#i've been wanting to do nothing but sleep since the beginning of the month i'm so fucking tired and i hate having to make decisions

[yellowloid]

trying to write after like. i don't even know how long? and it feels like getting tore to pieces by a torture machine in some circle of hell but yes :) writing is my favourite hobby :) i love writing so much :)

[lalacliffthorne]

modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto one of the two very comfortable couches, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there's still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished the tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously wide shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, with dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos scattered over them, some peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a couple of days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them pretty easily

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and making you help him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet

cheek kisses as greetings

and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

and pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

and always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but still, don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

he works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then that one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

and it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of or behind you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you're upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from inner organs and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned out for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time instead of just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater -

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum Saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper-hissing fun facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there's something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

but even if anger rages within him like a quickly rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you

and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous

and instead soft and welcoming

like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

Azriel is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

you quickly realise that beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

he reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the man has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

he captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you

you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swimming and laying in the sun

have game nights

evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

and afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

in winter, you go to the ice rink

bake together

and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

or get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys

in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he cracks a grin

both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaning against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

so

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

[artsymeeshee]

Hello! I just found your laundry list of art last week, and I have to say…I LOVE IT! Love the instinct comics, Ford being cool never ceases to make me giggle, and I loved the autumn drawing. I’ll admit, that one had me in tears…made be believe in the what-if’s of my own family. What they…could be like someday. Or what I wish they were. Thanks for the tears, they were much needed.

 Anyway! This is what I came to message you about! Although,…I am extremely sorry for the late message. I tend to check back into tumblr at…weird hours of the night. Heck, it’s almost the next day as I type this. I seriously need to sleep more. So! I had a few thoughts on Stan and Ford relationship, and I wanted to hear your thoughts on it. Just a disclaimer, I’m kinda basing this off my actual life as I find these characters mirror personal events very closely! I am also a writer and soon to be author! Might post some archive of our own content about these two soon. Also, and this is the most important, I have NOT read book of Bill yet. So plz…no spoilers. Anyway, long introduction aside, let’s begin!

In my personal head cannon of these two, which I don’t imagine is “too” different than how anyone else could see them, Stan and Ford have an extremely awkward and emotional conversation after Weirdmagedon. Why? B/c they’re both, to some degree, emotionally numb. In my opinion, why wouldn’t they? They haven’t spoken to each other in 40 years, properly, and they have repressed a ton of their emotions since then. It’s hard to bring that back up. (Speaking off of experience) I’d say even harder for Ford. Stan, thanks to the twins, has learned to loosen the locks on his heart while Ford kept running away from those emotions to defeat Bill. Just like his ambitions, that was the main priority, and everything else later. To me, this would explain why Ford never bothered to talk to Stan properly since coming back during the show. He wouldn’t know how to. If they were to talk, and this is where the writer in me comes out, I’d write Ford as the one that needs it most. He’s been traveling dimension for decades, running from the past that held him back…but he has no anchor now. Stan becomes that anchor, paralleling what he wasn’t when Ford was lost. And Ford…he just breaks. Like, completely breaks. And Stan is there with him, breaking like he is, but still there for him brother. Finally back after all those years apart. And as someone who has been on the side of neglect from one’s own brother…nothing would be me happier if we went to connect. Just like Stanley and Ford. And eventually, soon to be sailing on the seas to connect even more.

Phew…that was a lot. Sorry for the rambling. Told you I had some ideas! So, what do you think? Do you see Ford acting like this? If not…why? Genuinely, I’d like to know. Anyway, thanks for taking your time to read this. Again, sorry for the ramblings. Oh! One more thing, I know you aren’t taking art request right now, but would you be open to take them in the future? Say in 2 months time? Anyway, bye!

Well first off, thank you! I appreciate it! :D

And to answer your headcanon, I agree on it. Stan is definitely more open to talking, especially thanks to the kids. I mean there's still moments where it's hard and awkward for sure. And Ford would for sure have a harder time opening up, especially with the constant guilt and mistakes that replay over and over. And there's always that lingering feeling of "well, Stan has to hate me for what I've done" and it's always so surprising when Stan tells him differently and he never once hated Ford. Sure, was angry but never hated him. He had too much self-hatred to feel that way with Ford. And as many times as it needs to be said or repeated, it really makes all the difference when they tell each other how much they love and care for each other. As Alex said, "they're both so damaged, they desperately need each other."

As for the requests thing, most likely not. Only because I'm entering the busiest time of year for my work so it's gonna be a miracle if I even have enough energy or motivation for drawing if I'm not completely burnt out.

[blueberryarchive]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 18+

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 3.2k words

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ still working on it. smut (non-con, mnster fucking, long tongue, bg dck! jimin, somnophilia, forced voyeurism?) scary (?) confusing, angst.

If there is a God, he must be a cynical, cruel, tentative being.

Jimin squeezed his chin hard, his skull throbbing, eyes fixed on your wool coat-clad back. He was beginning to hate that olive green macrame that contorted in your tense muscles that you hadn't let him see for a couple of weeks.

Jimin thought that maybe it was your period the reason you didn't want him to touch you, that the headaches at night were from the stress of being so far from society. 

He always tried to be a good husband: making you tea, murmuring sweet nothings to you before going to sleep, giving you your space while he took Pepper for a walk to the lake. But winter has gotten crueler, the naked trees are like veins in the eyes of the white sky, pulsant and hideous, and your wall has grown in size. 

The nights have become silent. You only know how to do one activity besides sleeping: cooking. Mainly meats: grilled, baked, stewed and steamed. With spices, drunk in wine, boiled with basil, cut into pieces, and shredded by hand. Jimin started to hate the pungent smell of dead cows. 

Every night, you ate quietly at the table, and for Jimin to get the words out of you, it felt like he had to put his hand down your throat and spread them on the table. Barely audible, barely sentences.

It was a late winter afternoon, Jimin had tried to be flirty for the first time in a while since there was little time before he had to work again, and he wouldn't see you again for months.

It was a simple kiss on your neck that made your skin crawl, and you almost cut yourself with the knife in fear.

He was now sitting at the island, the kitchen illuminated by the grayish sun of cold afternoons. You were cutting the fat from a calf with the precision of a butcher. Jimin had both hands covering his mouth, thoughtful.

"Mom asked about you. I told her you were at the lake." He murmured to cut the tension of that odd rejection.

"I was sleeping." You put the knife aside, looking for another piece of meat in the refrigerator. Almost four pounds on the table, but Jimin didn't want to engage in your weird fucking activities.

"I've already told her like twice that you've been sleeping, she'll think you're sick or something."

You did not answer.

"I'm fine, it's just the nightmares. I don't sleep at night."

"I know, I know." Jimin sighed. 

He felt sorry about every time he found you curled up on the living room furniture, sweaty and breathing fast; you were sleeping but seemed forced. 

"When we go to Joon's house in the summer, we'll look for a doctor."

Your head tensed, tilting. Then you denied it.

"Don't you want to see a doctor?"

"I'm not going to Namjoon's house this year." You huffed like it was obvious.

Jimin frowned, both hands falling to the cold marble in surprise.

"But this year I'm bringing my parents to meet you, Namjoon is getting married in July, I don't-" he snapped, but you shook your head again while still doing your mechanical cut and throw movement.

Jimin cleared his throat, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

"What?" You responded innocently.

"You really don't want to see my mom?"

"Jimin, I'm getting tired of this."

"What are you going to do, take another nap?"

The blood from the meat on your hands began to drip down to your wrists, the metallic smell causing you a voracious appetite.

"You want wine with the grill?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

You sighed, counting to ten. Just a few more hours.

"You can invite her to the cabin, if that's what you want. God knows how much we need someone else in this place."

"I already told you we'll go in a week."

"Without consulting me."

"What should we talk about? We've been planning this for a year."

"I don't feel like going anymore."

"These days you don't feel like doing shit."

You chopped the carrots on the bloody board, the chopping making noises in the immense silence between the two of you.

"It's like you want me to leave." He spoke.

You stood up when you pressed the knife on the cutting board; the tip stuck into the wood. 

That violence, pure and irrational force.

You looked at him with erratic eyes, Jimin didn't know if you were offended or not. Your hands clenched the counter, and your lips trembled trying to say something.

When you lowered your gaze, Jimin knew that your shoulders had not collapsed because of his tone, but because what he said was true.

"Oh my God, I'm right." A pained laugh. His body leaned back on the island that separated you two. "Is there anyone else?"

Silence.

Jimin's skin chilled when before turning to the meat again, barely visible, he saw a tiny smile lining your lips. Self-conscious and cruel.

Before he could think, the sweet husband's façade had broken and with long steps, he approached until he turned you over with his fists in that damn coat. You looked at him with wide eyes, and you wiped your mouth as if the fact that Jimin was going to kiss you disgusted you. The blood of the calf covers your lips.

You were cruel, and he wanted so much to love you, to hug you and hit that distant look on your features. To squeeze your cheeks and spit in your face so you get off that fucking cloud. That you wouldn't look at him with so much hate, with that thousand-yard stare. Take that fucking knife and put it near your beautiful neck and scream 'LOVE ME AGAIN, I FUCKING DESERVE IT'.

"You think this is a fucking game? I've been wanting things to go back to normal since October, but you," His nose wrinkled. "You have become nothing, you are just another object in this useless old cabin."

Your eyes seemed to get closer and closer to Jimin's, your pupils dilating.

"And even as an object I can't fuck you, you're useless." He let go of your coat and walked away, each word dying in his throat. He couldn't believe that he could talk to his wife like that, what kind of man was he?

Then, a single person came to his head.

"Are you seeing Ryan?"

Ryan was the one who sold the land to Jimin, every now and then he would pass by the road and stop to drink coffee and fish in the lake with Jimin. It's not that Ryan is an attractive man, nor a man who knew how to talk to women because he was a first-class hermit. He was not a man you would cause your marriage to fail with...

...Right?

"That's it. I'm going to sell the house."

"No." You were quick, your shoulders rose as if a puppeteer had lifted your strings, and you trembled again, denying.

"No, please."

"So it is because of Ryan?'

You inhaled all the air in the room, your eyes a predator. 

"Ryan is a parasite in front of him, filth, a mere fly on the wall." You barked causing echoes to reverberate off the walls of your boyfriend's chest. Your trembling fingers covered your mouth instantly.

The knife in your hand, the fingers bloody from the fresh meat, that green coat that you didn't take off, the tangled hair. Jimin didn't recognize you, your sweetness had turned bitter; like a viscous liquid made from plants. Raw and strange.

"You're a fucking whore." His voice trembled, the sting of tears wanting to flow like shooting water.

He took his coat, with a whistle he called Pepper and they both went with a roar through the wide, dense forest.

The afternoon became denser in the forest, the leaves did not move and Pepper spent the entire way sniffing the trees, howling at the birds that passed by without squawking. Jimin put a hand in his coat, the other looking for some signal to call Hoseok, his mother, the damn police. Whoever.

He found his headphones in his jacket and placed them on top of his head, connecting them to his cell phone. He turned on the Bluetooth.

Connected.

"Come on, fuck." He mumbled until Hoseok's number started ringing in his ears. It rang once, twice, five times before he could hear anything.

"Seok, couldn't you last longer to answer the damn call?" The lake did not move, his boots made the wood of the dock squeak as he walked from one side to the other. 

"No, I just need you to help me with something, I don't want Joon or my mom to worry, but I need you to find a doctor and come here...p-preferably someone with knowledge of mental problems."

Disconnected.

"Hello? Hoseok, hello." He repeated, turning on the Bluetooth again. 

"No, it's just a little seasonal depression, but I don't want it to escalate into something worse."

Disconnected.

"Shit, fucking headphones." On impulse, he grabbed the device with the cell phone and threw it as hard as possible into the gray water.

And with the cell phone falling, he glimpsed the pale skin of a being on the other side of the lake, it didn't look like a bear or a deer. Pepper started barking, loud and fast.

"Quiet." Jimin tried not to alarm the creature emanating from the foliage, his dark eyes approaching the evening light.

Jimin stayed still until he saw how the creature's feet approached the tip of the other dock, his eyes narrowed to see his own reflection, blonde hair, and the same features. A being as tall and wide as a log, he was wearing a coat that Jimin had given up for lost months ago, but it was dirty and torn due to the size of the beast.

He was seeing a Behemoth in his own skin. A dim Jimin, a monster, an abomination of himself.

His feet began to move as the animal threw itself toward the water in his direction. Pepper stayed behind him, but he couldn't think of saving her. He was going to die.

He prayed it was a hallucination of his tired brain, a joke of his own mind. But he could hear the earth tremble with each approaching footstep.

Every tree looked the same, the path home had vanished and all he could do was scream for his mother, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Mom, please, help. Help." He screamed as his feet were grabbed, the wet earth choking on his whimpers.

"Help!" The creature screamed even louder, in the same voice but drowned.

Crawling wasn't worth it, the creature had grabbed him by his hair and flipped him over. Seeing his face, rough and full of scratches, caused an abominable pain in Jimin's chest; he wanted to vomit out his organs and die before continuing with this terrifying reality.

The last thing he remembers is his head crashing into a log, the guttural roar of his mammoth twin, and the green inferno engulfing his body as he falls to the ground.

When he opened his eyes, Jimin was in his room, his body tied to a couch in the corner. His mouth was muffled with a kitchen rag: the disgusting, metallic taste of the beef made him nauseous.

His eyes were guided to where your body was lying, you had the Prince t-shirt that Jimin had given you on. Your wet hair, the smell of coconut shampoo, the shower running in the other room, Pepper's howling in the distance. This was the first time you looked so angelic in a long time, so peaceful in your own dreams.

He couldn't move, his body felt heavy and slow. His fingers moved, his eyes too but it was as if it was a ghost of his body.

You sighed suddenly. With his hair standing on end, Jimin tried to call you but his voice didn't come out of his lips, a mere hoarse. Word dust.

Your body stood up unsteadily. You rolled your head to the entrance and smiled: there it was, on all fours, his mouth dirty with blood from the meat you had saved for him, those cupped pupils that you missed.

His body crawled closer until it reached your knees where he pressed his huge hand on one of your thighs, the wine bottle running down your body with each touch.

"Love," he roared until he climbed and transformed into a tower above you, nearly seven feet of pure dedication. You fed him daily with everything you had in the house. "My love."

That's what he called you. Jimin shook his head in the corner, his eyes threatening to close, his neck stretched out trying to reach you uselessly.

"Ah," his pale black tongue unrolled to reveal discolored pills at the tip.

You stuck out your tongue and let the creature's hands squeeze your neck so you would open wide, open better so his tongue would enter directly into your throat. The tickling in your esophagus from the movement of the wet muscle had your core tight.

When you stuck your tongue out, saliva connected both of your mouths, your eyes tilted; drunk and in love.

"More," he claimed, taking your small body in his hands until he had you anchored to his waist, both legs dangling. His fingers tore away what was covering your pussy, and Jimin could see the marks on your body, some yellowish about to fade, others a vivid red.

You lowered his sweat with the balls of your feet, his thick red cock throbbing at your entrance. Your body began to feel the effect of the sleeping pills, turning you into a nebula hanging from a warm mass.

When the tip entered you screamed into his chest, your nails scratching the flesh until it bled. The monster groaned in pain and knocked you to the ground causing the floor to shake with the weight of both of you.

You didn't have time to complain as his sharp teeth clamped down on your shoulder to keep you from moving as he took his cock all the way in, blood pouring from your shoulder.

The pain was such that you imagined how the inside of your organs was breaking, the bones creaking under his hands on your breasts, your voice becoming a thread until it was silent with each roar in your ear.

The watery, repetitive sound. The bulbous tip covered in juices went in and out so easily that the fabric covering your stomach seemed like it wanted to tear at any moment.

"Fuck, fuck, Minnie. Hurts good." It was like you were communicating with a caveman, but your brain didn't function properly when it came to him.

"Good, I like hurting you." Thick, dark blood ran down to his chin as his tongue smothered you again. Your eyes closing, your hands trapped in one of his. Your moans cover the dark heart of the beast with a soft layer until your limbs gave up, unconscious and so wet for them.

Little human trapped in his forest, an inferior being praising a God she does not understand out of pure lust. You were adorable, warm inside, you made him big and unstoppable and he thanked you by filling you with his cum every night after you fed him. That was your only request, every time.

Now he was named Minnie and you shouted his name every time he did something right. Learned words like more, hurt, inside, want, fuck.

And just because he molded himself into something you already had, you adored him.

His tongue came out to snake around one of your breasts, his wide, long thumb holding your mouth open. Your dead eyes casually open to see your tied husband, your head wobbling and arms hagging in the air with every pounding like a rag doll.

He couldn't bare it, you were being raped in front of his eyes, and he couldn't do anything else than stare at your unconscious body, like a fucking parasite, filth, a simple fly on the wall. 

With a few steps, the creature approached Jimin, leaving your warm body on his lap. Your eyelids throbbed softly regardless of how the demon destroyed your pussy with every crash of his hips. 

Your lips were wet with foreign blood, wet hair stuck to your temples, and open hands that fell to each side of the furniture.

You looked like the girl he had that morning when he showed you the cabin, like the one from the first night when you two made love on the living room rug, like the one that bathed naked in the lake even though someone could see her. 

A nymph, just a beautiful wildflower.

And Jimin knew at that moment why that beast had you in his claws, why he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed you to wake up from your sweet dream. 

When you looked up and saw your husband's face, Jimin knew that he had to give up, because that thousand-yard look was a path that was forbidden to him, that he did not know and could not learn.

You were no longer his but from the forest. A red and grotesque fairy, who moaned instead of singing and collected bones instead of flowers.

And yet you were more beautiful than ever.

You smiled at Jimin and your hands moved down his face to remove the dish towel and kiss him like you've never done before. The sulfuric smell of a dead animal on your soft lips was enchanting.

"Oh, God, yes." You whispered in your sleepy voice.

The Beast bruised your hips until pumping your pussy with cum, thick and gray.

You and Jimin looked at the growling monster, picking up pieces of the wooden floor with its long nails. They looked up, and exhaled deeply, snorting like an angry bull seeking respect.

Before you could say anything, he was gone. Leaving your bruised body between your tied husband's legs.

Your fingers brushed your face as you felt something damp: the tears in Jimin's eyes flowed like summer rain, thick and abundant.

"Tell your mom you'll find a better girl, okay?" Your lips trembled, trying to dry each drop from which another came out. Jimin nodded, bringing your forehead to his.

"Am I really not going to see you anymore?"

"Any time you want," you assured, your voice echoing a dozen times like whispers spreading across the room. A choir of hushed angels saying the same thing over and over again. 

"Every time it rains, leave the door open, and I'll know you need me."

Your naked body turned to place Jimin's head on your chest, he sobbed himself to sleep, and you counted his eyelashes until it was time to leave.

With a kiss on his forehead, you let him sleep, when he woke up you were no longer there, the green coat was hanging in the back yard and the smell of your hair filled every corner, a floral ghost.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Hold me tight

Eris x OC

Word count: 2100+

Warnings: smut, 18+MDNI

For @erisweekofficial, Day 3: Healing/Betrayal

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

It was only the morning, the beginning of the day, the very first meeting of many and Eris was already tired and had enough. Correcting mistakes of his father and revising all miserable decisions that old man ever did, was so time consuming. It was two months since Eris became the High Lord, yet he didn't get a single moment to stop and just breathe. And the amount of work was increasing with each passing day. It was crazy.

The only reason why he worked so hard, why he could bear with this, was the vision of returning to his chambers to her. His mate. She was the fuel for his fire, the hearth where he could safely crack. He was doing it all for her. To ensure she would be safe and sound in his Court for the rest of her life.

When evening came, he was so ready to go to the bed. He wanted nothing more just the silence and peace, to stop the buzzing, to kick out all the bothersome assholes who still asked something from him.

Just a little more and I'm done, he was forcing himself to finish the stack of documents on his desk that somehow appeared during the day. It was almost midnight when he finally put down the pen and the last piece of paper.

Completely exhausted he dragged himself through the hallways of silent Forest House, everyone already in their beds, peacefully sleeping. As the doors of his room came into view, he sighed heavily. It was too late. His dear mate was certainly asleep at this time. Yet another day without talking with her properly and enjoying her company. Not that he wouldn't like the moment he slipped to the bed next to her, caressed her beautiful face with feather-light touch that always brought smile to her lips as she snuggled to him. It was actually one of his favourite moments.

Eris quietly opened the doors and halted in surprise. All her candles that she placed all around the bedroom, were lit up, the air smelled after apples, cinnamon and white musk. She loved that smell saying it reminded her of him.

Helen was seated on the bed, leaning against the pillow, long auburn hair like veil around her small shoulders, book on her lap. As soon as she heard him, she looked up and smiled. That was all he needed to instantly feel better. He missed that sweet, gentle smile whole damn day. His lips twisted into hardly there smirk.

"Love," he breathed out hoarsely and closed the doors.

Her smile only widened. "I was waiting for you." She closed the book and put it aside.

"You don't have to do that. You know that, don't you? It's pretty late," he seemingly scolded her, but he was happy.

"I wanted to," she shrugged and stood up. "I've prepared something for my hard working High Lord."

Eris had no idea what it could be, but he already loved it. He had her by his side only for last two months yet he trusted her more than anyone else, even more than to himself. She walked up to him on light steps, her arms immediately found their place on his waist. He squeezed her round hips, the thin silk nightgown under his fingers felt like another layer of her soft skin.

"I missed you," she whispered as she balanced on her tiptoes to reach to his lips.

"I missed you, too," he groaned into her mouth. His fingers traveled up her body and entwined with those soft strands of hair. He gently pulled on them, tilting her head back for easier access. She submitted and let him to kiss her like he had been dreaming about all day. His tongue found its way into her mouth, stroking and exploring until she moaned. That small, sweet noise was like a wave of new energy that hit him and Eris started to push her back to the bed. His hands roamed all over her hot body, slowly pulling up the long nightgown. They were almost there when she pulled away, running hand along his spine.

"Not yet," she whispered out of breath, eyes still closed. "First, let me take care of you, please. You are working too hard. You deserve it." He nodded. There was nothing he would deny her, not after all the suffering.

Helen took his hand and led him to the bathroom where dozens of candles flickered around a bathtub full of milky coloured water, petals of red roses floating on its surface. Eris smiled, really smiled for the first time that day.

"Baby, you spoil me," he purred.

"I haven't even started yet," she spoke from behind him with affection. When did she get there?

Eris swirled to face her and stiffened. She was gloriously naked, the light of the flames dancing on her perfect porcelain skin. He forgot even how to breathe at that sight worthy of the gods. His entire body buzzed with need and excitement. After the days of only seeing her sleeping face he finally felt alive, even the bond in his chest lit up and vibrated with the intensity of his feelings. She had to feel it too, because she looked baffled for a second, the expression immediately replaced with relief and soft smile he loved so much.

"How I come to deserve you?" he breathed out, breeches suddenly too tight and uncomfortable.

She only shrugged and danced to him on the light steps of forest faerie, her hands soothingly ran over his arms and chest to the buttons of the shirt. She undone them one after another, taking her time, her gaze grazing over the newly revealed inches of his pale skin. At last she took the shirt off of his shoulders while touching him as much as possible. She knew how to handle him the way he liked the most. They didn't have enough time to really get to know each other, yet she already knew him as if they were together for centuries.

Eris closed his eyes, letting her do whatever she wanted, simply enjoying her touch. Three months ago he didn't dare even to dream about moments like this. He thought he would never be allowed to love her fully and publicly, that he would never find peace in her arms.

The bond snapped for him exactly eighty-eight years ago and he had to hide it whole the time, dreading what his father would do to her, if he found out that his son was mated with a humble fae, a peasant as Beron called them. He learnt only her name before he winnowed her to the Spring Court and asked his brother Lucien to hide her somewhere and take good care of her. He hadn't seen her ever since then, not until he finally became the High Lord.

Meantime, Lucien moved her to the Day Court, to his real father's court and hid her in his palace. All the pain and suffering was worth it though. The very same night as Eris claimed his legacy, he broke through the wards of Helion's palace and literally kidnapped his own mate from the bed. And ever since then, he thanked the Mother for this gift every second of every day.

His breeches landed on the floor, his cock proudly standing at attention. Helen chuckled at the sight. "So eager already."

"For my beautiful mate? Always," he hummed with cocky grin.

"Come," she pulled him to the bathtub, urging him in and he gladly yielded.

As soon as the warm water embraced his tired body, he relaxed and in a single go he breathed out all the stress that had accumulated in him. His head fell back on her soft chest. Helen started to massage his shoulders and back as she washed him and he turned under her nimble fingers into a moaning mess. His amber eyes met her kind, warm brown ones.

"Come to the water, love," he pleaded.

Smirk appeared on her face as she gracefully slid in, straddling him. His tip brushed against her centre and Eris groaned, his hips thrusting up on their own. His fingers dug into her rear as he tried to get her where he wanted her.

"Tsk, tsk. My bad boy," she pushed him back down and sat on his thighs. He growled disapprovingly.

She kept massaging him, teasing him until he couldn't take it anymore and tugged her to his heaving chest. All the candles around them burned brighter as on command.

"Careful, Eris," she moaned into his ear, "otherwise you'll set the room on fire."

"I don't care. This damn place can all but burn down. All I need I have in my arms now."

His lips landed on hers heavily, hot like the flame itself, all consuming. He kissed her like man starved, gently navigating her hips where he needed her the most and this time she didn't stop him.

Helen slowly sank down and they both moaned in unison when their bodies came together.

"Fuck," Eris whined hoarsely, drinking in her heavenly expression as he filled her. He launched at her throat with intent to leave there his mark. She moaned loudly and her back arched while her fingers entwined with his long red strands, tugging him closer. She started riding him, small whimpers escaping her.

"Good girl," Eris rasped into her skin. He squeezed her ass firmly while his other hand traveled from her waist up, cupping her breast. Satisfied with damage he caused on her throat, he leaned down and took the other nipple into his mouth, sucking, squeezing and nipping. Helen even more arched back, her eyes closed, loud whimpers mixing with moans.

"Eris," she panted and he immediately knew what she needed. He felt it on his length, the way she tightened around him. His lips wandered all the way up her throat to the sensitive spot under her ear that made her see stars.

One of his hands still worked on her nipple, kneading the now sensitive breast. Meanwhile, the other one slid from her butt to the place where they were connected, drawing circles and teasing until Helen's breath became labored. She came on his cock, screaming his name again and again.

However, Eris wasn't done yet.

"Hands on the edge of the tub and hold on tight," he ordered sharply, his voice hoarse, the desire burning him in the most pleasant way. She did as he asked, climbing down from him, sticking out her bum. He growled, kneeling behind her as he pushed in in one smooth move.

Helen gasped loudly at the perfect way he filled her, arching her back she tried to reach for him, but he pushed her back down.

"Stay like this," he snarled. He thrusted into her, his pace growing faster. He needed the release and there was nothing gentle about the way he sought for it. They both turned into moaning, panting mess in no time. Water was splashing all around them even on the floor, putting out few candles.

"Eris," Helen cried out, the knot in her belly tightening again. "Faster.."

"I'm close, too. Together, okay?"

She couldn't speak, only nodded. Eris's hand moved from her hips down, reaching between her legs, his long fingers found her clitoris. His already so fast thrusts became even more deeper and stronger as wet skin was slapping against skin. The knot in her tummy finally snapped and she came with his name on lips. Eris came in the same moment as Helen, his roar bouncing from the walls.

Eris collapsed on her back, breathing in her sweet smell of forest berries. His hands roamed all around her body, caressing her, thanking her for this happiness.

"I love you so much," he said lowly into the skin of her back, leaving a trail of kisses there.

They both were so tired, they couldn't move for a while, just resting in the still warm water in each other's arms. When water cooled down, they moved to the bed. Eris stretched out on soft sheets and reached hand out for his mate.

"Come." He was so drowsy he hardly kept his eyes open, but he wouldn't sleep without her.

She just shook her head, mischief tugging her lips. "Roll onto your tummy for me, would you?"

Eris smiled tiredly. "Won't you go to the bed already?"

"In a moment. I'm not done with pampering my lord yet." She took out massage oil from bedside table. Eris hummed and rolled face down. Helen gently massaged oil into his scarred skin until his breath calmed down and he seemingly fell asleep.

"Good night, love," she kissed his forehead, wrapped him in the covers and snuggled to his side.

"Finally," Eris smiled sleepily with closed eyes. He rolled to his side and hugged her. His skin warmed up and they both fell asleep holding each other.

[themultifandomgal]

Jay Halstead- The Worst Heartache

A year ago Jay and I married each other, I also came off the pill during our honeymoon since we knew we wanted a baby as soon as we married. 2 months ago I had been feeling sick, so I did a test which came out positive. To say we were ecstatic is an understatement. Of course we wanted to keep it to ourself for now, but Will found out after I had an appointment with Natalie at Med. So now my brother and sister in law know that I'm pregnant, but that's it. My parents have nothing to do with me and Jays have passed away.

I wake up for the first time since falling pregnant feeling good, which is a huge surprise because morning sickness (or all day sickness) has been kicking my butt during this pregnancy. Needing the toilet I get out of bed and head to the bathroom to pee before getting back into bed. Jay rolls over placing his arm over my waist

"Morning"

"Morning" I reply to his rough morning voice

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Actually ok. I don't feel sick"

"That's good right? Maybe we can get more food into you today"

"Hope so" I turn over so I can snuggle into Jay a little more

"What do you want to do today?" He asks since he's got the whole day off

"Not sure. Maybe we should just have a bed day and watch TV"

"Whatever you want to do" Jay places a kiss on top of my forehead "I'll go and get you a cup of tea and some food after I've been to the toilet"

"Ok" I sigh as Jays warm body leaves mine. I snuggle closer into Jays pillow as I watch him walk into the bathroom turning the light on. As I'm laying in bed I begin to feel cramps in my stomach as if my period has started. Natalie did tell me that cramping is normal in early pregnancy because my body is changing. So not thinking anything of it I grab the TV remote as Jay heads downstairs and I turn the TV on looking for something for us to watch.

As the morning goes on the cramping seems to be getting worse which starts to worry me

"Babe I think somethings wrong"

"What do you mean?" Jay frowns turning towards me

"My stomach hurts" my ears start to well up with tears

"Do you feel sick?" I shake my head

"No. It's like cramps, they've been getting worse"

"Ok before we panic let me ring Will"

"Ok" I nod my head as Jay gets out of bed picking his phone up that's on the other side of the room. I decide I should get up and get dressed just in case Will wants to come over. As I get out of bed I notice that there's blood on the bed sheets. My worry turns into panic "Jay" I nervously say making him turn around "time to panic I think"

"I'm taking you to the hospital"

Miscarriage. That's what they said. Jay and I are back home. I'm back in bed curled up into Jay. I feel like all I did at the hospital was cry, Jay was strong but I know it's definitely effected him

"Are you ok?" I ask

"Your the one who had to basically give birth"

"I know but you lost a baby as well"

"I'm ok I promise. I love you"

"Love you too"

I wake up to the sound of crying. Opening my eyes I realise it's Jay sitting up in bed

"Babe?" I hear him sniffle realising I'm awake

"Sorry. Go back to sleep YN"

"Don't apologise for being upset" I now sit up in bed. I lean over and turn on my bedside lamp

"I'm supposed to be strong for you"

"No. Your supposed to grieve. We both are" I take Jay into my arms and kiss the top of his head while he cries "you've let me cry now it's your turn" I hold Jay letting him let out all of his emotions before he cries himself to sleep.

The following morning we discuss having a ceremony to help us with the grieving process.

[docholligay]

So, the true and glorious story of my own failure in the face of knowing how my own body works, despite having lived in it for 38 years.

Last night, I expected to be at least moderately on edge. I pretty reasonably decide that I would be better served to fall asleep and find out what life looks likein the morning. i'm not young any more (my wife worked for the Kerry campaign, I've been volunteering politically since the first Obama campaign. To date ourselves) and so, i don't stay up for results anymore.

Very reasonable.

So I take a pot pill. Great. i take it about two hours before i want it to hit.

I make the mistake of checking the results right before I head to bed, and while everyone is embroiled in hope, I see that I was exactly right about my initial impressions, months ago. That i got in trouble for! Anyhow.

Anxious, i go, "I gotta take something else" I have a bottle of .5 mg pills of lorezapam I've had for a decade, and I take one.

A pot pill, for me, is a quarter of a gummy. That's 2.5 mg. You may notice that between the two of these things, the dosages are very small. This is because my brain is wired bizarrely, and some things have a tendency to hit me harder than they do normal people. I know this. I know this!

Neither of these things have ever caused me any unusual symptoms. I just go to sleep.

But I am stupid. i have never met me, apparently. This body is new to me! I combine them.

My brain is so fucked that I have to do a patch test any time I try a new drug like I am VINTAGE CHINESE SILK. I know this, very well. That very night, I told Mike and Teddy I wasn't really going to drink because pot and alcohol can make me go full, "The Senate is lying to us!" So I know I have to watch it with combining stuff.

And y'all know me! I am not a teetotaler! I have sampled many fine drugs over the course of my existence. DARE made me think, "Wow that sounds cool." I am not a square. I am not suggesting straightedge behavior. This song did not work on me.

So I, forgetting the very makeup of my body, take this tiny, ridiculous lorazepam on top of my pot pill. It is the dosage my wife gives a twenty pound dog. it is a thing I have taken before.

But not together.

I crawl into bed, and I begin to get sleepy. Fantastic.

I roll over.

Oh. No.

My skin is alive, all of a sudden. I can feel every inch of it beneath the covers, where it touches on each individual wrinkle of the comforter.

"fuuuuuuck." I whisper between gritted teeth. Because, you see, I've done this to myself before. Not with this specific combination, but I have mixed things before, or just taken things, that make me aggressively aware of my surroundings. I am SO AWARE. There's nothing to do, once it reaches this point.

I have to wait it out. I pull myself up, and thump my twenty pound blanket on top of my body--which does help--and spend the next five hours riding each wave of hyperawareness, breathing through it, because it will end, like most hard things, and I am trying not to laugh at myself while it's happening. I know better! I know better!!

Finally it does wear off a bit, in just enough time for me to realize that I was right all along and the election has not gone my way.

38 years and I've learned nothing.

[irrevocableloves]

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter one: the city of forks welcomes you

masterlist ౨ৎ chapter two

summary: y/n swan has lived in forks all of her life, but when she takes her summer-long vacation to california to visit her mother, she returns to a strange new family accompanying her small town.

warnings: swearing, angst

words: 1.8k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so so long and tbh i haven't written a fanfic since i was 12... and i'm fr 22, but i've ran out of twilight fanfics to read (i've been waiting weeks for one specific one to update and i'm going crazy)... so anyways !! hope you enjoy !!

Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the trees of Forks, Washington. After an almost four hour drive, I could sense that I was nearing my home as the city was nowhere to be found. Instead it was replaced with deep green trees, dim skies, and the small shops that swept by as my dad drove.

I liked Forks, more than I probably should. Everyone here, mostly the kids, sulked about big bright cities where the sun would actually make an appearance. They longed for the liveliness that Forks had never given them.

But me? I secretly adored the quietness of it all. But of course, I had a disadvantage. Every summer I bathed in the sun rays of California, visited the busy cities, the warm beaches, and the overall liveliness that was craved from everyone else. But I was drained. Normally, it would be the opposite from any other person, but I always loved the cold. Ever since I was a kid, my little brain was wired to believe that Forks was almost like Christmas every single day of the year. So, rain, snow, or even ice (even with the ungodly amount of times I've slipped) never had me in too big of a rut.

With my mom back in California, though I loved her to death, was an absolute headache most of the time. And unlike my dad, she hovered. But, it wasn't her fault. The summer is the only time she had me, the rest were reserved with Charlie, which had resulted in this summer's mishaps: she begged me to stay longer. One would think that school would be an easy get out, but she knew the first month was nothing but dry introductions, syllabi, and effortless assignments. It was partly my fault. I was never one to turn her down, perhaps it was guilt because maybe she and I felt deep down that I favored my father more because who could ever turn down a chance to live in the perfect bustling city of San Francisco over Forks.

So I stayed. But now, it's the beginning of October. Thankfully, I was able to get in contact with the school in order to get all of my classes in order, as well as the help of my best friend, Angela, who emailed me all of the assignments. Jessica on the other hand, filled me in on all of the gossip. Her phone calls consisted of talks about her massive crush on Mike as well as the new and "totally weird" (as Jessica put it) family. "Suuupperrr pale, but weirdly GORGEOUS. I mean this Edward guy, he's wow. I swear if Mike doesn't make a move soon... I wonder if I could make him jealous?" The conversations were mostly one-sided, always either complaining about Mike's obliviousness or never catching that new guy's attention.

Now that I knew I was caught up on everything to do with school, all I wanted was to bury myself in bed and prepare for an alarm that hasn't been set in months.

I awoke to the sound of a car honking outside my window, assuming it was nothing, I settled back into my pillows, throwing my purple duvet back over your head for hopefully another thirty minutes of sleep.

"Y/N/N!" I heard my dad's voice accompanied by one of his famously loud whistles from outside of my window. That's when I finally got up and peered over with squinting eyes to see my father coming out of a car that most definitely wasn't his squad car.

Once my vision settled, I saw a green Volkswagen beetle parked in the driveway. No fucking way. I sprinted down the stairs and flung the front door open to see my father with a wide grin, gesturing the keys in front of my face.

"For me? You're joking?" I said in complete shock.

"You want me to be joking? Cause if so I can just bring this right back to Billy and let him sell it to some other geezer."

"No! No! No! I mean... Thank you, dad. Oh my god, how did you guys even find this?"

"Well, consider it a late birthday present. Billy and Jacob found it back in May for your birthday and decided to fix it up for ya, free of charge, but I paid 'em of course."

"Thanks dad and how about we invite Billy and Jacob over sometime and I'll cook? As a thank you?"

"You bet."

Once I parked in front of the school, my group of friends welcomed me with open arms, with Angela and Jessica squealing about how much they missed you and the boys, mostly just Mike, trying to awkwardly hug me.

I knew Mike had a crush on me, since third grade to be exact, which only made it worse for my friendship with Jessica, which made it worse for Lauren, Jessica's bestest friend to have an even better reason to despise me.

The first four classes: English, Government, Trigonometry, and French were surprisingly a breeze thanks to the assignments either Angela or the teachers sent over while I was away.

While at lunch, a new, unfamiliar bunch emerged from the cafeteria doors. They were beautiful... and also extremely pale even for Forks. So, this was the family Jessica was practically drooling over?

"Who are they?" I questioned anyways.

Jessica leans in, being careful to whisper, "It's the family I was telling you about. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids. They all moved down here from Alaska like last month."

I studied the first girl who walked in, bleached blonde hair, almost black eyes that were almost unsettling, she wore a thin grey coat and a knitted white scarf that matched her icy skin, and a necklace with a large charm that looked to be a family crest of some sort.

"The blonde girl, Rosalie, and the big dark-haired guy, Emmett..." Jessica continued.

More of the family gathered in slowly, the blonde was linking hands with a man with jet black hair, with the same family crest residing on his wrist.

"... they're a thing. I'm not even sure that's legal." Jessica grimaced.

Angela piped in, "Jess, they're not actually related."

"But they live together and all wear that weird creepy crest like some sort of cult. And the little dark haired girl, Alice, she's really weird..."

Despite Jessica's remarks, Alice was the one who caught my eye the most so far and not in a negative way. She reminded me of a fairy almost with her pixie-like hair cut, her style, and the way she carried herself, which was pretty whimsical in a way. Her arms were locked with a man beside her, bleached blonde just as Rosalie was.

"... she's with Jasper, the blonde who looks like he's in pain" Jessica continued on, "I mean, Dr. Cullen's like this foster dad slash match maker."

"Maybe he'll adopt me." Angela giggled.

The last Cullen to enter, I assumed it was Edward, the man Jessica claimed to be weirdly gorgeous and 'wow'. 'Wow' was the perfect word to explain how I felt as he strode down the cafeteria. I couldn't keep your eyes off of him, even as he went past your table, I was oddly captivated by his presence. He had a lanky body, matched with the same pale skin as his siblings, bronze hair and striking smirk. You could've sworn he heard Jessica's whispered remarks from across the cafeteria.

"He's totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently, no one here is good enough for him. Like I care." She does. "Anyway, don't waste your time."

"I wasn't planning on it." I looked away before his eyes could find mine and once I did, I felt as if holes were practically burned at the back of my head. Was he staring?

Out of curiosity, I peered over my shoulder, quickly glancing, seeing his eyes on mine and quickly turning my eyes back, slowly hiding behind my hair.

Before I walked into Biology, I shuffled through my backpack to look for the assignments I'd done in your time away, settling them in my hands as I walked through the door.

Greeting Mr. Banner, I handed him my completed assignments that were neatly put together with a paper clip.

"Finally nice to see you Miss Y/L/N, how was your summer?" Being great at biology put you at an advantage, not only for assignments, but because Mr. Banner didn't question much about my month long disappearance, but I couldn't say the same about PE...

"It was good, thank you."

"Well that's great, I'm glad! And I appreciate your completed assignments, not even people attending have it all quite done like you have!" He rambled. "So! Your seat... There's a seating chart, but there should be an empty seat I left for you...,yes! Right there, next to Mr. Cullen." Mr. Banner pointed to the right side of the classroom to the seat next to the Cullen boy.

Edward's eyes once again felt as if they burned through my own, staring at me as if you had wronged him in some way. The hatred in his eyes was well aware, but for what reason?

With each step I took, the more disgust in his features appeared, almost as if he was holding his breath. Did I stink or something? I attempted not to smell myself to see if perhaps I had raging body odor or even a bad breath that radiated from across the classroom. No one else seemed to have an issue besides him.

Once I was sat, I heard him mutter into a cough, but I only made eye contact with his beading black eyes and said nothing at all. He only pushed the microscope towards me slowly, being careful to not come any closer to me as if he would catch something.

I sighed loudly, making my annoyance well known. He only just tensed.

Throughout the entirety of the class, the tension continued. I even considered going up to Mr. Banner and asking to switch seats with someone, but that only sparked the possibility of Mike forcing Eric to switch seats and I honestly couldn't figure out which would be worse. So, I decided to suffer through the entire hour and perhaps learn to suffer the entire year partnered with a man who could hardly even look me in the eye without being utterly disgusted.

At first I was hurt, but the hurt swiftly turned into annoyance once the partner sessions began. He didn't even consult with me, rather he just scribbled as fast as he could, only of what he was able to see through the microscope, only handing it to me after to check his answers. All correct, surprisingly.

Staring at the clock, I was counting down the time until the bell. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Edward had gotten up, practically running out of the classroom before the bell had officially rung.

next chapter

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

[lucy90712]

New wonder kid- Fermin Lopez

These last few months have been absolutely crazy and there was absolutely no warning or time to prepare. My boyfriend Fermin has played football for his entire life and he has been under Barcelonas academy for a long time as well. Over the preseason he began training with the first team which was a huge achievement for him and I was so incredibly proud but I could never have predicted what it would lead to. Fermin went on the preseason tour expecting to maybe get a few minutes at the end of games which he did but no one expected him to burst onto the scene and play so well. When he scored in the Classico I was so excited and proud of him I couldn't sleep that night. Since preseason Fermin has been with the first team for every game and I've never seen him so motivated every day when he goes to training. 

As much as it has been wonderful to see Fermin finally achieving his dreams all of this has brought about a lot of changes in our lives. The two of us have been together for a long time and him playing football has never really been a big deal sure he has training a lot and I will go to his games but it's never been more than that. Now with the media getting involved things have just spiralled out of control. People are always stopping Fermin in the street and asking him to sign things while he is driving to training. The change happened so quickly it's been hard to keep up let alone to cope with it all. Before we would happily go our together to do things or go on dates just like any other couple but now I'm too scared of what might happen to even go outside with Fermin. 

I have always just been a normal girl I went to school like everyone else and now I am studying at university. There is absolutely nothing interesting about me whatsoever my family don't have loads of money and they don't have hugely important jobs we are all just a normal family. This is why I'm so scared of being seen with my own boyfriend now as I just know people are going to try and find out everything they can about me and judge me for being a normal person. I have also never been a big fan of social media sure I use it occasionally but my life isn't on there so the thought of people possibly taking pictures of me and Fermin out together and putting them on social media scares me as then everything is out of my control. 

With Fermin's new schedule the two of us haven't had as many date nights as we usually would and when we do they are always us just chilling in the apartment together. This has been perfect as it has meant I haven't had to tell Fermin about my stupid fears or have him think I don't want to be with him anymore because I really do. However my luck is running out as recently Fermin has been begging me to go to one of the games and I'm beginning to run out of excuses, saying I have work to do can only get me so far before he starts to get suspicious. There is another home game this weekend which he has been begging me to go to as he scored in the teams last game and he wants me to be there to finally watch him play on the big stage in person. All week I've been telling Fermin that I would try and get my work done in time to be able to go which is just a coverup for me to either gather the confidence or come up with a better excuse, neither of which are going well. 

I had the day off of classes today so I have been working on assignments and just sitting and thinking for most of the day. I finished some of my work and have been chilling on my phone looking at football gossip pages which only makes me more anxious about my situation as I see what fans say about players rumours partners and wonder what they would say about me as I'm not a model like most other girl. Just as I was beginning to go down a deep rabbit hole the door opened and a tired looking Fermin came in. 

"Hi amor how was your day?" I asked 

"It was good but training was long and hard today" he said 

"How about you relax and I make us some dinner, what do you fancy?" I asked 

"Can we just sit for a bit first I've missed spending time with you" he said 

"Of course come and cuddle with me" I smiled opening my arms for him 

He laid down on my chest and I began to run my fingers through his hair which usually relaxes him but I could feel he was still a little tense which meant there was something on his mind still. Fermin is one of those who can worry about a lot of little things thats one of the things we are alike in so overtime I've learnt to know when its something I should be concerned about and when it isn't and this seems like something I should ask about. 

"What's on your mind Fer?" I asked 

"Do you still love me?" He asked right back 

"What of course I do I love you so much why do you ask" I said

"I just feel like you don't want to be around me anymore you used to always come to my games and now I can't get you to even come to one" he said 

"Oh amor I'm sorry if I made you feel like that but the reason is because I'm nervous everyone knows who you are now and thats great but I don't know if I'm comfortable with all the attention it would garner if we went out together" I explained 

"So you still want to go places with me you are just scared" he questioned 

"Yeah I've seen what fans say about all these models other players are dating and I'm just a normal person I'm not anything special so I don't even want to know what they would have to say about me" I said 

"I understand carino but I promise you that no matter what people think I know my feelings for you and nothing will change that I want to show you off and bring you along on this journey too so please come to the game this weekend I promise I'll do everything I can to protect you" he said 

"I trust you so I'll got but I can't promise that I won't be nervous" I laughed 

"I get that but I want you to have fun too" he said 

"I will definitely have fun I always do when watching you" I said

~~~~~~~~~~

Today is finally match day and to be honest I think I'm more nervous than I am excited. This day has been on my mind all week and last night I didn't sleep at all because all I was thinking about was everything that could go wrong today and what people might be saying on social media after the game. I know it's such a stupid thing to worry about and in the grand scheme of things this moment won't matter especially when Fermin is celebrating winning trophies but right now it seems like a big deal. Before Fermin and I got together I was deeply insecure and he has helped me so much and now I'm in a much better place so I really don't want to go back but I can't control the comments and I certainly can't predict how I will cope with them. 

Since he woke up Fermin has been trying to keep me distracted and reassure me that everything will be ok. He is doing everything he can but today he can't beat the demons that still live in the back of my brain. As much as I admired my fears to him I never told Fermin the full extent of my worries as he worries about me enough already and he needs to be focused for the game so I don't want him to have anything extra on his mind. If he knew he'd tell me that he doesn't care and he just wants to help me but I care about him too much to have him stressing about me when I can cope on my own. 

The day felt like it went by at lightening speed and before I knew it Fermin was telling to to get ready as we needed to leave. Once we got in the car Fermin's hand grabbed mine straight away and he held it tightly squeezing it every now and then to reassure me. Most of the drive was fine but as we got close to the training ground there was a lot more fans in the streets who all had their phones out taking pictures and filming. That's when it really hit me that there is no going back now from now on I'll be known as Fermin's girlfriend and some people will actually care about what I do. I could feel myself getting more and more anxious as we got closer to the training centre and there was so many people on the pavements and in the road it was just very overwhelming. 

Finally when the car stopped I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as well as I sigh of relief knowing that the worst part was over. I was so in my own world that I didn't hear Fermin talking to me until he put his hand on my cheek and turned me to face him. For some reason I expected him to be mad at me for not listening or for getting anxious but his expression was soft and his eyes had a loving look in them. 

"Are you ok amor?" He asked 

"I'm ok now that was intense I can't believe you deal with that everyday" I said

"You get used to it but do you promise you are ok" he said 

"Yeah I promise thank you for holding my hand it made it a lot easier" I replied 

With that he got out the car and ran around to open my door for me like he always does so we could head inside before the team head off to the stadium. Fermin got permission from Xavi to let me come on the coach with them because he didn't want me to have to go alone which I'm glad about as having to navigate the stadium on my own sounds stressful. He promised that he wouldn't leave me on my own at any point so when we got inside he text Gavi who was already ready to leave and he waited with me while Fermin got ready himself. I have known Gavi for the longest time but with him playing for the first team I don't get to see him as much as I used to so by actually going places with Fermin I should get to spend more time with some old friends. 

"Good to see you again hermana how have you been? Gavi asked

"I've been good busy with school as usual what about you?" I replied 

"Same as always I'm glad you agreed to come Fermin has been so happy ever since plus its nice to have you around" he said 

"Thats sweet I'm glad he's excited" I smiled thinking about Fermin 

"I know you're nervous but I promise everything will be fine the other girlfriends know you're coming and they can't wait to meet you plus once the fans get to know you there is no way they can hate you and if they do there is something wrong with them" he said 

"Thanks gavi I really appreciate you saying that" I said 

After that Fermin came rushing out and grabbed my hand again so we could get on the bus. The trip luckily wasn't long and once everyone was inside I met all of the other wives and girlfriends who were at the game and we all sat together getting to know each other. The longer I was there the more I began to relax as they have all been through this before and they are all ok and happy in their relationships which made the future seem not so scary. They were all so lovely and made me feel instantly welcome in the group they even added me to their group chat so we could all meet up at some point. 

Before I knew it the game had begun and was over the team win and Fermin scored an important goal. I was so proud of him and I couldn't wait to see him so I rushed down to greet him after he was ready. As soon as I saw him I jumped into his arms which he wasn't expecting but he still managed to catch me and stay on his feet. I don't think either of us could have a bigger smile on our faces even if we wanted to I was so over the moon that he scored and he was so happy he could've done it with me there. Even when he scored he dedicated the goal to me like he always used to which made the moment so special to the point that I didn't care when the camera pointed towards me. I kissed him a few times before he put me down and we made it back outside to team bus so we could finally go home which I can't wait for as it's been a long day.

~~~~~~~~~~

As always Fermin's alarm woke me up even though it's Sunday because he's insane and likes to get up and go to the gym. Usually I go back to sleep straight away especially on a weekend but today I sat up and grabbed my phone because I wanted to look at what was being said after yesterday. I know Fermin posted a picture of us so that any rumours were cleared up straight away but I haven't seen it so I wanted to just look at everything. I had only just unlocked my phone when Fermin came back in from the bathroom and took it right out my hands. 

"Sorry but I think it's best if you don't look at this today" he said 

"I'll be fine I promise" I said trying to convince him to give my phone back 

"Not happening I'm keeping home of this today and you can have it back when things have calmed down tomorrow if anything important happens I will tell you" he said 

"Are things really that bad?" I asked 

"No most comments are nice I just don't want you searching for the few bad comments" he says 

"You know me too well" I laughed 

"How about you come to the gym with me and we spend the day together so you are distracted plus I have missed your cuddles" he said 

"I very much like that idea" I replied 

[bruh-myguy-what]

If Not Him, Perhaps Me

Let me just say... I hate moving. The whole process has been something else (derogatory). I've not gotten to all of my requests either because of that. I've been in limbo with this moving process for the last four months, but I've finally secured a place and will be moving soon! Anyway, I was able to finish (finally) this chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it! ______________________________________________

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4

Pairing- Thrawn x f!reader x Luke Skywalker

Summary- Life on the Chimera actually...improves a lot. You're surprised by the hospitality shown to you and your relationship with Thrawn starts to change? Hearing from Luke also helps since it's been so long...

Word Count- 3.6K

Warnings- Mentions of kidnapping, confrontation, pining, kissing, nothing major

It'd been weeks since you'd seen Thrawn last, from what you counted, at least. Your idea of time had gotten a little better after being moved into a comfortable room with the ability to govern yourself. There had been a time or two during those weeks that you'd left your room to see if you could visit Thrawn, but you were met with the troopers telling you he wasn't around. The troopers clarified that he was away for business. The news was annoying the first time because you'd wanted to give him a piece of your mind for annotating your art as if it were to be critiqued by someone like him! But by the second and third time you were turned away, you were surprisingly disappointed.

Disappointed and mildly apprehensive…

Though, you would've rather choked on your tongue before conceding that to anyone.

Lying in bed, nestled and wrapped in warm blankets, you were reading a few documents on a datapad one of the troopers had brought you a few days ago. You aimed to learn as much as possible about Thrawn and asking him directly was completely out of the question, but you knew that if you were spending time here you needed to collect as much as you could. The vision of the arrogant expression he'd have if you ever even alluded to any curiosity about him appeared in your mind and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. No. You needed to learn the information without letting him know you were interested and also to be able to take the things you'd find back to your friends to benefit in protecting the New Republic. Sleep was quickly beginning to take you and your eyes began to droop; though, it wasn't long after your eyes had shut that a voice softly called your name. It sounded familiar, soothing. The daze of slumber prevented you from instantly recognizing the voice until they called your name again, imploring you to respond.

"Please, answer me. Hear me."

"Luke…" Your first instinct, even through your groggy state, was to whisper his name. There was no clear insight yet of who was speaking to you until his name left your lips and the voice expressed relief.

"Thank the Force, you're alive. I…I've been so worried. None of my other attempts worked and-and I couldn't feel you for so long. I assumed…" He sounded choked up as his voice withered from your mind. "I thought I'd lost you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Luke apologized profusely, his voice trembling as he appeared to speak from far away. Then you recalled, through your sleep, that he used to do this while away on missions. He'd first initiated it with Leia, to let the two of you know he was okay, but then he began doing it with you as well.

He'd explained it before, once when the two of you had been alone and were appreciating the rare free time out on top of the Falcon; it was what the Jedi called a Force bond. Something he'd never experienced entirely, other than with Leia with whom he'd always had a connection. It was also the moment you thought he would kiss you…but he never did; never had. The attachment rule that he'd learned while in his trials with Yoda consistently stuck with him and it maintained you at a bitter distance from the man you'd fallen in love with.

But right now you didn't care about that distance because being that close to him would've been far more comforting than how far apart the two of you were now. "Luke…" You groggily said again as you shifted around in the large bed, the blankets rustling around you and his soft chuckle echoed in your mind. It warmed your heart to hear, it'd felt so long and you'd nearly forgotten the precious sound.

"It sounds as if you're resting, I'm sorry for bothering you." He taunted lightheartedly, undoubtedly at ease to know you were alright.

You smiled, feeling yourself attempting to reach out to the Jedi Knight as if he were in the room with you. Then you coldly realized you were alone, tucking your arms back into the warm blankets. "Yeah," you answered sleepily, "I've been resting very well lately." The truthfulness in your voice seemed to surprise Luke if the hum that rang in your ears was any sign.

"You are? Have you been saved by someone? Are you alright?" His voice rushed out in apprehension, the questions that'd plagued his mind swirling once more. Why wasn't he able to see you or feel you for so long? What occurred that kept you so barred from his reach?

You sighed as you turned over, stretching a bit, eyes still pleasantly closed. "Mmm, no. Still on the Chimera." Your reply was simple and fearless, entirely sincere with Luke in your half-asleep condition.

"You're still with Thrawn?" His voice was pressing now, "And you're comfortable? He's not hurting you in any way, is he?"

"No, he's been wonderful to me…good man, gave me a nice room, drawing book..'m okay."

Luke was silent for a long time and you'd almost woke up, concerned that he'd left you alone, but you were assured of his company in your mind when he spoke once more in a secure voice. "I'm going to find you and I'm going to save you. I promise. I'm not going to lose you again." Then his voice wanes away again for a moment, though it comes back more delicate than you've ever heard when he utters your name. "I…I-" But Luke stops and clears his throat, "I hope you know how meaningful you are to me…I will not give up on you."

But before you could react, you were aroused by a solid knock on your door, jolting you upright. Luke's voice felt like a distant memory as soon as you were sitting up and glancing around your room, eyes refocusing on your surroundings. Had you dreamed all of that? No. You couldn't have, you've had a connection like that with Luke before you'd been aboard the Chimera. But why hadn't you heard from him until now?

The knock at the door roused you again, so you slid out of bed to walk over and press the release button only to be met with a trooper with a plate full of food. And this time the food looked fantastic. "Oh, thanks." You responded in astonishment as he passed the tray over. He replied with a brief 'you're welcome' and began to walk away but not before you called out to him again. "Uh! Sorry, forgive me. I-I was just curious…"

"About what ma'am?" He questioned, evidently he was being patient but had someplace else to be and he wasn't a trooper you were presently familiarized with; there'd be time for that late though.

Glimpsing at your tray full of food, your cheeks burned despite yourself. "Have you possibly heard if the Grand Admiral is back from his business, or not?" The query sounded pitiful even to you, but you couldn't very well have the man who was the sole retainer of the Empire to go off and die without any warning.

That was it, no other reason.

Your cheeks were warming because the heat in the hall of the Chimera was too much. Again; no other reason.

The uncertain sound made by the soldier caused you to look at his impassive helmet. "Uh, no ma'am. The Grand Admiral hasn't returned yet. We aren't sure when he'll be back, he has work to do elsewhere and will return whenever he's concluded that." Then his helmet tipped slightly as if inspecting you and a slight chuckle crackled through his modulator. "But don't worry so much, he's surprisingly resilient. He'll come back in one piece. We serve the most brilliant and adept man in all of the Empire. If someone could prevail over anything, it'd Grand Admiral Thrawn." He clarified and with a nod then left, and you bashfully took refuge back into your room, the door closing behind you with a whoosh.

You griped bitterly to yourself, "I wasn't worried about that blue idiot…how could I be worried about him? He's an ass anyway." But the lingering apprehension in your chest said otherwise.

Another week had gone by and you'd troubled the troopers outside your door every one of those days, requesting an update about Thrawn and his whereabouts. There was no way he was going to abduct you, treat you like a captive, then regard you with interest and compliment you, shower you with gifts, and then go off and die on some random planet! You'd bring the damned Chiss man back yourself if only to give him a piece of your mind for being so rude.

Though with a continued shadow of Thrawn's expected return, you had to entertain yourself in other ways; keeping your mind busy. So, you were standing by the window, watching the stars and TIE fighters training. Thrawn had explained to you previously that they were a project he held in high esteem, something he truly believed would do the Empire well. They looked as if they were doing spectacularly too. To your eye, they handled a lot better than some of the pilots of the Republic… But you didn't have too long to dwell on that before you'd overheard out in the hallway- over the intercom- that Thrawn's personal vessel was docked and unloading its passengers.

Feeling your heart leap in your chest at the announcement and instead of waiting around to figure out why, you ran out the door; blowing past the two troopers. As you ran down the hall, passing by troopers and Chimera crew, you neglected their baffled stares and carved your way toward the docking bay. Though on your way you saw a familiar tall blue figure, it was him. Thrawn was standing at his office door about to head inside until he heard hasty footsteps bee-lining in his direction.

Fiery red eyes peeked in your direction first, before ultimately turning his head to watch you frantically trail toward him. Your heart raced as you eventually made it to him, the admiral looking down at you with a single brow lifted and the touch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Your cheeks burned as you gazed up at him, but you blamed it on the brisk pace you'd opted for to reach Thrawn. Out of breath, your chest heaving slightly from the labored breathing, Thrawn's eyes returned to the door as it opened, "Perhaps you would like to join me in my office?" It was poised as less of an inquiry and more of an assertion as he walked into the dark corridor where you joined him. Surprisingly there were no unwelcomed remarks from the darkness as there usually had been, though your eyes still searched around for any sign of the creature.

"Rhuk is recuperating from our mission, he is not present with us, at this moment." Thrawn's cool voice expressed through the shadows and as you glanced at him to ask how he'd known what you were thinking, you caught a peek of his glowing eye over his shoulder as he observed you. "Your thoughts are easier for me to read than you may think." Though there was typically a chill to his voice, a remote remnant of detachment lingering underneath, it felt strangely… warm with that last sentence.

Once the door finally released the two of you into his office, Thrawn wasted no time in returning to his side of the desk and you approached the chair you sat at during your sessions. The annoyance instantly took over once again, "Where have you been?! It's been weeks!" You spoke without genuinely considering and the smirk that suddenly sat on his face made you mourn opening your mouth, your head sinking to cover your maddening blush.

Thrawn was quiet for a prolonged moment, creating an even more unnerving situation because you knew- you just knew- he was analyzing you as he did when he thought something was intriguing. "As I have heard it," He finally began to talk again but it wasn't making anything any more painless, the blatant smugness in his tone causing the burning in your cheeks to rush up your ears. "You were rather concerned about my unannounced absence."

"I wasn't that concerned!" You bit back quickly, lifting your head to scowl at him for his arrogance but were hushed by the raise of his brow, as if challenging you to prove him inaccurate in his observations.

"Were you not?" Thrawn queried rhetorically as he sat back in his seat, reclining far more casually than you appreciated for the circumstances. "Please, clarify for me then. Why were my troopers in rather steady communication with me, telling me about your continued inquiry of my whereabouts?" His voice was curious but mockingly so, and entirely too soft as his eyes appeared to admire you from across his desk.

You swallowed at the accusation, understanding you had no rebuttal, and instead clutched at your elbows, crossing your arms over your waist awkwardly; evading his burning gaze. "Y-You left before I could give you a piece of m-my mind-"

And his unexpectedly too affectionate voice cut you off mid-sentence, "About what, may I ask?"

You were caught off guard by his simple question, eyes coming back to meet his. The dominance he was maintaining over you at the moment wasn't one he'd used before; he wasn't trying to intimidate you, nor was he trying to exploit you. Thrawn's power came entirely from how much you had thought about him while he was away. You'd first considered how furious you were with him, how he'd treated you as if gifts would make you give up your friends, but then you began thinking about how he'd quit regarding you as a prisoner; opting to give you more freedom, and more respect. Thrawn was curious about you and consistently genuine in his queries as you spent more time with one another. Then you'd found your mind lingering on his eyes, the way his brows were the most expressionate part of him but if you observed closely enough you could see the shift of sentiment in his eyes. Thrawn was small in his mannerisms but he appeared to open himself up more to your company lately and allowed you to see past the stoic behavior.

"Have you perhaps forgotten whatever it was that you were going to chastise me over, hmm?" The soft underlying tease in his voice brought you back to your present reality and you huffed indignantly at his arrogant expression.

"Hardly." You complained as you turned your head away stubbornly. "As if I could forget why you piss me off. You seem to enjoy bugging me." Thrawn seemed to find your retort comical because he chuckled, staggering you slightly. You'd never heard him sound so…pleasant. It was hardly a lively sound, more as if he were taunting you but even still, it was the closest thing you'd heard to spirit from the Chiss man. Your eyes widened at the sound, watching intently as he shook his head and began to stand once more; neatening his admiral coat.

He rounded the desk, his hands ever positioned behind his back as his steps felt calculated, gradually coming toward you. "Then, please, continue. I am rather fascinated to hear what I've done to incur your outrage, my lady." His voice was unfairly warm, matching how his eyes bore into yours, glancing down to appreciate the rest of you only once or twice.

You were losing all of your built-up frustrations as the subject of your anger approached so calmly, tension building with each step he took toward you. The buzzing in your mind only intensified as you caught his eyes favoring you. "I-I…you…" You swallowed cautiously then cleared your throat to regain your composure, closing your eyes and breaking the rapidly building connection that made your stomach ache in an unfamiliar way. After a moment, you trusted yourself to speak finally and you leveled the approaching man with a lethal glare. "You annotated my art as if I asked for your commentaries." With every word, Thrawn took a step closer, the smile leaving his face the nearer he grew. "Then you ran off without allowing me to tell you how stupid your observation of my work even was. I didn't know if you were going to die or-"

"Would that have troubled you so greatly if I had?" Thrawn's voice was hushed and low, but cold as usual. Standing directly before now, his impressive height towered, eyes keenly observing you.

You made a vexed sound and rolled your eyes at the ludicrous question. "Don't flatter yourself, Thrawn. I just didn't want to miss my opportunity to set you straight before you died." But then you look back at him and are frozen by how close he'd gotten, inclining closer to your face.

The air around the two of you was electric as Thrawn admired your face up close; so close that his breath fanned over your lips causing a warm shutter to race up your spine. He was quiet, silently surveying you and you couldn't help catching how his eyes fell to your lips multiple times; the realization making your stomach flip. His proximity was overwhelming, drowning you in him wholly. His broad shoulders obstructed anything else from your sight, the way he leaned over you trapping you in place though nothing behind you was preventing you from running away if you wanted.

But you found that you didn't want to.

His presence was intoxicating this close.

"Allow me to speak now," Thrawn whispered, his voice sounding gentle despite how confidently he said it. His fiery eyes searched your face before he spoke again, possibly waiting to see if you would stop him from voicing his thoughts but when you didn't, he persisted. "Would it surprise you to know as I was on your mind, so were you on mine?"

The admission sends your heart into a frenzy. What does that even mean? What did he mean, you were on his mind? It felt as if he were communicating in riddles that you couldn't fully decipher and the vague meanings would be incredibly humiliating if you were to assume. So you stood there wide-eyed and lips slightly parted to steady your labored breathing, waiting for any explanation but rather you were met with a cool touch as the knuckle of Thrawn's finger brushed against your warm cheek. "This knowledge does surprise you." He stated matter-of-factly at your speechlessness, the delicate caress passing down the soft line of your jaw and allowing him to take hold of your chin, between his finger and thumb delicately. "I cannot help but find my unfamiliarity in these matters rather displeasing, as I assumed my intentions would have been made clear by this point."

"I-Intentions?" You questioned dumbly, brows upturned in surrender, "I thought you wanted to know more about the New Republic an-and Luke…that was all I was here for." The unstable whisper that left your lips signaled your uncertainty at Thrawn's next move.

Sighing narrowly, Thrawn rose to his full height once more and allowed his hand to fall away from your face; to which you let out an audible gasp at the loss of contact. "Indeed I aimed to gather details about Skywalker through you, as you appeared important to him. Though, as your tenacity and overall insolent attitude toward me continued I found myself…" He paused momentarily, contemplating his words, "Curious about you. Your boldness to defy the orders of an Imperial Grand Admiral is as brilliant as it is reckless, though, I can't help but find myself drawn by your full refusal to recognize my endeavors at rapport. I spoke to my troopers on numerous occasions to see if they could understand why it was that you were so uncompromising against my advances though seemed so agreeable with them-"

"Wait-" You interrupted him, jerking your head side to side to get your thoughts back after being so enamored with his attention. "You asked-"

"My troopers, yes." Thrawn concluded your sentence for you with a simple shrug. "Is it so unlikely that I would pursue the guidance of those in better regard with you about your preferences?"

"W-Well no…b-but-" Then it hit you; what Danvers had said before, about you being Thrawn's favorite aboard the Chimera, and your cheeks flushed once again. "So…what you're saying is…" You trailed off, expecting Thrawn to finish the sentence again for you.

Thrawn took to your hint fast and the corner of his lip quirked barely, "Perhaps I persist to fail in making myself clear." He conceded then leaned back into your space as he had earlier, stealing the breath from your lungs at the closeness.

"I-I wouldn't mind you saying it clearly so I don't make a fool of myself for guessing…" You implored quietly, lashes fluttering a few times.

Thrawn smiled now, showing the beautiful white of his teeth, contrasting against his blue skin, his red eyes narrowing delightfully as he stepped the last few inches closer to diminish the space between you. "It would see my words fail me in this moment and rather actions would be far more suitable."

And with the last delicate words of his spoken, Thrawn's chilled lips descend upon your awaiting ones in a soft display of his withheld admiration.

[apprenticestanheight]

THE FIVE DAYS OF SMUTMAS QUEUE: DAY THREE

Somno - Peter Strahm x gn! reader

Allllllll right, we are on to day three of this event and despite the fact that I never really write this many fics in less than a week unless motivation has come around and hyped me to a point where I'm capable of doing it across two days, I am still chuggin on and to be honest, the concept for this fic is largely what's kept me from going down the demotivated slope.

I have had a very not great last two months of the year and so body worship with peter strahm and a touch of angst with hurt/comfort it is, because I needed to write this idea out and figured this event would be a good opportunity lol.

Last note before this fic begins, this fic is meant for audiences of 18+! Minors, do not interact.

Fic type- this is smut and hurt/comfort

Warnings- somnophilia, oral (afab recieving), there is one mention of trauma/anxiety induced insomnia, and the reader is gn for all intents and purposes, but I went with an AFAB reader as that's the anatomy I know best, and this is edited but barely bc I wanted to post oops.

Peter is all too aware of how rough the last few months have been for you.

Granted, you've not said a word of it because you'd sooner see hell than let anyone know when you're going through a rough spot, but since your relationship has begun, Peter has learned to look for the subtle tells you display whenever you feel like your life is about to start falling apart.

Peter is something of a chronic insomniac because of how the on-call schedule of his work with the Jigsaw case has impacted his sleeping capabilities, and so he's used to staying awake for hours on end in case he gets a phone call from someone at the Jersey precinct.

You, however, work a decent and consistent job as a cleaner that pays more than well. You have a set of routines—you wake up at six thirty every morning, make a steaming mug of chai from the K-Cups you adore, eat an easy breakfast and a cliff bar on your way out of the house.

You're at work from seven-thirty in the morning to six thirty most nights, come home and do whatever needs doing around the apartment that you and Peter share, and you watch TV or read until Peter comes home and the two of you order dinner.

You always go to bed sooner than Peter does, typically going to bed somewhere around eleven or midnight where the earliest Peter goes to sleep is one, and then you wake up the next morning and your cycle repeats.

However, since September, whenever Peter has come to bed, you've still been awake, even if it's three or four in the morning. The chai you made with the K-Cups you adore has turned into a steaming cup of coffee that you have to sweeten with brown sugar, honey, and sometimes maple syrup to be able to tolerate.

You're at work from seven am to nine or ten most nights now, and by the time you're home, the housework has been looked after because Peters hired a cleaning lady to come by the house and make sure the house stays clean once every four or five days.

You come home and Peter tries to get you to smile but nothing really does the trick. Peter finds that he misses you, wants to try to goad you into talking it out with him but knows from too many attempts to do so that it absolutely will not work.

But, when he comes home on the 22nd at 7:30, a rarely early time for him get home as the stuff with Jigsaw has progressed, he's completely and utterly shocked to see you sitting on the couch in your living room.

When he closes the door, your gaze snaps to his.

"I owe you an apology," you say. "I've been very terrible at being a spouse the past few months. I shouldn't've subjected you to that. I know I need to be better at communicating and I just feel awful because I've pretty much shut you out and I just—it's just not—it's not fair to you, Peter."

"It's all right, Y/N," he says. "I thought that something had happened, yeah? I figured you wanted space and I was going to give it to you until you decided you wanted closeness again. I know I get angry really quick and am frankly a little surprised I haven't snapped about it but I have worked on not snapping a lot since we started dating."

You've been married something like a decade. It took a lot of storming for Peter to reach the level of evenness, the level of calm, where he stood.

"Yeah, but I've been terrible," you laugh. Peter approaches, sits next to you on your couch. "I've not—it's not been fair, Pete. I haven't talked, I've worked myself almost to the bone, I don't eat breakfast like I used to—all of my routines have been thrown off by this, and I can't imagine how yours have been."

He wishes he could say that he was fine, completely unaffected by it, but to say that would be to lie right to your face, which is something he promised never to do in his wedding vows. He worried about you all the time, desperately wanted to ask you if you were okay and try to goad you into talking to him even though that had never, ever worked in his favor.

Peter grins at you. "I'm just glad you're okay, Y/N," he says. "Had me worried for a stretch, if I'm honest."

"I'm sorry to have worried you," you say. "I've just—work has been driving me mental. I took more hours to get a bit of a Christmas bonus on top of the bonus I get tomorrow to try to ease the mental stuff I've been dealing with and yeah, the cushy paycheck is great but fuck if I don't hate dealing with people during the holiday season. I have been yelled at about how spotless houses need to be more times than I can count."

Peter laughs. "You're the one who decided to go into the cleaning business," he says. You laugh a bit yourself, press your forehead against his shoulder.

"I know," you mumble sadly, a laugh trailing through your words. "But when I started, I'd really hoped I would spend less time talking to people, more time deep cleaning carpets while I had decent music playing through a Walkman. I do get to listen to music but the people are becoming more and more of an issue lately."

Peter presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're gonna take a bit of time off, mm? You definitely seem like you could use it."

"I booked it last night," you nod. "Tomorrow through til valentines day. I need the time to settle back into routines and I've been drinking coffee religiously—it's more than the one I drink here. I drink at least three cups a day just in the name of keeping myself upright and that needs to stop. I am beyond caffeine overdose. I can drink 600 miligrams a day and not feel a thing."

"That is definitely cause for concern," Peter laughs. "But I'm glad you're okay and that you're trying to get better. I've booked up until the New Year off so that I could catch up on sleep, too, but if we're both home, it means a lot of us time after Christmas. Still goin' up to New York?"

"My mother will put us to death if we don't," you laugh. Peter laughs.

For a solid few minutes, things really do feel like they'll be okay.

-

For what is probably the first time since before he was so much as a cop, Peter Strahm is asleep, you also asleep next to him in the bed that you share, at nine o'clock. He wakes up at six thirty from an unfortunately kinky dream and all he wants to do is part your legs and eat you out until he can't breathe.

Granted—you've spoken extensively about it before, and you've given him the okay to do it several times just as he has you, but still. The part of Peter that's turned on by the idea is equally matched by the part that kind of feels gross about it.

But then, approximately five minutes into unbearably loud thoughts about pulling down the sweatpants you'd stolen from him and parting your legs and devouring you, and five minutes away from just running to the bathroom and rubbing one out to the idea, he watches you press your face against the pillow and moan loud enough for him to hear it.

"Peter," you moan. "Fuck, feels so good."

Peters eyes nearly roll to the back of his head and he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from floating.

He tries to shake out his hands, tries to think of anything else while your quiet, desperate moans fill the air.

He thrums through the Jigsaw victims that've popped up in recent weeks, tries to think about something like the weather or the baseball scores or something to focus on anything but the fact that you're in the midst of a sex dream, one involving him, and the fact that you're moaning your way through it in a way that makes Peter want to lose his mind.

And then, you moan Peters name in a way that you know in your lucid moments drives him crazy, and Peter can't stop himself.

You've discussed it before, and Peters done it before, and every single time he's woken you up with his tongue rubbing wildly against your clit, you've moaned out and started rutting against his face and made a comment about how much you liked waking up to Peter bringing you to orgasm.

Peter is careful to remove the sweatpants you've taken from his drawer, lifting up the shirt you also stole and exposing some of your waist.

He licks a stripe through your folds, not at all surprised to find you're wet if the way that you're moaning from the dream is of any indication, and almost moans against your cunt right then and there.

He starts off slowly, licking stripes against your folds and drinking your wetness down his throat like it's water. Every single time you moan something within him flutters, and he knows it's been too long since he's taken his time with eating you out.

And then, as his tongue attaches to your clit, he feels one of your hands move to his hair.

"Best way to wake up ever," you whisper. "Oh, Peter. Thank you."

You sound half-asleep, but Peter moans against you and you tug on his hair encouragingly, so he keeps going.

He runs his tongue in circles over your clit, sliding a digit into your wet hole without a thought in the world, fighting a smirk when you moan and tug on his hair again.

He starts thrusting, sets a pace that has you writhing within minutes, and takes his fingers out in the last split second before you release, replacing his fingers with his tongue and lapping up your cum without thought, care, or merit. You thrust against his face in the aftershocks, moan as he gets up from his position.

He pulls you in for a kiss while you use one arm to amble through your nightstand for a condom, feeling Marks half-hard, clothed-but-only-by-flannel-pajama-pants length against your bare thigh.

You pull away only so that he can take his pants off, and you slide the condom on with care for how hard his cock is. He peppers your neck and jawline with kisses as he slowly thrusts into your sensitive folds, moaning as he bottoms out.

"I love you," he says to fill the silence while he waits for you to adjust.

"Thank you for dealing with me when I'm at my worst," you press a kiss to his cheekbone. "And for waking me up in the best way ever. Love it when you eat me out, Pete. You're so fucking good at it."

Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you squeeze his hips to tell him to start moving, and when he does, he sets a slow pace. Despite his fervency when it came to oral, he did intend to actually make it known that he did love you and wasn't always in it just to get you or himself to orgasm as quickly as possible.

His pace is slow indeed, but not slow enough that you're pretty much begging him to pick it up a little, and his thrusts are languid in a way that's perfect.

Both of you start moaning after a bit, and Peter, the guy who never moans and usually just likes hearing how you sound when you do, is moaning lewdly and loudly into the nape of your neck while you moan quietly near his ear.

"Peter," you moan. "Peter, fuck. You're so fucking good at this, yeah? You're treating me so well, baby. You're amazing."

Peter moans, clearly enjoying the praise, and you rut your hips against him.

"Fuck," he moans, picking up the pace just a little. "Fuck, Y/N. I love getting you so slick. You were dreaming about me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah. We were fucking at the precinct, in one of the storage closets."

Peter moves a hand to rub your clit, loving the moan that it brings out of you.

Minutes pass by of the same, and your release triggers Peters. You moan each others names as you come, and while you go pee to make sure you don't end up with a UTI, Peter pulls the condom off and trashes it, gets a bath going for the two of you.

In the bath, you talk of plans for the day, which will consist entirely of going to the shops together, reading books and doing last-minute christmas shopping.

All in all, you're happy that Peter woke you up with oral and Peter is happy that you're feeling okay enough to want to be woken up that way again.

[rivet77]

Meditation used to be a practice that always confounded me, if I'm being honest. I would set a timer, close my eyes, focus on breathing fully & naturally through my nose, and it would feel like I'm attempting to stop a speeding train. My body would *fight* me, going "you can't stop, you have shit to do, you have things to worry about, how long as it been, surely the timer is getting close to being done, maybe you should check." Practically vibrating in my seat. My eyes would twitch. My body would itch. I'd literally be able to feel my heart squirming uncomfortably in my chest on every inhale. Every cell in my body would want me to stop, and prior to the last few months, I absolutely would have stopped!

Instead, I pushed through it. Insisted on holding the brakes down until I fully stopped, no matter how much the train wanted to keep going. I'd ask myself "why am I so uncomfortable" and start "scanning" my body, going through each part and intentionally relaxing it.

As this process goes on, eventually the breathing pattern stops feeling forced. The air begins to feel much like a drink of water when I'm thirsty, nourishing me, and it feels *good.* My thoughts happen, but I'm only observing them. I watch the lights & patterns on the back of my eyelids, no longer feeling my heart pounding against my chest, and I begin to feel an odd, almost... serene sensation above my eyes. As if a heavenly room opened up in my brain; where observations, ideas, and more come to me without much effort at all. It feels almost as if you're on the very edge of sleeping, without falling asleep. Before I knew it, the timer was going off. That's when it clicked. That's the meditative state I've been looking for.

Ever since I've been practicing it more and more. It's never anything long; I started with ten minutes, then fifteen, and I did twenty for awhile. It doesn't sound like a lot, but when you're sitting with your eyes closed, doing nothing, it can feel like forever (before you hit that meditative state, that is). Fifteen minutes is my sweet spot now, and by simply remembering the feeling of that meditative state, I'm able to reach it pretty quickly in those fifteen minutes. Before, i would spend most of the time trying to get there, but it's gotten much easier, and I almost always feel so much more clear and calm afterwards.

So yeah. If meditation has ever been a problem for you, just know that if you haven't practiced it, you're going to be stopping a moving train when you try. You need to keep holding down the brakes until it stops, or it will just keep accelerating. It'll be uncomfortable, and you'll need to learn to sit with the discomfort, feel it, and let it pass. What I found beyond that is 100% worth it

[aylacavebear]

Retribution Chapter 11

Summary: You had DID for most of your life, over forty years, since you were two. It wasn't until after you were forty-three that you were finally able to heal it and become a singular. You're a hunter and have been with Dean for a very long time. Once you become singular, you have to face the horrors that your mental illness subjected on those you cared about, loved. Can you get past seeing yourself as worse than any monster you've ever hunted down?

Pairing is Dean Winchester x Reader/You

Warnings: Talk of DID - Dissociation Identity Disorder (AKA MPD), Mental Health Issues, Angst, Healing (yes, this is a warning), DnD (Dungeons & Dragons), Alters being "dead" and grieving, depressed Dean.

Please, if you suffer from any mental illness, seek help. There are people out there who can help you get through it, no matter how alone you feel now or how hard it may seem.

A/N: This is going to be very dark, darker than anything I've written thus far. It will include many triggers - abuse both sexual and physical - in memories and what happens to the reader. I'm hoping it will have a happy ending but right now, I am not sure where this will go. This is your main warning before you begin reading. A/N: Dreams and Memories are indented in italics. Thoughts are in italics only.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 11 - A Peace You Didn’t Know Was Possible

I can’t believe it’s been six months, you thought while sipping a cup of coffee, still wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, watching the fire in the fireplace. The first few months had been hard, especially as the holidays came and went. You’d cried yourself to sleep often, but most of the tears had finally stopped nearly a month ago.

The brothers had even messaged you, Sam, more than Dean. When you and Dean texted back and forth, it usually ended with him upset in one form or another. At first, you blamed yourself for his pain but had learned how to heal that, so you were able to stop blaming yourself for his pain and heartbreak. 

What Dean had said that had hit you hard near the beginning when the two of you spoke, was that even with the forty years he had spent in hell, it was a walk in the park compared to the twenty years he’d been with them. That one stuck with you for months afterward.

On the other hand, Sam had actually begun talking to you, asking you questions, and trying to get to know you. You found it odd in the beginning, the way his curiosity came out in his texts, but you had made the choice just to be yourself now. You had nothing to hide from anyone anymore and always chose honesty, even if it would hurt.

As far as the cabin went, you’d packed away a lot of what had been there. Things like the toys, some of the clothes, decorations that were set about, and anything that reminded you of the relationship between them and Dean. The pictures were the hardest to look at, so those went as well.

All the holidays had been hard, but it was Dean’s birthday that hurt the most. The one thing he’d always wanted from your personalities was to get a blow job the morning of his birthday before ever getting out of bed. It was something that they never did due to the mean ones always taking over.

You’d spent a month working on coupons for him and writing something on the card you’d picked out at the store. These were the things you wanted to do with him, but then you felt stupid again that you loved him when you weren’t them. You even called Cas and asked him to deliver it for you. That way, even the postage of where it came from didn’t give away your location.

In the card, you included two of your favorite pictures of the two of you, from moments that brought happiness when you looked at them. The two of you talked after he’d gotten it, but the call ended with more tears from both of you, and you didn’t speak again for nearly two months.

Today, though, Charlie and Eileen were coming by. They had come by once before, and it was nice to have them over. When they kept your little retreat a secret, and the brothers didn’t show up, you knew you could fully trust them.

“You two turned off your GPS, right?” you asked as they sat down in the living room.

“Yup. Don’t need them finding this place. We promised, remember,” Charlie chuckled, “I brought the DnD stuff, if you’re still interested.”

You got them some water and sat down in the chair adjacent to the couch, “That could be fun. Eileen, are you gonna play too?”

“Sure. Charlie didn’t stop talking about it the whole drive,” Eileen laughed, rolling her eyes playfully.

“I’ll go get the books,” Charlied said excitedly.

That was her thing: games, role-playing, LARPing, and having a fantasy adventure. You wanted to at least try it out, DnD. She’d explained it to you through text, phone calls, and emphatically on her last visit.

Six hours later…

Charlie was laughing too hard to keep up being what she called the Dungeon Master. You and Eileen’s characters had tamed a young dragon, and due to botching rolls, the adolescent male dragon was now in love with both of you.

“Now what do we do with it?” Eileen asked, looking at you.

That only made Charlie lose it in another fit of laughter. This was her element, but you two were the best people she had ever been a DM for, as any and all seriousness had flown completely out the window.

“I don’t know,” you replied, grabbing the book off the floor that had the monster information in it and flipping through it until you found the one about the dragon. That was when your eyes went wide.

“What?” Eileen asked, only making Charlie laugh again.

“Charlie, next time, you could warn us before we do something this stupid,” you grumbled after reading the little warning under its stats.

“What?” Eileen asked again.

“You’re not gonna like it. Either we find it a mate, or, umm…” you trailed off, glancing up at Eileen as Charlie completely lost it in a fit of laughter, falling back on the couch and nearly falling on the floor.

“I’m not mating with a dragon,” Eileen said flatly, glaring at Charlie, who was still laughing so hard she was barely making any noise at this point.

“Charlie, if you don’t take a minute to breathe, you’re going to pass out,” you stated flatly, doing your best not to laugh at how funny she looked. Her laughter was infectious when she got like this.

The more the situation in the game played through your mind, and the more you saw Charlie laughing like she was, the more you couldn’t help laughing. Even Eileen joined in. It took the three of you nearly a half hour to gain any sort of composure. Every time any of you looked down at the DnD stuff on the table, laughter would erupt from one of you, then all of you, all over again.

“Why don’t we pick this up tomorrow,” you told them, still chuckling as you went to the kitchen to get some dinner going.

“It’ll give you two time to figure out what to do about that dragon,” Charlie chuckled as she began cleaning up the DnD stuff with Eileen’s help.

You pulled out the chicken you’d had marinating in the fridge, put it in the oven, and then got the sides ready to cook in a half hour. The girls joined you in the kitchen, with Charlie pulling three beers out of the fridge and handing them out. You leaned against the counter and popped the top while the girls sat at the table.

“Have you spoken to the boys?” Eileen asked.

You looked down at the beer in your hand and sighed, “About two weeks ago, I spoke with Dean through text. Sam messaged me yesterday.”

“Any headway on anything?” Charlie asked.

“Sam seems to be coming around the more we talk. He hasn’t gone off on me in a couple months now, and he’s asking me questions like he’s trying to get to know me,” you answered quietly, not really wanting to talk about Dean.

“What about Dean?” Eileen asked, and you sighed.

“I don’t know. Sometimes, we have great talks, and I feel like we might be getting somewhere, but…” you paused and took a swig of your beer, “...most times, we both cry, and it ends with him seeming more upset than before we started talking. Then, we don’t talk for a while. I probably won’t hear from Dean for at least another week with how our last conversation ended.”

“I wish there was something we could do to help,” Eileen told you sympathetically.

You shrugged, “He’s got to deal with his own stuff in his own way. I don’t know if anyone can help him through it.”

Charlie decided it was time to change the subject, “Any more monsters come through?”

“There was a couple vamps about a month ago. Boy were they surprised when they found out I was a hunter,” you chuckled, thankful for the topic change.

“Have you thought about going back to hunting, even part-time?” Eileen asked curiously.

Again, you shrugged and sipped your beer, “I don’t want to run into the brothers out there. I think that’s really the only thing stopping me from going back.”

“You could come with us, and Cas can let us know whether they know about the case we work or not. We could find a way so that we never crossed paths with them,” Charlie suggested.

“I’ll think about it, but I might need a couple more months before I’m ready,” you answered, letting her offer tickle its way through your mind.

They spent almost a week at your cabin. The three of you laughed a lot playing DnD, and luckily, your characters had found the dragon a mate. They didn’t bring up the brothers again, even when either of them messaged them. It was one of the happiest weeks you’d had around people. It was an emotional goodbye, but the three of you promised to stay in contact with each other.

When Sam’s birthday rolled around, you texted him a ‘Happy Birthday’ but left it at that. Neither of the brothers celebrated holidays or birthdays, but since Sam had been dating Eileen, he’d at least thought more about them. You hadn’t heard from Dean since before the girls had visited and you always refused to ask Sam about him.

It wasn’t until the small pack of werewolves passed through that you decided to go back to hunting. It was hard taking the five of them down on your own, but silver bullets from a distance had been the only thing that saved your life that night. An hour later, you were texting Charlie.

“I’m in. Where are you and Eileen?” 

“Oddly enough, Prison Farm, Montana. Your neck of the woods. We were tracking down some werewolves.”

You laughed so hard you had to take a moment to catch your breath before you returned a text to her.

“lol I just took down five of them outside my cabin.”

“So not fair. That was the pack we were tracking. You want to meet us at the motel, or should we pick you up?”

“Depends. Am I riding with you two or taking my car?”

“Good point. We’ll be there in an hour.”

You chuckled to yourself. “See you shortly.”

While waiting for them to arrive, you retrieved your hunting supplies, packing both your weapons and personal bag. There was some mild anxiety about getting back to hunting, but it was time. You’d done all the healing you could do in your sanctuary. This was the next thing you had to face.

The girls spent the night before the three of you headed out in the morning. The cabin now empty and quiet. Dark windows met your gaze as you looked back one last time before it disappeared behind the sea of trees.

The Brother’s POV

“When was the last time you talked to her?” Sam asked as he went through different newspapers online, looking for another case.

“Couple months, I think,” Dean answered plainly, “Find anything yet?”

“There was something in Montana, but Eileen told me she and Charlie handled it. There might be something in Nevada. Looks like a vengeful spirit,” he replied, scrolling the newspaper article.

“Well, if it turns out it is a case, let me know,” Dean said, then went to his room.

He’d moved your things to your room, and now his room felt empty, even though he’d filled those spaces with other things. He opened the night table drawer and pulled out the two pictures you’d sent him in his birthday card.

Why’d she have to send these? 

They were his favorite pictures, and he had thought they’d been lost in the transition from living out of the Impala and motels to living in the bunker. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks as he stared at them.

I miss them…

Dean knew they were gone, and they’d never come back. He’d wished he had a body to burn, to say goodbye to, but he didn’t. All he had was you now, in the body they’d inhabited since he’d met them. 

You were too much like her and too much not like the mean ones that it broke his heart to talk to you. He wanted to hate you for taking them away from him, for making his life feel empty again. 

I might have chosen to endure the abuse if I knew they’d all be gone like this.

He felt like there was a hole where his heart used to be now. The knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts as he wiped the tears quickly away, “Come in.”

Dean tried to hide the pictures, but Sam saw them and sighed, “It’s a case. We can leave whenever.”

Sam wanted to say something to his brother, but right now, there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t cause another fight. The last one had almost gotten physical, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it today.

“I’ll be out in five,” Dean replied as Sam left to get ready.

Sam sighed as he packed his things. He’d already apologized to you for how he’d treated you. The fact that you had forgiven him made his guilt eat at him these days, especially when Dean got like this. He wasn’t sure that taking this case was such a good idea, but Dean needed to get out of the bunker.

Your POV

You and the girls made it to the motel in a small, backwater town in Nevada shortly before sunset. It was hot, and you quickly learned that you weren’t a fan of the desert. When you got out of the car and stretched your legs, you tied your red flannel around your waist, thankful you were wearing a tank top.

“I hope this goes quickly. It’s fucking hot here,” you sighed when the three of you grabbed your bags.

“Should just be a simple salt and burn,” Eileen told you as Charlie went to check the three of you in.

“I hope so,” you remarked, looking around. 

The place looked practically deserted, and most of the buildings looked run down or boarded up. There weren’t even very many trees, and the ones that were there looked pitiful and in desperate need of water. 

“Got us a room,” Charlied piped in as she returned to the car.

“God, I hope the air conditioner works,” you groaned, then followed her to the room.

“Are you gonna complain the whole time we’re here?” Eileen teased you playfully.

“Just when we’re outside and away from the ac,” you chuckled.

The three of you got settled in and hopped on research. So far, no one had died, yet. It was just weird stuff, and it was all surrounding one of the houses on the edge of the small town. People there stayed away from it. It was tourists the locals were worried about.

“That house goes back to the eighteen hundreds. Says here that it was one of the first houses built for a wealthy family that owned the mine before the gold vein dried up,” Charlie told the two of you as she continued reading from her laptop.

“Does it say who died there?” Eileen asked before you could.

“A few people died there. The first one was the wife of the wealthy family. Then, if anyone moved in there, the husband died mysteriously. It’s been empty for over a hundred years,” Charlie answered, her eyes still scanning the screen.

“Sounds like a simple salt and burn. Does it say where she was buried?” you asked, and Eileen gave you a playful glare since you got the question in before she could. It had become a game for the two of you.

Charlie was quiet as she read, then her eyes lit up, “According to this, the cemetery behind the house. Let’s hope her spirit isn’t attached to anything else that we’d have to go looking for.”

“Let’s hope,” you sighed, “We should probably wait till after dark to head over there, though. Plus, we should be safe as long as we don’t go in the house.”

“So, what should we do for the next three hours before it gets dark here?” Eileen asked.

“There’s a bar. We could hang out there,” Charlie piped in with her mischievous smirk.

“You lookin’ to get lucky or something?” you teased her.

“Just because you two-” Charlie began, then quickly stopped herself and looked back at her laptop. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to.”

“If you wanna go, Eileen and I can always play some pool and have a beer or two. You can have some fun. Remember, that stuff doesn’t bother me. Dean’s gonna do what he’s gonna do. Just because I still see him as my boyfriend doesn’t mean you should stop yourself from having fun,” you told her softly.

You’d come to terms with a lot of things over the last almost year. Dean had never actually broken up with you or told you it was over. So, you conducted yourself as if the two of you were still a couple.

“I’d like to play pool. It would be fun,” Eileen added, giving you and Charlie a mischievous grin.

“The bar it is, then,” Charlie said excitedly, closing her laptop.

There was one bar, and although it was a Friday night, it wasn’t packed, but it was decently busy for a small town. The three of you got beer and then headed over to play pool. The three of you were laughing and having a grand ol’ time. You all even got hit on by a few different men there. 

Charlie had found that hilarious, especially when they hit on her, and she informed them that she was into the waitress. You and Eileen were a little nicer about it than that, simply telling them that you two already had boyfriends.

The Brother’s POV

“This place sucks, Sam,” Dean groaned, sipping whiskey at a table near the back of the bar.

“Why?” Sam asked, enjoying his beer.

“It’s hot, and all they play on the jukebox is country music,” he grumbled.

“You could always hustle some pool. You used to have fun doing that,” Sam suggested, chuckling to himself.

“Pretty sure nobody here is drunk enough to get hustled,” he complained, downing his drink.

“Fine. If you were going to be this grumpy, I could have just given the case to someone else,” Sam teased him. He’d been trying to get Dean in a better mood for months, but it was always the same with him, and Sam was having a hard time dealing with it. 

Dean grumbled again before going to the bar for a refill. Then he glanced over at the pool tables, raising an eyebrow. He noticed the woman bent over the pool table, taking a shot, and he liked what he saw. He hadn’t flirted with anyone since you’d left, and this woman’s ass, in those jeans, reminded him of you, and he couldn’t help himself.

“Hey there, Sweetheart. Need some help handling that stick of yours,” he asked the woman.

He noticed her freeze and not turn to look at him, “I have a boyfriend,” she told him quietly.

“Well, where is this boyfriend of yours?” he asked playfully, not even recognizing your voice.

The woman stiffened as she stood up and slowly turned around, “He’s standing in front of me, but apparently, he thinks differently.” she said coldly before throwing the pool stick on the table and walking out of the bar.

Dean was dumbfounded. The first time, he figured he’d try to perhaps move on, and he ends up flirting with you, of all people. The thing that hit him the hardest was that you said you had a boyfriend. When you had DID, you wouldn’t have given that answer, as some of your personalities had been up for just about anything, with just about anyone. He quickly snapped out of his shock, setting his drink down and running after you, finding you heading toward the only motel in the small town.

“Y/N, wait. It’s not… Damnit!” he grumbled before finally catching up with you and grabbing your arm so you’d stop and look at him.

You spun around, and Dean saw the hurt in your eyes. You didn’t even look angry, just hurt. “Just tell me you don’t want me, and you’ll never have to see me again,” you told him sadly, as the tears had already started falling.

Neither of you noticed Sam, Eileen, and Charlie watching the two of you from a safe, hidden distance, praying that things would go well.

“I can’t,” Dean sighed, letting go of your arm and looking down at the ground.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

“Can we do this somewhere else?” he asked, just as quietly as you had been.

He looked up long enough to see you shrug your shoulders and start walking down the road, “Sure,” you told him sadly.

He watched you pull out your phone and text someone, so he texted his brother to handle the ghost by himself and that if Sam had planned this, he was going to kill him. It was an empty threat, and his brother knew that.

Your POV

Hearing him behind you at the pool table, flirting with you like you were some stranger, had hurt more than the conversations with him had. And now, he said he couldn’t let you go. You texted the group chat you had with Eileen and Charlie and told them that if they set this whole thing up, you’d be hunting alone after this.

You didn’t wait to get a text back before shoving your phone into your back pocket. This wasn’t how you’d wanted things to go if you ever saw him again. You’d hoped he would ask you to come back to the bunker, that he wanted to get to know you now that you were healed. But that hadn’t happened, and now this.

The last thing you wanted to do was end up in a bad conversation in the middle of the street, so you were leading him to an abandoned building you had noticed earlier in the day. He silently followed you, staying a few feet behind you. 

You walked around back, finding a door missing from the hinges, so you went inside that way. You found a mostly clean spot in one of the rooms to sit down and lean against the wall. Dean sat next to you, but not too close.

There was a tense silence between the two of you while Dean collected his thoughts, attempting to figure out how to answer the question you had asked him earlier. 

“You remind me of them. I miss them. If I have to be honest, it’s not fair. They’re gone, but at the same time, they’re not. You’re like them. Hell, it’s the same body,” he finally answered you quietly, barely keeping his emotions in check.

“You’re right. It’s not fair,” you began quietly, staring at the floor, “It’s not fair that I have their memories, that I fell in love with you harder than I even have words for. It’s not fair that all I want to do is love you, but all you see is them, not me.”

There was a lot more you wanted to say. You wanted to remind him how your personalities and he had talked about celebrating if you ever managed to heal from the DID. The plans the two of you had made if that ever happened. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

There was a long silence again, and it wasn’t helping your thoughts from overthinking. You fidgeted with a piece of paper on the floor, trying to find something to distract you through the deafening silence that had filled the room.

“I don’t know how to do this. See you and not them. I don’t know how to be around you because of how I want to be around them. I just…” he sighed and leaned his head against the wall, staring off at nothing in particular.

You wanted to give him suggestions, but you’d done that through calls and texts, and he hadn’t seemed to like any of them or want to do them. Your mind wandered back to the bar earlier, and if you had to admit it to yourself, you were thankful it went the way it did. The worst case would have been if you’d seen him with another woman, and you knew that.

“I don’t even know how to talk to you,” he finally added quietly.

For a while, you thought about how to help with the situation that you hadn’t suggested already, and that’s when an idea struck you. “What if we treat each other the way we want to?”

You barely glanced over at him, only enough to see him out of the corner of your eye. It had been the only thing you hadn’t suggested before. But this was almost like a compromise. He saw them and you. You wanted to love him, treat him the way they should have from day one.

“Are you really okay with that?” he asked, sounding almost nervous.

A sigh left your lips as your gaze returned to the other side of the room, knowing you had to be completely honest with him. “Dean, if you were okay with it, I’d move back into the bunker. I wouldn’t even argue or complain if you were to kiss me right now. It’s a place to start.”

Even if you weren’t looking at him, you heard him shift where he’d been sitting, “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” he asked again, still sounding unsure of your words.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to look as frustrated as you felt, but the moment you turned to face him so that you could be far blunter with him, you realized just how close he had gotten. The look in his eyes took your breath away and made you speechless as your lips opened to say something, but no words came out.

You quickly closed your mouth, taking a slow, deep breath. 

Why does he have to be so damn handsome? Let alone look at me like he wants to eat me alive.

“Yes, I’m-,” you began, but you couldn’t finish that sentence before Dean’s lips were on yours. 

He’d also cupped your cheek, holding you close so that you couldn’t pull away, but you had no plans of doing that. This wasn’t an intimate, I love you, kind of kiss. No, this was more like, where the hell have you been for the last almost year, kind of kiss. It was needy, hungry, and you matched it with your own.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 12 - Hope

Retribution Master List

Tag List: @jc-winchester @nancymcl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[thelovelyruin]

𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖞.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : toji x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : you’ve been cheating on toji with his best friend while he’s away on business.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, angst, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, love, cheating, manipulation, teasing, fingering, edging.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 3.5K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from pretty by the weeknd.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy it, if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

You will never feel this pretty, and you will never feel this beautiful, when I make it there.

You’ve been looking back and forth between your phone screen and the terminal for the past ten minutes, awaiting his arrival. Anticipation overtakes you, happy to see him after all these months. Another project, he says, but all you hear is another period of loneliness. Fortunately, Gojo told him he’d take good care of you. Well, he surely did. Much, much more than he was supposed to. How long has it been now? 2 months? All you know is that this little fling didn’t start immediately after Toji left for France, despite Gojo giving obvious signs of romantic and sexual attraction. You fought the urges as long as you could, until one night when you missed Toji a little too much, at least that part of him that could satisfy your sexual greed. And who was there? Who didn’t leave you for months at a time, with nothing to hold but the pillow that held his scent? Unfortunately for Toji, that scent was fading, and that lust was growing. You remember that first night, it had been raining particularly hard, due to a hurricane passing through.

“I don’t think you should drive in this weather, it’s raining cats and dogs out there.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ll take your couch for the evening then.”

Expectations can kill a simple man, a simple woman.

It wouldn’t hurt right? It’s not like you two were sleeping in the same bed together. Until you couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night, and Gojo was just so conveniently awake. Skin on skin, sweat on sheets, you two couldn’t get enough of each other. Endless nights of defiling the bed you and Toji once shared. You really felt bad when you’d get a text from Toji first thing in the morning, telling you he misses you, he hates the time difference, and how bad he’s trying to finish up work to get back home to you. You’d go to the balcony and call him, Gojo still sound asleep in your bed. Toji would tell you all about the sights he’s been able to see and the foods he’s been able to indulge in, and it hurts particularly bad when he’d send you pictures. Like the one he took in front of the Eiffel Tower, or the one in front of the Louvre, or the ones he sends you when he stays up till 4 AM to have phone sex with you. And he lives for those calls, waiting patiently and forcing himself to stay awake, while you were, well, what were you doing? Arguing with Gojo, of course. You knew you should’ve ended things the second he told you he wanted you to break up with Toji.

I try to master the art of that far away love.

“How can you say you love him if I'm railing you every other night, huh? That doesn’t sound like love at all, but you don’t give a fuck, do you? As long as you get your rocks off, you don’t care who you hurt.”

“Oh, you’ve got some nerve, fucking your best friend’s girlfriend. Don’t think you’re a goddamn saint, Satoru. You act like I told you to catch feelings for me. I mean, what did you think was gonna happen? I’d leave Toji, and me and you would run off and get married and have a little house on the hill with a white picket fence and a nuclear family? Give me a fucking break. I told you from the beginning this was just sex.”

But that argument was days ago, and you hadn’t talked to him since. The distance between the two of you really opened your eyes to what you had done, and things became so real when you got that call from Toji telling you he was finally coming home.

I've been living on the road and you've been living all alone, at home.

"Hey babe, know you’re probably workin, but I got good news. The project’s wrappin up and I get to come home. Be in tomorrow night, Gate C, 11 PM."

Attached was a photo of his boarding pass, which caused your emotions to crumble you down and swallow you whole. Running around for the past few months with another man, and now here Toji was, plane landed, and you were waiting for him at the gate. Like a good girl.

As long as you know that when I land you’re mine.

You peer out the car window and finally see him walking out, you could’ve sworn it was a mirage. He wore that sweater he knows you love so much, muscles stretching the fabric, with a pair of black jeans to match. The moment he laid his eyes on you, he began to rush towards you. You give him a wide smile, opening your arms as he brings you into a full embrace, nuzzling your face in his chest and neck. You took in his scent, tobacco and a musky cologne, the scent was intoxicating. He loosens his grip on you so he could get a good look at your face and of course, you’re crying. What type of girlfriend would you be if seeing him after all these months didn’t bring you to tears? Gently, he wipes them away, kissing you softly with a hand on the back of your neck, pulling away to meet his lustful eyes. With a quick sweep, he picks up his bags, walking to your driver’s door to open it for you, then to the trunk to put them in. As you get into the car, you notice you’ve gotten a text from Gojo, which you don’t even bother to read, just switching your phone to silent and swiping away the notification. Toji opens the passenger door, startling you out of your mission to pretend Gojo doesn’t exist. You give him a weak smile and turn the car on, putting your phone in the cup holder. He comes over the seat to give you a kiss, buckling his seatbelt and putting his hand on your thigh. All of a sudden, you’re touch deprived and that damn hand is the stimulus you needed, the itch Gojo you can't scratch. You drive the car and attempt to act as normal as possible, head flowing into overload with all these emotions. Lust, regret, love, guilt, the list goes on as Toji gives you a concerned look.

“What’s up baby? Look like you’re thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

Then, it all hits you. Toji didn’t deserve this. Here he is, being the good boyfriend he always was, while you drown your sorrows in another man. To say the most while saying the least, you were a goddamn whore. You knew it, but that wasn’t gonna stop you from pretending that things never happened.

“Yeah, baby. I’m alright, just happy to see you is all.”

“Yeah? You missed me-”

'Cause I see fear in your eyes. You've been living out your life.

The two of you are interrupted by your cell phone screen illuminating the cup holder. Toji reaches down to grab it and your fucking life flashes before your eyes. Was this it? The moment you’d been putting off? The inevitable? You give a small sigh as Toji reads the notification, and you feel your heart sink when his smile fades a bit.

“Gojo wants to know if you’re still mad at him? You guys get into an argument about something?”

“Um, yeah. Nothing too crazy, just over who was gonna pick you up from the airport.”

“Why would you guys be going back and forth about that?”

“Well, he didn’t think I should be out this late, but I insisted because I wanted to see you as soon as possible.”

“Oh okay. Looks like you got your way huh?”

Girl, I hope he made you satisfied.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Then, you give him one of those saccharine smiles, acting like nothing was wrong. The car ride went normally after that, the radio playing softly in the background as Toji went on about the project he was working on. But you, you were spaced the fuck out. Mind blank as you revel in the comedown of the fear you’ve been accumulating for so long. You were snapped out of your haze when you felt Toji’s hand begin to move upwards, his lustful eyes on you like a wolf that needs to satisfy its hunger. Your breath hiccups as his hand travels beneath your jeans, starting to rub your mound through your panties. He does it painfully slow, obviously teasing you, noticing the way your eyes start to flutter and your skin is getting warmer. And you think you’re gonna go crazy, as he picks up the pace just to take his hand away. Toji then gives you one of those little chuckles he does when he knows he’s got you all worked up, smirking and getting comfortable in his seat, trying to pretend that you don’t see that tent in his pants getting higher. Finally, thank god, you think to yourself as you arrive at your apartment. Toji gets out of the car and walks to your door, giving you his hand to climb out of the seat. He gives you a little kiss on your forehead, then proceeds to get his bags out the trunk. You begin to mentally prepare yourself for what’s about to come. You’re practically edging yourself with thoughts of finally getting touched by your boyfriend again. You unlock the door to your apartment and you both walk in, locking the door behind you. In one fell swoop, Toji dropped the bags and pinned you to the back of the door, lips taking your mouth like a starving man. You moan into the kiss when he pulls your legs up to wrap around his waist, hands supporting your lower back as he carries you to your bedroom.

Somebody told me it was pointless for me to come back into your arms.

With a swift motion, Toji lays you back onto the bed, towering over you as he begins to take his top off and unbuckles his belt, throwing it to the floor. His hands, calloused and warm, begin to undress you starting with your shirt, taking the time to kiss your chest as he pulls it over your head. And as your arms fall back down, he’s already on you, feverishly sucking and biting the skin of your breasts, snaking a hand behind your back to free them from their captivity. As your breasts fall out the bra, he takes a nipple into his mouth, massaging the other in a way that has you mewling soft moans into the air. 

But only so much can keep a woman warm.

Toji finds his way down your body, kissing and licking the skin of your torso as his fingers hook under your pants. He pulls them down fast, then comes down to your panties, which are having a hard time covering how obviously wet he’s made you. But he’s not gonna give you what you want quite yet, instead leaving hickies up and down your thighs as he sees you bucking your hips into the air, practically begging to be touched. He gives a sly smirk as he brings his lips to hover over the fabric of your thong, taking in your scent that he’s missed for so long. A thumb comes up to rub your clit through the fabric, making you squirm and plead for him. Once he’s satisfied with how frustrated he’s made you, he pulls your panties off, coming once more to your clit, giving it a soft lick. His eyes are on you now, and he thinks you look so fucking pretty for him. All hot and bothered, wrapping your fingers in his hair and attempting to push his face down.

And he can't make you feel this pretty. No he won't make you feel this beautiful.

Toji brings his lips to yours, beginning to eat you. His tongue works its way in and out of your pussy, nose rubbing against your clit. His arms come up to wrap around your thighs, keeping you in place as he devours you like a mad man. And you swear head has never felt this good, the way he’s eating you, no, consuming you, Gojo’s tongue could never compare. And you make him so happy when you pull at his hair, riding his face as he brings his fingers up to explore your pussy. His fingers pump in and out of you at a rate that drives you crazy, making that feeling build up inside you. Toji knows your body all too well, time hasn’t gotten in the way of his knowledge at all, cause he sees that pretty face you’re making when you’re trying to contain yourself, and the way your mouth opens into an O as his fingers find that special spot inside of you. You’re begging, praying, he lets you cum and doesn’t decide to edge you. Your eyes meet him as you whisper to him that you’re about to cum, that fire inside you about to go ablaze. There he goes, smirking again, sucking harder and faster, picking up the pace as you melt against him.

“So then, cum for me baby.”

And with that, your body betrays you, that feeling you tried so hard to contain snaps and you’re seeing fucking stars, gushing cum on his fingers, saturating his lips with the juices he’s craved for so long. The wave crashes, the cup spills, and you’re putty in his hands, moaning his name out into the room so beautifully that he swears he might die. He brings himself up to get a good look at you, wiping his face of your essence. You look so god damn sexy, the light of his life, the fire in his loins. You were just so goddamn perfect. Toji’s good girl.

We've been living in a cold, cold world, a cold world.

You’re watching him with anticipation, it feels like he’s taking years to undo that damn zipper. And just as you're seconds away from ripping his pants off, he’s stripped them off and thrown them to the floor, his boxers shortly behind. You’re practically in awe of him, physique on full display, everything from his chest to his, well, your one way ticket to a second orgasm. He’s back on you now, kissing your neck and leaving love bites as he positions himself. You’re driving him crazy, the scent of you, the look of you, the feel of you, as he slips inside you slowly. He feels your hands come up to his back, nails digging into the skin there as you brace yourself for his shaft, reveling in the feeling of being stretched open again. To be fair, it’s not like Gojo didn’t have good dick. It just wasn’t Toji’s, wasn’t even in the same fuckin ballpark. 

But at least I have you to rely, even if for a short time.

Toji pushes inside you fully now, groaning in your ear as he begins to fuck you slowly. The slow strokes are sending you into oblivion, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Once he’s satisfied that he’s prepared you enough, he picks up the pace, breathing on your neck and whimpering as you take him oh so well. And he feels like your pussy was made for him when he pulls out to slam his hips back into you again, and you're screaming out his name like your life depends on it. You can’t bear to look at him when he gives you that look, like he’s gonna take you, take everything you have and you’ll give it to him, because you're his and you know it. No man will ever make you feel the way Toji does, not when he’s rutting his hips into you at a threatening rate, pulling whimpers out of you left and right. Then, there’s that goddamn look on his face again, because he knows he’s fucking you so hard and so good that you’ll be his and his only. Fuck anyone else, he was fucking you here and now, and there’s that feeling again, body craving to cum all over him. He knows you’re close, and like clockwork his thumb comes down to your clit, rubbing it to take you higher and higher. You’re losing your goddamn mind. So many months of wanting, needing, yearning, for Toji’s touch and here it was, lulling you into a haze, mind all fuzzy from your inherent need to cum. With a couple of deep thrusts, he’s got you right where he wants you. You throw your head back into the pillow, arching your back and scratching the skin on his shoulder, trying to find something to grip on as your body cums for him. You’re spent, giving him everything you have to give, singing his name like a lullaby that’s pushing him right where he needs. He’s moaning and groaning like crazy, hand gripping the headboard as he loses himself in your pussy. It’s like a firecracker for him, cumming in the pussy he’s missed for so long, hearing your squeals as he cums inside you. His body falls over yours, careful not to hurt you, then falling to your side, gasping for air. The two of you are a sticky, sweaty mess, cum surely all over the sheets. In that moment, you forget. You forget your regret, your sorrow. You forget the cheating. You forget your mistake. You forget Satoru Gojo.

There are certain things that I've come to understand.

Toji pulls you into his embrace, nuzzling your face against his chest and wrapping your arm around him. As he pulls the covers over the two of you, all you can think about is ending things with Gojo. You knew what you wanted and it was Toji. Who else would hold you like him? Satisfy your cravings? Surely not his best friend. And as you feel his hand begin to rub your back, you feel yourself drifting away, into a plane of existence where there’s only you and Toji, and nothing could ever compare to the feeling of his love washing over you.

“I know you fucked Satoru.”

The words you never wanted to hear. A wave of guilt washes over you, pulling you under the water where you're damned to accept the consequences of your actions. You freeze, unsure of what to do or say next. Surely you won’t bring your eyes up to look at him. How could you? You knew you couldn’t bare to see the hurt expression on his face when you actively admit to fucking the person he entrusted to take care of you in his absence.

“He sent you that text earlier, nearly lost my shit when I read it.”

“Toji, I-”

“Wanna know what he said? He said ‘I know you’re probably still upset with me, but I’d be lying if I said I didn't miss you, especially that pussy.’ I can’t make this shit up.”

Said you fucked another man, finally I knew this day would come.

“How long?”

“Two months.”

“You gotta be fuckin kidding me. Do you want him?”

“I, I, um-”

“Answer me, do you fuckin want him?”

“Toji! Of course not, the only man I love is you. He was just, just a thing to fill the void. I promise, it just happened, I never wanted to hurt you!”

 But baby, I won’t cry.

Toji groaned, bringing his hand to his face in defeat. You were crying now, straight word vomit, saying anything to get him to forgive you. But you know you fucked up. You fucked up bad. And now Toji is gonna leave you. Leave everything you’ve built together, all because you couldn’t keep your legs closed while he was gone. But, despite his anger, he brings a hand up to your face to wipe your tears, arm slinking around your waist as he pulls you back down to his chest, letting out a deep sigh.

“Just please tell me you won’t see him anymore and I promise I won't leave you for that long again. But cheat on me again and we’re fuckin over.”

“I won’t, Toji. I promise.”

"Quand une putain de colombe chante sa chanson, c'est tout ce qu'on entend. Les jours défilent comme de la ficelle dans le vent. Embobiné dans ma toile, je les dévoile à nouveaux. Souffrant d'un cœur brisé. Une douleur très profonde. C'est là où je l'ai aperçue. Seule.”

𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 : “When a fucking white dove sings its song, that's all we hear. The days roll by string in the wind. Tangled into my web I reveal them again. Suffering from a broken heart. A very deep pain. This is where I saw her. Alone.”

♱ the song used in this story is pretty by the weeknd. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

[cellophaine]

Can i request a Professor Matt x Student Reader (she's like 21) where he tutors her and they spend so much time together he ends up falling in love with her but doesn't say anything bc he doesn't wanna scare her away one night he's walking her to her place it starts to rain they share a moment and he ends up kissing her she feels the same way its sweet and innocent (no smut plz i just want some fluff)🥺

Lost & Found

Pairing: Professor!Matt Murdock x GN!Student!Reader

Warning: professor x student relationship (nothing shady), troubled family matters, fluff, bad writing.

Author's Note: Happy exactly one year and two months since I received this request! I'm sorry for taking too long to answer, and I hope you will still enjoy it. If not, that's okay too!

Share and feedback are greatly appreciated!

GIF Credit

"Are you … listening?"

As if the fog was lifted, the curtains were drawn, and the stupor evaporated, you found yourself in Professor Murdock's office once more. Only then did you realize that you never left it in the first place. You ran your hands over your face as if to physically remove the protective film wrapping around your skin so tight you couldn't breathe. All you wanted to do was to sink into the softness of your bed and stare at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep.

"Sorry, professor. I'm here. I was just– I've just remembered something I need to do, uhm … after this."

You forced your tired eyes to focus on the man sitting on the other side of the dark wooden desk. Your vision roamed over the pair of red-lensed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, the slightly tousled but well-kept hair, the harbour grey dress shirt on his proper posture opposing your slouching. Everything about him was a contrasting reflection of you, and the realization made you sit straighter in your chair.

"Are you okay? You were quiet for a little bit there. You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I'm great! I'm sorry, what was the question?"

You attempted a smile, not that it mattered, but you hoped it would somehow weave into your voice, casting a guise of genuine interest on top of the fact that you didn't pay attention.

"Is everything okay at home?"

You cast a tentative glance at him, taking in the slight frown on his lips. The question sounded foreign, slightly out of place, as if it had no right to be so ambiguous and unintentionally intrusive at the same time. You did not doubt that he was annoyed with your inattentiveness, which was what landed you in his office to begin with. You hoped that was all to it.

"No– I mean, yes! Everything is fine. Why do you ask?"

The words rushed out in one breath as if they were strung together and tugged hard by the defensive pull of your voice. If your abrupt outburst offended Professor Murdock, he didn't show it. His face didn't give anything away, and certainly not his body language, which stayed hard to decipher. But you tried anyway and drew to the conclusion of nothing.

"I received your midterm report, and it wasn't something I expected from you, especially after the excellent research you handed in a month ago. You've missed deadlines on recent assignments, and, on top of that, Connor has told me you haven't been paying much attention in class."

An icy shroud of dread settled over you. You knew you didn't do too well on midterm since you were sidetracked by a family matter on top of a busy schedule that left you no room to breathe, but to get snitched on by your professor's teaching assistant? That was the new low you didn't expect to hit. You tried to go for just enough to pass, but even then, it was proven that the bare minimum was out of your reach.

"What did you expect from me, then?"

The question was harsh, like a bitter retaliation that didn't come out right. In all truthfulness, the indignant remark was weak, just like how you felt at the moment. The unwelcoming feeling of inadequacy brought you back to the years of living under your mother's roof. You felt like you could lose it at the mere mention of expectations, of something you could only chase after, never able to fulfill. You released a shuddering sigh. The recent incident with your mother really messed with your head.

Professor Murdock cleared his throat; his body angled toward you in a careful manner as if he was approaching a wounded animal.

"You're a bright student, and … forgive me if I overstep, but I feel like there is something else going on outside of class that affected your performance."

His carefully chosen words manifested in an acute assessment pierced through your guarded exterior. The last sliver of resolve held onto its fleeting moments by the frown on your lips before fading away.

"Nothing I can't handle, professor."

The futile attempt sounded hollow even in your own ears, and you had a creeping suspicion that it didn't escape your perceptive teacher.

"I'm here to listen if you want to talk. My doors are always open."

Your frown deepened. How many times have you heard that sentence? One too many times, from one too many people. School counsellors, friends that didn't really mean what they said, and even your own mother. At this point, they sounded like a remix of each other, preaching the same words for the moral satisfaction of those who said it to you rather than your own good. What was the difference between them and what your Criminal Law professor had to say?

"Thank you. But like I said, everything is great."

You kept your tone light, letting the brusqueness mark the finality of this discussion.

"Is that all you wanted to discuss with me? Can I go now?"

You couldn't wait to leave this room and its confined undertone, but your professor motioned for you to stay. He opened the drawer on his right; his hand rifled over the Braille-labeled files until he eventually stopped and pulled out a slim folder. He pushed it towards you, gesturing you to open the file. You were met with your report, littered in red ink and Connor's neat handwriting, and on top of the page was a pitiful capital F.

"You failed midterm. For this reason and the fact that you have not handed in your last few assignments, I have to assign mandatory tutor sessions for you with two hours a week at the minimum. You are required to check-in with me every other Thursday during my office hours. I will reserve a time slot just for you, and I don't take absence of any reason lightly, unless it's absolutely necessary."

His stern tone sobered you, and you realized how serious your situation was. This meeting wasn't a gentle reminder but a warning of what was at risk.

"I'm sorry, but I can't afford to do that. Between school and work, I really can't."

Being one of the core staff at Sugar & Spice, your schedule was filled with classes and long hours at the bakery. The manager was too stubborn to accept that the shop needed more people, which made the job that was once easy and nice turn into a test of your patience and limit on a weekly basis. You lived close to campus, but the shop was so out of the way, making the convenient location wasn't worth it. You stayed for the above minimum wage, free food and drinks, and the hours that helped you stay afloat in this expensive city.

"Retaking classes will only cost you more financially as the faculty stated at the beginning of the semester. You will have to take summer classes if you want to catch up with your program in September, and that will only slow down your progress at Columbia."

You had to admit it; your professor was right. You dug yourself into a hole, even though it was involuntary. As much as you wanted to blame it on your circumstances, there was no point. After a few moments to calm your frantic mind and racing heart, you sighed, knowing you had no choice.

"Alright. I'll take your advice. I'll do it."

You closed the file before you, finding the red ink overwhelming your anxious state.

"Do you have any recommendation for tutors? I don't really … know anyone here."

It was hard to admit and even harder to say it out loud, but it was already out there.

"There's no need for that. I'll personally see to your progress. I willl be your tutor."

The library was crowded, a rarity for a late Friday afternoon. You eyed uneasily at the textbooks, laptops, and water bottles strewn on the tables, taking up more space than they needed to. It wasn't worth fighting for a spot with study groups that seemed to spawn nonstop. You turned to your professor, asking if he wanted to move to another area, and he was almost too eager to agree.

You took professor Murdock to the second floor, finding your familiar way to a small spot overlooking the courtyard, away from the buzzing of rustling paper and whispering people. You looked at your professor, taking in the way his body language seemed more relaxed than it was downstairs. He reached to feel the table before setting his messenger bag on it.

"It's quieter here."

The easy smile on his face made the casual assessment feel like a compliment. You nodded, getting yourself situated beside him.

"I know. I usually come here to slee– study. Study. Between classes."

Your face heated up at the terrible save. To your relief, professor Murdock didn't seem to find fault in your slip-up if the small smile and the quick raise of his brows were any indications. He simply suggested you start with your textbook alongside your failed report. Your study session began.

You worked in comfortable silence between questions and explanations. You appreciated how professor Murdock allowed you to re-explore the concepts and lectures mostly on your own with his help. The sky outside darkened as the time moved with the number of notes you had taken, which was a lot. The only reminder of time was a rumble in your stomach, which felt like thunder in the small, quiet space. You checked your phone to see that you still had about a half hour left. You would have ignored it if it wasn't for the gurgling sound, louder this time, once again reminding you that you missed lunch. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you attempted to cover the aftermath by clearing your throat. You hastily wrapped an arm around your midriff, hoping the thick layer of your sweater would muffle any impending noise. You were about to go back to your notes when your professor spoke.

"Shall we take a break?"

You shook your head, then immediately chastised yourself for being a forgetful, inconsiderate fool.

"No, sir. I'm alright. I'm on a roll right now, and I want to keep that going."

His head slightly tilted to the side, and from the new position, the dull light above and the fleeting sunset outside the window cast its dying rays over his face like a moody painting. It sharpened the angles on his face, sculpting a grimness in his features — a beautiful contrast to his softness, his kindness.

"Are you sure?"

The concern and warmth in his voice only fueled your determination to keep going. You wouldn't dare inconvenience him in the smallest way.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Turning to your notebook, you quickly picked up your train of thought and proceeded from where you had left off. Professor Murdock took that as a sign for him to go back to his papers. And you continued to work in silence.

Some time passed until a small beep sounded beside you and pulled you out of your head. Professor Murdock touched his watch and turned to you.

"Your two hours of this week are done."

You blew out a sigh. The session went by quicker than you thought and was not half as bad as expected.

"When will you be free next week?"

You flipped through your journal, disturbing some grocery and drugstore receipts until you reached the page for next week.

"Oh, shoot."

You muttered to yourself, your eyes flitting over all the reds, greens and blues filling up the week like an intense game of territory, except for one little spot after an eight-hour shift at Sugar & Spice and your check-in with him. You wanted to have the rest of the precious half of the afternoon and all night to yourself, doing nothing and maybe watching mindless content while tuning them out simultaneously. But then, the thought of the expensive and unignorable fee of retaking his class appealed to your logical side, and you grimaced, knowing that it won.

"Uhm … I have some time to spare after my office hours with you on Thursday."

You glanced at him, watching a strand of hair artfully fall on his forehead as he quickly tapped through his device.

"Is that okay?"

After a moment, he gave you a nod.

"That will do. I can give do a quick check-in, then tutor you afterwards."

"That sounds good."

You added the date to your schedule, already mentally mapping out the quickest bus route from the university to your apartment. Professor Murdock gathered his stuff, and you made no move to do the same. His hand searched for the last of his document, which sat next to your notes. You gently slid the file into his path, and he acknowledged your assistance with a small smile. When he had gathered everything, his blazer in the crook of his arm, the chair tucked neatly back to where it was, only then he realized you weren't coming. You looked at him at his lack of movement and cleared your throat.

"I'm just going to stay here a little while longer. I think I can get this part done."

His mouth opened, then closed again at the absence of an answer. He gave you an understanding nod.

"See you in class tomorrow, professor."

"I will see you. Have a good night."

You returned to your notes, tracing back to where you left off. The gentle taps of professor Murdock's cane melted into the wooden floor in soft echoes as he made his way out. Soon, it was just the rapid scratches of your pen on paper.

You were so lost in your head that you didn't pay attention to the presence of another person entering the room. When they stopped before your table and lingered within the peripheral of your vision, only then you looked up and was greeted by the unexpected sight of your Criminal Law professor.

You straightened up, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"Professor! Did you forget something?"

He shook his head, and you noticed his flustered face and the tousled hair, which looked like it was gently run through by the wispy hands of the wind.

"No! No, I didn't. I'm just here to give you this."

He held out a brown paper bag and only let go once you had a hold of it. With a peek inside the bag, you recognized the logo-patterned wax paper from the sandwich and soup shop just a little distance beyond the campus' ground. You hesitated, taken aback by the oddness of the situation.

"Is it … for me?"

He bobbed his head, confirming the obvious.

"Take a break. You've done enough for today."

Speechless and still confused, your mind scrambled for something to fill in the silence.

"Isn't food … not allowed in here?"

From the lower angle, his face tilted towards you, and the red glasses slid lower on his nose, exposing a part of his eyes. He flashed you a cheeky smile and what resembled a wink from the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"I won't tell anyone if you won't."

You couldn't help a cheesy smile from breaking out, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

"Uhm … thank you, professor Murdock."

He flicked his hand as if to say it wasn't anything.

"There's no need to thank me. And, please, call me Matt."

You swallowed, stammering to oblige his request.

"Thank you … Matt."

The soft chuckle was endearing and unexpected, like almost everything else that happened tonight.

"Have a good night. Don't stay out too late."

"I promise I won't."

With a final nod, he turned and walked away, leaving you to the brown bag and quietude once more. You rested your face in your hands before giving your flushed cheeks a few taps as if doing so could take away the embarrassment. You took out the wrapped sandwich and a small bottle of water. He must have heard the noise your stomach made. You exhaled deeply before placing the water on the table, taking out the sandwich and unwrapping it. You took a bite of the sandwich, feeling it warming you up from the inside even though the food itself was gradually getting cold.

You thought of professor Murdock while you ate, of his kindness and thoughtfulness for someone like you who was a stranger to him at the very core once you had stripped down all the social niceties. You couldn't remember the last time someone bought you food, much less take care of you like this. Maybe he felt pity for you, a failing student who couldn't look after herself, the logical part of you screamed. But a smaller yet just as persistent part of your heart whispered otherwise. He helped you because he cared about you. Maybe … you deserved that. Your eyes swelled, and a tear slipped down your cheek. You aggressively wiped it off, feeling foolish for crying over a little sandwich. You took a deep breath through your damp nose, trying to control your emotions by playing with the brown bag to distract yourself. When you piqued inside, a decent amount of napkins was at the bottom, and that, somehow, was the final stroke. He included napkins for you. You put the sandwich down and put the heels of your palms against your eyes, feeling a fresh wave of tears coming. You allowed yourself to cry a little more before finishing the sandwich and leaving for the night, your belly full and your heart warm.

Less than a week later, you found yourself, surprisingly, not spacing out during professor's Murdock lecture. Instead, you just felt sleepy. You shouldn't have stayed up so late the night before. You went from being unable to sleep to working on the homework to falling asleep at your desk just to wake up three hours later, groggy and late for class. You would have a closing shift at the bakery later today, only to return at 7 AM the next day, leaving you only an hour to travel to Columbia afterwards. You were exhausted already, and you didn't know how you would survive tomorrow through a full shift on top of your check-in and tutor session. You thought of injecting yourself with the crappy coffee they sell at the cafeteria that always made your stomach rumble in the most unpleasant way. But it worked. Perhaps all the stir from the coffee kept you bright-eyed and wide awake.

You rubbed at your eyes, hoping to clear the drowsiness that had started closing in at your waterlines. Bracing a hand on your chin, you stared your watery eyes at the big screen projector, willing your mind to read the words. But the room was warm, Matt's voice was soothing, and the boring slides with uniformed font served as visual comfort. If you were a little more awake, you would have been startled at the ease of thinking of your teacher by his first name. But for now, a little shut-eye wouldn't hurt, would it?

…

You jolted awake in your chair to a friendly face. So friendly that it alarmed you, making you jump in your seat. Your professor held his hands up, showing that he sensed, or felt, or rather, heard the screech of your chair.

"Are you alright?"

You cleared your eyes, blinking a few times to confirm that your teacher was crouching at your table, a look of concern in his expression. As a reflex, your hand shot up to touch your mouth, touching the moisture gathered at the corner. Even though you knew your professor couldn't see that, you still felt conscious enough to wipe the drool off with your sleeve.

"Class ended about ten minutes ago. Are you okay?"

Class ended. Class ended. It meant you had wasted your precious time you could have used to run to the subway to catch the train going to Greenwich Village, where your cursed job was. You looked at the time on your phone just to panic even more before hastily gathering all the contents on your desk.

"Thank you for … uhm … letting me know! I'm so sorry but I have to leave right now I'm so so late for work."

You were on the wind, and you couldn't stop, not even for a breather. Your notes and pen were shoved untidily in your bag as you hoisted the tote bag over your shoulder. You shot an apologetic tone towards your confused and concerned teacher.

"See you tomorrow, professor Murdock!"

Just like that, you took off from the awkward situation, leaving the consequences to be dealt with later.

You felt like you were already dead, arriving at your check-in with five minutes to spare. You sat on the bench outside professor Murdock's office with your head on your folded knees. You could still smell the sugar cookies woven into your hair, cinnamon hugged your clothes, and the sweet scent of everything else clung to your body. Your nail beds were decorated with flour, and you tried to pick them off. You had to stay late at the bakery for the time you missed. You barely slept before coming back to open the shop. And now, you anxiously waited in suspense about what was coming and another two hours of studying with your professor, who had been nothing but kind to you, and you had been nothing but a nuisance to him.

Speaking of which, the door opened slightly, and you could hear the tail end of a conversation that seemed to hang onto the more awkward end. A woman's voice, closer to where you were sitting, profusely thanked professor Murdock for his help, to which his smaller reply said he was only doing his job. The woman's voice increasingly affirmed that her breakthrough in last week's assignment was solely his doing. The conversation went back and forth and nowhere else until it finally settled on an overenthusiastic goodbye and "see you in class." The door finally opened fully, and a girl your age walked out. You recognized her being in the same classes as you, always sitting in the front row. Her cheeks were flushed as she walked away without paying attention to you. You were glad. Things didn't have to get even more awkward had she known you were eavesdropping, even though you weren't trying to.

You distanced yourself from the uncomfortable seat and announced your presence. Professor Murdock, standing at his desk, beckoned you to come in.

"How are you?"

He asked with genuine curiosity, making a part of you swell with delight. Your heart pounded in your chest, eager to swallow the attention he gave you whole, like a dying plant at the first drop of water after days of being abandoned.

"I'm… I'm fine. Just a little tired."

You lingered at the back of the chair, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

"I'm very sorry about falling asleep in your class yesterday. It was not my intention to do that."

He chuckled softly, dismissively waving a hand, almost as if he had already forgotten about it.

"Hey, it's okay. I know that my class can be boring. I should switch it up if I want my students to actually learn something."

Your face burned bright red with embarrassment. It burned so deep and hot that you missed the mild and casual sarcastic note in his tone. You lowered your head, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of your eyes.

"No, it's my fault. I'm very sorry. I will try not to do that again."

You willed your voice to stay steady and hoped it would fool your professor. The thought of every humiliating moment you had accumulated throughout the entirety of your relationship with him nagged at the back of your head, too stubborn to let go. Oblivious to the conflict being played repeatedly in your head, professor Murdock assured you it was okay and gestured for you to take a seat.

The check-in went better than you thought. He noted your improvements and gave you pointers on how you could improve. As you were left working on your assignment, the sound of the Braille keyboard, rustling papers, and gentle hums of air conditioning drew a small yawn from you. It seemed like you had been trapped in a misty, never-ending fatigue and functioned solely based on will and just enough sleep to make it by.

You were beyond exhausted, but you couldn't fall asleep again after the spectacle you made of yourself yesterday. Your eyes watered and blurred the sentences before you. None of the words followed the ruled lines. They were a scrawling mess of half-nonsense and whatever you could draw from your cluttered mind. You pressed a silent yawn into the palm of your hand before tapping your cheeks, making muted pats on your skin. When that didn't work, you reached for your travel mug of lukewarm coffee and welcomed the burned liquid on your tongue. You grimaced, wishing you had smelled it before taking a sip.

Professor Murdock cleared his throat from across the table, and you shot up straight like an arrow, nervously looking at him like a student who was caught playing hooky in the washroom. He pushed the glasses up on the bridge of his nose, shielding his eyes behind the red lenses.

"We can call it a day here."

You looked at your phone, seeing you still had another fifty minutes left. He fixed you with a gaze in your direction, his hands linked on the table, almost as if expecting you to comply. You translated it into displease, even though he hadn't explicitly expressed so.

"But we are not done yet. There's almost an hour left."

"I know. I thought you could use a break. You've done enough already."

How could he tell that you were tired? Was it because you were quieter? Was it because you didn't ask as many questions as last week? Did he think you were a nuisance, and that your presence was grating and unbearable? Didn't he want you around? Of course, who would? Not even your own family wanted to be around you. At that thought, you felt the familiar sting of rejection, reminding you of your past. You didn't want to relive it at this moment, so you focused on getting out of there as soon as possible. You closed your notebook harder than necessary and hastily gathered your stuff on his desk. You hated how you felt so helpless, so emotional so quickly at the most mundane thing. His gentle calls for your attention were ignored and brushed aside as if his words were only dust. You had gotten all of your stuff in, but before you could leave the way you did last week, his hand shot out to hold you in place, startling you. His touch was warm on your wrist, firm yet gentle.

"I hope you are not offended by what I suggested."

You dismissed him with a light scoff.

"Offended? No! You're right, I am a little tired, and I don't want to be a burden. I'm sure you have better things to do."

His hold on you tightened, not to the point of hurting. It was to accentuate what he had to say next, and he hoped the true meaning of his concern would get to your senses before the irrational part of you would.

"No, that's not what I meant. I thought we could stop here since you seem tired."

He took a brief pause, considering his next words.

"Did you come here after your job? At a bake shop or a cafe, perhaps?"

How did he know? You repeated your thought to him, and seeing your professor gradually turn pink was an odd sight. He scratched the back of his neck, drawing your attention to the flushed skin there.

"This, uhm, might sound creepy, but … I smelled baked goods on you. Cinnamon, sugar cookies, and coffee, too. I took a wild guess."

You blinked, surprised at his astute observation.

"You're … right. I work at a bakery. How can you tell?"

He tapped his nose with the other hand.

"I just … I have a sensitive nose. Works better than my eyes. My friend compares me to a dog, all the time."

You weren't sure if you could laugh. The broad smile and soft chuckle that brightened his feature told you it was okay. So you did, feeling the tension slowly retreat until it disappeared completely. You shook your head.

"That is … impressive. Wow! I work at Sugar & Spice in Greenwich."

"Oh! Frank raves about how fresh your bread is all the time."

"We use an actual flour mill to make our flour! It's huge, and it takes up so much space in the shop, but that's how we get fresh flour, so …"

You felt yourself inching deeper into a tangent, so you stopped yourself. Why did you have to ruin a perfectly fine moment with unnecessary comments? At the very least, your professor didn't seem to mind your rambling.

"I thought you could use some time to yourself. You seem tired, and I don't want to force you to work more than you already have."

His reason seemed rational now that you had stopped overthinking. His hold on your wrist made you want to open up, something you hadn't done in a long time.

"Can I tell you something?"

He nodded.

"I'm … it's … really embarrassing that I need one-on-one tutoring. I've always been a slow learner, and it seems like nothing has changed after … all these years."

You quickly added.

"And I do appreciate that you're doing this for me. This, all of this overthinking, is just … something I have to work on."

His hand gave another firm press.

"I mean this with all of my heart. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone needs help every once in a while. I want you to know there is strength in accepting that you need the help."

Your eyes widened, feeling the weight of his words seep into that part of your mind that had always craved the empathy you rarely allowed yourself. You sniffed dryly, suppressing the wave of emotion that threatened to break. A whisper of gratitude was all you could manage. Your professor nodded and let your wrist go, and the absence of his hand took you by surprise. You found yourself yearning for more of his warmth.

"Go home, and get some rest. Don't worry too much about the lesson."

You thanked him again, said your goodbye, and left without the weight on your shoulders when you first came in. That night, when you settled in bed with an audiobook on your headphones, your mind tuned it out. But it wasn't wandering anywhere like it usually would. You followed the path your mind was on, finding yourself lost in the memories of Matt and what happened that afternoon.

You wanted to do something nice for him, and what would be better than surprise cupcakes on no special occasion at all? Your heart pounded against its cage, and when you passed the decorated paper box to him, your hands touched. His fingers lingered on yours, and before you could truly revel in the sensation, it went away in a blink of an eye.

"Thank you for this. I can't bake to save my life, so a treat like this is rare."

"Maybe I can change that. I can bake for you."

You didn't think much of what you had just said, but your overthinking mind would agonize about that later. What exactly did you offer? It's not only baked goods, and he certainly doesn't need your companionship, you thought. You wanted to extend a part of yourself to him and the entirety of your affection that seemed to slowly but gradually get harder to ignore the more time you spent with him. It had grown so large that your mortal body could barely contain it.

"This is great! You didn't have to do this."

"I just wanted to say thank you for helping me."

His hands searched for the rim along the handle, tugging the box open, revealing the sweets inside.

"They smell heavenly."

His face brightened, and you felt your own warmed at his praise. He took one in his hand and offered it to you.

"No! They're all for you!"

"Come on. Don't let me enjoy these delicious cupcakes by myself."

He was playful, but his intention was nothing short of sincerity. How could you say no to a face like that?

You gave in, accepting it timidly, and waited until he had one in his hand. You peeled back the paper and took a bite. The softness enveloped your tongue in a warm embrace; the sweetness crashed on your taste bud like a gentle caress. You looked at your professor, whose brows shot up at the first bite. His soft moan of bliss was endearing, and you found yourself wanting to drink the sound in, hoping the resonance would stay and echo in your mind so it could keep your heart beating just a little faster like how it was now. It was the tiniest fragment of joy that warmed you, making you want to keep it close to your chest and cherish it to the best of your limited capability.

A smear of frosting lingered at the corner of his lips. With a casual passing thought of how adorable he looked, you reached across the desk, and the pad of your thumb swiped at the cream before you were fully aware of what you were doing. You slowly retreated your hand, feeling the mortification of your forwardness. You weren't the only one affected by the gesture. Matt was, too, judging by the way he swallowed hard, his lips parted to take a deep breath as if he had forgotten how to breathe. None of you dared to speak, not wanting the moment to end, but eventually, it must. Matt cleared his throat softly, and you braced yourself for the inevitable "that wasn't appropriate," but to your relief, he only smiled.

"Thank you. It would be embarrassing and unprofessional of me to walk around with frosting on my face."

"You're very welcome, Matthew."

You continued to eat your cupcake, bashful with the praises he lavished you with. The creamy frosting still lingered on your finger, and after a brief hesitation, you brought it to your lips before licking it off your thumb. You revelled in the exhilaration of your boldness. You felt like you crossed a line you weren't supposed to, but at this point, it was too late for you to turn around.

And when you tossed and turned later that night, when you couldn't deny yourself the truth any longer, you would come to the hopeless realization that you were in love with your professor. All that was left was to tell him as you so selfishly wanted him to know of your fondness for him, but you wouldn't dare shatter the fragile attachment to adhere to your selfish want.

The study sessions started not to feel like a torture device designed specifically for you as you found rhythm within each other. They had become the place where you enjoyed your time the most. Matt brought coffee to fuel you for later days that turned to nights. You bonded over the occasional pastries you brought in. It was an inconsequential thing, which quickly became an unspoken tradition. You found he particularly enjoyed the red velvet cupcakes smeared with buttercream frosting. Nevertheless, he loved whatever you brought in and never failed to show you how much he appreciated it.

It felt like the invisible veil between you was removed. Neither of you dared to take that first step forward into the other side out of respect and the delicacy your positions held. Still, it felt nice. You didn't have to put your guard up all the time, and you were weirdly okay with it — everything was within your comfort zone. There was little pressure to be someone else, no expectations you couldn't meet. Within the four walls that his presence occupied, the expectation to do well was there, but at your own pace. You didn't have to struggle. While things with Matt had been good, the other part of your life had started turning its head, gearing full speed toward a fatal end.

Your mother had stopped all types of communication. It'd been three weeks since her last request asking you to stop contacting her and many messages and emails from your end begging her for a talk. Your whole life had been a preparation for this, yet, when it came, you were left in shock, in the pain that never eased or went away. For as long as you could remember, familial love was something you never had, and you envied those who had it. Sometimes, the absence of love and care from someone you were close to dulled you, but the smallest acts of kindness hurt much worse in return. It cut you deeper than indifference did, grappling with your heart. The way Matt treated you with patience, tenderness and support filled the empty space in your chest with an ache that grew over time. To think that he was once a stranger, yet, he cared more about your well-being than your mother ever did. Matt showed you that despite your fatal flaws, you were still worthy of love.

The year came to an end, and you were relieved to see that you passed all of your classes. Your final office hour with Matt was on a rainy afternoon, the type of weather that made everything moody and drenched in sorrow, fitting for your state of mind. The meeting was a fruitless use of time since the semester was already over, but you wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. You didn't want to say goodbye yet.

The sky poured in fine droplets by the time you were done. You waited as professor Murdock locked the door and walked out together. Neither of you said anything as you stood at the edge of the building, listening to the rainfall. You didn't bring an umbrella. You turned to him, and farewell words left a bitter taste on your lips.

"I guess this is it. I'll … see you around campus."

The forced smile on your face dropped as you placed your bag over your head. You hastily took half a step before his hand shot out, stopping you before you could walk out of his reach.

"Do you have anything for the rain?"

"No, I don't. But my apartment is not too far from here."

"I'll walk you home."

He didn't even hesitate.

"No no no no, you don't have to."

"I insist. I can't let you walk home by yourself in this weather."

He pulled out a well-loved umbrella from his messenger bag. It seemed like he wouldn't take no for an answer. You sighed, nothing of annoyance, only a little breathless.

"Can I at least carry it, please?"

The soothing sound of the rain was secondary to the thunderous beat of your own heart. The walk home was quiet since you couldn't find it in yourself to properly engage in a conversation when all you could think of was the feeling of his left hand resting in the crook of your right arm, which was holding up the umbrella. His hold was delicate, and you relished in the way it made you feel. Matt didn't seem to mind the quiet as you walked through the busy streets, occasionally talking about nothing in particular.

Eventually, the familiar build of your apartment complex loomed close, but you didn't want this to end. So you walked past the building and continued onward aimlessly for what felt like a little while. Matt leaned his head close to yours; his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Your apartment is quite far away. Good thing I'm going with you, or else you would be soaking wet by now."

His casual comment made you slow to a stop, pulling him with you. A look of concern touched his slightly furrowed brows.

"Are you okay?"

You shook your head, unable to look at him. You looked down at your boot-clad feet and his worn Oxford shoes as if you could find courage on the ground you stepped on.

"No … I'm not. I'm so sorry for lying, but we walked by my place … five minutes ago."

You needed to explain yourself as the look of concern on his face deepened.

"I didn't say anything because …."

He was quiet and so still, hanging onto every single word you said.

"Because … I … I like you."

Three simple words, yet the relief of their weight was immeasurable. Now that Matt knew, you felt the rush of regret start to pour in.

"I like you. And I'm sorry I'm so selfish that I made you walk with me even though my apartment is back there. I want to make my last few minutes with you last as long as possible. I'm sorry for even saying all of this–"

Your words were cut off by the touch of his lips on yours. Matt pulled you in by the small of your back, and your heart soared on its timid wings. Your hands hovered on either side of him, unsure of their limit on the newfound territory. As if Matt could sense your hesitation, he pulled back, and all you could think of was how much you would regret it if you let him go. You tugged him back to you by the lapel of his coat with more force than you anticipated, his body crashed clumsily into yours, and you found him again with more certainty this time. His lips were soft, brushing against yours in firm strokes, affirming the reality you hadn't grasped yet. His reciprocation was real and tangible, like the touch of his fingers caressing the bare skin on your neck, holding you against him.

All of his and your emotions were poured into the kiss, albeit slightly clumsy at first, until you found your rhythm, for actions were the only thing that allowed you to express yourselves fully at this moment. Words would be saved for later, as there was only him and you and the all-consuming kiss. Your hand lowered as you dropped the umbrella to the ground so you could hold onto him. Your hand found its way to rest at the back of his head; your fingers carded through the damp, slightly curled hair. Neither of you cared about the rain or the people walking around you as you were lost in the ardent embrace, letting the intensity pull loose at the thread of your longing for each other.

You broke away first, letting out a soft gasp for air. Your eyes were wide open, taking in Matt's swollen lips as you caught your breath. He looked as dishevelled as how you felt, and the small smile on his lips only made your already frantic heart beat faster.

"I like you too—more than you could possibly know. I didn't want to say anything because I thought you wouldn't reciprocate."

Hearing those words from him gave you an immense sense of relief.

"Besides, it's hardly appropriate."

You chuckled at the irony that was your situation. You absentmindedly brushed away the droplets on Matt's face despite the rain still descending upon you.

"Was. I'm not your student anymore, remember?"

His smile broadened at your reminder. His head dipped slightly, and you could see his eyes crinkled in the corners in the most endearing way through the rims of his glasses. He leaned into your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm before gently pulling you in by your jaw for another kiss. This time, it was softer, with all the sense of indulgence the two of you had. After all, you had all the time in the world for each other.

*Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!*

[toomanyrobins2]

Our Manhattan

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

Notes: I'm finally getting around to updating this fic! If you would like to catch up and get more consistent updates to this story and others I would go to by AO3!

24th March, maybe the 25th

Dear Batman,

I don't believe I can be going to Heaven—I am getting such a lot of good things here; it wouldn't be fair to get them hereafter too. Listen to what has happened.

Y/N Abbott has won the short-story contest (a twenty-five dollar prize) that the Monthly holds every year. And she's a Sophomore! The contestants are mostly Seniors. When I saw my name posted, I couldn't quite believe it was true. Maybe I am going to be an author after all. I wish Mrs. Lippett hadn't given me such a silly name—it sounds like an author-ess, doesn't it?

Also I have been chosen for the spring dramatics—As You Like It out of doors. I am going to be Celia, own cousin to Rosalind.

And lastly: Harriet and Barbara and I are going to New York next Friday to do some spring shopping and stay all night and go to the theatre the next day with 'Master Brucie.' He invited us. Harriet is going to stay at home with her family, but Barbara and I are going to stop at the Martha Washington Hotel. Did you ever hear of anything so exciting? I've never been in a hotel in my life, nor in a theatre; except once when the Catholic Church had a festival and invited the orphans, but that wasn't a real play and it doesn't count.

And what do you think we're going to see? Hamlet. Think of that! We studied it for four weeks in Shakespeare class and I know it by heart.

I am so excited over all these prospects that I can scarcely sleep.

Goodbye, Bats.

This is a very entertaining world.

Yours ever,

Judy

PS. I've just looked at the calendar. It's the 28th.

Another postscript.

I saw a street car conductor today with one brown eye and one blue. Wouldn't he make a nice villain for a detective story?

 

7th April

Dear Batman,

Mercy! Isn't New York big? Worcester is nothing to it. Do you mean to tell me that you actually lived in all that confusion? I don't believe that I shall recover for months from the bewildering effect of two days of it. I can't begin to tell you all the amazing things I've seen; I suppose you know, though, since you live there yourself.

But aren't the streets entertaining? And the people? And the shops? I never saw such lovely things as there are in the windows. It makes you want to devote your life to wearing clothes.

Barbara and Harriet and I went shopping together Saturday morning. Harriet went into the very most gorgeous place I ever saw, white and gold walls and blue carpets and blue silk curtains and gilt chairs. A perfectly beautiful lady with yellow hair and a long black silk trailing gown came to meet us with a welcoming smile. I thought we were paying a social call, and started to shake hands, but it seems we were only buying hats—at least Harriet was. She sat down in “front of a mirror and tried on a dozen, each lovelier than the last, and bought the two loveliest of all.

I can't imagine any joy in life greater than sitting down in front of a mirror and buying any hat you choose without having first to consider the price! There's no doubt about it, Bats; New York would rapidly undermine this fine stoical character which the Bowery Home so patiently built up.

And after we'd finished our shopping, we met Master Bruce at Sherry's. I suppose you've been in Sherry's? Picture that, then picture the dining room of the Bowery Home with its oilcloth-covered tables, and white crockery that you can't break, and wooden-handled knives and forks; and fancy the way I felt!

I ate my fish with the wrong fork, but the waiter very kindly gave me another so that nobody noticed.

And after luncheon we went to the theatre—it was dazzling, marvellous, unbelievable—I dream about it every night.

Isn't Shakespeare wonderful?

Hamlet is so much better on the stage than when we analyze it in class; I “appreciated it before, but now, dear me!

I think, if you don't mind, that I'd rather be an actress than a writer. Wouldn't you like me to leave college and go into a dramatic school? And then I'll send you a box for all my performances, and smile at you across the footlights. Only wear a red rose in your buttonhole, please, so I'll surely smile at the right man. It would be an awfully embarrassing mistake if I picked out the wrong one.

We came back Saturday night and had our dinner in the train, at little tables with pink lamps. I never heard of meals being served in trains before, and I inadvertently said so.

'Where on earth were you brought up?' said Harriet to me.

'In a village,' said I meekly, to Harriet.

'But didn't you ever travel?' said she to me.

'Not till I came to college, and then it was only a hundred and sixty miles and we didn't eat,' said I to her.

She's getting quite interested in me, because I say such funny things. I try hard not to, but they do pop out when I'm surprised—and I'm surprised most “of the time. It's a dizzying experience, to pass eighteen years in the Bowery Home, and then suddenly to be plunged into the WORLD.

But I'm getting acclimated. I don't make such awful mistakes as I did; and I don't feel uncomfortable anymore with the other girls. I used to squirm whenever people looked at me. I felt as though they saw right through my sham new clothes to the checked ginghams underneath. But I'm not letting the ginghams bother me anymore. Sufficient unto yesterday is the evil thereof.

I forgot to tell you about our flowers. Master Bruce gave us each a big bunch of violets and lilies-of-the-valley. Wasn't that sweet of him? I never used to care much for men—judging by Trustees—but I'm changing my mind.

Yours always,

Y/N 

 

10th April

Dear Mr. Rich-Man,

Here's your cheque for fifty dollars. Thank you very much, but I do not feel that I can keep it. My allowance is sufficient to afford all of the hats that I need. I am sorry that I wrote all that silly stuff about the millinery shop; it's just that I had never seen anything like it before.

However, I wasn't begging! And I would rather not accept any more charity than I have to.

Sincerely yours,

Y/N Abbott

Bruce stared down at the check. He had barely thought about it when they had been out in the city and once Y/n had sent the letter, he’d dispatched the check without a second thought. 

Clark Kent, who had been present during the discussion about Y/N's shopping woes, entered the study with a knowing expression. "Having trouble with the whole 'helping' thing?" Clark quipped, a  smile playing on his lips.

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to make things a bit easier for her. She didn't have to return the check."

Clark leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "Bruce, you know Y/N at this point. She's independent and proud. Accepting help might not come naturally to her, especially from someone like you."

Bruce frowned, the frustration evident in his eyes. "But I want to help. She shouldn't have to feel lesser than her peers."

Clark nodded, understanding Bruce's genuine concern. "Maybe it's not about the help itself, but how it's offered. Try sending her a letter with a short note explaining why you sent the check. Make it personal. Sometimes, a few carefully chosen words can make a big difference."

Bruce considered Clark's suggestion, recognizing the wisdom in his friend's advice. "You think that might work?"

"Y/N's a writer, Bruce. Words matter to her. A thoughtful note can make the gesture feel less like charity and more like a friend looking out for another," Clark explained.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce reached for a pen and paper. 

Miss Abbott, I go against my rules by penning this letter but I find myself unable to let this matter go. This check is not charity but a gift from a friend who wishes to see you excel in all matters. I wish you to be able to experience all that your peers are able to. I have never sponsored a woman before and I confess that I lack the knowledge to ensure that you are equal to your peers.  I kindly request that you keep this cheque as an apology for my own failings as your patron.  Mr. Smith

As Bruce sealed the letter, he handed it to Alfred, who was passing by. "Alfred, make sure this gets to Miss Abbott. And let's hope this time, she accepts it."