makes you do all his small jobs.

“Cause you love me.” Joshua says in a singsong voice, and you let out a sigh. You look back towards your computer, showing no means of getting up from your desk, and Joshua pouts. “Okay, I’ll treat you to pork belly at that new high-end restaurant when it opens next month if you do this for me.”

You smirk, turning off your PC and standing up from your desk at the mention of meat. Joshua lets out a sigh, knowing that paying you back in food always works. It’s a win/lose situation for the man. The pro, he doesn’t need to walk down the street to buy the coffee. The con, his wallet pays the price whenever he treats you to food for doing his job for him every time.

“Four iced americanos, correct?” You ask, and Joshua nods his head. You grin, reaching your hand out for him to give you the credit card. To which he carefully places into the palm your hand.

“I’ll be back in a few.” Joshua gives you a thumbs up, letting out a sigh as he watches you leave the office.

“Maybe I should just buy the coffee from now on.” He mumbles to himself, turning around and walking back over to his own office.

You step out of the hospital, walking down the sidewalk with your hands in your pocket. The weather is a bit breezy, with the slight winds tousling up your hair. You glance up when you reach the coffee shop, stepping inside as a warm burst of air hits you.

Letting out a breath, you walk up to the register and order the four americanos. The whole interaction takes less than a minute, and the preparation of the drinks is rather quick as well considering that there’s not many customers at this time. Within fifteen minutes you’re back outside, the wind hitting you as you walk back towards the hospital.

You’re close to the building when you hear the sound of tires screech, the sound of cars crashing following soon afterwards, and you fall to the ground immediately, the iced americanos spilling around you. You glance up towards the road, seeing a car crash right in the middle of the intersection. Those around you all begin to hurry over towards the site, pulling out their phones to call for emergency services, while you sit there, the memories flashing past your eyes.

You reach up and cover your ears when the sound of those talking worriedly fills your senses, reminding you of the horrid night. You close your eyes, hoping that it’ll calm you down, but all you can hear is the sound of the crosswalk signal telling you to walk, walk, walk.

You feel tears fall past your eyes when the sight of Juyeon floods your brain, and you rock back and forth as you try to calm down. Those passing by begin to look at you strangely, all except one. He walks over and kneels down in front of you. He reaches up and rests his hands over yours, startling you into looking up to see who is helping you cover your ears.

His hair is pitch black, parted down the middle but you can still tell that it’s rather long. His eyes bore into yours, and you get distracted from the noise for a short moment. He mouths the words, it’ll be okay, and for some reason, you feel that he spoke the truth.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, just staring into each other’s eyes until you feel your heartbeat slowly go back to normal. You close your eyes, lowering your head as you take deep breaths. Suddenly, the feeling of his hands over yours disappear, and you look up to see Joshua staring at you with concern written over his features.

“Yn, let’s go inside.” He tells you, but you can’t hear him. Joshua lets out a sad smile, mouthing that he’s going to pick you up and that you should just close your eyes. One arm goes under your knees, and the other around your back as he lifts you up from the sidewalk, quickly taking you into the hospital, away from the chaos of outside.

You slowly remove your hands from your ears when the two of you are farther away from the entrance of the hospital, and you wipe away the tears on your cheeks. He steps into the elevator, pressing the button for the sixth floor. You pat his shoulder, signaling that it’s okay for him to let you down, but he just shakes his head. Once the elevator doors open, he brings you over to your office where you counsel your patients.

“I shouldn’t have let you go alone, I’m sorry.” Joshua says sadly, as he sets you down onto the small couch in your office. You shake your head, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

“It’s not your fault Joshua. I’m sorry for the coffee.” You respond, and he scoffs, muttering how you guys will just order coffee for delivery from now on. Joshua sits down beside you on the couch, turning his head to glance at you, “Besides, that’s not what’s important, yn. What matters most is your mental health.”

Your breath hitches and you turn away, staring at the childish painting on your wall that was painted as a joke by Juyeon. It’s the two of you as dinosaurs, him holding out a pink flower in your direction. You were never able to tell what the type of flower was, and Juyeon refused to tell you. You ended up keeping the painting though, and you don’t plan on ever taking it down.

“Can I just be alone for now, Joshua? I’ll talk to you when I feel better.” Joshua lets out a breath, feeling slightly disappointed at the fact that you’re avoiding the topic once again. He hardly knows the story, no one really does. All he knows is that you’re terrified of car crashes, and the sound of the crosswalk signal is a trigger for you. However, he won’t force you to open up.

“Of course, yn. I promise to get you the best pork belly when that new place opens next month.” Joshua tells you, and you give him a soft grin, nodding your head. He gets up and steps out of your office after your response, and you immediately rest your head into your hands, feeling mentally exhausted.

The memory of the handsome stranger who helped you a few minutes prior lingers in your head, and you find yourself wondering who he is, and why he helped you.

You look through your notes on your last patient, pausing when you hear a knock on your door. Without looking up from your journal you say, “Come in!”

You hear the door open, and you glance up to see Joshua standing there with a small smile, holding a matcha latte in his hand. He steps over to your desk, placing it beside your journal, settling down in the seat across from you.

“This for me?” You ask with a smile, and Joshua rolls his eyes at you, knowing that you already know the answer. You mutter a quiet thank you, and he nods his head.

“How was your last patient?” Joshua asks, smiling at your reaction of you pursing your lips. You let out a sigh, taking the latte and taking a sip. You lean back into your seat, giving Joshua a tired look.

“He told me about his sex life in great detail when I asked how his day was, so that was rather interesting.” Joshua frowns, before breaking out into a laugh that sounds like music to your ears. You find yourself giggling as well, the common effect of Joshua’s contagious laugh.

“That sounds lovely.” Joshua jokes once the two of you finish laughing, and you stick your tongue out at him. You close your eyes for a moment, feeling tired from a long day, and Joshua lets out a small smile at the sight.

“You want me to drive you home?” Joshua asks after a moment of the two of you just basking in each other’s company, and you open an eye to glance at him. He chuckles at the sight, and you grin, shaking your head at him.

“It’s okay Joshua, I need to stay a bit later tonight anyways.” You answer, and Joshua nods his head slowly. He stands up from the chair, running a hand through his wavy peach colored hair. You find yourself staring a bit longer than usual, and Joshua takes notice of this. He smiles, “Want me to stay with you?”

Your breath hitches at the question, and you look down at your desk. Joshua bites the inside of his cheek, wondering if he asked the wrong thing based on your reaction. You let out a shaky breath, before glancing back up and shaking your head at him. “Nah, I know you’re tired too. I’ll see you tomorrow Joshua.”

He nods his head, reaching out and giving you a soft pat on the head. You smile at the gesture, and he puts his hands in his pockets once he’s done. “Don’t stay too late working. I’ll see you tomorrow, yn.”

“Night Joshua.” You call when he places his hand on your doorknob. His heart warms at your soft voice, and he opens the door, stepping out of your office. Once the door closes, you’re left alone once again. You let out a tired groan, leaning back into your seat and closing your eyes.

The incident from last week still recurs in your head. You’ve done a decent job at suppressing the memory of Juyeon over the past three years, but ever since last week you’ve been having nightmares again. The sound of the crosswalk signal plays in your head once you wake up, reminding you of what you dreamt moments before.

“When are you going to forgive-”

“WHAT THE FUCK!” You scream, standing up from your chair and staring directly at the black haired beauty standing in front of you. You notice that his black hair is a bit wavy this time, a bit curled around the back of his neck. His apparel is all black, and your breath hitches when you realize his black turtleneck is cropped, revealing his toned stomach.

“You’re the guy from last week.” You mutter, and he nods his head. He glances around your office, hands stuffed into his pockets as he awkwardly stands there.

“How did you get in without making a sound? The door was closed. Wait. How did you disappear last time-”

“If you sit down then I can explain everything.” He states, and you frown slightly. The man lets out a sigh when he sees how apprehensive you look, and he does a quick spin for you.

“I don’t have any weapons on me if you think I’m going to murder you.” The man tells you, and you purse your lips. He lets out a sigh, showing you his hands, and you take notice of his slender fingers.

“My hands are too pretty to try and choke someone to death as well.” He adds, and you finally sit down in your leather seat after a second of thinking. He sits down in the chair across from you, resting his chin on his hand as he tries to make you out.

“Are you going to explain?”

“In a second.”

You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a small smile. He leans back into the seat and runs a hand through his hair.

“Well yn, this is going to sound ridiculous, but I’m not human.” He begins, and you frown at him.

“Yeah, and I’m a furry.” The pretty man pauses, glancing at you to see if you were serious.

You squint, “I was joking.”

He nods his head, muttering a quiet, thank god, before continuing. To which you glare, not appreciating the fact that he thought you were serious.

“Anyways… you know the seven deadly sins I’m assuming, correct?” You nod your head at the pretty man. “How about the seven virtues?” You nod your head again, and he lets out a relieved smile.

“Okay great. That makes this easier. Well, I’m the virtue of forgiveness, Xu Minghao.” You stare at him in silence, and he stares back at you. You close your eyes, resting your head in your hands, and he tilts his head at you.

“Are you… okay?” You look up at him, seeing how he may not really be human even though he looks like it. There’s no way a man can be this pretty and be human at the same time. We humans are not worthy of living alongside a man who is as ethereal as Xu Minghao.

“No.” You answer after a moment, and he purses his lips.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“I could disappear for you or something.”

“Damn, deadass?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it right now if it’ll make you believe me.”

“Okay, bet.”

You watch as Minghao literally disappears from the seat for a moment, and you stare with a blank face when he appears back in the chair. He raises an eyebrow at how unimpressed you seem to be, opening his mouth to ask what you think, only for you to fall out of your seat.

“YN?!”

You blink your eyes open, only to shut them with a loud groan as you roll over in bed. You quietly thank God that it was just a weird dream as your hand roams around the sheets, only to pause when you realize you’re not in your bed at all. You sharply inhale when you recognize the leather surface you’re laying on, and you open your eyes when you realize you’re on the couch in your office. You turn your head to see Minghao sitting in the seat across from you. He tilts his head and gives you a soft smile, “Morning.”

“It’s morning?!”

“Nah, it’s only been about fifteen minutes. I ordered us chicken since you haven’t had dinner yet, and I assumed we’d be here for a while.” Minghao explains as he opens up the cardboard boxes holding the fried chicken. You find yourself unable to argue with the grumble of your stomach, so you sit up on the couch and reach out to grab the small paper plate Minghao set out for you. You place two pieces of chicken onto your plate and begin eating.

The two of you eat your food in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s more of you slowly taking in the fact that Minghao is not at all human, while Minghao wonders whether or not he regrets not ordering soda with the food.

As he takes another bite of chicken, he decides that he does regret it.

Once the two of you finish, you help clean up, placing the cleaned up chicken bones into the box that once held them. Minghao swipes the crumbs off the table and into the plastic bag. You hand him the box holding the bones, and he places it into the bag too. He ties it up, and leaves it by the door, telling you he’ll take it out later.

Once you settle back down onto the couch, the silence soon becomes awkward. With Minghao staring at you, and you looking at anything but him. He lets out a breath, leaning back into the seat, “Do you know why I’m here?”

You glance at him, shaking your head. He gives you a look that basically says, now i know you’re fucking lying. While you give him an expression that says, I’m absolutely lying.

“Why do you blame yourself for Juyeon’s death?” Minghao asks, reaching forward and grabbing the water bottle you offered him. You freeze at the mention of his name, and Minghao takes a sip of water, gauging your reaction.

“I don’t.” You mumble, looking down at the floor. Minghao shakes his head, “But you do.”

“I don’t wanna talk about him.” You say, reaching forward and drinking from your water bottle. Minghao purses his lips, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “If you don’t talk about him now, then when will you?”

You don’t respond, instead standing up from your couch and walking over to your desk. Minghao spins the chair so that it faces your direction, continuing to stare directly at you as you begin packing up your stuff to head home.

“Yn-”

“Can you just leave me alone? Please?” You plead, and Minghao lets out a sigh after a moment. He stands up from your chair, brushing off some crumbs on his black jeans with his hands. He runs a hand through his black hair, watching as you zip up your bag.

“Sometimes forgiveness doesn’t just mean forgiving another person.” Minghao begins, and you glance up at him from your bag. “It’s forgiving yourself too.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, looking away from the man. He walks over to your door, picking up the trash bag holding the food the two of you ate. He turns back towards you, giving you a small smile.

“I’ll always be there when you need me yn, I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you in the first place.” Minghao says, before opening the door and stepping out. You fall into your seat, feeling tears fill your eyes from all the weight on your shoulders. You shake your head, resting it onto the cold surface of your desk as you close your eyes.

“Why would he use the door when he can teleport.” You mutter quietly as tears fall down onto the carpeted floor, all alone in your office once again.

“Yn, you wanna get lunch with me?” You glance up from your pc, seeing Joshua standing at your door frame with a smile on his face. You look at the time, seeing that your next patient won’t be coming in for about half an hour. Turning back towards Joshua, you see him waiting expectantly for you to come with him.

but you won’t.

“I’m sorry Joshua, I have to sort out of notes for my next patient.” You tell him, and you almost regret turning him down when you see his smile drop slightly. He gives you a nod, “That’s okay. Next time.”

You smile, but don’t agree that there will be a next time. Joshua closes the door behind him, and you turn back towards your computer, letting out a sad sigh.

“Why didn’t you go with him?” You’re not shocked at the fact that Minghao is in your office again, considering that this is the fifth time you’ve seen him today. He has made it his mission to randomly appear at your workplace whenever you’re alone for the past week. The two of you have built a relationship of sorts, and you’ve grown rather fond of Minghao, as he feels the same towards you. While he may have made his appearance present whenever you’re at work, he hasn’t made any means of showing up at your apartment yet.

You glance up at him, finding that he’s wearing an oversized maroon and cream colored cardigan, paired with a white turtleneck and cream colored pants to match. You wonder why he’s so stylish, but you hold back on asking the question as you remember what he just brought up.

“Cause I’m busy.” You mutter, reaching into your drawer to grab a granola bar to chew on. Minghao frowns, placing his hands on your desk and leaning close to your face. You look up into his eyes, and your breath hitches at the close proximity between the two of you.

“Is it that? Or is it because you’re afraid?” Minghao asks, and the quick flutter of your heart soon disappears due to the question. You frown at him, reaching up and pushing his face away with your pointer finger.

“No.”

“You need to be a bit more descriptive.”

“Fuck you.”

“Rude, I’m the virtue of forgiveness you know. I could report you.” You give the black haired beauty a bored look, and he purses his lips. He quietly curses to himself at the fact that you’re now seemingly unaffected by his otherworldly status.

You try to work again, but let out a sigh when you feel Minghao’s eyes still on you. You glance up at him, seeing that he’s giving you one of his looks that basically he means he’s seeing right through you. You lean back into your seat, taking a bite of the granola bar before beginning.

“I just. I’m scared.” You mutter quietly, swallowing the chewed up granola. Minghao nods his head, feeling a bit happy that you’re finally beginning to open up. “Why?”

You think back on Juyeon for a moment, remembering how beautiful your friendship was. You glance back down at your pc, letting out a sad smile at what could’ve been. You begin typing away on your computer again, promptly ending the conversation before it got anywhere. Minghao runs a hand through his hair, before reaching out and patting the top of your head softly.

“We’ll talk when you’re ready.” Minghao says, before disappearing from your office once again, leaving you alone.

“YN!” You hear Juyeon scream, and you turn around at the desperation in his voice. You watch him sprint towards you, and you see bright lights flash at you out of the corner of your eye. You glance to your left to see a truck heading straight towards you, and your heart practically stops.

“Juyeo-” You’re shoved out of the way, landing hard on your side. You hear the loud screech of the tires and the slam of the car, and you stare down at the road with wide eyes. The sound of the crosswalk signal goes off, telling you to walk, walk, walk. The blood drains from your face, and you turn your head to see Juyeon laying on the ground, motionless.

You quickly stand up and stumble over. Your heart practically stops when you make it to him, and you fail to notice the tears falling from your eyes. You fall to your knees, and with shaky hands you reach out and touch his wrist, seeing if there’s a pulse.

It’s incredibly faint, and you almost let out a breath of relief. You turn your head to see the driver standing in front of his truck in shock, and you hold back from screaming at him. Glancing around, you find people stopping around you, phones held close to their ears as they call emergency services.

“Yn…” You turn your head immediately, seeing Juyeon giving you a tired smile. Your heart drops at the amount of blood beginning to surround the two of you. You try to rip off some of the fabric from your shirt to try and soak up the blood from his wounds, but Juyeon tiredly rests his hand over yours.

“I’m sorry.” Juyeon mutters, and you shake your head, tears falling from your eyes as you give him a smile to try and reassure him that you’re okay.

“No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry, it’ll be okay.” You ramble, sobs slowly building up in your chest as you do. Juyeon tries to raise his hand up towards your face, but he grimaces in pain, and you shake your head at him. “The ambulance will be here soon.”

Juyeon doesn’t listen, instead attempting to reach up to cup your face again. His hand makes it to your cheek this time, and he slowly wipes away the tears with his thumb. He opens his mouth to say something, and your eyes widen in horror when his arm falls back to his side, eyes closing.

“Juyeon. Juyeon, please. No, no, no.” You try to feel his pulse, and your heart sinks when you don’t feel anything. You get pushed away by a fellow witness, and they begin to perform emergency CPR on Juyeon as you stare at his lifeless body in shock.

The sound of the crosswalk signal goes off behind you, telling you to walk, walk, walk. The tears fall from your eyes at a rapid pace, and the sob builds up in your chest as more people begin to surround you and Juyeon. You shake your head, trying to reach out and hold him, but get held back by another witness who tries to calm you down.

“Juyeon! JUYEON!” You scream, voice cracking as you continue to scream his name in agony.

“Yn!” You ignore the call of your name, screaming loudly as tears fall from your eyes and onto the road. Your throat is hoarse as you sob, continuing to try and reach Juyeon but being held back by the arms of one of the witnesses.

“JUYEON!”

“Yn!!”

“YN!” You gasp awake, sitting up in bed and locking eyes with a worried Minghao. He reaches out and cups your face, attempting to wipe away the tears falling from your eyes as you stare at him in fear. He watches as your lip quivers, taking notice of the tight grip you have on his shirt.

“Leave.” You mumble after a moment of silence, dropping your hands and looking away from him. Minghao raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Leave, Minghao.” You repeat, the tears falling silently past your eyes as you stare blankly at your bed. Minghao shakes his head, resting his hand on your wrist. He opens his mouth to tell you that he’s not going to leave, but you snap.

“I said leave! Go!” You shout, looking up into his eyes and hitting his chest with your hands. The saltiness of your tears is all you can taste as you yell. Minghao stares at you with a pained expression, just standing there and letting you punch him.

“Did you hear me? LEAVE! GO! GET OUT!” You scream, voice cracking as you cry out in pain.

“GO BEFORE YOU DIE TOO! LEAVE!” Minghao glances down at your hands now tightly clutching his shirt, and he lets out a shaky breath. You open your mouth to scream again, but get cut off when Minghao wraps his arms around you, pulling your head into his chest as you begin to sob. He rubs your back to try and calm you down as you wail into his shirt, and he bites his lip at how your sobs are filled with nothing but pain.

“I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere.” Minghao mumbles, cradling your head softly in his hand as you cry loudly into his chest. He blinks when he realizes his vision is blurry, and he takes notice of the tears falling from his own eyes. Minghao’s crying. Something he’s never done for a human.

Minghao bites his lip as an attempt to stop from hiccupping or showing any indications that he’s crying, and he rests his cheek on the top of your head. Closing his eyes, he holds you close until your sobs slow down.

“I’m not going anywhere, yn.” Minghao whispers, and your eyelids flutter shut, the last of your tears falling past your eyes and landing over Minghao’s heart.

“It was my fault.” You state as you and Minghao stare up at your ceiling, laying on your bed side by side. It’s long after you finally calmed down, and you’re left with swollen eyes and the inability to breathe through your nostrils. Minghao almost left when you calmed down, but you pulled him into bed with you, and now here the two of you are. At three in the morning. Staring at your off-white ceiling.

Minghao turns his head to glance at you, seeing that you’re finally ready to open up. He rolls over onto his side, resting his head on his arm as you take in a deep breath. He chooses to be quiet now to let you express everything you’ve been suppressing for three years.

“Juyeon is- was. He was my best friend. We've known each other since we were kids.” You begin, letting out a small smile at the memory of a small Juyeon first introducing himself to a tiny you back in kindergarten. “We grew up together. We went to the same school all the way up to university.”

Minghao watches as a tear escapes your eye, and you quickly raise your hand up to wipe it away. Letting out a wet laugh, the pain strikes your chest again. “They always said I’d fall for him, and I never believed it. Until he told me he met someone for the first time, and I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest.”

You suck in a shaky breath, and Minghao reaches his hand out towards yours, to which you gratefully intertwine your fingers with his. You bite the inside of your cheek before continuing. “After things didn’t work out with that person, I ran to his apartment as fast as I could. That’s how the cycle began. After every newfound relationship didn’t work, I’d run to him no matter what I was doing. But he could never see that it was hurting me in the process.”

Minghao squeezes your hand, and you close your eyes. You take in deep breaths to try and control your breathing so that you can be able to finish. Minghao watches with sad eyes, but he knows that you opening up about what happened is important in the steps on finally letting you forgive yourself.

“I loved him. He was everything I wanted my forever to be, but I wasn’t his. I knew that from the start, but I still had hope, you know? But it became too much for me. The day Juyeon died, I ran out of his apartment after telling him I couldn’t do it anymore.” More tears fall from your eyes, blurring the sight of your ceiling. Minghao props himself up in bed to get a good look at you. And you shake your head at him, motioning for him to lay back down, to which he slowly does.

“I was so fucking stupid, Minghao. I didn’t look at the road before going onto the crosswalk, so I couldn’t even see the truck coming my way.” Your voice cracks, and you let go of Minghao’s hand to cover your face with your hands. Minghao feels his own heart shatter at how much pain you’ve been harboring to yourself, wanting nothing more than to take it away from you. “Juyeon saved my life. If I would’ve just stayed then he wouldn’t have die-”

“Yn, it’s not your fault.” Minghao interrupts, and you shake your head as more tears spill from your eyes. “It was my fault.” Minghao rests his hand on your wrist, rubbing circles on the bone with his thumb as he shakes his head.

“Sometimes we can’t control our actions when we’re going through a lot emotionally, let alone think properly. You’re not the cause of Juyeon’s death, he saved you on his own accord. He knows you would’ve done the same for him.” Minghao explains softly, and your shoulders shake by how hard you’re crying. Minghao pulls you close to him again, nuzzling your head into his chest as he rubs your back.

“Juyeon wouldn’t want you to blame yourself either, yn. He would want you to live.” Minghao whispers, and you quietly sob into Minghao’s chest at his words. His hand trails up and cradles your head, resting his cheek on the top of it.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” You say, and Minghao bites the inside of his cheek. He rubs your back, quietly muttering that it’ll be okay.

“We can’t change the past, but we can take charge of our future. You just have to forgive yourself for any change to happen.” Minghao responds in a soft voice, and you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes.

“I miss him so much.” You mumble tiredly, the sobbing having taken a lot of energy out of you. His breath hitches when your arm wraps around his middle, having not expected you to hold him. He rubs your back slowly, trying to regulate his heartbeat so that you can’t hear it. Through the last tears falling from your eyes you add, “I don’t care if he didn’t love me back, I just wish he was here.”

“He’s always here.” Minghao mutters after a moment, fatigue taking over as you find it hard to keep your eyes open. However, you fight your exhaustion to hear Minghao’s words.

“So live for him.” Is the last thing you hear before you succumb to sleep. Minghao follows soon after, hand stilling on your back as the stars shine brightly in the sky.

You type away on your computer, quite a bit of weight lifted off your shoulders since the heart-to-heart you had with Minghao a week ago. Your heart is warm, and you feel a bit airy as you turn to glance out the window of your office, seeing the birds flying high in the blue sky.

While you may still be fearful of crosswalks and trucks in general, you’ve felt better since you let out all the pain you’ve been feeling. As well as remembering Minghao’s words to you, because deep down, you know that Juyeon wouldn’t want you blaming yourself. So you’ve taken the steps into looking into therapists, even though you’re one yourself. Minghao’s helping as well, knowing that this will be good for you in the long run.

There are still moments where you feel the weight back on your shoulders, and you want to hide from the world. However, it’s understandable. You can’t forget the trauma and internal self-conflict you’ve dealt with for years based on one heart-to-heart talk. It’s helped push you into taking the proper steps to fully heal though.

Hearing a knock on your door, you glance up to see Joshua poking his head in with a big smile on his face. You find yourself smiling back, as both his laughter and the sight of his smile are contagious to you.

“Hi Joshua.” You greet, and he steps into your office, two bobas in hand, causing you to clap your hands excitedly. He places it before you, sitting down in the seat in front of your desk. You smile, glancing up into his eyes. “You spoil me.”

“It was a two for one deal, couldn’t resist getting one for you. It was basically a sign from the heavens telling me to get you boba.” Joshua jokes, and you roll your eyes, shoving your straw through the plastic seal after shaking up the drink. You take a sip, letting out a content sigh at the sweet taste of milk tea.

“How was your last patient?” You ask, and Joshua grins. “He’s opening up a bit more each time, it makes me feel happy to know that he’s slowly trusting me.”

You nod your head with a smile, understanding the feeling. The two of you converse for a moment, occasionally taking a sip of boba mid-speech as the drink just seems to be too addictive. You glance down at your keyboard when Joshua clears his throat, causing you to look up at him.

“So you know how I said I’d treat you to pork belly once that new place opens?” You nod your head, taking another sip of boba and chewing on the tapioca pearls. Joshua lets out a shy smile, running a hand through his peach hair.

“Well, it opened, and I was wondering if you wanted to go next Friday?” You pause for a moment. Something in Joshua’s invitation seems different this time around, from the slight blush rising to his cheeks, as well as the nervous smile he has on right now. Your heart pounds against your chest when you realize, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

After a second you nod your head, and Joshua visibly relaxes. “Yes, I’d love to go with you.”

“Nice! I’ll text you the details, okay?” Joshua says as he stands up from his seat, and you glance at your watch, seeing that his next patient will be coming soon. You give him a thumbs up, and he lets out a breath, sending you another smile.

“It’s a date!” Joshua calls, and you nod your head, giggling when he shoots you finger guns before closing the door behind him. You let out a sigh, glancing down at your keyboard when you feel a presence right in front of your computer.

You look up to find Minghao leaning against your desk, a peaceful look on his face as he stares down at you. His hair is straight this time around, still parted down the middle. He’s wearing a burberry plaid shirt with ripped black jeans, showing off a bit of his thighs.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment. Minghao takes in the slight glow to your aura, showing that you’re healing. While you stare into his eyes that hold so much depth to them, but you never know what he’s truly thinking.

“Going on a date, huh?” Minghao teases, and you glare at the virtue. He chuckles at the furrow to your brow, reaching over and smoothing it out with the pad of his thumb. Your heart leaps in your chest at the contact, but you stay unimpressed until he places his hand back on the table.

“It’s not a date.”

“You sure?”

“... no.”

Minghao giggles at your response, causing you to softly laugh as well. He rolls his eyes, standing up from your desk and raising his arms above his head. You lean back into your seat, taking a long sip of boba as you wait for him to speak.

“Well, I hope you have fun.” Minghao tells you, and you let out a small smile. Nodding your head, you give him a thumbs up. “I’ll make sure to tell you all the details after it happens. However, I have to pee so I’ll be right back.”

Minghao watches with a fond smile as you get up from your leather seat and scurry out of your office. It slowly drops from his face once the door closes, and he bites the inside of his cheek. He lets out a sad laugh, resting a hand over his heart, clutching the fabric of his shirt with a tight fist.

“I’m so happy, but why am I so sad too?” Minghao mutters to himself after a moment, only to quickly switch back to his happy persona once he hears your door open again. You give him a smile, walking to your desk and sitting back down in your seat.

“Wanna play among us?” You ask, and Minghao smirks. He sits down into the seat in front of your desk, wiggling his pretty fingers towards you. “I hope you know that I’ll win, sweetheart.”

You begin cursing at the man, and Minghao just laughs at your reaction. He lets you ramble, promptly ignoring the dull pain in his heart as he chooses to instead watch the way your eyes sparkle at him.

Minghao finds you beautiful when you’re happy.

and that’s all that matters.

“I’ll see you next week Doc.” You nod your head with a smile, glancing down at your notes, only to pause when you realize your door hasn’t shut yet. You look up to see Jacob staring at the dinosaur painting Juyeon created years ago.

“Is there something else you wanted to speak about, Jacob?” You ask, effectively startling the boy out of his thoughts. He turns and gives you a smile, shaking his head.

“It’s just that I noticed the flower. I don’t see it painted that much.” Jacob answers, and you raise an eyebrow. You walk over and stand beside your patient, staring at the familiar pink flower that Juyeon refused to tell you the name of. “Oh yeah? My best friend never told me the name of it for whatever reason. Guess he just wanted to be more knowledgeable than me.”

Jacob chuckles, turning to glance at you. You look back at him, and he gives you a knowing smile, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “What?”

He points at the flower dinosaur Juyeon is holding towards dinosaur you, “That’s an arbutus flower.”

You purse your lips at the unfamiliar name, turning and glancing back towards the painting. You tilt your head to the side, wondering where Juyeon learned of such a flower. Jacob giggles, resting his hand on the doorknob of your door to open it, before turning back to you.

“It means that you’re the only one he loves. It’s basically a promise that the love he has for you is not only warm, but will last a lifetime.” Jacob says, before stepping out of your office, the door closing behind him. You stare at the painting in pure shock, your heart already dropped into your stomach as you stare at the pink flower dinosaur Juyeon is holding out to you.

“He. He loved me?” You mutter to yourself, resting your hand over your heart as you stare at the painting. The tears fall from your eyes before you know it, and you slowly fall to your knees, laughing quietly at the ridiculous way Juyeon confessed his love for you.

Minghao appears beside you in an instant, and you immediately turn to him, resting your head in his chest as he wraps his arms around you. After a moment of the two of you staying like this as you silently cry, you mutter, “He loved me, Minghao.”

Minghao nods his head, running a hand through your hair he softly whispers, “I don’t see how anyone couldn’t fall in love with you, yn.”

You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around his middle as you quietly cry into his chest. Minghao rubs your back, letting out a soft smile when he recognizes this as being the last stage of closure you needed. He hopes in another life that you and Juyeon ended up together, but he’s grateful that he was given the opportunity to see you forgive yourself and open up to someone you liked again.

“I can’t believe he’d confess through painting us as dinosaurs.” You mutter, letting out a laugh and Minghao chuckles in response.

“I expect nothing less from him though.” You whisper, closing your eyes with a soft smile gracing your features. Minghao glances down at you, and he grins, “Has he done something like this before?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course he has.”

Minghao watches as you slowly light up, explaining the different things Juyeon has done, as well as the weird quirks he had. A stark contrast to the pain and sadness that would be etched across your features when anyone would so much as mention his name. Minghao lets out a soft smile, feeling his heart warm knowing that his mission is done.

“You ready for your date?” Minghao asks, and you let out a nervous breath at the thought of Joshua about to pop up in front of your apartment building any second now. Minghao’s waiting with you outside of your building as you wait for Joshua, considering the fact that you didn’t want to wait alone.

A small squabble ensued where Minghao was like what if he sees me doofus?! To which you replied, just disappear before he can tinkerbell!

“I think I’m gonna shit myself.”

“Well, don’t do that.” Minghao states, and you shoot him a glare. He rolls his eyes at you, reaching out and patting your head. “It was a joke.”

“I know what jokes are.” You bite back, and Minghao purses his lips at your reaction. He lets out a sigh, wrapping his arm over your shoulders. You glance up at him and see him staring down at you with a small smile on his face. Raising an eyebrow you ask, “What?”

Minghao just shakes his head, and you watch in a slight state of awe when you take notice of the fact that he holds the whole galaxy in his gaze as he stares down at you. “I’m proud of you.”

You purse your lips at his sweetness, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks as you push him away. Minghao lets out a giggle at your reaction, finding it rather endearing. He turns his head to see if he can spot the head of peach hair, and his eyes widen when he does.

“It’s time for me to disappear. Have fun on your date, okay?” You tilt your head to the side when Minghao shuffles from one foot to another as he debates on something. You open your mouth to ask what, only for Minghao to lean down and press a soft kiss to your forehead, before disappearing.

You raise a hand to your forehead, feeling warmth flood through you at the sweet action. You silently curse Minghao for being such a sweetheart, knowing that as the virtue of forgiveness, he should be rather nice.

“Yn!” You turn your head to see Joshua smiling at you, and you wave your hand at him, quickly walking over so that the two of you can meet in the middle. “Ready for pork belly? I heard their meat is really good quality.”

You smile, nodding your head excitedly. “Of course I am! What kind of whack ass question-”

“Are you trying to fight me? On our first date?” Joshua teases, and you roll your eyes, nudging him with your shoulder as you try to hide the blush rising to your cheeks. The two of you begin walking in the direction of the kbbq restaurant, playful banter between you both as you do.

At some point Joshua intertwines his fingers with yours, and the two of you can’t hide each other’s blushes from each other, but promptly choose to ignore them as you continue to converse. You feel your heartbeat a bit faster when you realize you have to cross the street, and Joshua pauses. He glances down at you, “We can go the other way?”

You stare at the crosswalk for a moment, before shaking your head at Joshua. You turn your head and look up at him with a bright smile, “No, I’ll be okay.”

Joshua mentions that if you change your mind the two of you can just go the other way a few more times until you make it to the edge of the sidewalk. You reassure him that it’s okay, even reaching out to press the button which signals that you want to cross the street. You squeeze Joshua’s hand, biting the inside of your cheek as you stare at the white lines on the crosswalk.

You watch as the crosswalk signal turns green, hearing it say, walk. Glancing back down at the white lines, you suck in a deep breath, before taking your first step. You hold Joshua’s hand tightly as the two of you cross the street, and he gives you reassuring words until you make it all the way across.

You look up at the peach-haired man with a happy smile, and he smiles back down at you, eyes full of endearment as he does so. You’re about to open up your mouth to make a joke, only to pause when you smell the lingering scent of grilled meat coming from your right. You and Joshua turn your heads to see the new kbbq place, and let out excited grins.

“To the grilling of meats!” You shout, and Joshua laughs at your antics.

All while Minghao watches from the other side of the street, a proud smile gracing his features at the happiness radiating off of you. He lets out a breath, before turning around and walking the other way, hands shoved into his pockets.

mission: help yn forgive herself and open her heart again [COMPLETED]

previous | masterlist | next

192 notes · View notes