VLD Oneshots part 2!!

Lance x reader - Move part 1

Requested by: im_ethe

You clasped your hands in a prayer-like fold as you leant against the side of your desk. You were tired and the only thing that was going through your mind was the aftermath of the argument you had with your sister. She had just finished the argument with a slap across the face. That was the first time she had ever stepped that boundary in a fight.

You took in a deep breath. The air in your room had become stuffy after being in solemn for so long. You walked to the window, sliding it open to let a fresh breeze blow into your room. You shivered. The wind was warm but you didn't feel a thing.

A laugh dropped out of your mouth. "A didn't feel a thing." You suddenly felt worried for a second. But that split moment of panic rushed through you and left.

~*~

"The last one at the end is cleaning the showers! Come on! Move!" Your coach yelled as loud as her whistle, forcing all of you to swim harder.

Your muscles ached but the thought of cleaning the showers made you pushed harder. You focused on your stroke, calming your breathing to make every millisecond count. The water rushed around your body as you pressed on until you saw the end of the pool looming near you. You stroked faster, waiting to feel the cool touch of the tile.

You reached out eagerly and ceased your strokes when you felt the end. A sigh of relief left your body. You turned around eagerly only to see that no one else was behind you. You were the last person to reach the end.

"Not good enough," coach sighed. She loomed above you like a giant. "Sorry (y/n), but you're cleaning the showers today. Meet me after practice."

You let your head down with a silent sigh. "Yes, coach."

"Practice those strokes. Most of you were focused on breathing and kicking. I need to you remember that your technique is everything. If you want to qualify for the competition, you have to make every stroke count." Coach emphasised the last sentence with a slap of her hand at every word. Every. Stroke. Counts.

Everyone nodded or replied with a, "yes coach." It was 5 pm. everyone either jumped out from the lanes or swam to the side. You lazily swam to the edge for a slow exit.

A fight with your sister and a bad practice session all in the same day.

Just the right icing on the cake.

You let out a depressed sigh, pulling yourself out of the pool as the others wrapped themselves in towels to head for the showers. You followed in the tail end of the pack. Coach, however, stepped in walking next to you with a concerned expression. "You okay (y/n)? I didn't see you competing with Lance today."

You let out a scoffed laughed. "Yeah, I wasn't feeling it today."

Coach frowned as you walked on without turning your head or giving her any form of attention. Your head was to the front and nothing you did was friendly. It was almost like you hated her at that moment. "(y/n)." Coach gently asked you to stop with a soft touch on the shoulder. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

You looked up to coach with a smile and nodded. "Sure. I just... Had a bad day before coming to practice."

Coach's face softened. "What happened?"

"Ah," you waved the topic off with a shake of the hand, "it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Coach took in a deep sigh. "All right, if that's what you say." She looked around desperately, trying to think of a conversation starter. "Make sure you scrub the edges."

You maintained your smile and saluted to the coach. "Yes ma'me." You sent an awkward farewell to coach, reaching for your bag and headed to the showers. Your teammates noticed your sudden lack of social energy and tried to approach you about it but you waved them off as you did with the coach. "its fine guys," you laughed, "just bummed about having to do the dishes tonight and coming last. Gotta beat you guys next week I guess."

They all replied with concerned smiles and left. The showers were a horrible mess. Hair was on the floor, it was chlorine day and the number of hair ties that were found in the weirdest corners was a concerning amount this time. "Just kill me now," you sighed.

~*~

Three months later....

You didn't feel the fear until you saw the blood flowing down your arm. "Oh my gosh!" You jumped back, stepping into the glass behind you as you ran from your horrible mistake. You ran to the edge of the kitchen, frantically searching for the first aid kit. A pain spiked up from your foot as you leapt across the kitchen. It stung, sending electric shocks of pain faster than you could react.

As you opened the cabinet door open, the metal box cluttered out onto the tiled floor. A curse sputtered out of your mouth. If your mother and father found out that you had woken up past midnight you were going to be grounded for life. As soon as you found the bandages, you ran for the dustpan and tried to hide the evidence.

The smashed mug on the floor had scattered itself all over the floor. Now mug shards and blood covered the kitchen. You wondered if it was better to end the job now rather than clean it up. You needed a quick plan. Maybe a mop could do both jobs?

"(y/n)?"

Your mother was at the edge of the kitchen doorway with your father trailing behind her. Her eyes fixed themselves onto the blood and then the shattered mug. She gasped, covering her mouth in fear. Her eyes watered as they begged for escape. "(y/n), please don't tell me that-"

"(y/n)."

Your father looked at the floor and slowly brought his eyes up to you. The emotion in his voice shook you to the core. So many questions were asked in him saying your name. What happened? Is this what has been happening for the past three months? Why didn't you tell us?

"Mum. Dad."

Your parents stayed still for a minute. But your father slowly walked towards you and reached out to slowly touch the dustpan you had in and pried it out of your grip. "It's okay," he whispered, "I'll clean this up."

You stared in disbelief as he quietly swept the pieces of your disaster into a small and neat pile. Your mother also remained silent and cautiously walked to you with an open embrace. "We can talk about this later." Her grip was tight but warm. It was like she asking for you to never leave while comforting herself that you were not dead. "My baby," she cried.