#LIKE SORRY i forgot my brain genuinely tucked this into the folds of my brain!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

penguintransporter · 3 years

Text

Winning The Game Called Love (Hector Bellerin) Part VII

You know how I keep saying that this will be the last chapter, well, I have no idea myself if this is it, so let’s keep it open. This one is dedicated to my favourite anon and @virgilthesuperbabe (and not because of your avatar, just so you know. I genuinely think you’re the sweetest). This chapter is not edited all the way, but I was just starting to go in the circles. Anyway, me stops rambling now so read, enjoy and tell me anonymously or not what you think about it...

The faint odour of sweat tickled her nostrils as she stood in the same corridor ninety-something minutes later – the entire second half of the match feeling more like a blur than anything else. Glancing down at unfolded paper between her fingers, Aida sighed before looking up at the very same chaos of people surrounding her – staff, medicals, journalists and footballers in their sweaty kits walking towards their changing room.

She was on the edge – heart contracting with both anticipation and fear, and for the first time in a while, Aida felt like fainting.

Despite not seeing him at first, Aida heard his voice coming from the tunnel just seconds before he strolled in, long after his teammates have entered their changing rooms, talking to the goalkeeper of the opposite team. Both of them were laughing as Héctor flailed his arms enthusiastically, painting a picture to his story like a kid with lots of imagination.

Aida exhaled the breath that caught in her throat, feeling the shiver spread down her spine at the sight of him – cheeks and nose nipped red by the cold, hair gathered in ever so messy bun after running on the pitch, and the jersey clinging to his body in a way that made her own cheeks turn deep burgundy and her core warm.

There was a feeling of apprehensiveness growing inside of her as she watched him hug his mate, saying something quietly that made them both grin before they parted their ways, and he, without a warning, started walking towards her.

Aida took a quick breath, anxiously straightening her clothes before looking at him with a small and timid smile.

It is only Héctor. Remember?

Héctor gave her a knowing smile instead of the greeting as he stopped in front of her, tucking stray strands of his hair behind his ears. Not bothering to say anything, he pulled at the collar of his jersey before blowing wisps of air inside his shirt to cool himself down, looking at her through his eyelashes.

“Alright, unicorn?” he began, finally breaking the silence between the two of them. “You look a bit pale,” Héctor added, still blowing air into his shirt.

He sounded so casual; so relaxed while Aida only managed to open her mouth to say something, but as usual, no sound came out. She shook her head a little as if that would help her brain cells to rearrange as Héctor gave her an amused look with his eyebrows raised a bit.

“Uh, yeah…” she answered, rubbing at her forehead nervously, wishing for some invisible force to come down and knock some sense into her because God knows, she wasn’t able to do it on her own. “I’m alright, but I—that brochure you gave me… I found—,” Aida stopped to take a breath, realising quickly that she wasn’t able to express herself with words without sounding like a mess, so instead, she lifted her hand with the paper that looked as if the dog had been chewing on it for some time – fingers shaking a little.

“Oh that!” Héctor expressed innocently, rubbing at the side of his jaw with a grin.

“Yes, this,” Aida nodded, trying to keep her voice calm and steady, but she was sure that he could see the nervousness in her eyes as he took the paper out of her hands.

“We’ll have to print you another copy, love,” he stated calmly, looking at the partly scrunched paper, ignoring Aida’s confused face, “can’t follow anything on this one any more.” Héctor lightly hit the paper with the back of his free hand as he spoke, nonchalant as ever.

Aida wanted to groan in frustration.

She also wanted to slap him, shake him, make him stop with the theatricality and the entire beating around the bush game.

You also want to kiss him.

“Look, I am just trying… y’know—,” Aida trailed off – her stomach doing the all to familiar flip, feeling the heat suffocating her. She suddenly regretted wearing all the layers she had put on earlier that day. “What is this?” Aida finally asked.

She wasn’t stupid or slow – far from it, but she didn’t need to be a genius either to figure out what the contents of the paper in Héctor’s hand suggested. Aida knew that it referred to what she said that night – her poor attempt at flirting as they sat in his kitchen; the cocky smirk he gave her when she uttered those words, thinking that she was winning the game.

He gave her a wide smile, putting the paper between his lips before quickly pulling his jersey over his head, surprising her with his movements. Aida almost chocked on her own breath when she realised that the long-sleeved white shirt he wore underneath fit him like a glove, and as much as she tried, she couldn’t keep her stare away as she blushed lightly.

Good Lord, what is wrong with me?

It’s been a while, Aida – that’s what’s wrong with you.

“This?” Héctor asked, unfolding the paper again after placing his jersey over his shoulder. “You’ve never seen an excel sheet before?” He moved to stand beside her, leaning closer, but quickly changed his mind, “Sorry, I forgot that I am smelly. It happens when I run.”

She briefly looked up at him, sighing defiantly, “Of course I’ve seen an excel sheet before, Héctor, and I don’t care if you’re smelly. I am just not getting—,” she moved her hand around as she spoke, pissed off with herself for not being able to focus.

“—Oh, so you want me to be close?”

“For the love of God...” Aida trailed off, getting impatient.

Héctor was obviously very entertained with her behaviour, containing his laughter as he straightened the paper between his fingers.

“I can explain,” he started, and Aida’s heart shifted in her chest a little when he placed his index finger on the paper, pointing at the first row. “Here are the items that I own. Obviously it is not everything because I own a lot of things, so I focused on the ones that I thought it would fit you,” he grinned, subtly checking her out from the corner of his eye as he moved his finger towards the bottom of the paper, “and then, here is the number of those items, and—.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” she quickly interrupted him, holding her hand up to stop him from talking, “can you just stop and tell me if this mean what I think it means, Héctor?”

“You need to be more specific, love,” he taunted, moving away so that he was standing in front of her again as he started to fold the paper.

Aida whispered a small profanity, closing her eyes for a second as she tried to gather her thoughts. If he was saying the truth and wasn’t taking a piss, then this entire thing meant—Aida couldn’t bring herself to even think about it.

Before she could say anything, she felt him lean closer, placing the paper in the pocket of her coat. Aida’s eyes opened in surprise and a single breath hitched in her throat when his fingers brushed against hers deliberately – a pleased smile dancing on his lips.

“You do realise that you still haven’t answered my question, and this—,” Aida left her words hang in the air as she glanced down at where he was moving his finger up and down her cold hand. “You’re not exactly helping, Héctor.”

“Ah no?” he asked with a smirk before retreating his hand and looking down at his kit – face expression changing from playfulness to a mild grimace. “Mind if I take a quick shower, unicorn, and then after that, I will be all yours,” he added with a wink and the only thing Aida could do was to stare at him wide-eyed and confused more than ever.

Stopping at the traffic light, Aida glanced at Héctor who sat in the passenger seat of her tiny and messy car, looking ridiculously out of place yet comfortable as he busied himself with reading the notes she had scribbled down on the sides of the book he found under her seat. It was an old copy of The Catcher in The Rye that she picked up on a South Bank book market.

She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when she agreed to give him a lift home after he joined her at the parking lot, but now, that she was halfway the route, she couldn’t help but praise herself for not crashing into something because God knows that she was in a state do to so.

“You’re staring,” Héctor smirked to himself as he spoke – eyes still focused on the page as he turned the book sideways to read whatever she had written down. She quickly looked away, blushing and just in time to see the green light turn on before she started driving again. “I don’t mind it, though,” he added, glancing at her, “strokes my ego.”

“As if it needs any stroking in the first place,” Aida retorted quietly, making him laugh out loud – the sound of it quickly filling the space of her small vehicle.

Héctor’s house was quiet as they walked in and he dropped both his backpack and his jacket in the corner of the entryway before helping Aida with her coat, hanging it on the modern and expensive-looking coat hanger. Giving him a quiet thanks, she stepped away from him, turning around sheepishly on her heels – a rush of butterflies evading her stomach when she realised that he was watching her.

“Anything in particular you want to do?” he asked weaving his fingers through his hair as he pushed it away from his face.

Aida forced herself to look away from him – ignoring the shiver that ran up and down her spine as she let her mind wander further than she wanted to; further than she thought she could go.

Blinking few times, she blurted the first thing that came to her mind, instantly regretting it. “Can I see your garden?”

Beg your pardon, Aida?

Héctor was clearly trying to stifle his laugh while he watched her. “Is that how people call it these days?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows suggestively.

Aida wanted to slap herself.

Several times.

She groaned, shielding her eyes before peeking at him through her fingers like a little girl. A giggle escaped her throat, and she blushed ever so slightly at her idiot behaviour.

She was hopeless.

Héctor laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Come on, unicorn, let me show you my garden.” He gave her an encouraging smile before making his way through the small corridor.

Aida couldn’t bring herself to move, so she kept standing in the entryway for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm herself down before turning around – a sudden feeling of déjà vu greeting her. There were things that nagged her, and she needed answers to questions that kept itching at her brain like a weeks-old scab on a scraped knee.

He was in the kitchen when she hesitantly stepped in through the large hallway after ignoring the sitting room, dimly lit due to the blinds that covered the windows entirely – nervously pulling at the sleeve of her old, scuffed jumper. Héctor turned around, probably sensing her presence, giving her a smile that said absolutely nothing.

“I see you skipped seeing the garden. Want something to drink?” he asked taking out a glass from an open shelf.

Aida shook her head lightly – lips curling into a small smile that she had no strength to fight off. “No, thanks, but I do want to talk,” she spoke softly, the need to know the answers fighting off the nervousness, “you still owe me an answer, kind off,” she added as she leaned with her elbows against the kitchen island, “about the excel thing, y’know?”

He smiled at her, filling a tall glass with some tap water before taking a sip.

“It’s a lovely excel sheet, innit? It’s a hobby of mine,” he responded, as his smile turned into that smug smirk, and Aida couldn’t help but let out a snort that was all but ladylike, giving him an incredulous look.

“Do you take anything in your life seriously?” Aida asked, straightening her back and shaking her head a little.

“Mhmm, many things.” Héctor took another sip of water, “Global warming issues, God and my grandmother, among other things…”

“You are unbelievable,” she huffed in annoyance.

“But in a good way,” he continued with a wink.

It took everything in her power to keep her face straight, despite remembering the exact moment when he said those words to her. It didn’t help either that Héctor was looking at her before shaking his head in amusement as he made his way towards the sitting room.

“What’s so funny?” Aida inquired as she followed after him.

Héctor sat his glass on the dining table – his grin turning into a gentle smile, and Aida’s heart soared at the sight. He kept watching her from where he only stood few feet away, giving her plenty of time to stew in anticipation, and the only thing she could do was to twist her fingers nervously as she waited for his answer.

Instead of letting her nerves get the better of her yet again, she focused on the gold chain around his neck, the pattern of his jumper, the ring on his index finger.

“You still think that I am taking a piss,” Héctor finally spoke and as Aida opened her mouth to object, he silently interrupted her giving her a look that stopped her from saying or doing anything – including breathing, “—despite me spelling it out for you? Literally.”

Aida could sense that he didn’t want to have this conversation, and she suddenly felt bad for pushing it. “Sorry, I thought you were just…” she bit back the words she wanted to say as she nervously rubbed at her right eye with the bottom of her palm. She was getting overwhelmed, but she needed to know.

“’s okay,” he answered with a shrug before taking a step closer and reaching out to touch her face with his fingertips. “It’s a good thing that we are talking about it, no?” Aida couldn’t stop herself from looking up at him and meeting his gaze – feeling stripped naked of any words. “That blush just won’t go away, eh?” he asked – the vulnerability of his voice disappearing and a confident smile reappearing on his lips.

Aida was unable to move, and she was very much unsure of what to do with her herself when he ran a finger across her blazing cheek. She was fighting the urge to lean against his touch – to obey her own needs.

“It’s not my fault that your flirting game is at the same level as my football skills,” she blurted out nervously, teasing out a chuckle from Héctor’s throat.

Pulling her against him, his other hand tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before moving down her arm and stopping at the curve of her waist, leaving a trail of tingles wherever he touched her. Aida couldn’t contain her own smile at how he made her feel, and if there was one thing she wanted, it was to have him close, showing her what he wanted to say with that idiotic excel sheet that still rested in her coat pocket.

Her heart was beating hard against her ribcage as he drew her face closer until there was just a fraction of space between the two of them, and she breathed out shakily when his nose touched hers – warm on cold; fire on ice.

Aida was boiling on the inside as he teased her with his touch, and despite having her eyes closed, she could feel him smirk which made her huff lightly.

He knows what he is doing.

The idiot knows what he is doing.

“Don’t think I don’t want to kiss you,” he murmured when Aida went in for a kiss but he moved away ever so slightly but still staying dangerously close to Aida’s lips, “but I also enjoy watching you squirm. You get all breathy and nervous,” he added.

“You are unbelievable,” she whispered, taking every ounce of her power, wrapping her arms around his neck before closing the almost non-existent distance between them as she kissed him.

❤

Tell me what you think...

#footballer fanfiction #football fanfiction #football fan fiction #football imagine #football oneshot #soccer fanfiction #soccer fan fiction #soccer imagine #soccer oneshot #arsenal fc fanfiction #hector bellerin fic #hector bellerin fan fiction #hector bellerin fanfiction #hector bellerin imagine

34 notes · View notes

angelguk · 4 years

Text

the one where jeongguk’s obsessed with your scent because he’s your mate but he doesn’t know that until you accidentally forget to take your suppressants one day. alpha!jk and omega!oc. werewolf!au + mates :) this whole thing is about scenting so there’s that. a little bit possessive!jk. 1.5k words. listen to apple by julia micheals. oh mates are rare in this universe.

You have an incredibly nice neck. It’s a bizarre observation to make, Jeongguk knows that. But something in his brain made everything fall away the moment you plopped down next to him, eyes zeroing in on the steady pulse beating beneath your skin. It had made his own prickle, chest tight with a foreign tension. He hadn’t been able to concentrate during that particular Biology lesson. Hadn’t even wanted to if he’s being honest with himself. He’d spent the duration of those fifty minutes attempting to decipher your complex scent, which he failed at miserably. Too many silages melting into each other. Usually, he has a massive aversion to people who smell like that - like confusion. But with you, something in him itched to pinpoint exactly what your scent consisted of. It would be a lot more convenient for him if he could just stick his nose into your neck, learn what made you you in mere moments. And that thought had led to his mild infatuation with said neck.

Which is why during this Biology lesson, instead of focusing on the handout on the process of meiosis that had been dumped in front of him, Jeongguk is staring at your neck.

This is not the first time this has happened. He’s not sure if you're fully aware of it, because you make a point to ignore Jeongguk. Blatantly so too. Jeongguk’s not sure why you don’t like him - maybe it’s the constant staring (which he’s immensely apologetic for but he truly can’t help himself). Or maybe it’s because Jeongguk is a big fat Alpha with an attention span of a fish. Focusing in class with never his forte in his defence. Movement always seemed more reasonable to him. And it’s not his fault that he fits perfectly on the field in his quarterback position while you preferred to attend violin practise and obsessively colour code your biology notes.

(You had never told Jeongguk you played the violin. He’d stumbled on you in the music room one afternoon on his way out of school, feet drawn by the euphonious melodies floating down the hallway. And if he stayed and watched you play, mesmerised by your poised stance and deft fingers skipping over the strings - that’s his secret).

Normally, he would force his eyes away, glue his gaze to the floor or the blackboard in hopes of distracting himself. But today he can’t - at all. You smell so different. And it’s doing his head in.

Perhaps you can feel the intensity of his gaze because he sees you swiftly scribble on a scrap of paper. In a pink pen - one of the many pink pens in that oversized pencil case of yours. Jeongguk will ever understand that all you need in class is a pen and maybe a highlighter, not ten different shades of the same form of stationary.

Stop staring.

It’s written in neat cursive, even though the side look you’re giving him is heated. He has no idea why his heart does a strange little flip.

“We can talk, you know.” His voice sounds strangled to his ears. Jeongguk prays you didn’t pick up on that as he clears his throat. “We’re not forbidden from talking.”

You huff, turning over your handout. Perhaps he likes how your lips pout in annoyance. “Okay then. Let’s talk. We can start with why are you looking at me like that?” You twist to glare at him and Jeongguk feels his heart stop.

“I don’t know.” Jeongguk's mouth isn’t connected to his brain right now. That’s why he admits to it so easily. There are no thoughts inside of his head apart from how prominent your jugular vein is, and how much he wants to bite. It hits him hard, the full force of your scent. One massive sweep that violently drowns him, coaxing him deeper into an ocean he’d be happy to die in.

The quirk of confusion in your eyebrow makes his skin hot. “Sorry - I just - I just - You smell different.”

He reads it in the quick flash of your eye. Embarrassment, dampening the brightness of your gaze. And then he’s floundering over himself, chest tight with the thought that he's unintentionally hurt you. “Not like that! Like - you just smell different! Not a bad different, just different.”

The forceful short smile on your lips makes his heart clench.

“I know I smell strange. I forgot my suppressants today.” The despondency colouring your tone irks him. So much so that he can’t help but blurt it out.

“You don’t.” He says it firmly, hoping to wipe away the gloom falling on your face. “You smell nice. Just different from most people.” And it’s true, you do smell nice. Really nice now that your scent isn’t obstructed by suppressants and blockers. Maybe that’s why you smelled so odd to Jeongguk at first. Because that wasn’t your true scent, that was a crap ton of chemicals masking it.

“Well, I smell strange for an omega.”

That changes a lot inside of Jeongguk’s head. Instantly. He blinks, abhorring the way his body reacts, posture suddenly straight and his chest puffed uselessly. You wouldn’t even be able to see his frame since he’d donned a baggy sweatshirt this morning, the grey in the sky a warning. But he does it anyway, instincts overriding any ounce of rationality despite his best efforts. Jeongguk wasn’t one to overreact around omegas, however, that new titbit of information coupled with the fact that your scent is straight smacking him in the face, has system can't help but go a bit haywire.

The heat that spreads over your face at his not so subtle presentation makes him preen. Like a stupid excited little puppy. He wants to strangle himself. But he doesn’t, words falling out his mouth like a torrent instead

“You don’t. I just can’t make out what you smell like? If that makes sense. It would be easier if I could just scent you.”

“You can if you want to.” There’s a faint smile tugging at your lips and your gaze doesn’t falter when you say that, direct in a manner that makes Jeongguk literally vibrate. He leans in without thinking it over, the tiny nod of permission the only he needed to see before he buries his nose right into the hollow of your neck. And then its fast, a rush of emotion that sweeps through his system. He doesn’t even realise it’s happening, until the sting of his fangs nipping at his lips elicits a zing of pain that he barely registers, because his brain is melting from the overload of heat that consumes him. His body is tingling from head to toe, knees weak even though he’s perched neatly on a lab stool. There’s a rumbling in the distance. It takes him a moment to register that that sound is coming from him - from his chest.

There’s a strong arm tugging him away a second later and Jeongguk can’t help the frustrated whine that slips from his throat, claws already extended to rip apart the person who thinks they have the right to separate him away from what rightfully belongs to him.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell is up with you?” The alarm in Taehyung’s tone is what drowns that voice in his head. Taehyung looks terrified, glancing between the two of you hard. There’s a silence filling the room, loud enough to erase the roaring in his head. The heat of his classmates’ gaze slams into him a second later, and suddenly Jeongguk is acutely aware of the fangs biting into his lip and the extended claws digging hard into the denim of his jeans. When he notes the small gasp that drifts from your mouth a second later, his instincts flare again. Vehemently this time, because you sound scared and the only thing that he can think about is protecting you from whatever threat is in the room.

Yet, he fails to discern the only threat in the room is him.

It’s Taehyung that holds him back, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, grip taut despite the struggle Jeongguk puts up. Mr Kim steps in a beat later, intervening fast because the class is frazzled, the violent onset of alpha pheromones sweeping over the room affecting everyone. Jeongguk doesn’t care though. He can’t. He genuinely can’t, brain devoid of anything but the thought of you and your sickeningly perfect scent and how he finds it despicable that his nose isn’t tucked into the hollow of your neck and you’re not perched on his lap, secure in his arms and the fact that you’re so fucking far away from him despite sitting right across from him.

It’s only when Taehyung, Jimin and a few other classmates that he can’t recall names off because his focus was solely on you that he apprehends it. There’s no other explanation for his behaviour and the school maven pointedly states it when he’s folded into himself in the principal's office, head hung in shame and his heartbeat bruising his ribs.

Mates. You’re his mate.

#jungkook x reader #you're a champ if u can find the derek + paige reference #they deserved more :(#bts x reader #okay paige played the cello but that's besides the point #they deserved better!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#werewolf!jk

885 notes · View notes

skiller0dani · 5 years

Text

You | Dean Winchester

Summary: You’re a shapeshifter, and you’ve fallen in love with the notorious Dean Winchester. You manage to hide what you are, but what will he do once he finds out?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Shapeshifter!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Drinking, Smut,

A/N: sorry, been forgetful and lazy. :c ALSO I don’t write smut much. So just bear with me. It might not be long, but I promise I’ll get better at it.

Masterlist Part 2

You pulled the glass to your lips, okay enough with all this. You think to yourself- your hands are shaking. He’s in the very corner of your left eye, this is the 4th body you’ve tried on him. Still nothing, not even a glance. He focuses on hustling the drunk men out of their money at pool, a cocky poker face covering his expression. He always seemed so sure of what he was doing, of what he wanted- he radiated confidence and control. It was so painfully intoxicating to you. You pulled down your dress a little, your chest popping out more as you prepare to approach him- you turn only to bump into an overweight abdomen with a stained shirt. “Oh sorr-” His hand comes down to your shoulder, his bearded face and stained teeth inches from your ear. “N-no problem sexy,” His voice is sultry and slurred, you feel a retching in your stomach from the smell of his breath. You look down at the ground, your fingers inching towards your knife secured safely in your clutch. “Thanks again,” You say with a tight smile, trying to move past him but his fingers curl around your arm.

You feel your temper rising, and you get ready to sweep the disgusting mans feet out from under him when he’s ripped off you. When your eyes focus on your rescuer your eyes widen- Dean. Your heart is thumping when Dean shoves the man to the ground, “douchebag.” He says, before placing a hand on the small of your back to lead you out of the Bar. You smile shyly when it’s just the two of you standing on the curb, “you okay sweetheart?” He asks, genuine concern in his eyes. You flush, tucking your dark brunette hair behind your ear. “Yeah, thanks Dean-” as soon as you said it, you wanted to slap yourself. This is the closest you’ve gotten to him in weeks and you’ll have to change all over again. His eyebrow lifts, his guard up. “I mean you’re kind of a legend among the hunters.” You quickly save, with a smile. He relaxes a bit upon realizing that you’re a hunter- or rather the hunted pretending to be a hunter. “So you’ve heard of me?” He asks, that cocky smile returning to his face. Oh yeah, you’ve heard of him. Tough as nails, knows Death personally, best friends with an angel. Everyone’s heard of him, kind of puts a big target on his back though. “Where’s that brother of yours?” “Research,” he says with a smile, taking his car keys out of his pocket.

You follow carefully, “so what’s your story?” Dean asks, reaching to unlock his car. You chuckle, “really long and not important.” He laughs, it’s much easier to talk to him than you thought it would be. “Couldn’t be worse than mine.” Dean jokes, leaning back against his car- you have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. He’s also acutely aware of the fact that you already know his life story, “does that get weird? I mean most of all hunters nowadays know who you are, you’re a hunters version of a celebrity.” You ask, and Dean thinks for a moment. Almost as if he’s never even considered it that way. “Would love it if it came with perks, I’m still always gettin’ shot.” Dean half jokes, half says seriously. “Me too,” You agree, lifting your shirt to reveal the bottom of your stomach, the once smooth skin riddled in bullet wounds. Dean lifts his own shirt to reveal a few matching scars of his own. “My kinda girl,” He smiles and you try to control the raging fire burning in your cheeks and stomach. “Hey you wanna come get a drink with me? I got the best stuff at the bunker,” Dean asks, no hint of nervousness at all. “Bunker?” You ask with a smile, he laughs. “Yeah I’ll explain when we get there.” Dean holds the door open for you, and you graciously sit in the passenger seat and a part of you can’t even believe this is really happening.

Every hunter and supernatural being alike knows who Dean Winchester is, and he may possibly be the most dangerous man you’ve ever sat in a car with but he doesn’t feel dangerous. He’s kind, and funny, but still guarded and closed off. You want to say something to ease the silence but your brain is fogged with arousal and the smell of his cologne, being so close to him is making you dizzy. “The infamous Impala,” You muse. Dean chuckles, one hand lazily holding the top of the steering wheel. You know it’s going to be hard to fool Dean Winchester, he may as well have been born with a built in bullshit detector. You however have lots of practice, you’re smarter than your Shapeshifter brothers and sisters. They think eliminating the hunters will give them their best chance at survival- you disagree. For one, you hate how monstrous they are, you have absolutely no desire to kill people- you have no issues with killing the ones who do. You’ve also had the brains to figure out that a hunter would never expect a Shapeshifter to be a hunter, immediately gets the radar off your back. “Even my car is famous?” Dean laughs and you can’t help but be addicted to that sound. “She’s almost sexier than you are...” You say, your cheeks heating at such a forward statement come out of your mouth. Dean gives you that look that so many lucky women have gotten in the past. The look you never thought he’d give you.

The Bunker is not what you were expecting. It was a small metal shack in the middle of a forest. You follow Dean down a set of stairs and when he unlocks the door you see a whole house inside this metal shack. A map room and library are in your view, and you see Sam sitting in the library- eyes skimming over a book. But when you try to enter, you can’t. Dean turns to look at you, his eyebrow quirking up. “You comin’?” You can tell he’s suspicious, you have to think of something now! “Forgot my cell in the car, go pour those drinks you promised me.” You smile and Dean sends you a wink before disappearing down the stairs and around the corner. Panic sets in as you look around the walls of the Bunker, shit. The entire thing is Warded- tears spring in your eyes as you turn to leave. You want to go in after Dean so bad but you can’t get in, and when Dean finds out...you may as well start digging your own grave. “Who are you?” Sam asks from behind you, causing you to jump. “Y/N. My mother is a witch. Put some sort of protection spell on me, I guess you have a ward for that?” You lie with a laugh and Sam’s suspicion drops. He hands you a key and then, suddenly, that magical wall disappears. You feel the silver key burn your hand and you do your best to ignore it as you quickly hand it back to Sam. “Not often my brother picks up a hunter. Or a witch.” Sam says, clearly not trusting you.

“I’m not a witch, just a hunter. My mother is a witch. I want nothing to do with her.” You lie again, feeling a pang of guilt every time you do. “Not flirting with my brother are you?” Dean teases as he enters the Bunker, having changed his clothes- wearing a dark t-shirt and flannel now. He hands you a glass filled with Whiskey, his gaze fixed on you. Sam awkwardly clears his throat, “wouldn’t dream of it.” You smile, nearly forgetting Sam was even in the room. He excuses himself quickly, leaving you and Dean alone. Dean takes a slow step towards you, his eyes darkening. You drink your Whiskey in one gulp and in an instant Dean lifts you to sit on the table as his lips press against yours. Both your glasses go smashing to the ground, the shattered glass splintering off everywhere. All you can focus on are his hands- God those damn hands. They’re inching up the bottom of your shirt, so his fingers can dance around your hips. Your arms wind around his neck as his body presses firmly against yours, and at first you don’t know what to do with your legs until Dean’s free hands folds them around his hips. He ruts against you, the friction makes you breathe out a moan.

Dean presses kisses to the corner of your mouth, the wet trail leading down your neck as your nails dig into his back. His hands grab the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over your head. To be honest- you don’t do this. With anyone, sex means something to you. You’ve only given yourself to one other person before Dean. You know his reputation- hooking up is part of his weekly routine but you were going to let yourself pretend, for one night, that this was more than that. Your breasts were exposed, behind your black lacy bra that caused Dean to let out a low groan. Dean pressed kisses to the swells of your breasts, his hands easily finding the clasp. Before he unclasps it he looks up at you, asking for permission among all the action driven lust. You nod feebly, your eyes lidded as he easily pops open the clasp, his pupils blowing wide at the sight of you. “Can’t let my brother see this,” Dean says, lifting you up- your legs still around his waist. His arms press you against his chest- ensuring his brother can’t get any looks. Intentionally or accidentally. He kicks open his bedroom door and then kicks it shut before dropping you on his bed. “Goddamn,” Dean groans, practically salivating at the sight of you half naked and laying beneath him.

“You’re too dressed,” You smile- trying to shake off some of your nerves. You were shaking like a leaf and your heart was nearly beating out of your chest- you hoped Dean wouldn’t notice either. Unfortunately Dean can sense your nerves and sheds his shirt with an easy smile, knowing you aren’t the kind of girl he can fuck into the mattress. He doesn’t do this, normally this is the point he’d cut it off- he knows you’re not that kind of girl. But he decides to go gentler, he never does gentle with one night stands. He only does gentle when it means something more to him. Gentle leads to feelings. Feelings lead to loss. Or he’d have to do have that ‘I’m sorry but I can’t have a relationship right now’ conversation- they always lead to tears. But he doesn’t want to cut it off, so he’s going to break his own rule. He’d risk it for you. He slowly lowers over you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before his fingers find the button of your jeans. “May I?” He says, using his words this time. You giggle, your cheeks heating up as you nod nervously. Dean smiles at your red cheeks before popping open the button and pulling down the zipper. He can feel your body trembling, “relax baby. Just you and me.” Dean says softly, his hands curling into the waistband of your jeans.

Your heart swells when he says ‘baby’ but you try to relax as he pulls your jeans down your legs, revealing your matching lacy panties. It surprises you how this went from rough and desperate, to slow and intimate so quickly. You should stop him you really should, with your current feelings towards him, and Dean being who he is, and you being who you are. This was definitely going to end in heartbreak, tears, and hating yourself for letting it happen. But you couldn’t help but let him continue as he presses soft, gentle kisses up your legs- closer and closer to your clothed center, a damp spot already forming on your panties. Dean’s kisses trail up your hips, your stomach and finally to the valley between your breasts. Tingling took over your entire body, it felt like you were laying on clouds. Sighs and moans fell from your lips when his lips encircled your nipple, gently biting and nipping at it. You started to squirm, the heat between your legs becoming to much to bear. “Dean...” you whimper, “hm?” His eyes flicker up to look at yours, “Need you.” You whine, hating now pathetic and needy you sound. Dean smiles before pulling away from you- you miss his warmth the second he’s gone.

His hands reach for his belt, and you shake as he undoes it. “You okay with this?” Dean asks, noticing how nervous you are still. You nod again but Dean doesn’t continue removing his jeans, “need words for this one sweetheart.” You swallow thickly, trying to will your nerves away. “Y-yeah. Please Dean,” You half whine, and Dean gives in- he can’t say no to those needy lust blown eyes of yours. Dean takes his time undoing the button and zipper and pulls down his jeans and boxers in one tug. Your eyes widen at his size, how on earth is that going to fit inside you? You feel the panic setting in, what if this is a bad idea? What are you doing? You’re a shapeshifter, about to have sex with Dean Winchester, he’s a hunter. You get ready to stop him when he takes your hand. You didn’t even notice him lean over you again. That thought completely disappears as he lines himself up, and you can tell he’s holding himself back- which you appreciate greatly. “You ready baby?” He asks, his eyes locking with yours. You nod, but he gives you a look and you clear your throat. “Y-yeah.” You force out- your throat incredibly dry. Dean’s forehead presses against yours as he slowly eases himself in, the tightness overwhelming him. It’s taking every ounce of self control he has not to pound into you.

You feel the sting as he stretches you open, he’s much bigger than you thought. Dean groans, his hand still laced with yours. This feels so intimate, but you know it doesn’t mean anything to him- nothing like it means to you. You hold the tears back, preventing them from building in your eyes. Because crying during sex is a big turn on. Dean stays still, fully inside you until you tell him it’s okay to move. You let yourself adjust to him, waiting until the pain subsides before you squeeze his hand, telling him he can move. Dean knows his way around women, you know that. He’s only being gentle because he saw how nervous you were and he’s not a complete asshole. Dean slowly slides out before thrusting back in, you definitely see stars, a moan being pulled from your lips. Dean takes long deep and slow thrusts, his grip on your hand tightening as he whispers words of encouragement in your ear. “Doin’ so good sweetheart,” He presses kisses to your neck, “you feel so good Y/N,” he keeps thrusting, making sure the pace stays slow and deep. Your arms hold him securely, your face in his neck as he continues his slow torture. You’ve been so infatuated with Dean for so long but you didn’t expect this, you didn’t expect to want him to be more than that. When you come, Dean comes too and it feels perfect. But for how long?

The sun wakes you up the next morning, as does the slight ache in your thighs. You find your body pulled against Dean’s, his arms wrapped around your waist. His face is in your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. You gently unwrap him from you as you scramble for your clothes. You shouldn’t be here- you shouldn’t be here. Last night should not have happened. You remember your shirt and bra are in the library and you curse to yourself as you throw on one of Dean’s shirts. You move to the door, your heart breaking as you look back and see him sleeping in bed- thinking you’re still there next to him. You want to get in bed with him again, but you can’t. In the past you’ve definitely wished you were human but now more than ever. You slowly close the door and creep out to the library, “morning.” You jump and let out a sigh when you see Sam. “Not often women sneak away from Dean, usually the other way around.” Sam comments, sipping at his coffee casually. You quickly grab your clothes, and you’re ready to head out when you notice you’re still wearing Dean’s shirt. “Silver doesn’t normally burn people either,” He says even more casually, causing your blood to turn to ice in your veins.

You don’t know what to say when Sam looks up at you, and what you didn’t know was that you had tears in your eyes until a tear fell down your cheek. Sam turns the book he’s reading so it faces you, and the page he’s reading says Shapeshifters. “Don’t tell Dean.” You plead, you legs shaking. Sam’s expression softens, “look I don’t know what your story is but if you don’t kill people- then you’re not a monster.” Sam says and your mouth drops open, he isn’t going to kill you? “That would explain why you’re running away from Dean though.” Sam says, with a small smile and you relax. You misjudged Sam, you didn’t expect him to sympathize with you. “I can’t be here, I shouldn’t have come.” You say sadly and before Sam can answer you hear Dean’s door shut. He comes out into the library, a surprised look on his face when he sees you. “Thought you took off.” Dean says, brushing past you. He’s upset. “Dean-” “Anyone hungry?” He says, turning down a hallway and completely ignoring you. “Like I said, not many women run away from Dean.” Sam says, patting you on the shoulder as he follows his brother.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #SPN #short story #Sam Winchester #sam winchester masterlist #sam x reader #castiel #castiel imagine #castiel x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean x reader smut

57 notes · View notes

kanlara · 4 years

Text

Reform pt 3

Don’t forget to read parts 1 and 2

It had been just over a week since Liam had moved out of my apartment. Neither myself or the cats had adjusted to his absence. My time away from work was now spent avoiding the convenience store where he still held a job and comforting screaming cats looking for their large friend. In short it was hell.

The situation was my own fault. I knew that he didn’t like to be reminded that he had once been one of the greatest heros in the city. That his old name and title reminded him just how far he had fallen. Hero to homeless. All because he had chosen to have mercy on one last villain. On me. It had taken me painful weeks to stop calling him the Azure Torch out of habit. The smile he had given me when I finally re-trained myself had been worth the trouble. Now all I could think of was if he had found somewhere to live or if he was living on the streets again.

Another five days would pass before I worked up the courage to visit him at his job. My plan hadn’t been to come in. I’d been taking a walk when my feet decided to enter the store before my brain caught up to what was happening. I ended up standing at the freezer so that I could come up with a reason that I was here. After what seemed like an eternity I opened the door and pulled out my favorite icecream. When I got to the counter I was surprised to find the owner standing behind it waiting for me: she looked angry at me.

I slid the icecream to her with a polite smile, “just this please.”

She didn’t spit at me as she rang up the purchase, but it seemed like she wanted to, “He deserves better than you. Someone who doesn’t think too much of themself.”

I was speechless as she pushed the bag at me. Not knowing what to say I fled back to my apartment. The icecream bag and all was thrown in the freezer past the last carton that Liam had brought home. The same one he served us both from the day I gave him a reason to leave.

Turning I looked around the apartment, if I looked too closely there were signs that someone else had been living here. An extra blanket on a chair, a book I hadn’t been reading laying on the coffee table, and the stray sock that Liam had missed when he packed his belongings in the middle of the night. The door to his room was still cracked open, I’d assumed he’d left it that way for the cats and hadn’t gone in. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking of it as off limits yet. Eventually I’d have to go in and change the bedding and make it my own space again.

The next day I changed my work commute so that I could walk past the convenience store. Some days I saw him but I didn’t go in again. I didn’t know what to say to him.

It was three weeks later when I almost walked into Liam as I was looking through the window trying to spot him. He was carrying his uniform shirt in his hand. If I had to guess he’d just finished his shift. We both stood there without speaking for a moment until someone shoved between us from inside the store. Jumping back I took stock of my surroundings, we’d been standing in front of the narrow door. Liam glanced at me and started to turn away.

“Liam, wait…” the words slipped out before I could figure out what I was going to say next. He paused, giving me a chance to speak. Breathing deep, “I’m so sorry for what I said.”

“Forget it,” He didn’t turn around or look at me again, “next you’ll tell me you didn’t mean it. And I don’t really want to hear it Ryn.”

“I didn’t mean to say it that way… but I did mean to say you were worth the trouble.” I sighed, “Looks like you have somewhere to be, Goodbye Liam.”

He shook his head as he walked away without saying anything. This time I let him go. I’d start taking my old route to work again tomorrow. It would be better for both of us.

When I got home I pushed open the door to the spare bedroom. Soot was wrapped in what I recognized as one of Liam’s old shirts. Leaving him and the shirt alone I tidied up the room. The bedding would get changed when Soot left the bed, right this moment I didn’t have the heart to move him. Checking the drawer I noticed a familiar envelope. He’d left the ‘rent’ money he had tried to give me before. Opening the envelope I noticed a small slip of folded paper tucked inside. Pulling it out with a shaking hand I sat on the edge of the bed. Carefully unfolding the paper I scanned the note before me;

Ryn,

I don’t have the words to thank you for giving me a home again. You arrived in my life when I needed you most. Even though I don’t feel that I can stay in your apartment any longer I will always be here for you.

Liam

Defeated I flopped backwards, almost squashing soot who looked at me reproachfully. I waved the note at him like he would understand where I didn’t. What had changed? After an hour of self pity and petting Soot I resumed cleaning up the room. I packed the few forgotten items in a small box along with the envelope of money. The shirt remained under Soot and I didn’t care enough to take it from him. I put the box on the table next to the door and forgot about it for several weeks.

As the weather began to warm I started to settle back into my old routines. One night while I was reading after dinner a light knock came on my door. Getting up slowly I thought back trying to remember if I was due to be visited from the masks anytime soon. Looking through the peephole, I discovered that I was indeed due a visit. Standing on the other side of my door was The Pencil. She could draw solid lines through the air and trap unsuspecting villains in corners that didn’t exist a moment ago. Sighing softly I opened the door, “Evening Pen, is everything in order?”

She brushed past me. Technically I didn’t have the right to say no to any of the masks. Which is what I get for having been a villain. She turned and smiled brightly, “we heard you had a house guest for the winter Hand.”

Wincing as she used part of my old name, “I did, he left. Just a bum I didn’t want freezing on the sidewalk.”

“As if we’d believe that the Unseen Hand would take a bum in out of charity? Please, we’re all smarter than that.” She smirked at me, knowing full well that I hated my old name, “So who was it? An old friend? A Co-worker maybe?”

“Just a bum, he left when the weather got nicer.” I looked at her levely, “I go by Ryn now, the Unseen Hand is gone. Rehabilitated into a contributing member of society.”

“Just know that we’ll be watching,” She opened my door, “You’re only not back in prison for your type because you’ve been so good up until now.”

She even slammed the door behind her. As soon as I heard her leave the hallway I started shaking. Was this what had changed Liam’s mind? I needed to let him know that something was going on. Not that I actually knew what that was. The Masks were going to be watching me. I needed a plan. The only place I knew that Liam visited was the store that he worked at. Since I hadn’t gone in weeks I couldn’t start going out of the blue. My shaking slowed as I formed my plan. I’d start jogging since the weather was nice enough now. Every day I would expand my route until I was going by the store daily. After another week or so I’d have to figure out how to get Liam’s attention.

The next day I bought jogging shoes and started my new exercise routine. It was absolutely terrible. My expansion plan was slower than I would have liked as I had to wait for my stamina to allow me to go further. As it was stopping in the store occasionally for a drink became routine. The owner continued to glare at me as she made snide comments. Liam was worse, he didn’t speak at all and focused somewhere over the top of my head. It made me wonder why I was risking myself with this half assed plan to tell him something he probably already knew. Whenever I had doubts I remembered how comfortable it had been living together.

I wrote a short note summarizing what I knew, which wasn’t much, and slipped it into my pocket before my run after a week and a half of stopping at the store. It stayed in my pocket for three more days until I was alone at the counter with Liam. Carefully I wrapped it in my money and slid it across to him. As I took my drink I tried and failed to catch his eye, “keep the change for the next guy.”

After that I started carrying my own drinks, it would save me money anyways. On the days I forgot a drink I stopped at the store. I stopped trying to catch Liam’s eye and let my own thoughts take over more and more. The abuse the owner spat at me rolled off of my unhearing shoulders. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of one of the masked heroes that didn’t normally patrol this part of the city. I kept to my routines that had kept me safe in the past and pretended not to see the masks.

It was summer before another mask visited my apartment. This time it was on my day off and they knocked before I could leave on my now daily run. Looking through the peephole, I was relieved to see that it was the hero that normally checked up on me instead of the pencil. Opening the door I gave the man a genuine smile, “Raven, how have you been?”

“Caught up with paperwork, but otherwise fine. How have you been Ryn?” The older man smiled in return.

With a sigh I shrugged, “bit of an odd story, tea?” when he nodded I gestured towards the table and set about the kitchen to get a pot of tea ready as I spoke, “I took in a homeless man this winter. I tripped over him and it was so cold that day… He left when the weather got better. I don’t know where he’s living now. The Pencil came to see me last time, she was digging for information about the man. But I don’t really know much. Is there something that I should know Raven? I like the life I have.”

He took the tea cup that I offered and poured himself a cup, “The younger heroes have been keeping me out of the loop lately Ryn. You know I can’t tell you anything more than that. I’ll keep your life as safe as I can. I know you mean well with your actions.”

After that we fell into small talk about the weather and pets. When the tea was finished Raven stood to leave, “be careful Ryn, I don’t know what’s going on but I doubt it’s something you want to be in the middle of. Stick to your routines.”

With a smile I reassured him, “I don’t think we have to worry about me being in the middle of anything. I don’t know where my house guest went when he left, not much I can do for the heroes.”

Heeding Raven’s advise I stuck to my routine and went for a run. In an effort to clear my thoughts I stayed out longer than usual. When I got back to my apartment the door was unlocked. Knowing that I’d locked it behind me I cautiously crept in. No cats ran to greet me but I heard a low voice and the crunching of cat food. Looking into my kitchen I saw Liam sitting at the table holding Soot. The keys in my hand fell to the floor loudly. Several cats gave me a dirty look but none left the food bowls. Liam looked up and smiled. My traitor mouth smiled back before I managed a frown. The reaction made me angry.

“I think I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t think you could have given me one when you left in the middle of the night?” I was failing to keep calm. “There’s a box of your things by the door. I’m taking a shower, if you still want to talk after that I’ll consider not kicking you out.” With that I walked back towards my bedroom. I did need a shower, I stunk.

His voice followed me down the hall, “Ryn, I’ll be here. Take your time.”

#Story #short story #short #hero #villain #reform #heros #mask #misunderstanding #writing #writing promt #write #read me #wordsnstuff #words #part 3 #part three #third

2 notes · View notes

flawlesspeasant · 5 years

Note

Could you please repost the fanfic about jo’s Mom visiting her at the hospital pretty pretty please with a cherry on top ?????

Sure! Here you go! :)

~~~~

"His vitals are stable for now and he should be fine on the morphine drip for a few hours." I use my index finger to type in his last blood pressure check into his electronic chart and inherently bark orders at the bedside nurse. I feel sorry for ordering her around in such a rude, unmannerly fashion but I can't really help it. Stressed isn't even the word for today. A trauma came in about an hour ago and guess who's the only resident who didn't get paged? I'll give you a hint: her name starts with a J and rhymes with "So". I close out of the electronic chart and tuck it underneath my arm. "Page me if anything changes." After the nurse nods at me to let me know she understands, I take my gloves off and toss them in the trashcan on my way out the door and walk over to the nurses' station to see if I have anymore of Dr. Grey's patients to round on.

Being the only resident that didn't get paged to the trauma, I get all the scut for the day. Steph and Ben get to log all the trauma hours they need for the day and here I am, stuck logging hours on General that I don't need. I have enough hours to go around being that I logged seven hours on trauma yesterday after pulling a leech—yes, a leech—out of a woman's nose, but come on. A huge trauma just came in! A bus crashed into a church building a few blocks down the street and caused a major traffic pile-up. No casualties have been reported so far but lots of blood, guts and glass stuck in people's faces that Steph and Ben get to treat. Sighing, I reopen the electronic chart and scroll around to see if there's anything hands-on left for me to do. If I don't find a patient to treat, I'll be stuck running labs, scheduling surgeries and charting for the rest of the day and I'd rather have explosive diarrhea than run labs, schedule surgeries and chart. I'm a third year resident. I'm above all of this scut.

It doesn't seem like I'm needed anywhere else, unfortunately. I'd better go get a head start on these labs. "Page me if anything changes on the patient in 103, as well as 105. I'm gonna go run-" I'm interrupted by the persistent ringing of my pager and excitedly, I grab it so quickly that I probably seem like I was waiting for it to ring. I sort of was waiting for it to ring, in hopes of giving me something better than scut to do but the nurses at the nurses' station don't need to know that I was waiting on pins and needles for my pager to ring. It makes me seem desperate. I turn my pager around and leisurely read it, in a half-desperate attempt to make myself seem cooler than anxiously waiting for my damn pager to ring. I'm being paged to the first floor! Maybe they actually need me in the pit! I smile in satisfaction to myself and slyly put my pager back into my pocket. "I'm gonna go run some labs...page me if anything changes with my patients." I give the nurses a smile and turn around to go to the pit.

Whatever I'm being paged for probably isn't very important since I wasn't paged 911 but oh well, it's a page that doesn't include scut and I'm taking it. I walked away from the nurses' station so quickly that I forgot to put the electronic chart back on a charger, so I hope that it doesn't die. It's a shame how desperate I was for my pager to ring. I put my hands in my pockets and lightly jog down the steps to get off the second floor and onto the first. I go over to the first floor nurses' station and lean against the counter. "Someone paged me down here?" I ask the blonde haired nurse that's sitting in the chair behind the counter, typing something on the computer. She stops typing and looks up at me like she doesn't know who I am, even though I've worked here for three years and I've seen her all three years I've been here. "Dr. Wilson." I blatantly tell her my name, emphasis on the Dr. part.

"Oh...sorry, hon." She seems genuinely apologetic. She clears her throat and leans forward to get closer to me. "Woman in bed three...asked to see you." She points me to bed three as if I don't know my way around the pit. I appreciate her apologizing me though. Okay, but a woman in bed three asked to see me? What woman? I don't really think I've treated anyone that could possibly want me to treat them. Unless...Maybe Andrea is back. Andrea's the girl who's nose I pulled Herbie the leech out of. Maybe she found some other issue, like her nose is falling off or she's half brain-dead from having a leech chomping on her temporal lobe. I'm a horrible person because part of me really believes that her nose falling off or being brain-dead could be fun for me. With a sneaky smile on my face from reveling in my thoughts, I grab the pastel blue curtain that seals off bed three and pull it back.

The woman sitting on the bed isn't Andrea like I expected it to me, so I'm surprised to say the least. I reach behind myself and shut the curtain to maintain this woman's privacy. She's very pretty, I think. She has short, shoulder-length blonde hair and pale white skin. I can tell that she's a box-blonde because her brunette roots are coming through towards the crown of her head; she's obviously naturally brunette. She's a little bit on the heavier side but I wouldn't call her obese. She's sitting down on the bed but the way her legs touch firmly on the floor lets me know that she's rather tall. "Good morning." I plaster my friendly smile across my face and open up a new file on the electronic chart. "I'm Dr. Wilson and I'll be treating you today. Now, can you tell me your name?" I hold the chart against my stomach and look her in her eyes to seem humane. Her light hazel eyes are low, soft and sympathetic. She seems to be nervous for some reason. I actually get patients like this all the time. Patients that are automatically nervous once they enter a hospital, I mean. I think it's sort of strange how there are people out there that are genuinely afraid of hospitals when hospitals have always been my sanctuary.

She crosses her legs and squeezes her ankles together as she runs her stubby fingers through her wispy, thin blonde hair. She's wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt so her arms are exposed and since getting her to talk to me seems like a bit of a stretch, I quietly examine her with my eyes to see if I can pick out what might be the issue that brought her here. Her legs are covered with loose fitting blue jeans so I can't see them but her arms are quite revealing. In both folds of her arms, the skin is badly scarred with small, red circles. To a normal person without medical training, it would look like this woman has hives and to a certain extent, I'm sure some of these red circles really are hives. But there are some scars that are too deep red to be hives. Some of the scars are needle marks from shooting up. I keep my smile on my face in hopes of calming this poor woman down and walk over to the glove dispenser to grab myself a pair of gloves. "What's the weather like out there?" I start a conversation with her just to be mannerly as I pull on my gloves. "I was thinking about going out there to get some fresh air but it's probably raining, isn't it?"

She runs her left hand along her right arm and shifts her legs in an uncomfortable fashion. "It's actually a beautiful day out there." Even her voice sounds nervous. She sounds like she's not-so-sure if she should be here or not. "Is..." Her voice trails off so I put the electronic chart down and stand in front of her with a smile still on my face so she knows that it's okay to tell me anything because I'm going to help her. At this point, it's pretty clear to me that she didn't request to see me. I've never seen this woman a day in my life and we're perfect strangers to one another, so it's virtually impossible for her to have requested me as her doctor. I'm thinking that maybe the nurses got me mixed up with someone else or she just asked to see a surgeon and I'm the only available one. There's no possible way that she went to the nurses' station and asked for Dr. Jo Wilson. "What is your name?" She tilts her head and wrinkles her eyebrows, as if she's asking me to teach her trigonometry.

"Jo." I keep politely smiling and take my hands from my pockets. I slightly turn my body and pull up the flap on my white coat to expose my name. "Josephine...but everybody calls me Jo 'cause Josephine's a mouthful." I fold the flap down and put my hands back in my pockets. "You can call me Jo. You don't have to call me Dr. Wilson." Careful not to alarm her, I slowly grab her arm so I can take a look at her hives. "Are these hives?" She nods her head, refusing to look me in the eye. "Um... Do you get these all the time? Are you allergic to anything?" I turn her arm so I can get a better look at them. She doesn't say anything. "You know, I get hives sometimes." She cracks a smile so I smile too. "When I'm stressed out or nervous about something." I take a look at her other arm as well. She's smiling and holding back laughter. "No, seriously. Last year, I overheard my boss saying something about a member of the staff getting fired. I went crazy thinking it was gonna be me. My back looked like a political map of the United States when everything was said and done. Big mess of red down the middle..."

"I guess that's one way you and I are alike." She nods her head again and gently slides her arm backwards so it's out of my grasp. She grabs onto my arm and starts pulling up the sleeve of my white coat. I'm a little bit uncomfortable now, I won't lie. Why is she trying to look at my arm? I was taught to do anything to make a patient happy though, so I help her pull up my sleeve. She starts running her thumb along the hair on my arm. I don't know what else to say to her. I can't even smile anymore. Alex is always telling me how pretty I am and you wouldn't believe how many patients have complimented my looks as well. I know I'm not ugly but I never really thought that a patient would actually hit on me. Maybe I'm neurotic because I have some residual issues from things that have happened to me in my past but generally, people rubbing your arm like this—male or female—can only mean one thing. I know how to defend myself against someone that tries to take advantage of me and this woman doesn't seem like she's much of a fighter; even though she has a good 100 pounds on me. If this woman tries to do anything to me, I'm going to fight her off as best as I can. Then I'll go find Alex...he'll know what to do. "...I'm sorry, baby." She called me baby. I feel my nervousness starting to take over. I snatch my arm away from her and try to even out my breathing. "You're just...you're beautiful." She finally looks up at me and for the first time, our eyes meet.

When our eyes meet, I feel like someone just opened up the back of my shirt and dumped a gallon of ice water down it. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up and chills rocket all over my body. I don't know who this woman is. Like I said, I've never seen her a day in my life. So...why does my body feel like I know who she is? My heart feels some kind of connection with her and I don't know why. I've never felt connected with somebody like this. I've never felt this natural feeling that someone knows me and I know someone. I don't know her. But there could only be one reason as to why looking at her feels like I'm looking into a distorted mirror. You know those mirrors in the funhouses at carnivals, festivals or freakshows? The ones that make you look skinnier than what you are or fatter than what you are? I feel like I'm looking into one of those. One of those mirrors that gave me haunting hazel eyes, bushier eyebrows, forehead wrinkles and laugh lines in my cheeks. Those mirrors have the ability to make it seem like you're seeing something that you're not but they can never take away the features that make you...yourself. The wide forehead is still there, the hazel eyes are still there, the thin nose is there and the big, puffy lips are there. If you don't know someone but you look like them, there's only one reason why you could look like that person, right?

I close my eyes and shake my head to clear my thoughts. I've had a pretty rough, busy week. I think I'm just tired. There's no way this woman could be anywhere close to who my heart thinks she is. She wouldn't know who the hell I am, just like I don't know who the hell she is. If this woman is who my heart thinks she is, the last time she saw me was when I was two weeks old, 28 years ago. She wouldn't know who in the hell I am. She can't be her. "So...what's your name, ma'am?" I pick up the electronic chart again and pop open the new file, completely dismissing the awkward moment of her stroking my arm and calling me pretty. "And what brings you here today?"

She remains silent, which sort of annoys me. I'm ready to just pass her case off to someone else. Maybe I can act like someone else paged me and give this woman's case to another person, like a nurse or whatever. It doesn't seem surgical, whatever's wrong with her. "You don't know who I am, do you?" Instead of answering my questions, she dives into another topic. I shake my head and pretend to be busy typing something into the chart when in reality, I'm not typing anything. I don't like this feeling I have. This sinking feeling in my chest that's making my stomach ache. I feel nauseous. "I didn't expect you too." She sounds disappointed. "You're gorgeous, though. Look at your pretty, pretty hair and your eyes..." She shakes her head. "So pretty." I have half a mind to tell her "thank you" but if I talk, my voice is going to crack and I'm going to cry. "Can I still call you Jo?"

"...I have to go. I have other patients to..." I swallow a lump in my throat and close out of the new file on the electronic chart. "Good luck, ma'am."

"Jo, wait!" She stands up from the exam table and calls after me. "Wait, honey...just wait." My brain is telling me to keep going; to pull the curtain back and get the hell out of this room before I start crying so hard I can't stop or letting my emotions take over and end up cursing this woman out. But my heart won't let me go. My heart won't let me leave her. "I'm so sorry to...freak you out and stuff. You're just...not what I expected. I don't know what to say to you."

"...So you did page me?" I ask her.

"I found out you were working here and I just asked if you were available..I didn't ask them to tell you that I was sick." She holds her hands out like she's trying to diffuse the situation. "I just want to know you..."

"I'm working." I shake my head and turn to leave again.

"Josephine."

"I have to go...I'm sorry." I feel a tear creep down my cheek and tickle me as it falls. "I...I..." I can't even say anything. "I have to go." I pull the curtain back and leave the exam room. You know, I've always dreamed about this moment. I thought about the things I would do and the things I would say. I would ask her why she left me, I would try to understand why she did it because after all, nobody leaves their two week old baby unless they absolutely have to. I would hug her and tell her that I forgive her for everything and I would tell her that I'm not angry that she was never there to teach me how to deal with my period, how to cope with boy troubles, braid my hair or help me dress up for the prom. I would want to start over and have a relationship with her. I would introduce her to Alex and tell her that I think he's the one. And she would be there for the birth of her grandchildren, if me and Alex decide to have them. I always thought about this moment and I had it planned down to a perfect tee. I look like her, which was a shock. My eyes, my ears, my nose and my mouth all belong to her. And I immediately felt that connection. Crazy how your body just knows that you're related to someone because you feel that connection. I didn't think I'd have any connection with her, even though I came from her. I never thought that I would be the one to apologize to her. I never thought that meeting her—meeting my mother would be so nerve-wracking. I never counted on feeling so nauseous.

I need to find the nearest bathroom, because I'm going to throw up.

4 notes · View notes

seokjinsonlyone-main · 7 years

Text

in which harry suggests a second trial...

part 5 to the “Starbucks” series: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

It'd only been a day, but Y/N felt like she could finally breathe again. She felt lighter. It sort of felt like part of her was missing, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She experienced a similar feeling when she moved out on her own and when she broke up with her ex but also when she left a store without getting something she really liked or when she passed up on a food she was craving in the grocery store.

Meeting Harry was a major life event. She may not have known him for a long time, but he had always been important to her. From the first time she watched the video for What Makes You Beautiful he was important to her. No matter how awkward or wonderful or distorted their brief little thing was it was important to her. Naturally, its ending was going to evoke some sort of response from her. She genuinely thought she was doing the right thing by asking him to leave, though. If it was true that everyone had a person, which she liked to believe, she knew that she wasn't his. He didn't get tunnel vision as if she was the only person in the room. There wasn't any uncontrollable fire flaming between them. They were a firework, at best. In the moment they were bright and beautiful, but all too soon they fizzled and dissolved into oblivion. Her and Harry just happened to be at the oblivion stage in their relationship, but no one ever sees a firework and immediately regrets seeing it so she was choosing to be glad that it happened.

Of course that was something she decided in her mind. Her heart was not on the same page. Her heart told her that the lightness she felt was emptiness. It whispered how she should've actually heard him out instead of putting her thoughts into his mouth. It mocked her by clenching every time she replayed the scene that unfolded the day prior in her mind. He was gone and it was by her own volition and her heart didn't like it. It was a good thing she was great at ignoring her heart.

The war waging in her inner consciousness was too much. She needed to get away from it all, so she decided a run was in order. She hated running. She didn't like the way her lungs would burn and her legs would revolt against her once she settled down for the day, but there weren't any better options. She didn't have a gym membership or a bike or any exercise equipment at all. Exercising usually wasn't her thing. However, it was a proven stress reliever and it released endorphins which was something she desperately needed at the moment.

She rushed around her apartment changing into something moderately suitable to go for a run in. She was hyping herself up in front of the door, giving herself the final boost she needed to actually carry out her plan when she heard a knock. She cocked her head to the side wondering who could be on the other side. Her rent had been paid on time, all her friends were either in class or at work, and her mom always called before coming over. She physically jumped back at the sight of Harry standing at her door, cheeks flushed and nose red, beanie tossed over his hair, bearing flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other.

Her mind was a complete mess. It was as if she could feel the thoughts racing through it. She couldn't comprehend his presence. Her eyes roamed over him trying to come to terms with the fact that he was actually there, standing in front of her, with flowers and chocolates. "Are those really in season?" she asked after remaining shell shocked for an unbearable amount of time. It seemed to be the only thing that her mind successfully processed in the moment.

He shifted his gaze from her to the bouquet in his hand. "Uh... S'pose so. Didn't really ask... I just... thought they looked nice so..." he said then cleared his throat. "Can I come in?"

She nodded furiously, stepping aside. She toyed with her lip for a few seconds, one hand still on the door looking at him standing in front of her home a day after she told him to leave. "I'm sorry. I'm just... como se dice... shook, like, what on God's green earth are you doing here?"

He held out the flowers to her as he sat the chocolates down on her table. "I'm not really satisfied with how things went down yesterday."

She furrowed her brows. "What?"

"I want to talk to you again."

She looked around her in search of something that would tell her what was going on. She couldn't believe what was happening. "This is actual life. This doesn't happen in real life. You can't just– You can't– There isn't, like, a reset button. You can't call backsies in real life."

"We're not resetting. It's more of a… second trial. Like, in a science experiment." He noticed her look of disbelief. "It was a bit presumptuous of me to show up yesterday and just expect to fix things overnight, I know. But, you were crying when I left yesterday so I know you're not happy with how things turned out either. I know that you like to think, and I know that you already had your mind made up before I even showed up. I know that you're good at tucking emotions away, but I want to know how you feel. I've been a prick, but this time I choose not to let you go."

She scoffed. "What is this? You literally just put a whole album out about how you suck at communicating. I didn't sign up for this!"

He cracked a small smile. "We'll call it self-improvement."

She shrugged moving into the living room to sit. "I've never been one to stand in the way of a person bettering themselves, so…" she said, motioning for him to have a seat in the opposing chair.

They eyed each other waiting for someone to start talking. "I thought about you and everything that happened all night."

"And?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and folding her arms and crossing her legs.

"And… first of all, I need to know if you'll be able to forgive me for not getting in touch with you. I really am sorry. You don't have to forgive me today or tomorrow but just eventually. Is that..." he gulped, "Is that something you can do?"

She uncrossed her arms and legs, figuring that looking intimidating wasn't necessary when he obviously had some sort of agenda that he put thought and effort into. "Sweetie, I made my peace with that when I realised you weren't hitting me up anymore." Keeping things pent up messed with her head and was annoyingly distracting. She needed a clear mind to be functional otherwise she had the tendency of being caught up on that one thing which led to a lack of productivity, so she let go of that a couple weeks ago. "My problem was what it signified."

"Okay, that's the second thing," he rushed out. "You don't get to tell me what you mean to me." She snarled at him. "I gather that you believe in soulmates or summat, but just because I met you in a coffeehouse doesn't mean that we weren't meant to be together. Like, have you ever thought that maybe that's how we were supposed to meet?" He crossed the room to sit beside her, then gently nudged her chin up, forcing her to make eye contact with him. "Isn't it crazy that I just happened to be there at the same time as you? And, you just happened to anonymously buy me coffee? And, the barista just happened to tell me that it was you? And, you just happened to charm and endear me so much that I had to see you again that very night? Is that all just a coincidence?"

The gears were turning in her brain. He made some valid points. She'd been so caught up in the fact that he wasn't immediately taken aback by her like in some fanfic, that she forgot that she wasn't that kind of person. She said it herself just the night before. She was normal. She wasn't the kind of person that turned everyone's heads. She was the kind of person you didn't see unless she bought you coffee. He could've easily just thanked her or reimbursed her and went on his way, but he didn't. He saw her. He could've genuinely forgotten about her. He could've been anywhere in the world, but he was here, basically fresh off of tour, begging for forgiveness and a fair chance with flowers and chocolates. "You're appealing to my insanity..."

"And? Is it working?" he asked, cracking another grin.

She pinched her index finger and thumb together. "Just a little," she laughed. He pulled her into a hug and god she forgot just how good it felt to be wrapped up in him.

Her smile had worn off by the time he pulled back, though. There were other things she needed to consider. "I still don't know what you expect out of this, Harry."

His mouth pulled down into a frown. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged and her voice raised an octave. "I don't know! Like, I mean, do you see a future for us? Is there even an us?"

He pulled his collar away from his neck despite the fact that he was wearing a t shirt, finally showing some form of discomfort. "It's a little early in the relationship for that kind of question, don't you think?" he forced out, leaning back against the couch and running his hands through his hair.

"So, this is a relationship?" she inquired, propping her knee up and turning to face him.

He ran his palms up and down his thighs. "I mean, the beginning, yeah. It's not really developed much, but there's definitely an us. If you want it to be, that is." He turned, facing back toward her, putting the ball in her court.

"I… don't know..."

"You don't know?" He was confused. He thought they'd made progress.

"Have you heard of Schrödinger's Cat?"

"I– I–ummm… showing's what now?"

"Schrödinger's Cat. It's a physics thought experiment. So, basically there's this cat, and it's in a box, but until you open it, it could be considered both dead and alive."

"Okay..." he responded, obviously perplexed as to what that had to do with them.

"I don't date casually because I'm not in the business of getting my heart broken. I know it may seem like I ignore my emotions a lot, but I'm actually quite in tune with them. And to be completely honest, I fell in love with the thought of you before I even knew you. Now I do know you, and despite everything that's happened, I think you're lovely. So, actually being involved with you and it not working out would… crush me."

"Or it could work out and we could be really happy together. Because, I mean, I can see us together. Like, as a couple. You're not just a fling to me, you know?"

The earnest look in his eyes made her want to commit right then and there, but she needed to be sure about this before she made any decision. "Can I– Can I think about it?"

"Of course," he agreed quickly.

They sat side by side in an awkward silence for a few minutes before she spoke up. "I was actually about to go for a run before you showed up."

"Right, sorry." He popped up off the couch, stuffing his hands in his pockets, slowly walking towards the door. She grabbed her keys and followed him. "Before I go, let me do something," he said then pushed his lips on hers before she even had a chance to wonder what he was about to do. She was so surprised by his sudden, bold action that she didn't respond for several seconds, but when she did she felt like she was floating on water. He worked over her lips like the waves ripple in the sea.. And, when he suckled on her bottom lip drawing out a sweet moan from her then went back in and dipped his tongue into her mouth, she decided that she wouldn't mind drowning in him.

He rendered her completely speechless when he finally drew back from her and spent the time she needed to recover from the kiss gently smoothing his thumb over her bottom lip with one hand and rubbing circles into her lower back with the other.. "What… was that?" she sputtered after a minute or so.

"Just figured you'd need some data. Can't draw conclusions for an experiment without sufficient data."

She nodded, then rubbed her hands up his chest and slithered them around his neck going in for one more round of "data." "Okay, okay," she said, turning in his arms and opening the door quickly before she completely lost herself in him. "Wait," she said grasping his hand, as he began to walk away. He raised his eyebrows at her. "How long will you be in town for?"

"However long it takes for you to open that box." He winked at her with a splitting grin spread across his face, then walked away leaving her leaning breathless against her door.

323 notes · View notes

jesus-otaku · 7 years

Text

Okay, so it’s a little past afternoon, but it’s still Sunday, so...this fanfic post is officially on time!

Title: Shall We Dance? (Part 5)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Ladynoir, Adrinette, some implied Cheesecake (Plagg/Tikki)

Word count: 3396 oops how do these chapters keep getting so long

My personal playlist for this part: Surely (I Love You) [Huey Lewis and the News], What’s Next? [Big Bad Voodoo Daddy], You’re Only Human (Second Wind) [Billy Joel]

I am so proud of myself for getting this posted on time. I had a fiasco during research and I was afraid I might not get it out when I said I would. But it’s here! On time! Happy day! (Enjoy!)

“God, there was so much that could go wrong.”

________________________

The classroom brackets to choose their pair for the district competition were posted. Marinette felt vaguely as if she might throw up. She and Adrien were assigned to go up against Alya and Nino, of all people, in the first round. Marinette personally thought it would be a miracle if they made it past this round. She still hadn't gotten used to dancing the tango with Adrien; they'd be lucky if she didn't trip them both within the first two minutes. “Am I allowed to forfeit?” she asked Alya, who was standing next to her and looking at the brackets, although she already knew the answer was no.

Alya smiled with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Unfortunately, unless you want a failing grade for not participating …”

Marinette grabbed at Alya's arm. “You have to help me. I'm going to make a fool of myself and make Adrien look bad in front of the entire class. I can't let that happen! He'd never forgive me!”

“Well, actually, knowing Adrien, I'm pretty sure he'd forgive you before you even apologized,” Alya replied with a laugh. She removed Marinette's hand from her arm. “And you'll be fine. If it's that bad, you could always try imagining that you're dancing with someone else.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she caught sight of something or someone behind Marinette, and started heading across the studio to Nino. “Good luck. I'd better go help Nino figure out our choreography!”

“Alya, wai—”

“Morning, Marinette,” Adrien greeted her, coming up beside her. He gave her his usual cheerful, sunny smile that always set her heart pounding double-time. “We start working on choreography today, right?”

“Yeahning—I mean norming—I mean morning,” she stammered. She pasted a smile on her face and hope it looked genuine enough to cover up how nervous she was feeling. “I mean good morning! Yeah. Um … that is, yes. Yes, we're supposed to start choreographying—choreographing! We're supposed to start choreographing today.” God, she needed to stop talking before she made herself look like an even bigger idiot. Her stupid mouth couldn't seem to listen to her brain, though, and she found herself stuttering on like a fool. “Since … um … the competition district is … ack, I mean the district competition is coming up and we have to—well, the class has to … um … pick who we're going to send for our age bracket. To compete. In the competition.”

Somehow, Adrien must have understood what she was trying to say, because he nodded and asked, “Is there an assigned song that we have to choreograph our dance to?” He set his bag down and crossed over to the warm-up bar so he wasn't blocking the door anymore.

Marinette hurried to join him. “We have a few songs to fick prom—I mean pick from.” This day was off to a horrible start so far. She couldn't even talk like a normal human being. Choreographing anything today was going to be a nightmare.

Adrien, of course, (bless his soul,) had more presence of mind than Marinette, and proved to be a natural at choreographing. With her limited, stammered input, he selected the music for their dance from Miss Bustier's provided CDs, and immediately set about figuring out how they would open the dance.

“… And then maybe some kind of turn? That could work really well with this crescendo in the music.” He turned to Marinette. “What do you think? Should we do a turn here?”

“Huh?” Put on the spot, she could hardly manage more than a few broken syllables. “I … well … if … maybe … we could … and … um …”

Adrien stepped away from the bar. “How about we practice what we've got so far? Then we can see how well the turn would work.” He held his arms out in the ballroom position, waiting for her to join him.

Inwardly, Marinette cringed. This was not going to end well, she could tell already. She could barely even talk to him today. There was no way she was going to manage dancing with him. Especially not the blasted tango. But, since it was Adrien and she could never tell him no in a million years, she got to her feet and let him take her hand in his for the ballroom position.

It was a catastrophe.

“I'm sorry,” Adrien apologized when the third move nearly ended in Marinette tripping both of them. “I forgot, I learned that one back when I was in private lessons. I should have asked if you knew it first.”

“That's—it's—I mean, um, it's okay,” she managed to say. “I know it—the move, I mean. I just—I wasn't—I forgot, um … I forgot what came next, and I … I'm sorry, my brain just—stupid brain, I …”

“Don't worry about it,” he assured her. “We can try again, from the top. We've got a couple weeks to figure this thing out. There's no rush.”

Marinette thought that two weeks was nowhere near enough time for her to get used to dancing the tango with Adrien, let alone compete with him against their classmates, but she kept it to herself and let Adrien start their routine over.

“We've got your first bracket!” Tikki announced, waving a piece of paper in her hand as she came over to where Ladybug and Chat Noir had just been about to start their first dance of the night. Plagg joined them moments later.

“Unfortunately, it looks like you guys are gonna have one of the harder preliminary brackets,” Tikki continued. She tucked the paper into the pocket of her suitcoat. “You're up against a pair that's competed before several times representing Papillon.”

“Papillon?” Ladybug and Chat echoed in tandem.

Tikki's eyebrows went up in surprise. “The biggest swing club in Paris,” Plagg explained before she could even open her mouth to answer. He propped his arm on Tikki's shoulder. “It's run by an anonymous benefactor who uses the name Papillon as his alias. He's been sending in competitors for … how long has it been now, Tikki? At least twenty years?”

“Twenty-one,” Tikki supplied.

“Twenty-one years,” Plagg said. “And one of his pairs has won almost every single year. We always go up against them in the finals. Haven't beaten them in the finals since the original Ladybug and Chat Noir retired. Which was about seventeen years ago.” He eyed the two of them. “I'm a bit surprised you haven't heard of Papillon before. They're a lot bigger than we are in the swing dance world.”

“I've heard of them before,” Chat said, shrugging, “but I thought they were some kind of dance school for people who wanted to learn as a hobby. I never really paid much attention to the names of the clubs who sent the winning pairs for the swing competition.”

Plagg looked at Ladybug. “I always got my info about the competition from a friend of mine,” she explained. “And she was more interested in Kwami Dance Club and Ladybug than the other competitors. So I never got names.”

Plagg grinned. “Your friend has good taste.”

“In any case,” Tikki said, drawing their attention back to her, “you're competing against Monsieur Pigeon and his partner Colombe in the first round.”

Monsieur Pigeon?? Ladybug snorted in amusement. Chat Noir seemed to find the name just as funny as she did; he burst out laughing. His laughter set her off, and though she tried her best to stop laughing, she couldn't.

Tikki propped her hands on her hips. “Laugh all you want, but they're good dancers. They've made it up to the semifinals before.”

“Still,” Chat Noir managed to snicker, “Monsieur Pigeon? What's his first name? Homing?” He dissolved into another laughing fit at his own joke.

“Papillon stole our code name trend,” Plagg said by way of explanation. “And Tikki's right. He doesn't sound like much, but he and his partner can be a tough pair to beat. He's been competing for at least the past ten years.”

“An old pigeon,” Ladybug quipped to Chat in a whisper, having stopped laughing enough to at least regain her faculty of speech. He nearly doubled over.

Tikki and Plagg seemed to silently decide they should just wait until Ladybug and Chat had stopped laughing about the name Monsieur Pigeon. Plagg leaned against Tikki, his arm still propped on her shoulder, and she folded her arms across her chest patiently. When both Ladybug and Chat Noir had finally managed to cease their laughing fit, Tikki resumed the conversation. “The thing you're going to have to watch out for with this pair is their aerials. They know a lot of aerials you two haven't learned yet, and they've had years to perfect them. Their big finishing moves are sidecar and the angel.”

Chat waved his hand dismissively. “They don't sound like all that.”

Plagg and Tikki exchanged glances. “Sounds like someone needs a reality check,” Plagg remarked as Tikki took his hands in hers, obviously preparing to dance. He shifted with her into the closed position, and they fell into the rock step with the ease of years of practice. “This is sidecar.”

In the amount of time it would have taken Ladybug to blink, Plagg swept Tikki up off the floor and dipped her to first one side, then the other. She would have thought they were doing the double cherry bomb if it weren't for the fact that Plagg wasn't supporting Tikki the same way at all. She was about to ask Chat if he thought it was all that impressive a move when Plagg swung Tikki straight towards himself and then up, with only his hands on her waist for support. Tikki balanced, upside down and pin-straight, above Plagg for what seemed like an impossibly long amount of time, though it was probably only a few seconds at most. Then she was swung back down onto her feet.

“Holy crap,” Chat said under his breath. Ladybug was inclined to agree.

“Monsieur Pigeon won't put his partner down that soon,” Plagg warned them. “He likes to strut his stuff a little first.”

“I know someone else who used to like to strut his stuff,” Tikki remarked with a sidelong glance Plagg's way. He either didn't hear her or elected to ignore her. She turned her attention on Chat Noir and Ladybug. “Plagg makes it sound like a bad thing, but showing off is actually a really good idea when you're doing aerials. The longer the girl's up in the air, the more impressive it looks. As long as you don't hold her up for too long,” she amended. “Otherwise it can start to seem like you just don't know what to do next.”

“So that's sidecar,” Ladybug said slowly, “but what about the other one you mentioned?” She didn't think anything could possibly top that near-impossible balancing act, but if there was one thing she had learned about swing dance, it was always full of surprises.

“The angel,” Plagg said. Tikki took his hands in hers in obvious anticipation. “It's not as impressive from a brute strength perspective, but it looks cooler.” With that, he and Tikki started the rock step again, and Tikki was spun around only once before being flipped up onto Plagg's shoulder. Although this time she was balanced on her stomach and not upside down, she still remained pin-straight as before.

“That's so cool,” Chat gushed. Rather than intimidated, he looked … excited? Did he forget that this was a move their opponents had mastered?

Plagg looked smugly pleased by the praise. “As an additional option, for added effect …” He spun in a tight circle, keeping Tikki perfectly balanced the whole time. At the end of the turn, Tikki was flipped off his shoulder to land back on the floor. “And that's the angel.”

“Could you teach us that one?” Chat asked eagerly. He seemed to catch himself, and looked over at Ladybug. “If it's all right with you, of course, my lady.”

She smiled. It did look like a fun aerial to learn. And it couldn't hurt to brush up their repertoire before going up against someone with as much aerial experience as Monsieur Pigeon. “I wouldn't mind.”

“You're not going to beat him at his own game,” Plagg said, as if he could read her mind. “In a contest of aerials, he's always got the upper hand.”

Ladybug eyed him curiously. “Then what do you suggest?”

Plagg smirked. “Make him play your game instead.”

In less than twenty-four hours she was going to be competing on a stage in front of half of Paris.

“–ette.”

In less than twenty-four hours she was going to compete for the first time as the new Ladybug.

“–rinette.”

God, there was so much that could go wrong.

“Marinette.”

Fingers snapped in front of her face, jolting Marinette back to reality. She looked up from the spot on the floor she had been staring at fixedly for the past couple minutes and was greeted by the sight of Adrien looking rather worried. “Are you all right?” he asked her. “You seem kind of out of it today.” He paused a moment before amending, “Well, more than usual, that is. Is everything okay?”

Marinette felt heat surge into her cheeks. She'd been so worried about the competiton tomorrow that she'd ignored Adrien. And in the middle of class, too! “I'm fine,” she stammered. “Everything's fine. I was just … thinking. I got a little distracted for a minute. But everything's fine. Um … could you repeat what you said?”

He didn't look disappointed or frustrated with her because she'd stopped listening. As a matter of fact, he was still smiling in that sweet way of his that made her heart pound twice as fast. The boy really was an absolute angel. “I just asked if you would mind staying after school for a while so we could practice our routine some more. Nino mentioned that he and Alya have been practicing outside of class to get their dance down, and, well, I thought it might not be a bad idea to try practicing a little extra ourselves.”

Marinette's brain short-circuited. Staying after school with Adrien? To practice the tango? Together? Alone?

When she didn't respond right away, Adrien's expression fell ever so slightly. “We don't have to,” he added. “I just thought maybe—well, it was just an idea. If you can't stay then that's–”

“It's fine!” Marinette blurted. Adrien seemed taken aback by her vehemence, and she did her best to dial down her enthusiasm by several notches. “I mean—well—I don't mind. It's fine. I can call my parents and let them know I'll be a little late coming home. Um—how long were you thinking?”

Adrien shrugged. “Maybe an hour tops. I don't want to keep you here all day and I have a c—something important coming up tomorrow that I'll need to be well-rested for.”

Marinette hoped the “something important” didn't have anything to do with watching the first preliminary round of the swing dance competition. “An hour should be fine,” she agreed.

“Great!” Adrien beamed. “I'll go ask Miss Bustier about letting us use the room after class gets out, then. I'll be right back!” And he hurried off to do just that.

Marinette sank into the nearest chair. Had she really just agreed to spend an hour alone with Adrien after class? Her brain was sure to turn into total mush!

Then again, was this really a time to be worrying about spending a single hour alone with Adrien? There was a competition coming up tomorrow, one that would have far more consequences than the classroom bracket against Nino and Alya. Whatever happened tomorrow would reflect not only on her, personally, but on the Ladybug persona, Kwami Dance Club, and Tikki and Plagg, too. It had taken years for the club to rise to fame. To represent it poorly now would be to subject it to enormous ridicule. She didn't want that to happen, not to Tikki, who had been so eager and kind to help her come into her own as the new Ladybug, and not to Plagg, who had given her the best partner she could have asked for.

“Marinette, we're all set,” Adrien said, coming back over at a trot. “Miss Bustier said we can have the studio for as long as …” He trailed off as he caught sight of her face. “What's the matter?”

She did her best to school her face into a more neutral expression. Going by the concern in his eyes, she must have looked like it was the end of the world. “It's, um … well, not nothing, but … it—it's nothing important. Just …” She sighed. He wasn't buying it, she could tell. Every word just seemed to increase his concern. She would have to explain while revealing as little as possible. “It's just … competition jitters.” There. That was vague enough. He would assume she meant the classroom competition, not the swing dance one tomorrow. At least, she hoped he would.

Adrien sat down next to her. “You're nervous?”

She attempted to laugh, but it came out too shaky to be convincing. “It's kind of pathetic, isn't it? Getting nervous after so many years of competing …”

“It's not pathetic,” Adrien said with surprising force. Marinette looked at him and almost had to look away again when she saw the intensity in his face. “Marinette, there's nothing wrong with being nervous. It happens to everyone.”

This time, she did look away, focusing on her hands where they were folded in her lap. “But I've been screwing up so much the past couple months. I've never been the best in the class, but this has just been …”

The bell rang to signal the end of class, and their classmates began to filter out of the room. Adrien paid them no heed, except to give a wave of goodbye to Nino. His attention, for the most part, remained on Marinette. “It hasn't been that bad. It can take a while to get used to a new partner, that's all.”

“But two months?” She didn't lift her eyes from her hands. “I've been falling and knocking you over since day one, like a total klutz, and it hasn't been getting any better.”

He paused. “Well, I guess I can't argue with that part, but …”

“But …?” she prompted. She glanced up, curious, and noticed that aside from them, everyone else had left.

They were all alone.

Adrien was fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. “I noticed while I was partnered with Chloé that you danced really well with the other guys. I thought maybe it would be easy for you to adjust to having me as a partner. But, well, I guess that was kind of silly of me, huh? It's a lot to expect of someone, just assuming they'll adjust to dancing with someone they hardly know right away. If either of us is to blame here, then I think it should be me. For expecting too much from you.”

“Not at all!” Marinette protested. “That's not—you're not asking too much! You're right, that I should have been able to adjust sooner. It's not your fault that I haven't been able to dance the way I should be able to.”

He smiled, but it wasn't his usual angelic smile. It was a bashful, half-relieved and half-apologetic smile, the likes of which she had never expected to see on Adrien Agreste, let alone at a time like this. “You're too kind, Marinette. I guess that's probably why I wanted to project my expectations onto you so much.” He stood up, twisting so he was still facing her. “I'm sorry. For expecting too much, and for not noticing sooner that you were nervous. We'll take things slower, okay? As much as you need.”

She bit her lip. “And if I still screw up?”

“If we've done our best, then I won't have any regrets,” he answered resolutely. “No one can ask any more of you than your best.” He offered his hand. “Ready to practice?”

Smiling, and somehow feeling like a huge weight had just been removed from her shoulders, Marinette took his hand.

#drabble #miraculous ladybug #AU #ladynoir #otp #adrinette #cheesecake #miraculous fanfic #shall we dance?

13 notes · View notes

these-are-the-first-steps · 7 years

Text

“Solace for the Damned”: Unexpected Guest

Luke was coming.

Luke was coming and Rey stood in the middle of his room a dripping mess, only half dry from using the shower ‘to get the plague off’, she said, because she kept trying to chew at the towel with slightly pointed teeth so Kylo had had to snatch it back and throw one of his old t-shirts at her while trying very hard not to look.

But he was seventeen, and he noticed she had a rather pretty pink tinge to her cheeks now that they were free of dust and grime, and it had taken all his willpower to turn away as, with a casual shrug, she suddenly dropped the towel and pulled the proffered piece of clothing over her head.

Already the rivulets of water off her hair were soaking through the thankfully thick material- thick enough.

“You have to hide,” he said hurriedly in hushed tones as his uncle’s engine idled in the driveway.

Rae tilted her head curiously at him with a frown. Kylo stared back and widened his eyes knowingly at her, desperate for some acknowledgement of the seriousness of the situation.

“Rey, did you hear me?” he hissed. She blinked in mild annoyance at him.

“Yea, but why?” she asked with a slight curl of her lip.

“Because my uncle is coming, and if he sees you here, he’ll know what you are, and if he knows what you are, then he’ll know what I did!!”

Rae snorted. “What have you done, Kylo?”

Kylo let go a high pitched wheeze of an exasperated whine when a downstairs door slammed shut and the jangle of keys echoed up the hall.

“Ben? I’m back!” Luke called.

“Ssshit!!” he hissed. Grabbing a fistful of her her t-shirt sleeve, he pulled her to the side.

“What, he isn’t supposed to know that you were using Darth Vader’s infamous tome?” she giggled. Yanking her towards him, she lazily fell against his heaving chest as he loomed high and craned his neck to look down at her. She met his gaze with bored eyes and a small, mirthful twist of her lips.

“If he discovers you,” he began in a low, even voice. Rae shifted against him. “He’ll send you back.”

Rae frowned. Kylo arched a brow at her.

“And you don’t want to go back, do you, Rey,” he stated more than asked.

Her eyes fell to his chest and her fingers picked at his own t-shirt as she tilted her head side to side in thought. His grip tightened on her sleeve.

“Decide now, because he’s coming up the stairs,” he breathed with every vestige of calm he could muster.

“Well I don’t want to go back just yet, no—“

“Good,” he said tightly, and, grabbing her properly by the arm, flung open his closet door and she literally squeaked when he tossed her in.

“In here???” she whined.

“Quiet!! Yes!” he insisted with a whisper. “Hide behind the clothes- and don’t make a sound!”

He shut the door as footsteps neared the top of the stairs and, turning circles in the middle of his floor, he snatched up a book about physics from his desk and bounced onto his bed, willing his breath to calm and to suddenly become the picture of perfect nonchalance.

There was a knock at his door.

“Ben?”

Slowly it opened.

Ben raised his brows with a smile. “Oh, hey Luke.”

“Hey kid. Everything alright? I’ve been calling you.”

Ben looked surprised as he gave a small shake of his head. “No. Didn’t hear anything. Must be this book,” he said with a small laugh, raising it up off his chest. Luke squinted at the cover.

“The Secrets of Physics, eh? Not exactly casual reading…”

Ben forced a smile. “Hey uncle, did you know that if two planes with atomic clocks both fly around the earth at the exact same time in opposite directions, when they land their clocks will be different?”

Luke looked genuinely surprised. “No I did not. Nature’s wild, huh?”

“Yeah,” he nephew replied with a goofy grin.

“Hey, why don’t you come down stairs and help me with some of this stuff, alright? I think you’ll like what I’ve brought.”

“Sure thing, Luke. Gimme just a minute to finish this one section?” he asked hopefully.

Luke grinned and nodded. “Alright, kiddo. But hurry up.”

Shaking his head, Luke shut the door. The second it clicked closed, Kylo’s face fell and he shot forward to lock it. He tossed the book back onto his desk and pulled open his closet door.

“Rey?”

There was a shuffling, a slithering beneath an admittedly embarrassing pile of discarded clothing.

“Rey?” he repeated, when suddenly a hand shot out of the pile and her head poked through.

“I’m here,” she called.

Kylo relaxed into a sigh.

“Alright….just stay here for now, alright? I’ll be back later.”

“Later??” she cried incredulously, before Kylo shushed her for her volume. Rae frowned.

“Are these dirty? Are these dirty clothes you’ve asked me to hide under, Kylo?”

Kylo arched a brow. “Coming from the chick who showed up in a tapestry-poncho covered in God knows what and you constantly complaining about the Black Death or something…”

Rae rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright, you didn’t have to bring His name into it…”

“Fine,” he shot back. He eyed her with a frown. “But will you stay here? Until I come back?”

Rae huffed. “Well I haven’t anywhere else to be…”

Kylo grinned widely, and Rae peered up curiously at his sudden onslaught of expression.

“Great. I’ll see you soon.”

He closed the door again, and Rae listened as the door to his room also opened and clicked shut. She wiggled her fingers in the air. “Bye,” she mumbled, and let it flop back onto a pair of spaceship-covered boxers.

——

It was late when Ben came back, agitated and distracted enough that he almost immediately fell onto his bed, buried his face in his pillow, and willed himself to sleep. She wasn’t sure of the time, but what she was sure of was that the old man he called ‘uncle’ was asleep, so she felt confident as she pushed open his closet door with a single finger and crawled her way out of the boy’s dirty laundry.

Standing in the center of his room lit by nothing but the half moon glowing brightly outside his window, Rae put her hands on her hips and huffed. She stared at the lumpy mass on the bed, face obscured by a wild mane of very dark hair that shone in the nightlight.

Pursing her lips and very annoyed that he clearly forgot about her, she marched her bare feet over to his bed, yanked up the cover, and crawled in next to him. Ben didn’t budge an inch, clearly deep in sleep, until she pushed her head under his chin and aggressively tucked herself into his side. At this he jolted awake, his arms reflexively folding around his new bed companion, before his brain caught up enough to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to have any bed companion and he half shouted into the darkness as he lurched forward until Rae covered his mouth with her hand and pushed him decisively back down onto the bed. He struggled, grabbing at her arms and trying to twist out of her grip when suddenly she threw a leg over his stomach and pulled herself on top of him, pinning him beneath her with her superior strength, and only when he realized he couldn’t lift an inch off of the covers anymore did he begin to still, still in a panic, and eyes searching wide in the dark. Rae brought her face close.

“Kylo!!” she whispered loudly. He tried lurching again with a muffled cry of confusion until her other hand came up and slapped at his cheek trying to snap him out of it.

“It’s me, Rae, remember?”

There was a moment longer of confusion until, finally, his eyes adjusted enough to make out her wild hair and loose, familiar shirt and his breath pressed at her hand covering his mouth as he slumped back into his pillow.

“Can I remove my hand now?”

He nodded.

Slowly, she lifted her hand away.

“Rey, what are you—“

“I was in the closet, remember? You said you’d come for me when you came back??” she hissed. Kylo’s eyes grew wide.

“Shit.”

Rae arched a brow. “Yes. ‘Shit’.”

“Rey I’m so sorry—“

“Forget about it,” she interrupted, and his shocked gaze continued to linger on her face. “Are you calm now?”

“Yeah,” he replied breathily.

“Good,” and with that, she pushed herself down his torso and made herself comfortable on his chest.

“Um.” Kylo stammered, repeatedly, and searched the ceiling for some sort of guidance. Rae’s hands were tucked close under her chin and she sighed into them as her toes dug into his thighs. The top of her head touched just under his chin, and suddenly he was very, very aware of the fact that he had only ever given her a t-shirt. Nothing more, as her bottom pushed up against his single arched leg.

“Um, Rey,” he tried again, swallowing hard. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, but she was a demon- a demon whose powers he had no idea about yet, and even if he asked her there was no guarantee she’d even be honest. “Rey, you can’t sleep here.”

“Why not,” came her grumbled reply.

“Um…” he couldn’t think of a good enough reason. What if his uncle checked in? No, he always locked his door. What if…. he turned his head to glance at the waning moonlight outside his window. He couldn’t make her go back into the closet- not after he fucking forgot about her. Not with his laundry of all things to boot.

Kylo sighed heavily and gingerly brought up a hand to prod at her back.

“Rey, at the very least, you can’t sleep like this. You have to get off of my chest.”

“Why,” came another grumbled reply.

“Because you’re heavy and it’s hard to sleep with a demon on your chest?”

At that, she sat straight up, mouth gaping (or so he thought), in consternation. “Me? Heavy? I think not. Besides, I used to sit on mortals’ chests all the time…”

“Yeah, if you’re attacking them, right?”

She frowned. “Well, yeah, but—“

“Are you attacking me, Rey?”

He looked up at her with lowered lids, sleep desperate to take him back, but at that comment she stilled, her face softening as she looked down at him.

“No….no I’m not, Kylo.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Thank you. So if it’s alright….just….I won’t make you go back into the closet, but pick a side and we’ll do it that way.”

Hesitantly she nodded and, eventually, lifted up her leg on the other side of him and turned on his stomach, picking the half away from the wall. The bottom of her t-shirt gaped wide with the movement and he’d never been more grateful for darkness in his life as he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He felt as she situated herself on her side and moved over to make more room for her.

“Comfortable?” he asked finally.

“Mhmm.”

“Ok…..”

And with that, he closed his eyes. It wasn’t two seconds when there was a rustling and something soft curled into his side.

“Rey—?”

“You’re so warm,” she mumbled, pressing her back close against him.

“Are you cold?” he asked on reflex.

She said nothing, but he felt her nod against his arm when a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“Do demons even sleep?” he asked.

Rae sighed. “Sometimes. I’ve had a long day.”

Kylo frowned and nodded, trying to reason it in his mind. “Yeah…I guess so.”

She flattened out more against him and suddenly he found himself facing her back- he had no idea where to put his hands.

“Another question?” Rae sighed. Kylo blinked into the dark into her nest of hair when suddenly she arched towards him, something large and soft coming much, much too close to his nether-regions…

He brought down his hand to hold her steady, maybe push her away a little to just get some space, when his fingertips were met with nothing but soft, warm flesh.

“Um, actually……are you not wearing any pants?”

He could almost hear the smile as it spread across her lips.

“No,” and pressed herself further back.

Ohhhno, he thought over and over.

“Goodnight,” she purred, and when she finally stilled, he let his head drop onto his pillow.

This is trouble, he thought. I’m so fucked.

–

“Solace for the Damned”

You can actually send me prompts for this fic! I just wanted to do this one directly after the previous chapter. :3

#reylo #reylo fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

b--zus-blog · 6 years

Text

MERCURY MIGHT HAVE BEEN ON MY SIDE PART 3 CONT.

Welcome back for Part 3 continuing. I mentioned that this will be the most emotional part for me, since I am going to bang out 2 instances, where parts of my soul were being murdered brutally. Please know that I am writing this by the pool side, so at least if I cry, I can hop in a jacuzzi right afterwards. I have tucked away this person who I was, she’s folded up nicely in a dark corner of my brain where I can let her rest for a bit. Who I am now is taking over.

I left off with my aunt Tulip getting me from the precinct. To rewind a little bit, I was still waiting for her, and when I got my phone back I still had a little juice to update my friends in the group chat. SweetNest, told me she contacted Lucifer, and I saw their conversation on messenger. SweetNest asked him if he had heard from me, and he responded so fucking nasty to her. “Sorry everyone from her side is going to get shit from me . . . we are going to put a restraining order on her. . . she kicked down the door and maced our roommate now she is in the hospital. . . idk I am going to check on b . . . my lawyer advises me not to talk to her party . . .”

SweetNest responds “ I don’t think Beez would use mace for no reason (she repeated this 3 times) . . . Can I get your lawyers information? “ (yeah douche bag we know you’re lying and most likely did not talk to a fucking lawyer.) - - - Reading the text messages - I wish I had the screen shots, but then again I glad I don’t, because reading what he was saying felt like a shot to the face. How dare Lucifer, make me sound so violent, so fucking scary like I’m a fucking monster when I was trying to defend myself because he didn’t want to protect me. I have been with Lucifer for 5 years, 3 of which we lived together and 1 where we were exes. Living with an ex is the most draining shit of your life, especially when you are such good partners. We have shared many laughs, many experiences, many ups, and downs . . . for him to pretend like he didn’t know me. To try to depict an image of me which is not true. I am most likely guilty of the same, as I saw him as a King. I looked at him and thought he was soo handsome, intelligent and strong. The way he was telling SweetNest about me was so dreadful and I finally had to release a secret, I never wanted to admit.

Tulip finally showed up, and in between our conversations and the fucking cop who put his number in my phone passing by and she thought he was hot, which he was but still a fucking douche. I look up to the ceiling trying to tilt my tears back inside my eyeballs, and trying so hard to swallow this lump in my throat to say “Tulip, I am finally going to admit this, Lucifer has hit me, one of the main reasons he moved back is because our last fight he punched me in the stomach. He has choked me, and the last time he choked me he whispered in my ear,‘You have lived a good 25 yrs of life’. It wasn’t the first time he has done that.

Let me take you to the past a little bit where I was born because it could have potentially saved my mother and biological fathers relationship. So already being brought into this world with not proper intentions. God only knows what my mom was going through while I was in the womb (which I totally believe affects a babies soul) Do I believe I was a love baby? Absolutely fucking not, my father was an abusive alcoholic cunt who did coke too, probably and most likely other things as well. I have dealt with his abuse on top of my mothers. Maybe it was because I looked like the fucker burnt to a crisp with curly hair, but as I was growing up, whenever I would get punished even as I got older my mom would punch me in the head a lot, my dad liked the belt. At least everyday I can remember just getting fucking whipped or pounded on by a fist. EVERYDAY, I was doing something wrong, I felt unwanted, why was I not dying yet, why was my body always fighting the pain. I could never cry about it either, I had to stay tough. I still loved though, I saw this documentary on Vice about shelters(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUfNbNBFwRI) and this home less girl says “If you hit me or you hurt me, I forgot and forgave you just like that, I don’t understand judgmental people, I don’t understand at all, like I think they are dumb, like they don’t know how to solve a problem.” I fucking broke. Because I did that, and thought exactly the same,I still loved my mom, I still loved my dad, and every other person who has hit me in between my life. It was normal no? I thought by the time I was 16, I was understanding what abuse was, and how it worked, I was starting to feel resentment so I mentally killed off my biological father who left our life anyway when my mom finally divorced him after 9/11 My mother and I are in a better spot, sort of. She has her demons that she refuses to face. After what we went through, I thought I would NEVER be with a man who hits me. & here I was forgiving, and still loving the fuck out of Lucifer, because I still believed he loved me too.

Our relationship started off. . . amazing, we connected, had to fall out due to differences in what I wanted and what I saw him as, but we still reconnected. Effortlessly too might I add, I didn’t even see him as a potential partner at first, if anything we were just a casual fling, and then I kinda wanted it to end because I was ready for something serious so I need to take a break to figure out what I wanted. Instead of what I actually thought it was, him choosing me and him coming to me ! He would buy me things show up and make plans, he was making it adamant that he wanted to be with me. Even after our first big fight, when I first cried in front of him, actually holding it back because he got me so angry, he didn’t want to leave, and then he finally left. He still kept coming back to me, and my life and honestly I was fighting it because I didn’t know if I wanted him either, but the more he showed interest in me, the more I genuinely felt he wanted to be with me. We would argue but he made up for it 20x better, he would take me shopping, treat me like a Queen, massage my feet, support me, motivate me and this was the person I was falling in love with. . As time went on he admitted that it felt like me talking to him about what I wanted and how we should cut something that isn’t real was an ultimatum. . . fucker what? I have always been honest with my intentions. I felt so awful because I thought everything was REAL. Till little by little he was doing and saying things that were disrespectful , getting away with gas lighting, and knowing what tactics and my weaknesses that would trigger me into doing annoying , corny fucked up girl shit, Maybe in another blog I will mention how and what lead to the abuse, whats types, and how his Jekyll and Hyde personas were just , making me look at myself in the mirror and be like “Who the fuck is this person?”

So back to admitting to my aunt what has / was happening and I don’t know why Lucifer is making this so fucking miserable for me. My arresting officer told me to see this lady in the office precinct, after I told him I still need to get my stuff, at least in peace. This lady was actually so fucking rude to me and tried to accuse me of “oh you just want to do this for retaliation” I got up and just fucking left. My aunt actually turned me around, then the lady was like “You see if she didn’t have that attitude I could let her know how to do a Order of Protection” - sick bitch. Heres the thing, it still isn’t her fault she spoke to me that way, playing mental mind games, it’s the criminal justice systems fault, believe that. I was talking to the cops for an hour trying to explain to them this whole mess, they told me to call the cops when I get home to get my shit, so I could get 20 minutes to an hr to get my shit. Tulip, and Tulips friend Alex ( who was actually besties with my biological father) and I waited a good hr and 1/2 outside the apartment, my aunt agreed she could take some things to her place. The cops finally show up and then when they get here my aunt speaks to them and the cop looks at me rolls his eyes, and says “Yeah I remember her.” I went so close to the car looking at this fuckers face, to recognize him as one of the cops that I called the first time, the one I thought earlier hit his wife too. - the way he was talking to the two older ladies I mentioned in part 1 ? Or 2? I forget. Mother fucker here we go, he tells my aunt how I am uncooperative and shit, and once again I CALLED THE COPS, for them to make me feel like a fucking moron for doing so. I open the door, it reaks of weed, and three stuffed black trash bags are full of my things, Diana goes into the other room and gets the TV. The crackheads are cracked out and shook. Lucifer then walks in “Um hello excuse me, thats my fucking TV” I look at him. The king that I saw in him, the man that I thought one day is going to be one of the most successful men I know, was replaced by a high asshole, who looked musty and miserable as fuck. I saw and only felt his hate, I had to stay quite as I could pack as much shit as I could into a sedan. He was trying to portray me as a burglar, a robber and he spoke to my aunt, who has taken him in as well in her own home like she was garbage. “Why are you even here this has nothing to do with you!?” The crackheads and the cops were watching them go back and forth in the kitchen until he tried to tell my aunt to shutup - she responds back with “I CAN SAY WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT GONNA CHOKE ME!” Wither 5 foot nothing self. He said “Choke who, who’s been choked!?” She confronted him about the bruises she has seen on me and how she didn’t call the cops either. Then he finally shut up and she told the cops on how he told me to come back the other day, then tries to say I’m a robber ! “Fucking manipulative shit, abusive men like you do!” Surprisingly for a minute moment the cops were on my side about things, telling Lucifer that he wasn’t even here when I called them the first time. B I know for a fact was jealous that I did have my aunt who was fighting for me, and I know she felt the sting that I am fucking loved while she feels at her loneliness, and can’t even fight for herself - even with her Shrek physique.

When I finally had shit packed up still not everything, my books, my dresser filled with clothes, paper work, shoes were still left there. So I had to make one more fucking trip and I hated knowing I had to come back. Meanwhile, Lucifer just looks at me, from the door in between the lions that protected the door while I was in the back of the car, he was waving good bye and smiling, proud that he destroyed me. I tilt my head forward putting my palms to my eyes, elbows to knees and just cried, releasing everything, feeling like a broken angel being taunted by demons dancing around me in a circle. Alex told me in Spaish, to just scream, it’s ok. “Quedate Fuerte.”

My aunt told me , to never forget that image of him, I want to , but I will never forget how that moment made me feel.

Stay tuned for Part 4 I thought I could bang out the second time I had to come across Lucifer, and officially the last time. For this article, I would like you to recognize anyone you think is being abused. May it be within a relationship, romantic, family, friend ANYTHING, don’t judge them. Learn from them, and if you can, help them.

Thank you Tulip, Thank you Alex.

In no way shape or form am I trying to retaliate against Lucifer. I honestly would have kept this secret forever if I could, I would have buried a body with him if it ever came to it, but I never thought it could have been mine. We were an amazing team at one point, and I can only wish him and his family well. Because I know from experience, that revenge isn’t worth it, I am not perfect, and that God is the one who equipped me strength, that make my ways blameless...

0 notes