#with all their loved ones instead of having to drag them all somewhere else to basically

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: The Contact, the Butler and the Sly Time Lord

Martha accidentally engaged Bruce to a higher being when he was two.

It sounds terrible, but she hadn't thought that the man wearing the Time ghost costume at her husband's Halloween Gala wasn't wearing a costume and was actually the physical embodiment of Time.

She just thought he took Halloween very seriously.

Mr. Clockwork was charming and didn't care that she had married from the lower level of first class. Her parents were rich, of course, but they weren't old money, and they certainly didn't have a lot of power to speak of.

Because of that, the elites of Gotham thought she wasn't good enough to be in a family such as the Waynes. It was so lovely not to be dragged into conversations that were thinly concealed insults.

Everyone else at the Gala thought Martha had no right to be there with them. Why was she just a few zeros off from being middle class, and wasn't it just so sad that Thomas would stain his family with her?

Secertly, Martha prayed Bruce would do something wild, like marry a girl from Crime Alley or even adopt kids in lower classes to make them all choke on their pearls.

Her son would be one of the most powerful men in a few years, and she couldn't wait to see what kind of hell he would unleash upon them. She would never push, of course, but it would be a nice fantasy to have every time she had to face passive-aggressive comments from ladies told by their fathers they would be a far better Mrs. Wyane.

" Why, hello there. Aren't you the cutest little thing?" Mr. Clockwork coos, smiling down at Bruce. He clung to his mother's skirt, his matching cowboy costume a miniature version of what she was wearing.

The boy had wandered over in the middle of their conversation once he was bored of coloring at his table. Martha couldn't blame her poor baby. There really wasn't much to do for those his age here.

Thomas had stated that children were usually not brought along due to being loud and distracting.

Martha wouldn't hear any of it, insisting her son would be going with them at the party or there would be no party. The majority of the elites believed children should be seen, not heard, and that boiled her blood something fierce.

Thomas had thankfully known when to pick his battles, so he allowed his wife to drag him to a costume store for a family costume to wear. He currently chatting with a group of investors in all his cowboy glory somewhere on the other side of the gala.

"Say thank you, Bruce," She tells her boy, but he only hides his face more, causing the two adults to chuckle. "Do you have kids, Mr.Clockwork?"

"Yes. Two daughters and a son" The man chuckles "All three are a handleful but I love them dearly."

"Oh, how wonderful. Bruce is my only son, but I want to give him siblings," she tells him warmly. She can picture Bruce chasing after his younger siblings dressed up as the Grey Ghost he loves.

She knows Thomas was worried about their chances of having a second child. He was informed not too long ago that he may suffer from secondary infertility. She didn't mind. If they couldn't have a child of their own by blood they could easily adopt.

Martha worked long and hard to provide good orphanages to the city. Maybe one day, a child from there could be her own. She'll have to speak to her orphanage managers- those in charge of the kids- to see if they could help her find one.

They have successfully been getting kids into good homes (At least she thought the number of children constantly changed, and the kids were never seen again, meaning the families that adopted them loved them enough to never return!)

Mr. Clockwork hums "how about giving him a spouse instead? My girls or boy could be a good partner"

Laughing, she assumes he meant her work on bettering the lives of the gay community- in honor of her brother who passed during the AIDs epidemic. "I'm sure Bruce would be happy to hear Mommy found him a husband."

"Is that a yes?" Clockwork eyes' flashed with an emotion that was gone too quick for her to identify.

"Yes, of course. If that is what they both want, I wouldn't mind their marriage at all."

Mr. Clockworks red eyes - contacts? A medical condition?- gleam, and his voice takes on a strange rhythm. "Then so shall it be, my son Danny Fenton shall be married to Bruce Wayne per their Blood Mother and Core Father deal."

Huh. Maybe Mr. Clockwork is a nutcase. Suddenly, she thinks back to her father, who would often tell her that she lived in a delusion because he did not want her to see the horror that Gotham truly is.

Even when you think you're doing good, Gotham has a way of making your work into nightmares.

Was Mr. Clockwork one of those people he warned her about?

Thankfully, he leaves not long after that. He claims he must return to work before his co-workers notice him gone. She doesn't see him for the rest of the night and half wonders if she had been speaking to one of the wait staff they hired as extra help.

Not that she minded, but it made her think his name might not even be Clockwork.

She tells Thomas the story hours after Bruce is put to bed with a candy bucket and the last guests have all slipped home. Thomas is exhausted, having been playing host longer than her because Martha had left around eight to take Bruce trick and treating. Then she got home and put him down for his bedtime.

She got back to the party around eleven but it was a much-needed break from all the hostility that Thomas had been forced to face alone.

"WHAT!?" Thomas booms when she finishes the story. They had just crawled into bed, and Thomas had been rolling to his side for sleep before her words flung him back. "Clockwork!? You're sure you spoke to Clockwork!?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"What did he look like?"

"Um well he was in costume, but red eyes, blue skin, and he was wearing purple robes." She watches as the blood drains from her husband's face. "What is it darling? Who was he?"

"Oh, this isn't good....Alfred! Alfred!" Thomas frantically calls as if the devil had appeared in their bedroom.

Their servant and sometimes lover comes racing into the room, carrying a loaded shotgun. Ever since Thomas had met him overseas when he hired the British man as a personal bodyguard, he fell hard and fast for Alfred but he still deeply loved Martha.

He had sent Martha a letter detailing his feelings for his guard, and only after she had given him permission did he pursue the butler. Alfred had insisted on meeting Thomas' wife to prove that she was okay with him having a lover, so he had followed Wayne back home.

Then he simply never left.

Maybe because he was the best butler Wayne ever had, with his regal training and service in her royal highness' army, but she thinks that her own developed feelings for Alfred convince him to remain.

Alfred insisted that he was only a servant and thus could not be added to their marriage besides a bed partner occasionally. Still, Martha hoped one day they could convince him otherwise.

Bruce already saw him as a second father.

He looks at the pair, dressed in their nightwear in a rather enticing position (Thomas had grabbed Martha by her shoulder, to look into her eyes but that left them rather entangled on the bed) with no visible threat, and raises one brow.

Before he can say anything Thomas is all but rolling out of bed in a frantic leap. He tangles up in the blankets, falling gracelessly over the edge in failing limbs "Martha made a deal with Clockwork!"

At once, Alfred's handsome face drains of blood. "Oh dear, Martha darling, you made a grave mistake."

She can only blink at the men in confusion. "Who is Clockwork?"

"He has many names, but I knew him as Merlin," Alfred informed her evenly. He took her hand in his, the tremble in his fingers revealing his unease. " He had shown interest in Master Thomas before and was the one I protected him from. I barely fought him off and only due to outsmarting him. I would not be able to do it again a second time."

What?

"He is also known as a Fae or incubus in some circles. The kind that steals you away for fun." Thomas babbled from where he was pacing next to the bed, eyes franticly glancing about as if the bogggie man was about to leap out at him from the shadows.

For a moment, Martha wondered why her husband, a man of science and medicine who had never been superstitious, believed this Clockwork was some...some creature of myths.

"Martha, love, what did he ask of you?" Alfred questioned, bringing her hand to his lips as though kissing them would confirm she was safe before him.

"He asked for Bruce to marry his son."

"Oh, gods!" Thomas fretted, speeding up, his long strides becoming far more frantic. "Please say you didn't say yes."

"I-thought it was a joke, I didn't see anything wrong with it, I- said yes."

Alfred closed his eyes, looking like a man who had just been informed his death sentence had been signed by the Queen. "Then all we can do now is pray."

Years later, as Alfred is dusting the portrait of his deceased loves. He allowed his hand to trace the cover of Martha's painted smile and Thomas' strong jaw, mind filled with stolen kisses and sweet nothings that were ripped away that fateful night.

He is still struck by their loss. Every now and then, the knowledge of their death creeps in during his most mundane activities. It's like a kick to the chest every time.

Oh, how he misses them.

Ding Dong

The front doorbell jolts him out of his memories so violently it takes the aged Butler a moment or two to get a hold of his senses. He puts down the duster, climbs down the latter, and quickly makes his way to the door.

Stopping to fix his suit coat, he throws it open with a prepared smile. He expects extra help from the catering company Master Bruce hired for Wayne's annual Halloween Gala.

He was not expecting the two men, one looking nervous around Master Bruce's age and the other sly. His age is hard to gauge, but it may be due to time not affecting him as it did mortals.

Alfred's blood freezes at the sight of those cunning red eyes and smirk. "Merlin."

"Alfred Pennyworth." The demon chuckles. "I prefer Clockwork, as you know, but it's good to see you remember me. Most humans are prone to forgetting in their limited age."

"What are you doing here?"

"Why I came to fulfill the deal between Martha Wayne nee Kane and I"

"Martha is dead. Your contact is void."

Clockwork chuckles again, the sound as deadly as poison. "The contact lives as long as all those involved in it live. You know this."

Alfred presses the panic button on his wristwatch, knowing it sends a message to everyone in the manor to evacuate immediately. He will not live through this battle, but hopefully, it will give Master Bruce time to escape. "You will not lay a hand on Master Bruce."

"Come now, Alfred. We are to be in-laws. Our sons are joining in holy matrimony. Why the hostility-"

"Excuse me what?" The other man-demon? Ghost? Higher-being? cuts in, looking at Clockwork with brows knitted into a frown. "What did you mean holy matrimony?"

"Danny, you're getting married," Clockwork says with a cheerful wave.

"The hell I am!" The man barks, flushing red with anger. Alfred can hardly believe he just yelled at the monster. "I am not marrying some random guy!"

"It is the way things must go for the good of mankind-"

"Oh, go suck on a lemon! We both know that whole "this is fate" is bull!"

"You are embarrassing me in front of our new in-laws, younn man" Clockwork actually waves a finger at the fully grown human. "This is my one chance to marry you off to a good man. We both know that you can't attract a mate on your own."

"What!? Yes, I can! I've had girlfriends and boyfriends before!"

"And yet, no spouse! No wedding! Not even a ring!"

"Moby Dick, I knew this bonding fishing trip was a lie! You can't make me get married because of some contact you made when I was three!"

"It's not permanent! Martha Wayne said If that is what they both want, I wouldn't mind their marriage at all. This means you both must want to be together after one year of marriage. See if you like it, and if you don't, I can always find you a new husband."

"This isn't returning a jacket to a store! I can't just see if I like being married Clockwork!" The man hissed running a hand through his hair. "We're going home. I'm so sorry for bothering you today Mr. Alfred."

Alfred blinks at the young man's sheepish smile, wondering if ti's a trick. "No bother at all."

"Danny, if you leave without marriage, Bruce Wayne will die in an hour due to breaking our contract," Clockwork says, crossing his arms. "Honestly, your sisters were far more mature regarding their marriages."

Danny punches him in the face with a glowing hand. The higher being falls like a sack of bricks.

"Right, I'm going to drop this one off at a nursing home, and then I'll return to marry Bruce. Only so the contact doesn't kill him, and I swear I'll only visit every once in a while until our year is up." Throwing- Merlin, holy shit- over his shoulder as if though he weighed nothing, Danny waves at Alfred and scurries away, vanishing into a green portal.

Alfred is left standing at the doorway, utterly flabbergasted. Distantly, he wonders if the hollowing wind is actually Martha laughing herself silly in the afterlife.

Carefully, he reaches up for his com, switching it on to the sound of his family's frantic bickering. They were all worried about him since he sent the alarm and were fighting about following policy or saving him.

"Master Bruce," He says faintly silencing the coms "Please come to have your suit fitted as soon as you can."

"What for?" His son asks, likely looking for a coded message, but Alfred doesn't have the mental capacity to make one.

"Your wedding, sir. It's tonight, courtesy of your mother."

The coms explode into chaos.

[blckbrrybasket]

ᯓ★ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

MDNI

SFW

- Listens to She Wants Revenge and Rob Zombie

- With some of his jokes one of his favorite ones to pull is on new recruits. When someone asks what his story is or why he wears a mask he loves looking into the distance and saying, “It all started after the incident.”

- You know those tik toks of how someone’s boyfriend sleeps like a dead victorian child? Ghost sleeps like a plank of wood. Even in his sleep he looks like he hasn’t known a day of rest.

- Ghost’s laugh is thick, raspy, and broken up between coughs that only make him laugh harder. It’s full of life.

- If you watch Ghost for awhile you’ll notice the random faces he makes when he doesn’t have the mask on. He’s so used to people not seeing his face that he forgets to mask his emotions, sometimes blatantly making a disgusted face at someone. He has no idea why they fucked off somewhere else but he wasn’t going to ask

- Wears socks to sleep. No one in the task force has let it go.

- Will know he’s wrong in a non-serious argument, however, instead of admitting defeat he’ll say increasingly confusing things until the other person is too confused to keep arguing. It doesn’t do anything for him, he just thinks it’s funny.

- After drinks Ghost becomes a poet with how he talks about the people he loves.

- Ghost is so good at reading lips and has a scarily amazing hearing - Soap or Gaz will whisper something to each other about him and he’ll lean over them to go “what’d you say,” knowing full well what they said. He finds it hilarious watching them stumble on their words.

SFW (serious)

- Ghost isn’t violent in his day to day life. He has moments of anger like anyone, but he would never hurt anyone he loves. He knows exactly how that feels and would never do that to someone else. Ghost takes pride in how far he’s come.

- Ghost doesnt normally wear his full mask in public, as it would draw way too much attention to him. Instead he wears a black face mask. He was sort of thankful for covid since he could blend into the crowd with his mask for once.

- Ghost is not heartless. No matter how much others try and sell it, he is not a heartless monster. At the end of the day he’s human and he hates that the most. He hates emotions, specifically sadness. It’s hard for him to deal with. Ghost tries not to close himself off, but he naturally deals with things on his own. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you to hold him though.

- He doesn’t understand crying over things people can’t solve or adverse reactions. If he sees someone have a ‘irregular’ outburst he has trouble gripping why. Ghost’s brain works very logically and though he struggles to grasp it he tries to understand. He won’t ever be the person who bursts into tears over a movie, but he works hard to understand where someone may be coming from.

- When Ghost talks about feelings he’s usually really blunt with it and says what he feels. He doesn’t like to drag his feet in the emotion and tries to move on from it as fast as he can. Unless he’s drunk then see above. (He’s a laid-back lovey drunk.)

NSFW

- Contrary to popular belief, Ghost is pretty tame in bed. Every other part of his life is rough but with you in his arms he wants to savor how you feel. If you ask him to be rough he may be depending on his mood but he never does too much and always checks on you.

- It takes awhile of building trust, but Ghost eventually lets you ride him on top. He knows he’s a strong man and stop anything but it takes him a bit to be okay being on the bottom. At first his muscles are nervously wound tight until he feels himself enter. Imagine the universe zooming out dramatically, that’s how his brain feels when he experiences this for the first time with you. He ends up a drooling, groaning puddle.

- Always has a protective hand on you in public. His large palm spreads over the small of your back, sliding to cover your thigh when you sit in a chair. Ghost doesn’t even realize when his fingers instinctively draw circles on the muscle, missing how close they are to your crotch. When he plucks at the fabric of your bottoms and hears your shaky breath he realizes how much he’s riled you up. Don’t worry, he’ll always take care of you.

- Ghost doesn’t tend to jerk off much due to lack of time and not having a high sex drive. He honestly couldn’t care less whether he has sex or not. It’s never crossed his mind as an issue on either side of having it or not. When he does have sex he makes sure it’s fucking good. Ghost’s a thorough guy and he’s very thorough with you.

- Usually in the middle of the scale of preferring receiving or giving. After hearing your sweet noises he leans more towards preferring giving. He would never turn down a blowjob from you though.

- On the quieter side when fucking. Low groans, huffing, and sighs of relief. If you edge him for awhile, however, you can pull a few broken moans from him.

- Doesn’t wear the mask during sex unless you explicitly ask for it. It feels reassuring to bare his full self to you when having sex.

- Has to hide his smile when he sees the scratches down his back. He takes pictures and proudly sends them to you.

- Before getting into aftercare Ghost likes to sit there with you for a bit. He makes sure never to lay for too long so he can clean you up, but he always lays there with you to let the love seep into his bones. Ghost loves replaying the scene in his head to memorize your beauty.

[recaltera]

pretty when you beg

pairing: enzo vogrincic x fem reader

🏷 smut (minors dni) teasing, underwear kink(?), oral (f rec), overstim, orgasm countdown, orgasm control, hard dom enzo and kinda mean enzo if u squint, spitting

a/n: (IMPORTANT!!) hiii this is my first fic ever i hope u like it :D if u wanna i can also translate into spanish so more people can read it. please let me know what u think and if u have any requests let me know in the ask box thingy, i write for everyone in lsdln’s cast. tyvm !! have a good day/night mwah ♡

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deep breaths was all that could be heard, his lips trailing down from your neck to your abdomen. leaving a trail of wet kisses on his way to your clothed cunt.

he kept teasing you tonight, you went out to celebrate your three months together and instead of being all romantic and lovey-dovey, he was whispering the dirtiest things into your ears. but to be honest, you weren’t complaining at all, that’s one of the many things you loved about him, how dirty he could get, even in the most innocent occasions.

— going to fuck you so good tonight, angel.

all you could do was blush and giggle it off.

so here he was kissing your clit through your black laced panties you wore just for him tonight over and over again. it felt so good, yet it wasn’t enough, you needed more.

— enzo, please

he used his thumb to rub over your lips, something he did when he wanted you to open your mouth for him, wether it meant he wanted you to suck him off, or just make you suck in his fingers. however, this time he leaned over to spit in your mouth. and you gladly opened up and swallowed for him.

— shut the fuck up.

you kept bucking your hips into his face, but to no avail cause he ended up pinning you to the mattress, with his slender, pretty fingers sprawled out on your stomach. the fingers you oh so wanted somewhere else. the fingers you had spent HOURS thinking about.

as he was busy making out with your clothed pussy, kissing and sucking here and there, making the lace panties wet with his saliva. you were getting desperate to feel something, anything. you took his fingers into your own hands and guided them where you needed him the most.

— nuh uh, i want you to cum because of my mouth tonight.

you groaned when he finally took your panties off and kissed your inner thighs… slowly. still teasing you.

— fuck please, please, give me something.

and so he did, he kissed your now bare clit and started sucking on it like a desperate, starved man. the sounds he made while eating u out were like music to your ears.

he kept alternating between licks and flicks to your bud until you came, kissing your clit over and over to ride out your high. just to get off the bed and look for your favorite vibrator. he put it on a medium speed and pressed it lightly over your clit making you moan a little too loud from the overstimulation.

— s’too much enzo, no. no. no. no, stop it.

but he knew you didn’t want him to stop, if you did actually want that you would have used your safe word. he knew how fucking greedy you were. how no matter how many times he made you cum, if he wanted you to cum again then that’s what you’d do. you’d do anything to please him. anything for him.

he pressed it harder and started dragging it along your folds only stopping once the toy was on your clit again. he loved seeing your fucked out face, and how just by playing with the bundle of nerves he could get you to look like a mess; legs sprawled out and open for him, cunt red and glistening with your own juices and his spit. it was quite the sight if you asked him.

once you had relaxed and let him have his way with you for a couple of minutes, he used his index finger to put the toy on the highest setting. making the vibrations buzz around your whole body. making you shake because of the pleasure he was providing you.

he knew you were close, he already knew every part of your body, what you liked and what you didn’t. how to make u cum, how to get you on your knees for him, and how you reacted when you were about to hit your orgasm, so without moving the toy away from you, he leaned down, sticking his tongue inside of u going in and out at a fast pace. making you close your legs around his head for that extra feeling. you were so close to the edge, literally about to let go when he says;

— you cant cum until i say so.

he proceeded to begin with his 10 second countdown he loved to do when he wanted you to beg and cry for him. he loved hearing how desperate you were to cum for him. how pretty you looked with tears in your eyes.

“10… 9…”

— m’so close please

you could literally feel the tears in your eyes.

“8… 7… 6…”

— i don’t think i’ll last, please let me cum

“5… 4… 3…“

— please please please

“2…“

— fuck enzo

“1…”

— cum baby, make a mess for me, hm?

you came, you came so fucking hard letting him guide you through it.

— good job, angel. hope you are aware of the fact that we are not finished yet. or is my little doll too dumb to think right now?

he said with a pout on his lips, faking sympathy at your fucked out state. and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want whatever the fuck it was this beautiful man standing in front of you wanted to give you.

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[lookingformoondrop]

Yan!Andrew with his Reader who found out she's pregnant? Spoiler: She didn't want to have children.

Yan!Andrew Graves x Preg!Reader

TW: Unexpected pregnancy, hints at abortion, reader in captivity, manipulation, yandere Andrew, unwanted pregnancy

♡ Notes: I wrote this entire thing while on a train so you'll probably find a wild typo or error font somewhere here. I said in my last post that my next work would be a fluffy one, I lied. Sorry. Remember kids, practice safe sex, and dont act like Andy. Thank you so much for supporting me, anon! I appreciate all the requests and asks from you guys. <33

Andrew hummed as he removed his shoes and took off his coat.

Work was a drag, his boss was a dick, and his family was unbearable. But despite it all, he had you at the end of the day.

When he came home, he'd always hear your padded footsteps coming down the hall to greet him.

You'd wear one of his shirts or wear a cute outfit he'd pick out for you, all to make him happy.

He just loves you so much.

I mean, that's why he took you in the first place.

You had no idea who he was, only that he was a customer that came at odd times of the day in the cafe where you worked.

He could only guess how poor the pay must've been. How miserable you were... Yes, that's it.

As he watched you, he could spot the circles under your eyes, and he knew instantly that fate had brought you here, or maybe it was a cult summoning? Either way, you belonged with him. And he would bend heaven and earth to keep it that way.

Andrew blinked away his train of thought and looked up. He hadn't heard your footsteps.

That was unusual.

Andrew quickly slipped his bag to the ground and walked further into the house.

The kitchen was empty, minus the dishes and pots from last night's dinner that still remained untouched in the sink.

The living room was empty, minus the tissues scattered all over the floor, and the blankets that pooled the floor.

With his heart racing, he sprinted to the last room he hadn't checked. The bedroom.

He pushed the door open with haste; his eyes wildly searched the room.

The bed was unmade, and the sheets were shoved off the mattress, trailing onto the wooden floor.

As Andrew stepped further into the bedroom and he could hear the sound of the shower, and small sniffles coming from inside.

Andrew let out a sigh of relief, you hadn't left. You were still home with him. But now he had another problem to deal with.

He knocked on the bathroom door and heard a quick shuffle from the other side. The water turned off and Andrew flinched at the sound of objects crashing.

Then out you came, your eyes were red and your hair was messy, as if your fingers ran through them constantly.

You mustered a smile for Andrew, muttering out a weak 'welcome home' before Andrew grabbed your arms for inspection.

"What happened? What were you doing? Why were you crying?" He craned his neck out to try and look inside the bathroom, but you quickly closed the door.

"I was about to take a shower when you came home so uh, I dropped some bath products when I realized I hadn't greeted you." It was a horrible lie, really. You knew lying was one of Andrew's biggest pet peeves, even if he lied consistently himself.

"My little lamb, you're not making a lot of sense right now..." Andrew tried giving you a sweet smile, but the vein twitching in his forehead told you how he really felt.

His grip on your arms became tighter, and he leaned in closer, "I would like to know what you're keeping from me, please."

"I... I was crying," you cringed at how weak your voice sounded.

"Clearly, what else? Don't stall for time you don't have Y/N. Tell me who hurt you, I don't fucking care for the reason."

You peeled Andrew's hands off of you which was surprising giving his intense tone. You slowly walked to the bed and sat down, tracing the thread that was imbedded in your mattress. Your eyes lingered on the white sheets for a second too long.

Andrew followed suit, instead opting to go on his knees in front of you as to hold your hands.

He traced his name on your wrists with his finger and hummed a low tune, unremarkable at best, but it calmed your nerves.

"You are my bleeding heart, Y/N. Everything you feel, I long to taste, everything you love, I devour, and every secret you keep from me I savagely rip apart to find. What could you possibly keep from me, that I wouldn't find out in under a day?"

You kept still, refusing to meet Andrew's gaze.

"You have to promise you won't.. um, get mad." You chewed on your lip as you thought about your next words. The lump in your throat grew harder to swallow the more you thought about it.

How were you supposed to deliever such... news, when that news made you want to rip your hair out from stress.

"yeah, I promise. My little lamb, tell me, what is wrong?"

"I'm scared, Andrew." You looked up.

"Scared?" Answered Andrew, who let go of your wrists to instead settle around your waist.

He continued, "What could you possibly have to fear while with me? Are you afraid of someone?"

You shook your head, "no, well maybe, not yet I-" You took deep breaths, your chest felt like it was going to crack from the pressure.

"Not yet? What does that even mean?" Andrew furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose, trying to make sense of it all.

"Andrew, do you know what day of the month it is?"

Andy groaned; his patience was begging to grow thin. "Y/N, I'm done playing this game with you. Are you trying to provoke me to extreme measures or something?"

"No! Just... answer the question. What day of the month is it?"

Andrew shrugged, "It's the first of the month. It's my mom's birthday. It's trash day. It's Monday. I don't fucking know what this has to do with our conversation, Y/N!?"

"No Andrew, just listen to me! Look, I usually get my period on the first of every month. But last month I didn't get my period."

"So?" Andrew looked at you with annoyance in his features.

"So.... I should have gotten my period last month, but I didn't. I'm not an irregular person and I've been here awhile so..."

Andrew's features stayed scrunched with confusion and annoyance as the words mulled over in his head.

Then it hit him.

Andrew fell back on his butt in shock, staring at you, your belly, and then back to you. The realization so big that his brain stopped the train to language station.

"You're pregnant?" He muttered.

You nodded, the tears that danced on your waterline finally falling. Your chest shook, and you gasped deep breaths, the pressure you had on your chest this morning, becoming ten-fold the weight as Andrew processed this information.

Your head hung low as the sobs shook your ribcage.

Without realizing it, Andrew got back up and sat beside you on the bed.

Wrapping his arms around your head and body, so that your body pushed against his chest.

A gigantic smile placed itself on his face, every bad thing that happened up until that point dispearred in a cloud. The only thing he could think about was the baby you were growing.

His baby.

Finally, Andrew let you go and grabbed your face, lifting it up so that he could place gentle kisses on your forehead. "My Y/N, thank you. This... fuck, I thought you were going to say something horrible, but this? Shit, this is the best news I could have ever heard, well maybe besides news of my sister's death or imprisonment but shit this is even better!"

His kisses became harder and more passionate. But he hadn't noticed the soul that had left your body. Instead, you looked at him terrified.

"But... Andrew, I'm not ready for this. I- I don't even think I'm old enough to be raising children, let alone birth one. This thing could rip me apart." Your breathing became quicker, the pressure on your chest becoming an unbearable pain.

You were so sure that Andrew would hate the idea of children, that he would have the initiative to take this thing out of you, but he was so happy, so much so he couldn't be bothered to notice your despair.

"Doesn't matter. You need to stop worrying about things that haven't even happened yet. You're pregnant, and that's all that matters. You're pregnant with my baby, and you will live through every moment." His smile never faltered as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, humming a sweeter tune this time and rubbing your tummy.

"I'm not ready," you cried, shaking your head profusely.

Andrew looked up with a smile, trailing his forefinger down the bridge of your nose.

"Doesn't matter."

You held onto Andrew's hands as he leaned forward and embraced you. Sighing deeply into your chest.

"I love our little family. Don't you?"

Thank you for the ask!<3

[nariism]

gojo satoru believes that all good things come in twos.

he was the second half of his best friend, after all— part of a wandering soul somewhere else in japan spouting some bullshit about retribution. he hasn't quite been the same since 2009.

it wasn't always this way. never before had he been so endeared, so enchanted by the prospect of keeping things together just for the sake of it. 

he remembers clearly the day this hyperfixation started, actually: a warm summer sunday in sagae with you dragging him along through the local fruit market. you picked out a bag of cherries, holding up a twin pair of them and dangling them in his face.

"they're sweeter here," you told him with such a fascinated expression, completely enamoured by the ruby jewels held between your fingers. and he savoured that moment, as mundane as it was, because your eyes were shining in adoration at such a perfect pair of cherries. 

(also, when you ate them your lips stained a pretty shade of red that made him salivate.)

he realized that things felt more whole in pairs: two hands cupping his face, two charms dangling from your neck, two cherries infinitely sweeter than one. two hearts, two souls, two people who both belong and don't belong in such a wicked world cradling each other with a shared breath.

gojo felt lonely without another— in the time between geto's defection and your reunion, he missed the feeling of being the other half of a duo. nanami buried himself into work. shoko fared no better. he was utterly, shamefully alone.

he was a new person when you returned to him. a lot of things had changed. but despite the distance and the slow untwining of your lives over the years, you knew gojo to be stubborn more than anything.

"two dogs are better than one," he argued when megumi was first learning how to control his cursed technique.

"he's just a kid. making him responsible for one, let alone two, is crazy!"

"i'm telling you, megumi is no pushover! you'll see."

he was right. sometimes (and only sometimes) he does know better. two was better than one.

you could see it in megumi's face when both dogs pounced on him, licking him and wagging their tails. in fact, it was probably the first time you'd ever seen the kid smile at all.

so you went along with gojo, indulged him whenever he reached for two things instead of one: two boxes of juice from the convenience store fridge, two fingers locked together while you walk, two earbuds split between you so you can sing together. two hearts, two souls, two blue eyes fluttering shut when he leans in to kiss you.

when he asked you to move in with him, you weren't surprised in the least. you were also not surprised to see how he set things up around the house, nothing lonely and everything in a pair. gojo feels like you think he's insane. he might be.

being with you made him feel as normal as gojo satoru could ever feel in this life— breathing no longer hurt like water filling his lungs. it was as natural as you basking in the rising sun every morning. living didn't need to be justified anymore. he wasn't obligated to be the strongest. he just needed to exist in your warmth.

things make sense in twos. the world is less gloomy with you by his side.

it's unspoken between you, but you oblige to his strange fixation anyways: two slices of peanut butter on toast in the morning, two stars atop a christmas tree, two picture frames on every side table. two hearts, two souls, two people being each other's reason to keep pushing.

he thinks he loves you a foolish amount. knows he shouldn't be putting all his eggs into one basket. he might be untouchable, but you aren't.

it's inevitable. one day, gojo satoru will be alone again.

and it's a fair exchange for power; a curse he wishes he was never born with. if he had the choice, he would have picked you over limitless power without a moment's pause.

he doesn't have the choice. unlucky.

all he can really do is let you cup his face. feed him cherries. argue over how to raise megumi and tsumiki and live in your little fantasy of pretending to be a family. all he can do is cherish the time you have left together, regardless of how long. all he can do is hope you'll say yes.

two hearts, two souls, two matching rings (one white, one black; he was poetic that way). one meant for him, and the other meant for you— a promise to keep and to break.

he doesn’t care. you and him make the best pair he can think of, no matter how fleeting.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[baby-bearie]

shut up - ajax petropolus x reader

a/n: if i can’t find the angst, then i will write the angst

pairing: ajax petropolus x reader

warnings: fights, cussing, the usual cheese

genre: angst with fluff, 1.2k words

tags: @sunflowermotel @maraseavey @tinylatina01 @obx-direction-sos @stfukie @voguesir @morgansmoreid @yunhosleftpinky @adoreyou976

“C’mon. Don’t do that.” Ajax huffs, hands stuffed in his pockets. He stands a good eight feet away from you.

“Do what? Seriously, Jax, do what? Tell me what we are doing, I would love to know.” Your eyes widen as you speak.

Ajax is an ass. Ajax has no idea how to communicate. Ajax is telling you, after about two years of flirting and leading you on, that he needs space to figure out what he wants.

“Don’t do that! I’m not doing this to be mean, Y/n. I seriously just need to figure my own shit out. Give me some fuckin’ time!”

You want to scream. You want to shove his stupid beanie into his stupid face and accept the rocky consequences. “Time? You want time?” You seethe.

He does not take the hint that he should immediately say no. “Yes! I swear, Y/n, I do like-” “Shut up, Ajax. Fuck you.”

You interrupt him. Ajax groans at the sky and prepares to deal with the next argument you throw at him, but it never comes. He looks back at you, and is terrified.

There are tears in your eyes. And he has no idea when they began or what he’s done, but Ajax is speechless for the first time in years. Finally, after standing so far from you during this whole spectacle, he takes one step towards you. “Y/n, don’t cry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You take a step back. “Shut up. God, just shut up,” your voice is weak and you sniffle in the pauses between words. Ajax feels each pause somewhere in his stomach, a hit to his soul. “You know what, Ajax,” you back further away from him, “You want time, you got it. Take all the time you need. Take forever. It doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t wait anymore for you to decide whether or not you actually want me. You have ruined me for two years. I won’t give you more time, Ajax. Take it for yourself.”

You finish strong, which you think is a win. At least you have not lost all of your dignity in front of him. But he watches your bottom lip tremble, and he feels panic rise in him. His hands are shaking and he is suddenly remembering the way he felt the first time he stoned his best friend and ultimately thought they were dead. The fear that he has forced you away and is now really, finally, losing you takes hold. Time. He just needs time. He just needs to figure out how he can permanently stop himself from turning you into stone, just enough time for that. But how does he say that? ‘I’m so sorry my hair is made of snakes and every time I get near you I want to be extremely close to you and I’m terrified that I might hurt you and it scares the shit out of me, but I can’t really get rid of them, please give me time to figure out how?’

He supposes that is exactly how he should tell you, but he has no words. Instead he sputters out, “Wait,” as he’s watching you walk away from him. And the way you don’t pause for him, don’t wait at all, should be reason enough for him to leave you alone.

But when has he ever been reasonable?

And so he trails behind you like a lost puppy, gasping for air in between his words as he tells you he really does want to be with you. His feet drag through puddles of recent rain, and your hair is a little damp, and first he hopes your sniffles are because of the weather and not him. Then he wonders how long you’d been out here before he came looking. How long did you wait for him to realize you were gone?

He hopes the splashes the puddles make cover up the wavers in his own voice. “Y/n, please, just listen. I swear it’s not like that. No one else. There’s nobody but you, Y/n. I’ll fix it, okay? Just a little time, okay? You know how I feel about you. Please, Y/n. Say something.”

He mumbles the last part as you enter your dorm room. You turn around to close the door and he sees your face as you grip the frame.

“It’s late, Ajax. You should go.”

He does not want to go. He is running on pure adrenaline and a little weed when he scales the brick wall up to your dorm window. His mind has never been clearer. The deadly climb up here locked in his plan and his words. He finds the door onto the balcony is unlocked and he stumbles into your room.

You groan and stand. “Jax, go.”

“Shut up.” He snaps, pointing a finger at you. “Sit down. Shut up and sit down. Listen. I have something to say.”

You sit down on the bed. You prop your hand on your palm and nod to him to talk.

He takes the hint. “I get it, okay? I’m stupid. Dumb as fuck. Really out of the loop. And I’m bad at telling you what’s going on, but it’s only because I really like you. Never felt like this for anyone. You know that. You know I’m head over heels for you.” He tilts his head to the side.

“Cheesy,” You mutter.

“Shut up.” He points again. “And I’m sorry if I made you feel any different. I didn’t know I was doing that. But, Y/n, I’m so scared of being with you. I’m so scared of hurting you. And don’t tell me it’s only temporary, it wouldn’t just be temporary. Things would be different.” He doesn’t say the word, but you know what he means. “You wouldn’t trust me, I’d be even more scared of you. Don’t look at me like that, I’ve thought this out. I’m smart enough to know what that would mean. And what about when I fuck up? I have no brain around you. I’ll do something stupid and I’ll hurt you like I am now.” He rambles, eyebrows drawing closer together as he word-vomits in front of you. He looks away for a second, as if he’s trying to string his mind together. You know what he means.

“You ever want something so bad, that when the chance to have it comes, you can’t take it? Because you have no idea what it’ll feel like? And you’ve wanted it for so long, that now you can’t ruin it. And if you do, it’ll be all on you. And you won’t even have that chance anymore, you’ll have nothing. And what do I do if I have nothing, Y/n? What do I do if I mess up? How do I fix it?” He finishes finally, and finds that he’s made his way closer to you. Closer than he’s been in weeks, close enough for you to stand and grasp his hand.

“You’re fixing it now, Jax.”

He looks down at your hand holding his. “I’m not great at this.” He whispers.

“You’ll learn.” You answer.

He looks up at you and is relieved by your smile.

“Do you still need time?” You tease, eyebrows high. He surges forward, pressing his lips to yours, practically suffocating you. He presses warm kisses to your face and then your neck, walking you backwards towards your bed.

You push away from him and he chases after your lips, leaning forward.

“Actually, how did you even get in?” He silences your question with another kiss, hand coming up to grasp the side of your neck, thumbing over your jaw.

He shakes his head, “Shut up. Seriously. I have waited so long for this, shut up.”

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie was dealing with a lot of firsts today. 

The biggest one being the first time he was getting married. Though, Eddie really hoped it wouldn’t be the last. If his fantasies about this day came true he was going to have to insist on a vow renewal somewhere down the line. Fuck it, if even a quarter of what he wanted came through he’d still insist on it. He was never not going to like showing Steve off, and this was the most ostentatious way he could get away with. 

Next, and most distressing, this was the first time Eddie had ever felt the lethal mixture of being incredibly happy and horrifyingly nauseous. He had no idea that a person could feel both things at once, and Eddie was starting to think the ability was just a flaw of the human condition. 

And last, he is a 100 percent sure he had never been this damn nervous in his entire life. Especially when the source of it was entirely self-made. It was an uncomfortable reminder of how he used to feel with Steve, back when he decided to be a fucking crazy person. 

But this was so much worse. 

“You really need to relax,” Chrissy said for the hundredth time, watching as Eddie fiddled in front of the mirror, “That anti-perspirant can only go so far.”

“I know,” Eddie sighed. He was on one today, he knew that. But knowing it wasn’t stopping any of his anxiety. Eddie was trying to fix his hair in the mirror, suddenly unpleased with how it was styled but unwilling to go bother the stylist that did it. She was busy enough with everyone else, let alone the fact that he didn’t even know why he didn’t like it. If anything he was just making it worse. But then again, Steve always said he liked his hair wild, right?

“Hon, I’m serious,” Chrissy sighed, grabbing for his hand to drag him away, “You are driving yourself crazy for nothing. Everything is going to be okay. He’s going to be there. Are you forgetting that it was Steve who asked you to marry him?”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the memory, even now. The little shit had beaten him to the punch by a matter of days, completely ruining Eddie’s elaborate proposal plans. No, instead Steve decided to do it in the dead of night, getting down on one knee in the middle of their living room after getting destroyed at an impromptu game of scrabble. 

Eddie should have seen it coming, he really should have. But he had been so caught up trying to plan his own proposal he had completely missed the signs. Like how Steve kept picking movies that involved proposals and weddings, and how he was always very interested in what Eddie thought of them. Eddie just hadn’t realized how many notes he’d been taking around his innocuous comments. Not until Steve showed him the scrawled out list he had made down the line:

Not public, he said he wouldn’t want to cry in front of a bunch of strangers. Not again (whoops, sorry babe but at least this one would have been happy tears?)

Close to a bed or a bed-like surface for “celebrating” (I should have seen that one coming)

Diamonds are apparently ~stupid~ so look at colored stones instead (maybe emerald for his birthstone? Stick with sliver tones.)

No where cold so he can focus on the moment instead of freezing

Make it a surprise (But not outside? I don’t want to wait till summer though. Maybe I can do it randomly? Like when his back is turned?)

Write. A. Speech.

Eddie had to give it to him, his notes weren’t in vain. It had been amazing. Tailor-made to him in a way he didn’t even fully get until it was over. Because he had started crying, right in the middle of their living room with no one but Steve to see him. And it had felt so fucking safe. There was no embarrassment, no worrying over someone he didn’t know taking their moment to share with more strangers, none of it. It was just them. 

He had fucking loved the ring, the colors, the style, all of it fit him perfectly. The only thing he loved more had been dragging Steve straight to their bedroom spoil him rotten for hours. The speech had been beautiful, for what he had managed to hear through his own excitement and tears. He had ended up asking Steve to write it down for him considering how he couldn’t trust his own memory. Now it sat on a cute index card he kept in his wallet, right alongside his cute scrawled out list, a constant reminder that Steve Harrington wanted him.

It had been perfect. Almost too perfect. Perfect enough for Eddie to be where he was right now, the doubt of how he ended up with Mr. Perfect. 

from the upcoming last chapter of this fic

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

God I love me some possessive men-am thinking about HSR daddies with their Omega mate that suddenly goes into heat while their in public/crowded area. (๑/////๑ " )

Them being both worried and protective bc other alphas are starting to take interest. While their poor spouse is just there, clinging for dear life.

Imagine this was before they bonded- free real estate for other alphas to swoop in to woo the poor thing.

IMAGINE IF SOME OF THE ALPHAS DO CHALLENGE THEM ONG (⸝⸝˃ ་། ˂⸝）

Blade would probably be the worst out of all of them. Bro would be pissed as hell. He's ready to fight the world.

Jing Yuan probably would either be very calm, Instead trying to get you someplace safe, or freaking tf out & growling.

Welt, my poor bby would be very concerned (♡´𓋰`♡) prioritizing his mate's wellbeing first. But would he step up if another Alpha would challenge him?

Kyaaaaaaaaaa >-<

I am entertained by your emoticons and your stunning mind :o

Including Luocha cause I keep leaving him out of things.

CW: omegaverse, violence and death mention.

-------

Blade

All he has to do is release his scent and that'll be enough to send anybody running, if not that then seeing the blood lust in his eyes and the sword by his side will.

If anybody is foolish enough to challenge him it's their last day breathing. They better enjoy the scent of his omega while it lasts.

Doesn't escort his omega to safety but does have them hide and close their eyes as he deals with the idiots who thought they could claim them. As soon as he's done he's taking them back home where they'll be safe and checked for any wounds.

If their scent sours because of the violence he might regret killing those other alphas but only because it upset them. Cleans them and himself up of any blood and wraps them up in his sheets before wrapping them up in his arms.

He's struggling a bit with his Mara and his rage at being challenged as an Alpha so he doesn't have the energy to properly take care of them besides this for now. Give him a moment or two and he'll be ready to tend to their every need and comfort them better than he is at the moment.

Jing Yuan

As soon as he smells them he's ordering the nearest soldiers around to clear a path so he can escort them to safety. They follow even if they too are bothered by their scent, they know their place and not to dare lay a hand on his omega.

Everyone knows who the General's omega is, with or without a claim mark, so it'll be surprising for some brave(read: foolish) soul to try and challenge him of all people.They must be some foreigner with no clue on who's in charge of the Luofu and or they don't care.

Point is they've challenged not only their General they've threatened the safety of his omega and he and his people won't stand for this. He doesn't have to lift a finger or look in their direction as his soldiers drag the offender away and focuses on getting them both home.

On the occasion it's just him without any soldiers nearby it takes seconds for him to knock down the competition as soon as they reach for his omega.

Once they're both somewhere safe he's sticking by their side, looking them over for any injuries and checking their medication to see if they've missed taking it or something to explain their sudden heat.

If they allow him he's more than happy to help them out but he'd prefer to make sure they're feeling safe and secure before he's willing to help.

Welt

His priority is to get his omega somewhere safe before dealing with any threats, they can wait but they can't.

He escorts them to a room, such as a bathroom or somewhere else where the door can be locked from the inside and tells them to stay there and to not open the door for anyone until he calls them.

Let's say one of the Alphas follows him and challenges him for his omega thinking with his old age they could do so much better. He doesn't hesitate to put them in their place through words alone, letting them know that clearly they aren't a good match if all they can do is think with their dick and then some.

If the other gets enraged he'll deal with them promptly with his powers until they and any stragglers flee the scene. Once he's sure the coast is clear he gives his omega the signal and finds the quickest route back to the Astral Express or their hotel room.

As soon as their safe he does his best to take care of his omega by giving them the space or comfort they may need from such a stressful situation. Will help them out with their heat if they like but their mental, emotional, and physical health comes first.

Luocha

Since people tend to think of him as an omega as well they might try to come after him as well. Doesn't mind the attention as he can deal with them easily but with his omega struggling to stay standing he's got to prioritize their safety first.

Releases his scent to get most of the other alphas to back off before taking his omega into his arms and cutting past anyone who tries to stop him.

If an alpha decides to pursue not getting the hint they're not wanted he's taking them out, zero hesitation. They might not be dead but they're gonna wish they were.

As soon as he's got his omega to the safety of their shared room he's giving them all the attention they could want in the world. He might have to take a break away from them to reschedule his meetings and the like but that's nothing, their health and well being matters far more than some business.

[nyctophiliq]

FREE PALESTINE, FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA !

i have refrained from making this post, both for the reason of not wanting to be ridiculed as a "know it all" and because i thought people in this day and age, where we have the internet to do almost the impossible would conclude to themselves that helping is now not an impossible thing.

but here we are.

i feel like a lot of you out there, who might not have a following, or has a big following but doesn’t post has completely ignore the important aspects of the internet that they claim to be using.

i sense that none of you above want to acknowledge that there is a world outside of your tumblr, because why would you? the sole purpose of you coming here was to get away from the real life around you, to have something to ground yourself with instead of having to face the dark, gruesome troubles that you are having but all i see is hiding, not dealing. now that that real life is with you on your dashboard, talking about people dying of bombs, slaughter, hunger, and dehydration is taking away the sense of escape that you came here to seek. and by no means i am defending you, silent creatures, i am dragging you by the collar of your shirt through the mud for your inhumane actions.

it shows how some of you cherish life, wanting it to be as perfect as possible- going to therapists to deal with your trauma, going to the store to not starve, enjoying the police and military of a secure country that has fallen into your hand by the right of your birth. you say you are depressed and not well, voice your concerns about how some people neglect to even think about your mental health because the person dismissing your problems could be only a horrible person in turn.

how does it not hurt to see other people in pain, being hurt on purpose and not thing that “i should maybe do something, i wouldn’t wanna be in the place they are, wouldn’t wanna be going through what they are”. to see you holler about your right to a better life, a good mental health is outragious. you believe in your right to have that why can’t you believe that other people deserve it too?

how can you go a day without talking about, or at least acknowledging in your own words that what you have gone through- all that trauma, that abuse, being cut up, and spit at- can’t be as bad or twice as bad for other people? of course we can talk about our problems, we can say that we are struggling but we have to at least have the decency to say that we are not the only ones.

telling yourself that someone else is in bigger trouble than you won’t help you, ignoring your pain for somebody else’s doesn’t make yours go away but it can make you realize that somehow there has to be a way through it- going to a therapist to work on your issues for example. a lot of you don’t understand that the life you have, the life you love and cherish despite how horrible it might have been before others want to have it too? the relief of being able to say “shit happened, but i got through it”, to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to have a family, friends, siblings, and people around them, to have their own religion, background, city of birth that brings them closer as a community, to have somewhere to belong.

our world has been so easy, we don’t have to go to war to help, we don’t have to spend money to help- we only need our voice, that simple click, and the reblog to let others out there know that this is not okay and that people are fighting for them, to have them hope for another day, to have them endure for a brighter future.

in this day and age we have become so pleasantly blissed by the “bystander affect”, letting everything slip by because “hells, it’s easier to be like this than actually do something”. it shows how many of you are fighting, how many of you accepted defeat, how many of you still have hope.

and i mean all offense.

FREE PALESTINE, FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA !

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your alien husband

General Plot: You've been sold to aliens so you are taking the bus to meet your new husband, only you are attacked and a kind alien steps in to help.

A/N: this is a longish multi part one that I'm editing and posting as I edit it. I've been wanting to do some yandere vs. yandere so that's kinda what this is, lol

Kherae alien x female reader with glasses

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

Word Count: 4K

W: kidnapping, forced marriage, sfw alien fluff, yandere vs. yandere

Prince Levell grasped Elaine’s thin wrist, drawing her towards him. 

“You are the jewel of this court, my love, I’ll never let you go,” his tenor whispered in her ear. 

Your heart fluttered. You were almost finished with The Prince and the Dawn and it was even better than the prequel, The Thief and the Dusk. 

The villain, the first prince from the previous novel, having lost the object of his desire to the dashing hero, finally gets his happy ending with a blind hermit who softens his cold heart. Your eyes prickled with tears. 

Their love story…the way she changed the prince from a cold tyrant to a sensitive, benevolent ruler and brings happiness to the kingdom was incredibly romantic. You sighed, sniffling a little. If only such romances were real. Instead, you were trapped in a tragedy. 

The bus you were riding came to a stop and you hopped up to get off. You  took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other. You were on your way to greet your fate. 

You had been sold to the Kherae, the aliens that had descended on Earth and saved humans from the horrible Golt. There had been a long and brutal war, but finally it seemed as if The Golt had retreated and the galaxy was safe-er. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. When the Kherae discovered human females could breed with them, they promised humanity they only wanted voluntary relationships...mates, they said. They would not take. 

Maybe that was true for 98% of the handsome aliens, but there was a rotten apple in every bunch and you were about to meet one of them. Your father owed some nasty people a lot of money and they’d facilitated your sale to the corrupt Kherae archduke to clear the debt. 

You could have run away, disappeared and started a new life somewhere else. You didn’t owe your father anything, but you had a soft heart and you loved him. He’d built his business as a single dad with his blood, sweat, and tears. When organized crime moved into the neighborhood he wasn’t immune to their influence. Your father wasn’t a bad man and you wouldn’t let him lose everything he built or his life over mistakes he couldn’t have avoided. That’s why despite his protests, you were turning yourself in to your future husband. 

You steadied your breath as with each step your future came closer. 

A shriek escaped your lips as large hands latched onto your arms. You looked around to find you were surrounded by three or four human men. 

“This the one?” one of them said. 

“Yeah, (Y/C) hair, glasses, this is her,” another said. 

You struggled and tried to break free but they were thugs and there were more of them than you. You tried to scream for help, but a large hand clamped over your mouth and your glasses flew off of your face.You heard the glass crunch under someone’s foot. Your world had gone blurry. You were basically blind without them. 

Disoriented and terrified you kicked and scratched, but it was no use, the group was dragging you towards an alleyway. 

Suddenly there was a THUNK and the hands holding you released. Around you blurry figures moved and you could hear bone breaking, but you couldn’t process what was happening and just stood there clutching the hem of your skirt. Before long it was quiet and a large purple blur approached you. 

You held out your hands, trying to orient yourself and met firm forearms.

“Are you okay, miss?” a deep voice asked in Kherae. The translator you all had installed since the Kherae came to integrate worked out his words for you.  His large fingers twined with yours to steady you. 

“I’m fine. I just can’t see without my glasses,” you said, clinging to his strong fingers, “do you see them anywhere?” 

You heard the tinkle of glass. 

“I don’t think you will be able to use these,” he said and you knew your precious lifeline was destroyed. 

“Where are you going? I can help you get there,” he offered. 

You gave him a wan smile. 

“That’s really kind, but I couldn’t trouble you,” you said. 

He chuckled. 

“You aren’t going  to make it very far on your own, let me help. Where are you going?” 

“The Zovith building,” you explained. You were headed to the building owned by your future husband, a brand new glass and steel monstrosity in the middle of downtown.  

He halted. 

“Why are you going there?” he asked. 

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you thought better of it. 

“I’m going to meet my future husband,” you explained.

“You look frightened,” he commented. 

 “I committed to this and I want to make a good impression but I can’t go back home to get new glasses. I’m already late and if I don’t show up there are consequences.” 

He paused for a moment. 

“Then let’s get you there quickly,” he said and swept you up in his arms. 

You shouted in surprise, but he took off at a jog down the street. When you arrived he gently set you in a chair in the waiting room. 

“I’ll let someone know you’ve arrived. Just wait here,” he said.  

Your heart pounded in your chest. Almost being kidnapped had started the beat and now you panted as you waited for your fate. It was even worse because you couldn’t see anything. You wouldn’t even know what your husband looked like. 

–

“I don’t want to marry a filthy human,” Idreod’s brother sneered for the thirtieth time. 

Idreod ordered him to marry so that their family name would continue on. He had no interest in a wife, but if Dessin wanted to keep his monthly stipend he’d demanded that he would seed his family an heir. A wife seemed like a lot of trouble to him that could easily be delegated to a lesser, Dessin. He wouldn’t have their name be associated with a slew of bastard children, either. He would have a proper wife and represent the Zovith family well. 

Unfortunately for him, Dessin had a thing for Elians and had no interest in children. He planned on falling in love with a pleasure worker and pulling her out of destitution to earn her love. Elians weren’t biologically compatible with Kherae, so they would never bear children, but he didn’t care. It was a foolish plan, but at least he had romantic dreams. 

Up until that day Idreod’s plan for him was to buy him a wife, force them to marry, and take their child as his heir to hand down the Zovith duchy. He wasn’t a kind or benevolent Kherae. He made demands and his lessers followed them. 

Dessin did nothing but throw money away at pleasure houses, he could take on the small responsibility of fucking a human to pay for his good fortune to be born his brother. He’d never have to worry over the child. Idreod would continue to pay his stipend and raise it in his image. He and his wife could spend his money and take as many lovers as they liked as long as they were discreet. That was the cost of doing business. 

When the Kherae females had been extinguished all hope had been lost for a future for his family, but now that he’d learned that humans were universal breeders, the legacy he’d built could live on. The Zovith would become a dynasty. That was his vision. Human females could have two handfuls of children. He would herald in a prosperous generation. 

“Fine,” Idreod said, “you don’t have to marry her.” 

“What?” Dessin asked, looking at him, “what game are you playing at? I’m not donating my sperm if that’s what you’re suggesting.” 

He walked across his office to a drink tray one of the maids had provided and took a sip of some nutty alcohol. He poured some for his brother and handed him a glass, winking at him. 

“No game. I’m releasing you from your duty,” he said, smiling. 

He was in a good mood. That day had been productive. He’d almost made an egregious mistake marrying the beautiful woman he’d met on the street off to his idiot brother. He could already see his kits running around with his black horns and your (Y/EC) eyes. 

Dessin took a step towards him. 

“So you’re cutting me off then,” he said in a low voice. 

Idreod chuckled to himself. Of course he would be worried about that. Dessin couldn’t do anything for himself. If he were on his own, he’d already be living on the street. He relied on Idreod for everything. Fortunately, as the only other surviving member of the Zovith family, his brother indulged him. Someone should enjoy the wealth he accumulated and he had enough to last lifetimes. 

“Don’t panic. I’m not cutting you off. I’ve just had a change of heart. I’ve decided to take a wife after all,” he explained. 

He snorted. 

“You? Goddess, poor woman,” he chortled. 

“Well you can express your sympathy yourself when you meet her,” he hit a button on the tablet on his desk, “Airies, bring up Miss (Y/LN).” 

Dessin grinned. 

“This I’ve got to see,” he laughed, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs in his brother’s office, “what hideous shrew were you trying to stick me with?” 

A few minutes later Idreod’s secretary, Airies led the woman who would be his wife, you, in by the hand. 

You still couldn’t see and you were a bit unsteady on your feet, like a doe taking its first steps. You’d dressed for the occasion, wearing a chaste navy dress. You wore sensible, low navy heels. Idreod appreciated that you were demure. You’d make a perfect wife to an archduke. In front of you, you could only make out the brown of the office walls and a tall purple blob in front of you. 

“Um, hello,” you said, waving vaguely in the blob’s direction, “I was told to come here to meet my husband.” 

There was a thunk as a glass hit the table. A blob, who happened to be Dessin, rose from his chair and you looked at him startled, narrowing your eyes as you tried to focus. 

“You have to forgive me,” you said, “my glasses were broken in an attack on the way here. I can’t really see anything. I’m legally blind without them.” 

“That’s all right, beautiful,” Dessin said, taking your hand. Idreod glared at him, unsure what game he was playing. Was he trying to goad him?

He led you to the chair he’d just risen from. 

“Take a seat, I wouldn’t want my precious fiance to hurt herself stumbling around,” he went on, “you had a difficult time, please rest.” 

“You’re my husband?” you asked quietly, shaking a little. 

“No, he is not.” Idreod snapped, crossing the room and yanking Dessin away from you. 

“My brother is playing a little joke on you,” he said, “I am your fiance.” 

“Now wait a minute,” Dessin said, putting his hand on your shoulder, “I think I pushed my future wife away too easily. Now that I see her-” 

“No.” he bit out, “she is mine.” 

“But you promised her to me! Now I’m agreeing to it and you’re changing your mind. I’ll do it, okay? It’s fine!” 

“Absolutely not, if you are going to keep playing this game, get out,” he boomed. 

“I want her!” Dessin shouted like a petulant child. 

“That’s a shame, because. She. Is. Mine.” Idreod replied, slowly so he would understand. Dessin didn’t dare defy his brother. His whole life hung on his whims. 

You trembled openly in front of them and you couldn’t see it but Dessin glared, before storming out and slamming the door behind him. 

Your husband didn’t seem quite as nice as the male he had driven off. Of course, you would have that sort of luck. If only he could be more like that Kherae on the street who saved me. I didn’t even get a chance to thank him. 

“We’ll get you new glasses tomorrow,” he said curtly. 

“I didn’t bring anything with me, I wasn’t sure if I would be allowed to go home for my things,” you said, “they just told me to show up here.” 

“We will buy you new things,” he assured you. 

So no, then. 

He walked across the room, back to his desk and pressed a button on the tablet pad. 

“Airies, bring tea for Miss (Y/LN),” he said in a clipped tone. 

A minute later the shorter Kherae came in with a tray of tea, which he set down in front of you. You fumbled around the tray with your hands for the cup. 

You heard a chair scrape the floor and the blob was in front of you. 

“Here,” he said, his large fingers gingerly guiding you to the cup. They were a bit familiar, but you were too nervous to worry about it. 

You drew the tea to your lips and took a shaky sip. The warm water and jasmine scent was a blessing. You felt like you were walking a tightrope. You could feel the heat of his body near you and just barely caught the scent of familiar cologne. Maybe you had smelled it in a shop before. What will he do with me? The teacup hit the saucer with a rattle. He rose and retreated across the room, back to his desk. 

“Our wedding will be in a month,” he said, getting right to the point. 

No, “let’s get to know each other.” Just, “We’re getting married.” 

“It will be a large event because of my status as archduke, so I will need to prepare you. It’s likely the king will attend and you cannot offend him,” he stated crisply. 

He’s quite arrogant. 

“Sure,” you said, looking at your shoes, “I’ll do my best.” 

“You will be perfect because I will prepare you,” he said. 

Great. 

You tried not to groan in front of him. He didn’t seem like a male who tolerated attitude. 

“Can I ask you something?” you said, still looking at your feet. 

“You can ask me anything,” he said, which surprised you. 

“Will you be gentle with me? You know…when it’s the first time…?” 

There was a pause. 

“We’ll speak more about bedroom matters when we are better acquainted. I have no interest in taking a stranger between my sheets,” he said and you felt silly for saying anything. 

Your new husband surprised you again. You assumed he would be cold when it came to passion, but he seemed a bit sentimental. 

“What should I call you?” you asked, trying to change the subject quickly. 

“Idreod, you will be my wife so you may call me by my first name,” he said. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you offered. 

He paused.

“I know.” 

“Oh.”

There was a bit of an awkward pause.

“Um…so what do you do for fun?” you asked the first thing that popped into your mind. 

“Fun?” he asked in a chilly tenor. 

“Right, you probably don’t-” you trailed off and blushed. 

“I’ve never done anything in my life for fun,” he said blandly. 

“Of course not,” you agreed. 

“I do like training…” he offered, sounding suspiciously shy. 

“Do you think I could train with you?” you asked. 

There was silence. 

“Why would you want to do that?” he asked, “you’ll hold me back. You are nowhere near my skill level.”

You blushed. 

“You’re right. That was stupid of me…I just thought…” 

You paused.

“You thought…? Don’t leave sentences unfinished. It’s a sign of poor will.” 

You gulped. 

“I just wanted to get to know you better since you’re going to be my husband and all,” you said the words all in one rushed breath. 

“Ah, that’s wise. You’re quite clever. You should know what pleases me. I will compose a document of my likes and dislikes and have Airies pass it to you when it’s complete. You can study it,” he said. 

You blinked. 

“Um…okay, then,” you mumbled. That wasn’t exactly what you’d meant. 

“Do you have any aptitude for mathematics?” he asked. 

“I’m sorry?” you asked, unsure where this was going. 

“You are a Zovith now.  Starting today I will need to train you to be my replacement as head of the family in the case of my untimely death. As you saw, my brother is an idiot. If you are remotely competent, I’ll need to show the basics of running the estate. 

“You came here, unsure of what to expect on your own two feet, so I know you have enough spine for it. Of course, your main role here is mother to my heirs, but it is always a good idea to prepare contingencies and I am very thorough.” 

Your mouth hung open. You weren't sure if you were being complimented or insulted. Were you a broodmare or future head of the family? 

“I worked in finance,” you said, “I can handle a bit of business arithmetic.” 

“Hmph,” he said to himself, “she can’t be worse than Dessin.” 

“Allright,” he went on, “tomorrow I will bring your father to the estate and you will begin working with me on it.” 

“My father?” you gasped. You were sure you’d never see him again. A bit of the ice in your heart melted in relief. 

His tone got stern. 

“Yes, (Y/N), I am an archduke. I can’t be associated with street level criminals. Your father will be brought here and given some frivolous role to disconnect him from organized crime. It can’t get out that he sold you to me, so it must appear that we are in some way associated. He can be vice president of a vineyard or something. I’m told we have some in our portfolio.” 

You stood up, annoyed. 

“But my father built his business from the ground up!” you snapped, “you can’t just yank him away from it. That was the whole point of all this!” 

“Being father of the archduchess of Akhet is a far more important role than some silly laundry shop!” he barked back. 

“You don’t know anything about what’s important,” you griped. 

“I will educate you on that,” he said firmly. 

You huffed, but you couldn’t even see him to give him a proper stink eye. 

“I think we’ve all had enough excitement for today,” he said, sounding a bit tired, “I’ll have Airies take you to your room.” 

You took a deep breath, trying to gather control over my emotions. 

The shorter blob that was Airies came a moment later and escorted you out, by the hand. 

“Please excuse the archduke, my lady. I can see he’s upset you,” Aries said as your heels clicked on the marble floor, “he’s never been in the company of a female for more than a paid hour. We’ve all gotten used to his prickly attitude, but it must be shocking to someone new.” 

You snickered a little and pressed your lips together to try and hide it, but you could hear the smile in Airies’ voice. 

He led you  to a room and helped you find the bed. 

“I’ll have the optometrist come see you in the morning and we will have your prescription prepared,” he said, handing you a soft, folded negligee. He guided your hands over to a small tablet screen. His fingers were much more soft and narrow than the archduke’s. 

“Press one of these buttons if you would like a maid to come help you,” he said. 

He paused at the door. 

“If you don’t mind me saying this, my lady, it’s been a long time since we Kherae have had someone fair and soft to care for, please take full advantage of that. If you want anything at all, you only need to ask.” 

You nodded and thanked him and he left you to change into your nightgown. You wished you could have seen it properly, because it was very soft and cozy. You were just tucking yourself into the covers when there was a knock at the door. 

“Hello?” you asked, “come in…” 

The door wasn’t locked. You wondered if it was a maid. Instead a purple figure filled the doorway. It wasn’t Airies, because he was shorter, but it wasn’t quite as tall as the duke. 

“It’s me Dessin,” the archduke’s brother said, “we didn’t have a chance to be properly introduced.” 

You blushed. 

“It’s a little strange for you to come so late,” you said, a little frightened. 

He chuckled. 

“I have no ill intentions. I just wanted to say something to you privately without my brother around,” he said, “since you will be my sister soon, there are things you should know about him.” 

“Oh?” you asked, “well then say it quickly. I was just going to sleep.” 

“It’s just that…I want you to know I’m on your side (Y/N). My brother is a monster. He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t know anything about love or passion, he just wants another pawn to play with. If you need help or a confidant…just know you can rely on me,” he said. 

You chewed your lip. You weren’t sure what to make of that, but there is one thing you needed help with. 

“Well there is one thing. You probably know everyone in the building, right?” 

“Yes, of course,” he said.

“When I was attacked today, I was saved by a kind Kherae. I didn’t have my glasses on so I couldn’t see him and I was frightened so I hardly remember anything about him. Do you think you could ask around? I’d like to thank him personally.” 

There was a pause.

“Oh…(Y/N). You don’t recognize me?” he asked. 

You blinked, confused.

“You?” 

You could have sworn your protector had been taller, but you’d been frightened, you may have inflated his assets. 

“Yes, I was the one who found you today,” he said, “and I brought you back here.” 

That didn’t sound quite right, but who would lie about something like that? You must have just remembered him incorrectly. 

“Oh, silly me. I must have really been frightened,” you said and wobbled across the room to him. You leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed him on his cheek. He didn’t smell quite right either, but you brushed it off. Perhaps he’d had a shower. 

“Really, Thank you,” you said, “I think I’ll head to bed now, if you don’t mind.”

Dessin was silent for a moment before he cleared his throat. 

“Right,” he said, “well…goodnight (Y/N). Remember what I said. If you need me, I’m here.”When you were under the covers, you sighed. What luck did you have that the brother of your soon to be husband was the nice one? What would your life be like if he had been the one to win the fight over you earlier? This was a tragedy of course, not a romance, you reminded yourself as you fell asleep. 

[specialagentlokitty]

Hannibal x teen!reader - i would notice

Hi 👋, i absolutely loved your Hannibal lecter fic so I was wondering if you could do a Hannibal × teen reader with angst or where he maybe saves them from someone or from themselves? If not that's totally fine. - Anon💜

TW: mentions of self harm and suicidal thoughts and neglectful parents

Therapy.

According to everybody that was the solution to everything, all your problems would be solved if you just sat in a room with a stranger supposedly telling them everything about you.

Things you didn’t want anybody else to know.

You didn’t want to attend your sessions, but your parents were paying a lot of money for you to see this therapist, so you went to your sessions.

Though you never really said much, which was something Hannibal picked up on.

“Sometimes I do have to wonder why it is you insist on coming to your sessions if you’re just going to sit here to do homework instead.”

You shrugged a little bit, looking up from where you were sat on the floor.

“I’ve gotta do it somewhere, plus my parents pay for these sessions, it’ll be a waste of money I guess.”

“Do you not think you need it?”

“Everybody has problems I just don’t see the point in talking about it, it won’t change anything.”

“It could make it easier for you.”

You shrugged again and stood up, bringing a work book over to his desk and set it down.

Hannibal took the book so he could look at it while you dragged a chair over to sit next to him while he read through your work.

“Have you finished everything else?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s just this. I don’t really get it so I thought I’d leave it until last.”

Hannibal nodded his head, taking one of his many notebooks, and he found one with your name on it and opened it.

Over the sessions he had become used to you using the time for your homework, asking him yo help you with whatever it was you didn’t understand.

It actually helped him learn a lot about you, about your possible home life since you didn’t seem interested in talking about whatever problems you were having.

Hannibal explained the problem to you, and he gave you a brief demonstration on how to solve it before giving you the notebook so you could try it for yourself.

“How is school going? Are you still having problems with some of the other students?”

“A little, but I think I solved most of them.”

He hummed a little bit, slowly nodding his head.

“How did you manage that? Did you take my advance and ignore them?”

“Nope.”

You grinned a little bit at your therapist and went back to your homework.

“Shoved a whole bunch of shaving cream and feathers into their lockers.”

“You do realise retaliation in such a way could could make this a lot more complicated for you. They could also possibly get you into trouble as well.”

“Maybe yeah I guess.”

“What did your parents have to say?”

“The usual nothing.”

Hannibal wrote that down in another notebook and he studied you for a moment.

Usually it was obvious why people were in therapy, usually he knew before they came to the sessions or they would have told him by now but you didn’t.

He was having to rely on everything he saw, everything you did and the very few things that you had said.

Your sessions were routine, going the same way nearly all of the of the time.

So he began to notice the change in your behaviour as time went on, it was slight, only tiny changes but he noticed.

You didn’t bring your homework anymore, you would just tell him about your day, the changes in your clothing, you seemed more withdrawn.

Then you began to miss sessions, the first he didn’t think about it, the second he was a little suspicious but when it came to the third and forth he knew there was something more.

So, when he opened his door to see that you weren’t sat in the waiting room he sighed, making his way to the phone to dial your number.

He waited as it rang, and eventually it rang off into voicemail.

Hannibal went through all his files until he found yours and he grabbed his keys and jacket as he left the office.

You were usually the last appointment of the day since you liked to hang around and just spend time with him, which he never added extra costs for.

Making his way to your listed address, Hannibal looked at the large house, very expensive looking and extremely well kept.

He parked in the drive and made his way to the door, knocking a few times, waiting.

The door was opened and you blinked a few times, stepping aside and gestured to the house so you could let him in.

“What brings you by doctor lector?” You asked.

You closed the door.

“Can I take your coat?”

“Ah, yes. Thank you.”

Hannibal handed you his jacket so you could hang it up next to yours by the door, and you led him through to the kitchen where you were before he knocked.

He watched as you carried on cooking your dinner.

“I didn’t know you were coming but you can still have some of you want.”

“No, I’m alright. But thank you. I’m actually here because you haven’t attended your sessions for the past three weeks.”

You nodded your head, setting the spoon down, and you sat on a bar stool.

“Sorry, I keep forgetting to cancel them. I know you have a policy about cancelling and whatever the fee is for not cancelling my parents can cover it.”

“That’s not why I’m here (Y/N), I’m not here about fees for cancelling.”

You seemed a little confused.

“I’m here because it isn’t like you to not turn up to your sessions, I am also aware that you haven’t been attending school recently.”

“How’d you know?”

“I called them.”

“Are you even legally allowed to do that? Can they even tell you that information?”

You were defensive.

You weren’t happy that he had called your school and you were looking for a reason to pin something on him, anything.

“I work rather closely with the FBI, I asked for favour as this behaviour is concerning.”

You nodded your head, going back to whatever your were making and you set it all aside before sitting down on the stool again.

Hannibal was stood on the other side of the counter, flicking through the recipe pages that you had left laying around.

“Can I cancel my sessions?”

Hannibal glanced up at you.

“You can, but I’d still very much like to check up on you at least once or twice a week.”

“Why? I won’t be your patient anymore.”

“Because I know you’re harming yourself, I would like to understand why. What makes you think you need to do that to yourself?”

You froze, and you tugged at your sleeves a little bit, pulling them even further.

“I’ve know for a while, I was hoping you would bring up the subject but you seem to have no interest in talking about what you’re going through.”

Hannibal walked to your cooker, and he took over making your dinner for you while you just sat there staring at the counter.

“What’s the point, it won’t change anything.”

“It can help, but people can’t help you if you won’t let them (Y/N), in order to be helped you must be willing to accept the hand that is offered to you.”

“I can’t be helped.”

You pushed yourself away from the counter you were sat at and left the kitchen, making your way into the lounge instead where you just sat down.

You turned on the TV, putting on some random show and you kicked your feet up on the table.

Hannibal followed you, setting your plate on the dining table, and he walked over, tapping your feet away from the table.

“You can be helped, nobody is beyond help.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not, now come eat and we can discuss whatever it is you’re going through.”

You didn’t bother to argue, you went to eat your dinner while Hannibal left you to eat in peace.

He came back and he set a few tubs down on the table in front of you.

“All of these are prescribed to patients who suffer from depression. How long have you been taking your medication for?” He asked.

“About a year or two, I don’t know.”

He hummed, nodding his head.

“How long have you not been taking them?”

You glanced up.

“You have been filling out your scripts, but you have a whole collection of unopened bottles.”

“About half a year I guess… I don’t know…”

“Do you plan on doing anything with those bottles?”

“No.”

“So I can take them away from you and only leave the one you’re supposed to have?”

You nodded your head.

You didn’t have any use for the old ones that you never took, you just kept filling in the scripts to keep everybody happy.

That wasn’t how you wanted to go out.

No.

You had thought about this night after night after night, and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Are you here alone often?”

“My parents work a lot, they’re usually away most of the year.”

He nodded his head, taking your mostly empty plate away when you pushed it away from you.

You followed the therapist to your kitchen, climbing back up on the bar stool as you looked at him.

“Can I take a look at your arm, I would like to ensue that you don’t need any further medical attention.”

You moved your arm closer to yourself.

“Alright, that’s okay. You don’t need to show me, but I do need to know if you’re taking care to prevent infection.”

“Yeah, I know about all that stuff.”

“Good, now since you refuse to come to our sessions I will come here. A few times a week to ensure that you’re taking care of yourself.”

He did.

He kept coming by, he would talk to you, try encourage you to open up to him.

The one thing he noticed is how lonely the house seemed to be, the lack of family photos, the lack of friends around to the lack calls from your parents.

Hannibal arrived at your house like always, the first thing he noticed this time was that there was two other cars in the driveway.

Making his way up to the door he knocked, and a man answered.

“Hello, is (Y/N) home.”

“Who are you?” The man asked.

“My apologies, I’m doctor lector, their therapist. (Y/N) didn’t want to come to the office anymore so we’ve been continuing sessions here, I assume you are their father?”

“Yes, and I don’t know where they are. Look, I’m busy, go check their room or something I have meeting.”

Your dad left the door open and Hannibal walked in, making his way up the stairs to your room and he knocked on the door.

When you didn’t respond he knocked again.

“I’m opening the door.” He announced.

He pushed your door open and looked around to see that you weren’t there either.

Sighing, he made his way back to his car and tried to call your phone once more, but you never picked up.

He decided to head back to the office, deciding that he’d try and find you again tomorrow.

Hannibal didn’t know about your hideouts, where you liked to go or even have a slight idea on where you would go.

And that’s where he found you, sitting in the waiting room, and he walked over, crouching down in the front of you.

“I’ve been trying to find you.” He said gently.

You looked up, and you sniffled a little bit.

“Why do my own parents hate me…?” You asked.

Your voice cracked, and you leant back, tilting your head back to try and fight the tears that were burning your eyes.

“Let’s talk inside.”

He stood up, opening his door and you walked inside, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

Hannibal sat in the chair in front of you, offering you a few tissues which you took.

“What makes you think your parents hate you?”

“They’ve been home for two days… haven’t even spoken to me… haven’t even looked at me… it’s like I don’t exist…”

He nodded his head.

“I.. I.. it’s like if I died they wouldn’t even care… you know? They wouldn’t even notice…”

That was enough to catch his attention.

“Do you think about dying?”

“Sometimes… I know nobody would really notice.. life would carry on…”

“That’s not true.”

You looked up at him.

“I would certainly notice, life would be very different without you in it.”

You scoffed a little bit.

“You have to say that, it’s your job.”

“If you recall you left my services, it’s not my job to say that.”

Hannibal smiled slightly at you.

“I say it because I mean it, I do worry for you, I would notice your absence if you were to die, which is why I have to ask if you plan on acting upon this urge you have.”

“Sometimes but I.. I just can’t… you know?”

He nodded his head.

“I will admit this is rather concerning, I do have to wonder if for your own safety I have you placed in psychiatric care for a few days.”

“No! Please don’t…”

Hannibal thought for a moment, wondering what to do.

“If that’s the case then perhaps we can think of something else, in order to ensure your safety and a plan to help you through these feelings and urges that you are having.”

You nodded, agreeing with this.

The first step was for you to tell him everything you had been avoiding telling anybody this whole time, then he would come up with a care plan for you to help with your recovery and show you that you were important to this world

[sc0tters]

Not Gone For Long | Quinn Hughes

summary: you broke up with Quinn two weeks ago, but what happens when you two run into each other at a bar?

request: yes/no

warnings: none.

word count: 1.63K

authors note: I have had this idea in my head for literal hours icl but since I came up with it I’ve been dying to get it written. This is also my first attempt at writing an imagine for an NHL player, so I hope you like it!

Never go to bed angry with each other.

That was the first rule that you and Quinn made when you got together and neither one ever believed that if it was broken it would soon bring the end of the relationship, but it did.

The two of you had spent two months fighting before you finally mustered up the courage to pull the plug on the relationship when he was on a two week road trip with the team.

And with that three years of a relationship were sent down the drain.

You never thought that leaving him would be easy. You knew that it would be tough on your heart as he was everywhere you looked, on billboards, the TVs at bars, even on the insides of your eyelids when you attempted to sleep.

Your best friends were your total support system during the last two months as they made sure that you never had more than a few seconds to think about the boy that you loved obviously not counting your time in your bedroom because that’s where he seemed to attack your mind.

The apartment you once dreamed of before Quinn was now the place you called home. It was a one bed place but it was all you needed as you settled back into the mundane life.

Unbeknownst to you Quinn had been a total wreck from the moment he walked back into the apartment to see it in a shell of its former self. If it wasn’t for his teammates he would have knocked on every door in Vancouver until he found you, but when the boys reminded him that you had left when he was gone for a reason it made him want to stay home instead.

Quinn wanted to be mad at you for leaving in the way that you did yet the only thing that replayed through his mind was how the last thing he said to you was “see you soon,” no kiss, not even a hug, he just walked out of the apartment. Leaving you by yourself for the next two weeks.

The moment Ellen learnt about the break up she went was on the next flight over on a mission to comfort her son. That night he cried so hard that his lungs ached and his throat burned.

It didn’t help that the Canucks had been through another subpar season, but his upset state wasn’t helping that as he hadn’t scored since you left. Sometimes he wondered if you still watched his games, each time that he’d skate onto the ice he’d search for your face in the crowd and each time he was left empty handed.

Somehow despite all this, your relationship didn’t actually end on bad terms, you two still loved each other and had truly learnt that absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

The fight that broke the camels back though now felt minuscule, if he didn’t want to come with you on your business trip to Paris you didn’t really care. You’d settle for those two weeks without him rather than the last two months, every day of the week.

Now it was present day and your friends managed to convince you to join them on a night out. It was going to be your first as a single woman. You had even managed to get a smile onto your face, not a fake forced smile but instead a real one.

Yet it felt like a balloon full of water burst above your head as you saw him.

Quinn had been dragged to the same bar by his teammates as they celebrated the fact that the season was over.

Your friend saw that you tensed up and as she followed your line of sight she was quick to apologise “we can go somewhere else if you would like?” She proposed not wanting you to have a bad night.

But as there were five of you in the group this was a moment you didn’t want to be selfish in “this bar is big enough for the two of us.” Your voice was soft as you shook your head not letting your eyes leave the boy as you stared more so in shock.

He looked like he had lost weight, hadn’t shaved so his facial hair was now growing out of control, the curls that you loved but he hated were now proudly sat on his head.

Quinn wished that he had seen his hairdresser though the second he saw you. He actually heard your best friends laugh first, it was funny how the sound irritated him.

When he thought he was dreaming or that his sleep deprived mind was playing tricks on him, he spun his head around locking eyes with you.

His cold beer glass masked the sweatiness of his hands as he chugged the last of the bland liquid before he got up “anyone else need a refill?” He watched as you walked off heading in the direction of the bar.

It was the perfect time to talk to you, yes he knew that it was selfish but part of him just hoped that you were as caught up by the breakup as he was.

So he made his way over to the bar, making sure to avoid the drunken men that walked into his path as he was desperate to never lose sight of your little green dress that he loved so much on you.

You thought he never noticed that when the told you he liked that dress on your first date you went out and bought it in seven other colours. But he did, Quinn noticed everything yet that original dress still remained his favourite.

The familiar sound of your acrylics tapping on the table sent shivers down his spine “hey,” his voice came out like a croak causing your eyes to go wide.

You stared at him through the corner of your eye knowing that if you faced him, it would have been over for you “hi.”

If you two hadn’t broken up his fingers would have been on your jaw forcing you to look at him “can you look at me?” He asked feeling the tears begin to well at his eyes “please?” The beg was enough to make your hearty break all over again.

You looked at him not caring that you makeup was now very much ruined as tears ran down your cheeks “I’m sorry,” you blurted out not knowing what else to say.

But it was also true, you did feel sorry about breaking up with him. You wished that you’d handled things better. Yes this was the best way to protect your heart but besides for that it was the worst possible option for every other thing.

Just like old times Quinn didn’t hesitate to comfort the girl as he wrapped his arms around her pulling her into a hug “I know,” he placed a kiss on your head ignoring how your tears were soaking his shirt.

The coldness of those tears hit him like a dose of reality, you left because the relationship had grown cold.

This was the first time he had hugged you since January, it was now April.

He never meant to stop putting in effort but one day it sort of started and he didn’t know how to stop it. And he was so stressed about hockey that he let the fights you two had fall into the back of his mind.

Whilst he had spent the last two months thinking you were the bad guy, he realised that it had been his fault all along.

That was almost the problem with the whole thing, you each blamed yourselves for putting the knife into the relationship.

Quinn swore that he had been doing it over time and you were just the one to give it the final push.

You finally got your breathing under control causing you to look up at him as your chin rested against the his chest “why are you here?” You asked not trying to be rude but you swore that if you were in his shoes even you wouldn’t want anything to do with yourself.

He let out a soft laugh as he dragged his thumb against your cheek “missed you,” he confessed as he watch the pad of his finger clean in the smudge of your mascara.

Hearing that he must have also had a rough time made you feel sick to your stomach “thought you would have hated me.” You mumbled still thinking that this was all a dream.

Quinn would have been lying if he said that your words didn’t break his heart “could never hate you.” He softly smiled trying to tell you that he meant every word.

As much as he enjoyed being with his friends he wanted to leave “come with me?” He asked holding his hand out for you to grab.

The way his hand interlocked with yours told you that this wasn’t a dream “we should talk somewhere a bit more private.” As much as you wanted to say that you could go back to his apartment and be fine, you knew that things needed to change.

And if they didn’t then you would be having to move on forever.

The stars shone down on Vancouver as you two snuck out of the bar, despite the fact that both friends groups watched the interaction neither decided to stop it.

Sitting in his car that parked at a lookout spot looking over the city as you two ate food from your favourite takeaway restaurant you learnt one thing:

You weren’t letting him go as easy as you did this time.

[eightyonekilograms]

I went to the Apple Store yesterday to try the scripted demo of their VR headset. My overall impression is that it's the best possible execution of what might be a fundamentally flawed idea.

The passthrough video is pretty incredible. It's somewhat dimmer than reality, and the color accuracy is just OK, but it's more than good enough to feel like you're looking through clear displays at the real world. I'm told the passthrough on the Quest 3 is even better, but haven't tried that and can't comment. One thing is that there is a weird motion blur effect when you turn your head, I'm not sure if that's a display tech limitation or introduced deliberately by the software as a workaround for a different display tech limitation.

The resolution is 4K per eye, which, as mentioned, is more than enough for a powerful sense of presence in the real world. One of the nifty bits of the demo was when you turn the dial to tune out the world and suddenly you're sitting by a mountain lake, and the feeling of actually being there is overwhelming. The dystopian implications of needing a VR headset to sit at a mountain lake aside, it would be cool to have one just to have your office be anywhere you can imagine. Not $3500-before-tax cool, but cool.

Wow sports leagues are going to love this thing. I don't give a shit about sports and even I was thinking, "If the NBA put a stereoscopic camera courtside and sold you games for $50 a pop, I'd absolutely buy that"

But 4K per eye is not enough to do work, not even close. The experience of using normal computer-y applications on this was not unlike plugging your laptop in to a TV that's at the normal TV distance. You can do it, it works, but it's not anyone's preferred way of working. Text is amazingly legible, but only at sizes that are equivalent to having a single webpage take up your entire 4K monitor at normal monitor distance.

It is not particularly comfortable. Part of this might be that the store demo makes you use the "catcher's mitt" strap, which only goes around the back of your head and so gravity has to be countered only by the pressure of the thing against your face. Reviewers have said that if you use the other band that goes over your head the situation is better, but still.

A lot of early comments were making fun of Apple for having the battery be an external thing you put in your pocket and attach with a wire, but I think that's just fine: we all walk around with giant batteries in our pockets anyway, and anything you can do to have less weight on your head is a Good Thing. But then Apple took all those weight savings and spent them on making the stupid thing out of metal and glass instead of polycarbonate. It's nuts! It's like if you made a car that was 500kg lighter because you invented magical tech for keeping the engine somewhere else, and then went "great! with all the weight savings now we can build the body out of lead". Apple, you don't need to fear plastic. Plastic is good! Plastic built modern civilization.

You control it with a combination of eye tracking and pinch gestures. This is the main piece of evidence of my "best version of a bad idea" thesis: it works really, really well; so well that I can tell this is probably an evolutionary dead end. It's just fine— miraculous, even— for dragging windows around and doing the basic stuff the in-store demo has you do. It's amazing that you can more or less have your hands anywhere, including on your lap, and the recognition works perfectly (by contrast with the HoloLens I tried 5 or so years ago where the gesture recognition was total crap). But it's immediately obvious that you can never do serious manipulation of your computing environment with this.

The takeaway is that it's incredible for passive consumption of specifically-made media, assuming that ever exists at scale. But it will be a long time before we're gogged in like Hiro Protagonist to do our office jobs this way.

[marimogf-archived]

hope i’m not too late to send in an inbox 🥹 but for the song thing ur doing i would love to req one heh

song: tek it — cafuné

genre: fluff

character: satoru!! :3 🩵

logaaaan i'm so sorry for being so late, i hope this gives you some comfort :( 🩷

listen

contains: reader wears makeup, pining, satoru doesn't know feelings, he's so loser coded i love him, tiny splash of angst; wc: ~1k

as always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!! 💗

PLEASE READ MY DNI BEFORE INTERACTING!

“look! there's gonna be fireworks by the river! can we go, ‘toru? please?” you waved the flyer in front of his face while putting on your best puppy eyes, a little pout accompanying it.

“yeah, yeah, okay fine,” the white-haired man grumbled, snatching the flyer out of your hand and reading through the details. it was the day before you were leaving to study in a different city, leaving him, shoko and suguru in tokyo.

as his cerulean eyes studied the paper, you were already scurrying about, packing more belongings into various boxes lying around in your apartment. satoru watched you from his peripheral vision, noticing how empty your home suddenly looked. it became all too real to him that next week, you would be somewhere entirely unknown.

and he'd be alone with his feelings.

he didn't know when those feelings start to blossom in his chest. when the line between being friends and lovers blurred. was it when you drunkenly confessed to suguru that you’d liked satoru but it'd never work out because his family wouldn't approve? was it when, in that same night, satoru offered to let you stay at his and you mumbled a “thanks, love you” into his fluffy sheets?

maybe it was when you snuck onto the roof of his parents’ house to look at the moon. your favorite pastime. you would always tell him that the moon was just like him to you. always there, always watching over you. but he was also always above you, a constant reminder of how unattainable and untouchable he'd be.

he didn’t know when it became more than just friendship.

never having had those feelings before, he also didn't know how to navigate them. his first course of action was to distance himself from you, in hopes that those feelings would subside. but in the contrary, he missed you so much that he almost spilled like a full glass of water when you asked him if everything was alright in that soft voice of yours.

of course you had noticed, you could read him like a book. it's almost like you had the six eyes instead of him.

the night of the fireworks, you met him at your usual hang-out spot underneath the weeping willow by the river. there were already a few stray fireworks going off, illuminating the sky in one minute intervals.

satoru couldn't take his eyes off of you, hair and makeup done in a way that was only reserved for special occasions. with the summer heat making your skin glow.

you engaged in meaningless small talk, the air thick with the knowledge of your departure the next day. when the announcement came that the fireworks would officially start, you took satoru’s clammy hand in yours to drag him to the side of the river.

as the fireworks went off with loud whistles and bangs, satoru’s eyes wandered over to you. he took in your amazed expression. eyes sparkling in the different colors of the fireworks, skin shiny from the light sheen of sweat you worked up and lips stretched into a big smile.

satoru’s heart jumped into his throat when you turned to face him, flushed cheeks burning.

“thank you for accompanying me here for my last day, ‘toru. it really means a lot.” your gentle voice barely reached his ears over the tumult around you.

he could barely swallow the lump on his throat, gulping hard before awkwardly chuckling. “yeah, don't worry about it.”

leaning over to him, you pressed a chaste kiss on his scalding cheek, watching as his flush traveled to the tips of his ears and down his neck.

“i’ll miss you more than anyone else.”

his heart leaped out of his chest, the words he so desperately wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, his brain screaming at him to just say it!!!

but he swallowed, hard, burying his feelings deep down.

“you're acting like we won't see each other ever again,” he laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulders. you joined in with giggles, leaning into him and feeling his accelerated pulse against your ear.

“we won't for a while.”

the next day, you tearfully said your goodbyes and tried to memorize everyone's scent by hugging them just a few seconds longer. last in line, of course, was satoru.

the world stopped turning for a moment as you locked eyes, yours filling with fresh tears and his burning as well. shoko and suguru gave each other a knowing look, excusing themselves to the convenience store next to your apartment building.

“thank you for coming,” you mumbled, stepping towards his slender figure, tear streaks adorning your hot cheeks.

“what kind of best friend would i be if i didn't see you off?” he replied quietly, his heart jumping to his throat and closing it off.

you wrapped your arms around his slim waist, burying your wet face in his chest. his warm hands found your back, rubbing soothing circles. his lips pressed against the crown of your head with a low hum. little did you know he was fighting back tears of his own, not wanting to seem weak in front of you and his other friends.

he watched intently as the moving company workers loaded the remaining boxes into their truck and closed it off, honking the car to signal their nearing departure.

you sniffled into his shirt, inhaling his scent for one last time before separating from him. ”that's my cue.”

he, along with your other friends that had returned, watched as you got into your car with one last wave. as the engine started running, so did the hot tears down satoru's cheeks. he earned himself ruffle of his hair from suguru and a sympathetic smile from shoko.

that night, after confirming that you got to your new apartment safely, he climbed up to his roof. just like when you were here, he missed your warmth next to him.

as he looked up to the moon shining brightly in the starry midnight sky, his phone vibrated with a message from you.

‘we're still looking at the same moon <3’

a/n: kgksjdshs ngl i struggled a bit with this but it's finally out!!! please remember that this is one of the last things i will put out before completely moving blogs!

tagging @satoruhour (thank you for helping me 😭), @tojiella @kizoken @gojoest @ramonathinks

© marimogf 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate or steal any of my works.

[aphrogeneias]

it's been seven hours and fifteen days —

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: five years ago you'd left your hometown in a hurry, trying to escape a heartbreak you thought was inevitable. now, you find out what's truly inevitable are lengths that fate will go to meet you.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: soulmate!au, angst, unrequited love (or is it?), eddie and reader are childhood friends but they're now in their 20s.

series masterlist

I. PROLOGUE (1991)

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, DECEMBER 1991

"He's here."

Your trembling hands grasp the telephone receiver a little too hard. Staring at the closed door of the back office and hoping that the "staff only" sign is respected, you wait for your friend at the other end of the line to answer after you completely ignored her cheery "Hello!" just seconds earlier.

If you strain your ears a little bit, you can hear the telltale sounds of instruments being dragged around the small stage at the other side of the bar, the voices of the men — both band and crew alike — checking the sound for later that night, distorted feedback echoing from the amps. His voice was the loudest, as it’s always been.

It all feels like a fever dream.

"Who is there?"

"Who have I been running from for the past five years?" You sighed tiredly, as if you'd just ran for miles. You hoped that from your desperate tone that Robin would have picked up on exactly who you were talking about.

"Oh… He's there?" Realization colors her voice. You heard steps on her end, the telephone cord being stretched, and waited with baited breath for her to return. For a moment, you can almost picture her clumsily moving around her small kitchen, trying not to break something in her haste. "He's there?"

The shock you hear in her voice can't be compared to the one you felt when you saw Eddie Munson — freak extraordinaire, professional small town delinquent, guitar wizard and your long lost best friend — walk into the bar you work at, equipment in hand, ready to settle in the stage for a busy Friday night at one of the more inconspicuous bars in Sunset Boulevard.

In all your naivety, you thought you'd never have to see him again. Once you left Hawkins, fresh out of High School and with a determination you only have when you're born in a town that is, in turn, equally determined to spit you out, you thought that was it. Destiny and fate and red strings didn't rule your life, you did.

Destiny was now laughing at your face, pointing at you with an accusing finger like a mother that says "I told you so" to a misbehaving child that has to face the consequences after tempting them for too long.

It looked like he didn't change a thing since you last saw him, from the shaggy brown hair down to the tattered black bandana in his pocket, at least from the quick look you took at him before bolting, which only hurt even more.

"When were you going to tell me he moved here? Didn't you know anything? Didn't Steve know? Dustin must have told him something, it's impossible…"

"Bold of you to assume I listen to every single thing that dingus tells me when he calls me, babe." Robin interrupts your increasingly rapid speech, filled with indignant rage. Her words seem harsh towards your mutual friend, but you know it's said with affection. "And also, I don't know, doesn't fate work in mysterious ways or whatever they used to tell us when we were kids?"

Your communication with your childhood friends was done primarily by phone, ever since you left for Los Angeles and Robin for Indianapolis with her girlfriend-slash-roommate (as far as both of their parents are concerned), Vickie. Steve had stayed behind, begrudgingly managing his dad's business, but you knew it was only a matter of time until he left too.

All of you do, eventually. Even Eddie did, much to your chagrin. It was bittersweet, actually. He'd achieved his lifelong dream of getting out, a dream you both shared, but now you hoped he had chosen somewhere else to run to instead of right into you.

If you weren’t too busy being desperate about your current situation, one you’d been trying to avoid for longer than you thought it was possible, you’d be happy for him. Truly. Once upon a time, it was all you ever wanted. All you could ever talk about. Sitting on his bedroom floor, lying together on your roof, staring at Lover’s Lake — about how you’d get out of there and conquer the world.

You didn’t get to do it together like you planned, like you were meant to, but, then again, life found a way.

"There's nothing mysterious about this, though. Every idiot with a band in this country moves to California sooner or later, it was just a matter of time until they did too."

"May I remind you that he's not just an idiot with a band but actually your soulmate?"

The word soulmate pierces your heart like an arrow anytime you hear it, especially when it's related to yours. It reminds you of a painful conversation, one that was hard to forget.

"Don't say that. You're making it difficult for me." You murmur, closing your eyes for a moment too long. Still staring at the door, scared of someone walking in catching you hanging on to the receiver for dear life, unshed tears glistening in your eyes.

"I'm just saying, and I know I've said this a million times before, but I don't know how you haven't caved to those doe eyes of his. Soulmate or not, I would have, and I don't even like men. Not even a little bit."

Glimpses of warm brown filled your mind, deep and all-knowing. It was getting harder to breathe in the stuffy backroom, the walls seeming to close in on you.

A rational part of your brain, deep inside, knew that you were likely exaggerating. It wasn't like Eddie meant to hurt you — he couldn't even if he tried, that boy didn't have a mean bone in his body. In your worst moments, you tried to convince yourself that you had hurt yourself. You broke your own heart before he could break it first.

That same rational part of your brain knew it was inevitable. The heartbreak. It was only a matter of time until it all shattered — so, you left. You stopped writing at some point near the six month mark after you moved, he stopped calling a little after that. Life went on.

"You're not being very helpful, you realize that? I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him. They're all here, all of the boys. They're here, at the bar, rehearsing." You told her. "When Linda said they had hired a new band I expected something like them but not them, literally." Recounting what happened a few minutes before, you left out the part where you may or may not have crouched behind the bar counter to avoid being seen by your former classmates.

The Deuce was your safe place, and that was a lot to say about a bar that housed a little under a hundred rowdy rock fans almost every night and had seen its fair share of fights and public indecency charges in the time you worked there, but you liked it. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it was one of those places where everything felt possible and every night was different, or with the woman who took you under her wing and made you feel at home in the most chaotic moment of your life.

You trusted Linda, but not enough to tell her about your “one who got away”. Even if you did tell her about what led you here, the real reason you were miles away from home, you don’t think it would have made a difference in this particular moment. You had a feeling no one could put a stop to the red string that was, little by little, shortening the distance between you and the one who’s always held the other side of it.

It frightened you to no end.

"You should just talk to him. Rip that band-aid off. What are you going to do? Leave your job?"

After a beat of silence on your end, Robin continued, and the soft kindness in her voice was enough to finish breaking you. You wish you could hold her through the line. "You can't keep running forever."

Was it stupid that you thought you could?

Your heart beat fast under the tight black shirt you used to work that day, and unconsciously, your hand reached for the necklace under it. An old red guitar pick sat there, right under your collarbone, held between your fingers.

The only thing of his you couldn't keep in that damn box.

[jjsmaybank20]

ok can i make a leighton request?

Her and her gf stuck at Leighton’s parents house in NYC bc of the pandemic?!

The family loves R, thing she’s the best partner Leight has ever had and are always around them. Movie nights, cooking, drinking wine (it’s the pandemic Leighton’s parentswouldn’t care about underage drinking bc they’re being responsible by doing at home…like they have any other choice but yk)

Leighton would 100% love being stuck with her gf all day everyday but she definitely hates her family being added to the mix. They go on drives all the time bc Leighton wants to take her gf away and spend time with her😭

Leighton then texting with R’s brother/sister and asking if they can stay in the spare apartment R’s family owns bc she needs to get away💀

Then they start sneaking off just to be alone🤭

They definitely bake together bc wtf else do they do during these desperate times when they’re not having sex?!😭

Alone Time

Leighton Murray x GN!reader

Summary: Leighton is willing to go to far measures to get you alone with her.

Warnings: L-bomb, just fluff

Word Count: 1k

A/N: So sorry it took so long, I am behind on all my requests because of school. Just hang in there, y'all!

navigation  the sex lives of college girls masterlist

---

You love Leighton, and because you love her, you want her parents to love you. Especially with her mother and brother, it is truly a hit or miss. Luckily, you won them over with your charming and caring personality, and innate knowledge of sports, movies, and celebrity gossip. 

Thankfully you got them to love you just before the pandemic hit, causing you to be stuck with them almost 24/7. You had been visiting with Leighton over a break when the news was revealed, and your parents lived across the country so you wouldn’t have been able to stay with them. The Murrays generously offered to let you stay with them at their brownstone, and you jumped at the chance to live with your girlfriend and her family.

You loved becoming even closer with them, especially because you wanted to be with Leighton for the rest of your life. You would hold movie nights, game nights, and various other events to keep everyone entertained and distracted from the time pandemic put in all of your hands. 

At first Leighton loved to spend her time with you and her family, but soon it started to get old. She wanted to have time with you to herself, instead of having to seemingly share you with her parents and brother at all times. Every time she tried to just be with you, her mom would snatch you away to talk about some gossip she had just heard or her brother would steal you to watch the Yankees game on TV. Even her dad seemed to be conspiring to never let you two have any alone time!

Finally, it gets to be too much for her. She reaches out to your brother, asking him to let the doorman of the apartment your family has in New York know that the two of you would be coming by. He teases her for a bit before telling her he would, and she thanks him profusely. The day after he texts her back, she snatches you up from the couch next to her brother and dad, and drags you out to the car. You are confused, but you follow her obediently. 

As you walk around to the driver’s side, thinking that this was just one of your ‘let’s get away for an hour’ drives, Leighton runs around you and blocks your way. “No. I’m driving today.” This catches you off guard, as your girlfriend was a notorious passenger princess. You decide not to question it, but your suspicion never fully dissipates.

As she drives, you notice that she seems to have a purpose. She was taking you somewhere, not just driving around aimlessly. When she pulls up outside of your parents' New York apartment building, you let out a laugh. “Seriously, baby? Did you call my brother?” When she nods shyly, you giggle and wrap your arm around her, pulling her into your side. 

You walk inside, thanking the doorman when he gives you the key and hopping right into the elevator. When you get to your floor, you unlock the door and Leighton quickly pulls you inside. She grabs your face and kisses you deeply, catching you off guard. Your surprise quickly fades, and you melt into the kiss as it gets softer. When Leighton pulls back for a breath, she sighs, “Finally. I haven’t been able to do that in forever.”

You laugh again, making a pretty blush form on Leighton’s cheeks. “Baby, we’ve made out almost every day.” She hides her face in your neck, murmuring something unintelligible. “What was that?” She repeats it, and this time it is audible. “We haven’t been able to do that without being interrupted or without other people around. We can finally hang out alone.” 

You grin at your girlfriend before moving further into the apartment. “Okay, Leight. We’re alone now. What do you wanna do?” Leighton thinks about it for a moment. “I want to bake something.” You roll your eyes at her, but still smile, knowing how this was going to go. “Oh, you want to bake something? Or do you want me to bake while you sit on the counter and ‘look pretty’? Your words, not mine.” Leighton lets out a carefree laugh that makes you smile softly at her. 

“Mmmm… The second one sounds good.” She grabs your hand and leads you into the kitchen, and you get to work baking her some cookies. She hoists herself up onto the counter and watches you move around the kitchen fluidly, every once and a while pulling you in for a short kiss. When everything is put together and you put the cookie dough into the oven, Leighton pulls you in between her legs. She latches onto you, locking you in and holding you as close as possible.

You smile at her and wrap your arms around her body, holding her close. When the timer goes off for the cookies, you have to untangle yourself as best as you can with the resistance from Leighton. When you pull the tray out, Leighton seems to completely forget about cuddling, and instead grabs the treats away so that she can have them herself. You laugh before trying to snatch a few back, but instead, Leighton holds a piece of a cookie out to feed to you.

You open your mouth for her, letting her put it inside before chewing and letting the delicious taste consume your taste buds. When you open your eyes again, Leighton is already looking at you with a lovesick look on her face. She places her arms around your neck and surely states, “I love you, baby.” 

You smile down at her, wrapping your arms around her waist. “I love you too, Leight. So, so, so much.” You pull her into a hug, knowing that even in these difficult times, you would still have her support through all of it. She was the one for you, through thick and thin. Leighton Murray was the love of your life, and not even a pandemic could change that.

---

@lovelyy-moonlight @pnsteblnme @nrm5656 @alotofpockets @theenglishswiftie @didyoubringauntienat @Emmie-223 @qutequeersstuff

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