#thanks for this ask though! always nice to get some encouragement :)

[mostrovskaa]

Hi! I love your art, your color and shape work is amazing!!

I wanted to ask if you have any Polish media you can recommend to us non-Poles - movies, shows, stuff like that

Hi! Thank you so much for the ask! It is a great pleasure for me to share some Polish media to the people! I just have to preface this and tell especially my fellow Poles that: I am by no means an expert on the subject, I like a lot of bad media, I like a lot of children's media and mainstream media that I love to shape by my own creativity ok and I don't know every single niche thing so please don't come for me. Be nice please or I'll die of embarrassment! With that being said, here are just some of my picks of some cool things I like that I would recommend to check out! (Again I don't know about how available these are around the internet and what would be the subtitle situation but still, i love these pieces of media and think they are interesting to even just read or check out visually if anything!)

- The Akademia Pana Kleksa movies (Akademia Pana Kleksa, Podróże Pana Kleksa and Pan Kleks w Kosmosie) (1984-1988)- These children's fantasy and fable inspired beautiful movies based on a book incorporate beautiful puppetry and set designs, visually they are one of my biggest inspirations. Having both dark,whimsical and sci-fi elements they have been in my visual language since I saw them as a kid! Really really recommend looking into them, even though they may be wacky and strange at times! 

And they contain absolutely amazing songs :

Available to watch without subtitles unfortunately here, but worth to check out the visuals of all the movies in the series: https://www.ninateka.pl/vod/dla-dzieci/akademia-pana-kleksa/ 

- Poszukiwany, Poszukiwana (Man- woman wanted) (1972) (one of my favorite movies ever!) - a comedy film about a museum curator who gets accused of stealing a painting and goes into hiding as a maid. You would think with polish humor it would be the typical: haha man dressed as a woman, hilarious! type stuff but no! It’s funny, charming, sweet and smart and surprisingly based. Marysia, just one chance please queen. 

available to watch with subtitles here (alongside many other great Polish movies): https://35mm.online/vod/fabula/poszukiwany-poszukiwana

- Ranczo (tv show, 10 seasons, I believe it’s available on Netflix) - the epitome of Polish society. This is just pure Poland in tv show format. A timeless classic, never gets old, never stops being funny and relevant. Watched it a million times and could watch a million more and not get bored. An American woman with Polish heritage comes back to her family village and chaos ensues. I think the characters are so well defined you don’t need to know so much deep Polish lore to get what is going on so I really recommend it!

Other stuff you can find on Netflix I recommend are: 1670 - comedy show about 17th century Poland, Rojst (all seasons)- crime show set mainly in the 90’s.

And something that’s a Polish phenomenon that I absolutely love is media based around popular copypasta: a short film Fanatyk  based on this timeless classic of a copypasta, and a tv show called Emigracja XD - about polish guys finding work in the UK.

And obviously the shows I make art for are always something I encourage people check out like Czterdziestolatek (amazing old show with a cult following) and Ojciec Mateusz (absolute shitty formulaic 30 season tv show that i love with all my heart).

Thank you again, sorry for the long post! There’s obviously many more cool Polish media to watch but this is just what immediately popped into my head! :-))

#long post #asks #:-)

[hitohitonika]

The Thousand Sunny was better than anything they could have imagined. It exceeded their expectations and fulfilled every one of their needs.

Chopper couldn't help but giggle as he turned on his new chair in his new office. He didn't wish for his friends to ever get sick, but it encouraged him to know that he now had the space to take care of them properly if anything happened.

And it was cozy, too, which would make his study sessions so much more enjoyable.

He was so pumped that he didn't hear the knock on the door nor Sanji coming in. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Ah!" He jolted on the chair, "You scared me!"

Sanji smiled fondly, "Sorry, sorry. You seemed really happy, though."

Chooper blushed, realizing he must have seen him gleefully playing around like a child. He nodded, "The Sunny is amazing! And we won't have to use the kitchen as an emergency infirmary anymore! We will have a sterile place to do all the care at." He paused, "Not that the kitchen wasn't spotless, b-but it was a lot of work cleaning it up every time."

Sanji laughed and waved his hand, dismissing him. He finally entered the room, leaning against the closed door. "I understand, Chopper. It is nice to have the space we need. Our crew is getting bigger."

"Yeah..." He giggled, "Can't believe all the things we've done."

"Blame our crazy Captain."

They both shared a few seconds of comforting silence. Then, Sanji spoke. "Oi, Chopper..."

"Hm?"

"I know this is a touchy subject, but..."

Chopper furrowed his brows, "Is everything okay, Sanji?"

"Yes, yes. I was just thinking." He cleared his throat, "You are a reindeer, right?"

He got even more confused, "Yeah?"

"I know your body doesn't work fully like one of a reindeer, as you told me, because of your fruit. But you know I always try to give you plenty of veggies and other greens..."

"Yes, and I really appreciate it. I can digest anything, but it's easier on my digestive system to eat a herbivore diet."

Sanji nodded, "And that's why. I-I was the one who asked Franky to have some grass on the ship."

Chopper was caught up by surprise, "Oh."

"I'm not saying you just... go and graze it. I-I'm aware it might be embarrassing, and I know you hate to be seen as a 'monster'. But I've been learning how to take care of it, without any chemicals that might harm you, and I've been devising a couple of recipes that might work with grass, so..."

Sanji looked him in the eye, hesitantly. He didn't want Chopper to feel different, but as the chef, he had been worrying about his diet for a while. Just as he had asked Nami to teach him how to harvest the mikan trees to avoid scurby, he wanted to do this for him, too.

Chopper couldn't hold a couple of tears from running down his face, but he wiped them with his arm. "Thank you, Sanji! That would be so good. I don't crave it much, but it does feel comforting to eat it sometimes." He got down from the chair to hug Sanji's legs. "But it doesn't make me happy at all that you care about me, you idiot."

I thought, "What if Sanji learned gardening to add grass to Chopper’s diet?" And this happened.

#one piece #one piece fanfic #one piece ficlet #sanji #tony tony chopper #strawhats

[rafeysdoll]

hiii

a drabble idea i had was rafe and innocent!reader (at least inexperienced in smoking) smoking a blunt together on their balcony at the house in nassau when rafes having that party and rafe gets all touchy and is helping you smoke it and you get all fried and horny and he shuts the party down and you guys fuck in his room -👛

nice to see u again anon! thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy it <3

“it’s alright.. it won’t bite you, jus’ gotta inhale real slow.” rafe instructs, a smirk evident on his lips. music blasting downstairs, everyone in their own world. although he loved you sweet and pure, the thought of him being the one to corrupt you made his cock twitch.

you wrap your lips around the joint, taking it in for a few seconds before pulling away, holding the smoke for a little bit before exhaling. the new feeling made you nervous, never wanting to make a fool of yourself. always wanting to excel in everything for rafe’s approval.

“how’s it feel? you feel good?” he asks, rubbing his hands on each side of your shoulders. “think you can take another one, baby?”

with each hit you take, you feel yourself feel lighter and lighter. your head fuzzy. you were sitting on rafe’s lap now, both having bloodshot red eyes now, giggling at everything as rafe explores your body.

“you ever.. you ever uh, touch your tits?” he whispers, barely audible, groping one through your bikini, free hand holding the joint. “not really,” you mewl, whimpering under his touch. “i like it, though.” you confess, blush spreading through your cheeks.

“yea? you like it baby?” he chuckles, following his hand up to your face, squishing your cheeks. “open up,”

you whimper, separating your lips and expecting rafe to give you the joint. instead, he takes his own drag— blowing the smoke into your mouth.

the act makes your rub your thighs together, the very familiar feeling of desire running throughout your body.

“fuck.. me,” you breathily whine, thoughts catching up to your lips quick. an absolute pitiful and desperate look twisted on your face. “please.”

he couldn’t even reply, the sound of some sort of fight happening downstairs making the little bubble you both put around yourselves pop. cheers of encouragement being yelled.

you move off rafe’s lap, eyebrows furrowed as rafe starts walking towards the edge.

“the fuck are you guys doing? all of you need to get the hell off my property now!” his voice booms, people now staring up at him, most gathering their things as a small crowd tried to separate whoever was fighting.

while everyone cleared the scene, you had made your way back inside, laying on rafe’s bed, waiting for him to come back.

“there you are sweet girl,” he smiles, kicking off his shoes and walking closer to you. “my apologies for the interruption, think it’s time we get back where we left off, right baby?”

#👛 anon #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #outerbanks smut #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron thoughts #outer banks x reader

[dduane]

I think one of the most amusing things from following you on Tumblr is when people go "wait, you wrote that?" about a series/book, like they were following you before they knew you were you.

Meanwhile, I followed you because I remember the Young Wizards books quite fondly and recognized your name when someone else I started following reblogged something of yours.

Thank you! It's always nice to be recognized. :)

...You know, though, I don't mind when the recognition sometimes gets really delayed: or maybe doesn't come at all.* I have absolutely zero problem with people following me simply because I reblog things that interest them. In fact, it's kind of encouraging, actually: that some folks like my online "company" without knowing that I've ever done anything in particular. (Not least because there are precious few of us in any branch of the media who're immune to the progression of career stages as once described to me by a producer I was working with:)

...And if you're lucky enough to be doing this for long enough, the progression can cycle—sometimes repeatedly, so that you may sometimes not be real sure whether you're currently in (1) or (5).** :)

Anyway, thanks again.

*I mean, we've all seen even @neil-gaiman get asks from folks saying "Wait, I thought you were just some tumblr guy: who are you?" So that has to ease any putative sting, even on low-self-esteem / impostor-syndrome days.

**Or you might be at like (2) in one medium and (4) in another. Work in enough kinds of media at once, and you may wind up needing a spreadsheet. :)

#career stages #recognition

[stevieschrodinger]

I don't know, ficlet AU sort of thing.

Alpha Steve has a YouTube channel that, kind of, started by accident. Steve is not the most confident reader, like, at all. The words get kind of muddled and he got into a habit of just sort of trying to rush it, figuring he was going to mess it up anyway, so get it over with, right? And then he just sort of stops reading, even though he enjoyed it, because he couldn't get his brain to slow down and the muddling got worse and...yeah.

So one day, his platonic soul mate bestie suggests he read out loud. To someone. If he reads every word out one at a time, knowing it has to be clear enough for the other person to follow, that'll slow him down.

So, he tries it, but only for Robin. And it sort of works, kind of, and then she hits on him using something so he can only see the line he's reading, like a bit of card with a letterbox cut in it, and...Steve is on fire.

The words don't get muddled up so much, and his reading is slow and even, and he needs to read to someone, and Robin can't always be there. It becomes his own pet project, he reads out little bits of books he likes, parts of articles he has enjoyed, poems, whatever, and starts his own little you tube that has like, five followers, and they're all people he knows.

And then suddenly, almost overnight, Steve finds himself with four thousand followers. A very large portion of them are very clearly Omega, from the comments, and Steve suddenly finds himself with a lot of fans who are using his videos for white noise. He's literally reading thousands of Omegas off to sleep.

Which is...nice. Steve likes it. The hits and followers on his videos seem to settle down after a couple of weeks, and then, after having so many comments about how settling Steve's voice is, how the Alpha is relaxing and safe. Steve thinks fuck it.

As a test, he makes a ten minute video directly for that audience. He builds a nest, films it POV. He films the view of someone walking through the bedroom door, of what they would see as they climb into the nest, then resting the camera on his own chest.

Then he starts talking. Tells the omega how perfect they are, how much he cares for them, wants to protect, keep safe. How soft they are as he pets them, how warm and cosy they are in their nest. How snuggles with the omega are Steve's favourite thing.

He deliberately keeps everything as vague and gender neutral as he can. The video fucking explodes. Goes viral. Millions of hits, thousands and thousands of followers. Robin and the kids think it's hilarious, and encourage him to keep going, claiming he's doing a public service.

Hundreds of copycats spring up, but no one pulls it off quite like Steve.

He knows there are Omega out there getting off to his videos, despite there being absolutely nothing sexual about them, but Steve figures, whatever makes people happy.

He gets so many positive comments, omega telling him how much comfort he brings them. He has some regular commenters that he gets to know, too, which is nice. Sometimes he even takes requests, small things, the colour of his shirt, the time of day he shoots his videos, certain words and phrases.

One supportive commenter always stands out though : EdDio86. Steve's pretty sure he's male omega, and he's always so grateful when Steve posts a new video. The guy clearly has a lot of trouble sleeping, and apparently Steve really helps. They have a little back and forth in the comments, learning little bits about one another. Steve likes this omega.

Steve also gets the impression the omega is sorely lacking any comfort in his life. Considering the length of his comments, the guy never asks for anything.

Until he does.

At the end of a comment, always ever so politely thanking Steve, EdDio86 admits he's 'in a bit of a pickle' and could Steve, please, do a video where 'the omega' is with pup? Could Steve tell the omega that the pup is fine, and healthy, and that the omega is doing good and the pup is okay and everything will be okay...but cool if not. Bit of a weird request, I know, sorry to be a bother.

And Steve suddenly doesn't give a shit about the consequences of just,,,dropping his personal email out into the world like that, because he wants to tell this guy these things personally.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson #omega eddie because hes so pretty #you tuber steve Harrington #au

[moonstruckme]

Hey lovely! I saw you wanted some doctor rem requests, so I was wondering if you could possibly write something where the Remus wakes up in the middle of the night because the reader has a fever and is burning up right next to her, and he gets up and takes care of her, puts her in a cool bath to cool down and then reads to her to get her to sleep. Just a bunch of fluff haha 💕

Thank you for requesting my love !

cw: non-sexual nudity

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 834 words

It’s not uncommon for Remus to get too warm in the middle of the night. He’s always careful to flip just his part of the covers off, sticking an arm and a leg out without exposing you to the cool air. It is unusual for the heat not to be coming off of his own body.

Remus rolls over, feeling for you without opening his eyes. The temperature under the covers increases before he’s even touching you, emanating from your skin and heating the space around you. He opens his eyes. 

You’re curled up tight, one hand trapped underneath your cheek, blankets pulled up to your chin like you’re chilled instead of burning. Your brow is puckered as though you’re concentrating hard on something in your unconscious, and you don’t rouse when the bed creaks as Remus gets up. 

He plugs the drain in the tub and turns on the tap, feeling for the right temperature before leaving it to fill.

“Sweetheart.” It’s one part exhaustion and two parts love, sleep still clinging to the edges of his voice. You don’t stir in the slightest when Remus touches your shoulder, worrying in itself. 

It takes a few gentle shakes to do it, and you’re none too happy to be woken. Remus can’t help his small smile at your sleepy frown. 

“Your fever’s gotten worse,” he tells you, stroking the baby hairs at your temple. “I’m starting you a bath, okay?” 

You close your eyes, reluctant. “Can it wait ‘til morning?” 

Remus slips a hand beneath your shoulders and brushes his lips under your eye. “Afraid not, lovely girl. Do you need help getting up?” 

He has to smother a grin when you react just as he predicted, grumbling and crawling out of bed. Still, you don’t reject the arm he wraps around your waist to guide you into the bathroom. Your skin is clammy under his hand, and you lean into his side like you weigh more than you did yesterday. 

“Is your head still bothering you?” he asks while you strip out of your pajamas. 

“A little,” you say, your words soft and stuck together by drowsiness. “Not as bad as yesterday. What time s’it?” 

“It’s early yet.” Remus wraps his arms around your shoulders, kissing your nape as he encourages you closer to the tub. “We’ll go back to bed as soon as we get you cooled down. You can sleep in as late as you want.” 

“You’ll make me think I’m dreaming,” you tease. But your smile vanishes as soon as you set a toe into the bathwater. “Rem, it’s cold.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” He smiles, rueful, when you look betrayed. “Like I said, we’ve got to get your temperature down. Your body will adjust.” 

“You’re supposed to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you mutter, but take the hand he offers you to step into the tub. 

A couple of little shivers tremble through you. Remus stays, stroking the lines of your palm, until your taut muscles start to relax and you let your body unspool in the cool water. Then he goes to get you fever reducers. 

He’s not gone long, but you look as though you’ve nearly fallen asleep again in his absence. You’re curled loosely on your side, one cheek resting on the porcelain lip of the tub with your hands folded under it. The arcs of your shoulders are shiny wet, and your lashes droop as if drawn towards their other halves by magnets. 

When Remus sits on the bathmat, you raise your eyes up to his lazily. His reaction is predictable: fondness that sticks in the back of his throat and nestles into the space behind his sternum. 

“Better now?” he asks, and his voice is soft for reasons he doesn’t entirely understand. It’s an instinct, as if to protect some precious part of you that might still be slumbering. 

You hum. “A little.” 

He holds up the water and tablets. “Think you can sit up to take these?” 

Those pretty eyes roll skyward at the question, and you do, finishing the water without him needing to ask and murmuring a thanks when you’re done. Remus sets the empty cup on the floor. He dips a hand into the bathwater, cupping some and spilling it down your back. Not strictly necessary, perhaps, but it’s nice for him and you don’t seem to mind. Your eyes slip closed again. Remus follows the path of the water with his hand, coasting between your shoulder blades and down the curvature of your spine. Your skin is still warm to the touch, but he thinks there’s been some improvement. 

“Don’t fall asleep here,” he murmurs. Your eyes peel open again. “I’m just giving it a few minutes before I check your fever, and then we can go back to bed.” 

“I’m gonna sleep all tomorrow,” you sigh. 

He smiles. “If that’s what you want.” 

You hum satisfiedly. “Will you sleep in with me? Please?” 

Remus huffs a laugh. “Sure, sweetheart. Twist my arm.” 

#doctor!remus #doctor!remus lupin #doctor!remus x reader #remus lupin au #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin oneshot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #the marauders #marauders fandom #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[luveline]

could i request teacher!reader with hotch? like maybe she’s jacks teacher

thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1.2k

You're a teacher: you're always tired. Overworked, underpaid, everybody knows how it goes. And maybe you've let yourself go because you don't have any real material hopes for the future beyond getting Macy Danish to read at a first grade level, but how were you supposed to know that Jack Hotchner's father would be so overwhelmingly attractive? It's not fair. 

He's handsome though older than you'd been expecting, but that isn't the cut and dry of it. When he comes in, it's alone, in a well-fitted suit. He's tall and remarkably dark-eyed, shaking your hand without trying to impose any authority, as some of the fathers tend to do, and when you call him Mr. Hotchner, he says, "Aaron, please," but continues to call you Ms. L/N.

"Aaron," you say, pulling your skirt under your thighs as you sit down. You're dressed in nice clothes for the parent-teacher conferences, but you could've covered your sleeplessness better. "Jack is the nicest boy in class. He's actually my loveliest kid. Um…" You search through your notes for the preliminary assessment of Jack. "Sorry, two seconds." 

"Take your time. I know what it's like to dig through a mountain of paperwork every day." 

"Jack mentioned you work in the government, he calls you a special agent," you say, smiling. "You get the bad guys." 

"I am a special agent. Supervisory." Aaron is conscientious enough to pretend he doesn't notice your surprise. "I'm chief of the behavioural analysis unit." 

You can't even begin to guess what that entails. "Oh," you say breathlessly. 

"I understand that it sounds fantastical." 

"It sounds impressive," you say, floundering to correct yourself. Behavioural analysis? It must be obvious to him how nervous he's making you, then, and when you realise that, you get worse. "I'm so sorry about this. I should be more organised. I usually am." 

"That's alright. Take your time." 

Does he always speak that way? His voice is like fucking silk? Is he messing with you?

You yank the notes you made for Jack from the pile and flatten them across the desk. "Okay, sorry. Like I was saying, Jack is really the nicest kid, him and his friend Molly. They're both lovely, and teachers shouldn't have favourites, please don't tell the other parents, but they're my favourites." You smile at him quickly and return your eyes to the paper. The words swim in front of your eyes. "Jack can read better than you could ever hope for a first grader, he's immensely intelligent for his age group. He's patient. He'll explain anything to anyone if they ask him too, and he does it well." 

"I'm glad to hear that," he says, again so softly. 

You pick up one of your skinny biros to have something to fidget with. He's a very good looking man, but you're a good teacher. You can focus on what to say. Some parents need good things only. Some need reassurement that they're doing a good job. Aaron is harder to read, but you know what he needs, too. 

"He can be lonely," you say, looking him in the eye. "I don't think that that's down to any fault. I'm sure you know better than I do why he might feel that way." You know about his mom's passing over a year ago. You've seen grief in children too many times. "He… I understand if this isn't okay with you, but he eats lunch with me sometimes. I encourage him to sit with his peers, of course, but I think he runs out of energy pretty quickly." 

Aaron nods thoughtfully. His brows quirk into a furrow that you're afraid is directed at you. 

"I don't think he necessarily has trouble connecting with his friends." 

"What do you think?" 

"I think something awful happened to your family, and Jack will feel it for the rest of his life, but that it won't stop him from being great. It already isn't. And… he clearly has a father who loves him and who he admires. You're his second favourite topic." 

"What's his first?" he asks. 

"He's really into Fruity Fridays," you say with a laugh. "I bring in fruits you don't get often in America. Someone would've had to sign a form." 

"No, I remember signing it. He likes that?" His smile is golden. "I can't get him to try new things." 

"He had all the leftover gold kiwi last week." You rub your lips together. Time is ticking. You have nearly thirty parents to see tonight, but talking to Mr. Hotchner has been so normal. He's a regular person in a sea of inattentive helicopter narcissists. It's a relief and a half to meet him and know a kid as gentle as Jack is in good hands. "Mr. Hotchner, I have to tell you, I'm really relieved to meet you." 

"Aaron," he corrects.

Your tone drops too low. "Aaron." 

"I'm more than relieved," he says. "I knew that this year would be harder for him. I didn't know… I'm grateful to you, for being so kind with him." 

You look down at your notes, flushed from head to toe despite your airy skirt. Crossing your legs, you shake your head. "It's my job." 

"To let him take up the only break you get all day?" he asks. 

"It's not like that. Jack doesn't bother me." You fold your notes in half. "I can see his role model measures up." 

"I could say the same thing." 

The next time you see Jack, bright and early Monday mooring shepherded by his aunt Jessica, he's very happy to see you. You offer him a hug and pat his back when he wraps his arms around your hips. "Hello, Jack. Was your dad pleased with your drawings?"

Jack smiles at you. "I have a note for you." 

"You do? Can I see? Where is it, honey?" 

Jack takes off his backpack and pulls out the note and a tupperware container. "Oh, wow, did you make treats for the class? Jack, that's so nice!" 

"No. Dad said those are for you. He said you should have nice for nice, or something," Jack informs you. 

"You'll share with me, though? I can't eat them all by myself," you whisper. 

He nods with enthusiasm and runs off to put his backpack in his cubby and his coat on the hook. You look down at the cookies and note, which is actually an envelope. 

You open it with your thumbnail. The writing is Aaron's usual tight cursive.

Dear Miss L/N, 

I hoped to thank you again in person, but work makes that hard. I appreciate everything you do for Jack. There are teachers who work, and there are teachers who go above and beyond. I can feel confident anywhere in the country knowing Jack is being taught by the latter. 

Gratefully yours, 

Aaron Hotchner. 

P.S. Please don't feed Jack too many cookies. They're not for him. 

You keep the letter even if it's lame to do so. When is the next parent teacher conference, anyways?

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[radiant-reid]

A blurb on spencer with the audio thats like “I always thought you were the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen” and it’s to reader? :))

love this !! and i don't care if it's such a cliche image, I'm not going to stop

Spencer jumps when you slide the balcony door open. Even with the serial killer caught, you're all still on edge, chilly in the Alaskan spring.

"Sorry, I hope you don't mind me interrupting." You step forward and close the door to stop any heat from the fire escaping inside.

"Not at all," Spencer assures you, smiling softly to encourage you forward.

You stand next to him, looking out over at the hill and evergreen trees, everything with a fresh dumping of snow on it. The sun's just setting even though it's not too far into the afternoon, the sky beginning to turn soft pink and orange.

"Things were getting a bit tense inside." You laugh at the very recent memory of some passionate arguing.

"Prentiss and Morgan?" Spencer guesses. You confirm with a nod. "Hotch should add Uno to the list of banned games."

You laugh at the rare joke from him. "We're not going to have anything left now that Monopoly, Clue, and all card games are banned."

"We'll have to all play chess." He decides, matching his enthusiasm with a grin.

"Then you'll have to sit out so it's fair." You remind him with a smirk.

He pouts at that, not the answer he was after. A comfortable silence falls between you as you watch the sky changing colors. It's really like nothing you've seen before, and it's a nice reminder that there's still beauty in the world.

"It's just wow." You say softly, in awe.

"The stars will be out soon," Spencer notes. "They should be incredible. It's meant to be clear and there's no light pollution here like there is in DC."

"You looked it up?" You wonder. It's sweet, really, and his interest seems to go beyond adding to his vast general knowledge.

He turns to you to nod. "I'm going to come out after dinner to watch them. I've never seen anything like this in the cities I've lived in, and we don't get many cases in such beautiful, remote places."

You hum with your own nod. "You're right. Or..." Your curiosity doesn't allow you to resist the opportunity to segue the conversation. "Many beautiful people, like the deputy that's into you."

You're trying to disguise it as teasing him, at least then you can play it off as being teammates and friends, and you're desperately hoping he doesn't notice that you're tense about his answer.

His nose scrunches slightly. Maybe disgust, maybe excitement. "I wasn't looking."

"Not your type?" You ask, slightly alarmed again. You do share some similar traits with her, so if she's not his type, your chances are slimmer.

"I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen." He says sincerely, knocking the wind out of your chest. "So, no, Y/n, I'm not looking at anyone."

You take longer than you should to get over your shock. "You're serious?"

"Sorry, sorry." He quickly apologizes as his cheeks heat up more than can be accounted for by the cold weather. "That was weird. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No." You rest your hand over his, hoping to calm his spiraling worry. "You didn't... just thank you. That's... the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"It's true." He reiterates.

Your smile deepens. "Can I come stargazing with you?" You ask. "I promise I won't distract you."

"Looking like that? Impossible." He jokes, flirtier than you imagine. It's like your reciprocation spurs him on. "But I'd love company... your company, specifically. Inviting someone else would be weird."

You chuckle. "Just me and you."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid blurb

[naddiesflower]

Calling him by his name and not by a term of endearment

another one in the drafts that needed to see the light of day

Characters: Todoroki Shoto and Bakugo Katsuki

Shoto

You truly didn't mean to do it

You honestly just straight up forgot one day

You would always greet each other outside of class before school started

Like clockwork, you would give each other a small hug and you would always say “hi baby” or something similar, but you would always call him baby…..except for today

“Morning Shoto,” you pull away from the hug, and he has a frown on his face that looks different from the one he usually has

“You okay?”  

He’s quick to shake it off, “Yeah, come on, we’re going to be late for class.”

You guys were actually early, but you just brush it off as him wanting to be punctual

Shoto really wants to question you

But he doesn’t

Not outwardly at least

He’s thinking, “are they mad at me?”, “Did I do something to make them mad at me??”

He would do everything possible EXCEPT ask you what was wrong

The both of you walk inside the class and Shoto goes to your seat before you do and pulls out your chair for you

You’re surprised, it’s not like he’s never nice to you (though he doesn’t look it, he’s really nice) but you are perfectly capable of doing menial tasks for yourself

So you never expected him to do that, but you appreciated it nevertheless

“Oh, thanks Sho!”

His eyebrows crease

He hums in affirmation and gives a kiss to the top of your head before walking over to his seat

That’s when you know something is wrong

He wasn’t too keen on PDA 

So for him to nonchalantly kiss you on the head in class….was kinda fishy

Shoto can’t concentrate all that well in class now

Poor dude is wracking through his brain as to why you just called him Sho

WHY SHO AND WHY NOT BABY???

And now he’s pouting for the entirety of the class

Every time you look over at him he’s like >:/

ngl it’s really cute

You don’t ask Shoto what’s wrong until lunchtime rolls around

Well

You try to

When the lunch bell rings Shoto is like a man on a mission

He beelines toward you

If you hadn’t known what his quirk you would have thought it was super speed

Iida who?

Some of your classmates look at him weird 

This is just the image I get in my head lolol

Shoto: 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️   

Classmates:🤨

But he gets to you in like .5 seconds and he holds his hand out to you

He doesn’t even say anything to you, so you assume he wants to hold your hand

You place your hand in his but he surprises you when he pulls you into a hug

Thankfully everyone had already filed out of the class or else you would have been a burning bundle of embarrassment 

“Call me baby please.”

His mouth was right next to your ear and you could feel his lips move against it 

Your knees would have surely given out had you not come to a conclusion

You hadn’t called him baby the entire day and he was now clearly perturbed about it

There was one thing you really loved about Shoto, it was pretty easy to fluster him

And you see a perfect opportunity open itself up

Grabbing his face between your hands you pull him away from your ear and smush his cheeks together

“Oh my poor baby, I'm so sorry my baaaaby.”

A blush was quickly creeping its way up his neck

Which only encourages you more

Maybe he shouldn’t have reminded you

“Ok that’s enough….”

“But I haven’t called you baby enough times.”

“I’m going to eat by myself.”

“Wait!”

Bakugo

You did call Bakugo terms of endearment like babe, sweetheart, and the one you use the most, honey 

Bakugo claimed to dislike your nicknames, but he secretly really liked them

One day you and Bakugo get into a petty argument

I totally feel like you and he would fight over the smallest shit lmao 

And you’re not hanging around his desk before class like you normally do

You’re at Ashido’s desk obviously ignoring him

Which irks him, but that’s fine, he can ignore you too

But he can’t help but eavesdrop on yalls conversation

because Ashido’s desk is very close and totally not because he wants to hear your voice because he already misses it

“Why aren't you at his desk by the way?”

“Hmm, Bakugo’s?”

Oh this catches his immediate attention

He doesn’t even bother hiding his blatant staring at you from across the room

Since the both of you started dating not once have you called him Bakugo

It’s always been your cute gushy nicknames or variations of his first name

Mina already knows what’s up and wants all the details now 

She’s huddling closer to you, almost practically on top of your desk

But you never get to spill tea because the bell is ringing

But i assure you that Bakugou is giving you a hard side eye

Cuz he still needs to focus in class (he’s still a good student!!)

Lunchtime rolls around and he very discreetly walks next to you

“Hey”

You turn to look at him and just smile at him with your stupid cute face

He’s happy you’re not outright ignoring him

But he was at least expecting a, “c’mon Tsuki, i wanna get a good table!”

He brushes his pinkie against yours hoping you’d get the hint and hold his hand but nope

You pick up your pace and he sees you wrap your hands around Ashido’s arm, the both of you now animatedly talking

He would have found it cute if you weren’t hanging off of Ashido

That should be me by justin bieber starts playing

Bakugo is now internally raging inside at the lunch table

You would normally sit next to him but you're sitting across from him in between Sero and Kirishima

Man’s is literally stabbing into his food

everyone is now staring at his dramatic ass 

buy you're the only one who ends up making a comment about it 

"the food is already dead, i don't think you need to do that Bakugo."

he stops murdering his food 

he's had enough

He stands up forms his seat, goes over to a very confused you

Very gently, takes a hold of your wrist and starts dragging you up to the school’s rooftop

You’re questioning him the entire time

When you finally get to the rooftop Bakugo lets go of your wrist and just kind of stares at you

He’s silent for a couple of minutes looking like he’s going through a mental battle

Until he finally says something

Something that you can barely make out because he’s turned his head away from you and is grumbling

You: https://youtu.be/Y_3vk411ALE

“Bakugo what?”

There you go calling him by his last name again

“I said I’m sorry, don’t make me repeat myself!”

“Sorry for what??”

You can’t be serious

“For our argument this morning, the reason you’re calling me by my last name.”

“Oh.”

Oh?

JUST OH??

“I thought you were still mad at me so i wanted to give you space, i forgot about our argument way before school started.”

……

ATTENTION: TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE❗❗❗

Bakugo just sighs

He’s too tired to even get frustrated and just wants your attention

So he pulls you into a hug and buries his face into your neck

“Don’t ever do that again.”

You can practically hear the pout in his voice

“I'm sorry honey, i just wanted to give you space.”

“I don’t care about space.”

#mha x you #mha x reader #mha scenarios #mha imagines #mha headcanons #bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #shoto x y/n #shoto x reader #shoto imagine #shoto torodoki #bnha imagines #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha scenarios

[cowboykento]

cw: yandere!fyodor, he treats you kinda like a doll, slapping, religious themes, daddy kink, hard/mean dom!fyodor

yandere!fyodor who really treats you more like a pet than a lover. sure, it started off normally, with him courting you, taking you on nice dates, whatever you wanted to do.

now, though, it’s different. ever since you moved in with him, fyodor had been subtly switching his demeanor around you. from encouraging you to quit your job because he could handle everything, darling, to making letting you stay home from any and all events.

you hadn’t even realized the changes were happening. you were so swept up in your love for fyodor that the alarm bells had been silenced, just as he’d planned.

even when he’s fucking you, he really sees you as more of a toy. a pretty little doll that he can pull his pleasure from.

“oh, you’re just so pretty for me, aren’t you, doll?” he asks, lithe fingers pinching and pulling the thin fabric he’s dressed you in.

a soft, flowy white lingerie set that, of course, he’d bought just for you. he just adores you in white—you are, after all, oh so innocent.

you melt under his affections, your cheeks growing warm and your brain utterly dulled from the danger you were truly in. instead, your heart just flutters and your pussy gets wetter.

fyodor dips his fingers between your legs before licking your arousal off of them.

“so wet for me, babydoll. y’that needy for my cock? just need to be stuffed to be happy, don’t you?”

you nod at him eagerly before he gives his command to “lay down then.”

you comply, of course, your mind knowing no other course of action than to be good for him. oh, he’s trained you so well.

the thought makes his chest puff with pride as he pulls his cock out, already hardened just from seeing you submit to him so easily.

“such a perfect pussy, princess. gonna stuff it so full, just like she wants,” he groans against your ear.

you whimper out a desperate, “please.”

“please, what?” he prompts, rubbing his dick through your soft folds.

“p-please, daddy,” you manage to get out, desperate tears pooling in your eyes.

he swipes away the first tear as it falls, “aw, no need to cry, my dear. you know i’ll always take care of you and that princess cunt, don’t you? don’t i always take good care of my little girl? keep you safe, keep you happy, keep you full,” he punctuates the last word by pressing his length into you, forcing a cry from your lips.

“ohh- thank you daddy, oh my god,” you cry.

your plea earns you a sharp smack on the mouth, “ah ah. you know better than to use our lord’s name in vain. guess daddy’s going to have to punish you for that, hm?”

“ah!” you moan, “ah- ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, please don’t punish me!”

“i’ll have mercy on you, just this once, darling. but it’d do you well to watch that mouth of yours,” he replies sternly, rutting his hips against yours, stretching you even more.

he thrusts into you relentlessly, pulling every single moan and sob out of your body. at some point you go limp beneath him, but that does nothing to deter his desire, his need, for you and your tight cunt.

he reaches a hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, and that’s the only warning you get before he’s coming deep into your womb, pumping you full of his warm seed before even a drop can spill out.

eventually his thrusts still, but he keeps his cock stuffed inside your pussy, keeping his baby full, just like he promised.

he lets you fall asleep like that, holding you tight against his chest, savoring what is undeniably his.

masterlist

#cw yandere #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor smut #cw daddy kink #cw dark content

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hi!! could you write grover x nymph reader? where reader went to yancy and stuff with him for percy. shes very fem and confident and doesnt rly care about combat or the rules, her and grover butt heads alot bc she wanted to let percy run around and do whatever he wanted while grover tried to be a good influence. shes the only person grover is willing to argue w because she makes fun of him alot but shes rly just trying to encourage him to stand up for himself. maybe on tlt quest they have to work together to look after percy and annabeth and they realise they dont hate eachother as much as they thought? sorry if thats too specific im tryna abide by ur post 😭

if not thats okay!! i loved ur soulmate clarisse fic <3

Sure! Here ya go, and thank you for the request and listening to my post, lol. I’m glad you liked my clarisse fix, and enjoy!

Too Bad

Grover followed right after you, the two of you sent away to look for some food while Annabeth and Percy hung back.

“I just don’t get why you have to be so difficult!”

“I’m difficult?!” You exclaimed, spinning around to look at Grover in disbelief.

“Yes! Why? Why do you always have to argue?!” Grover asked in exasperation.

“I haven’t been arguing with you.” You shook your head, only getting a wide eyed look from Grover.

For as long as he had known you, you loved to argue. It could be anything and everything, and it wasn’t even with everyone.

You just always had it out for him, and he didn’t know why.

You were everything Grover wasn’t, and sometimes without meaning too, Grover couldn’t help but be envious.

You were confident, you stood up for anyone and everyone of your friends, even if they could be wrong. That just never seemed to apply to him.

He didn’t like it, and just wanted this to be over but you were making it so hard. You let Percy run a mock, doing whatever he wanted while he tried to be a good influence.

What did that get Grover?

Another argument.

“Uh- yes, yes you do!” Grover said in disbelief. “You make fun of me, go against anything I say, and you always want to pick a fight!”

“So?!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation as they hit your sides.

“There’s no reason to! Especially because you do it just for me!” Grover complained.

“Because you Don’t stand up for yourself!” You said, Grover stopped as he look at you in confusion.

“Yes- yes, I do.” Grover sputtered, shaking his head after a beat of silence. You sighed, shaking your head.

“You let people walk all over you, Grover. You give in, you’re too nice, and-“ You tried.

“How is that a bad thing?” Grover asked. “Because you can’t be someone’s doormat, Grover.” You stated, giving a pointed look.

Grover just stared at you for a moment Before trying again. “But you’re the one who’s been doing it...” he said, a bit suspiciously.

“No, not me.” You shook your head, laughing under your breath as Grover looked at you confused.

“With me, you argue back, you stand up for yourself. You wouldn’t have done that before, would you?” You asked, Grover silent for a moment as he thought about it.

“…you were doing it…to help me?” Grover asked, almost struggling to understand. You nodded your head, smiling smugly.

“And it worked, didn’t it?” You asked, watching as he mulled it over.

“Your teaching methods are…questionable,” Grover started, getting an offended “hey!” From you.

Grover ignored you, thinking before looking back at you. “But I get it, though.” He nodded.

“See?” You asked, chuckling a bit. Grover couldn’t help but smile a bit as well. He has never thought about it that way.

He had to look away after a second though, because now he had more time too look and see, that the old feeling he felt when looking at you wasn’t exactly envy.

Now, all Grover felt was awe, and a bit of longing as he saw your smile.

You weren’t so bad, especially with your pretty smile, especially when you’re smiling at him

#percy tv show #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy series #percy pjo #percy and annabeth #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #grover pjo #grover underwood x reader #grover underwood #grover

[merakiui]

crow & goat in courtship.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, coercion, religious symbolism/imagery, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, obsession, alcohol/intoxication, slight codependency, non-consensual touching/groping, au in which you attend classes at nbc instead of nrc under rollo's supervision note - the crow is always on call.

i. “but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (james 1:14-15).

Rollo answers on the third ring.

He always does—claims it’s polite to answer after three chimes just as it’s right to knock thrice before entering a residence. He’s stubborn in his ways, a crow bound by routine, only ever doing things in threes. Habitual to a fault, strictly so. You are similar in that regard; you find solace in the familiarity of predictable patterns. The relief that stems from knowing what will come next—in being prepared for all manner of events even if you haven’t yet reached the first.

But then you also like fun, and the best sort of fun is often had with a disregard for habit. Disorder and spontaneity. Throwing all caution to the wind. Trusting in the arms of the crow who will catch you, the carefree goat, when you fall.

“Good evening,” he mutters into the phone, his voice sounding so close despite the distance between you and him. “It’s rather late. Is there a specific reason you’re calling?”

“Rollo! Hey! Hiii,” you drawl, grinning like a fool. You stagger through the door into the chilly, starless night, your heels slipping on cracked, frozen pavement. “Whoa!” You stumble against the railing with a carefree giggle. “Almost lost my footing!”

There’s a stalling silence on his end. And then, with a deep inhale, he asks evenly, “Have you gone out?”

“Mm. Yeah. Went out to celebrate with some friends.”

“Some friends?”

“Like one or two…or a whole house full of ’em.”

“(Name).”

“What?” When he doesn’t reply, you laugh. Not because it’s humorous or embarrassing, but to merely fill the silent gap. “What? Roro, you’re sho stern. Don’t lecture me!”

“So you’ve been drinking.”

“What?! No!” With an offended scoff, you shake your head even though he’s not here to witness it. “You know NBC’s no-booze rule. I’m not gonna get caught—won’t get caught.”

“You slurred your speech and called me ‘Roro’—both in the same sentence, mind you.”

“So what? Rollo, Roro. Tomato, potato.”

“It’s to-may-to, to-mah-to. And—” he exhales an exhausted breath— “Never mind. That’s besides the point. Why, pray tell, have you called me at midnight?”

“Why’re you up at midnight?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Not fair! I asked first!”

“Not quite.” There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks next. “If I were to visit your room right now—knock on the door and wait there—would you let me in?”

“Yeaaah,” you start to say, only to catch yourself halfway in the trap. “No!”

“No?”

“No…thank you. No visitors tonight. S’late and I gotta study for tomorrow’s exam.”

“And a party will somehow aid in that endeavor? (Name), you do realize you’ve spun one too many lies and now you’re woefully entangled.”

“Less poetry and more picking me up.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”  

“Rollo, please be nice,” you whine, your lips twisting into a pout. “S’cold and I didn’t bring a jacket and I’m kinda-maybe-sorta a little…”

“A little…?” he encourages, and you can just envision that self-satisfied smirk of his.

“A little-drunk-but-also-not-really-drunk-but-also-totally-drunk,” you hastily admit in a string of syllables. Snowfall swirls around you, and you grasp the bannister to prevent yourself from falling over. “Oh, it’s snowing.”

“I can see perfectly clear from my window. Beautiful, is it not?”

“So stop being an obtuse dick and come get me before I freeze!”

“Should that come to pass, you may just rival the Righteous Judge at the entrance. I’ll be sure to polish you every month.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna poison your coffee and watch you drink it, and then we’ll see who’s stiffer than a statue. It’ll be you—in death, y’know!”

“Will you now?”

“If you don’t pick me up, yeah!”

There’s the distinct sound of shuffling. You hear crisp pages turning and then a book closing before the rustling of fabrics invades your keen ears. You picture your responsible friend pacing around his room as he dresses himself for the weather.

“Very well,” he says after a moment, ever the composed gentleman. “Send me the address.”

“You’re the best. Love you lots. Thank you! Thank you!” You press your lips together to mimic obnoxious kissing sounds, which elicits a huff of amusement from him. “It’s not a far walk. Promise.”

“Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there shortly. And don’t go anywhere.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You do realize sneaking out is against the rules, yes?”

“Aaand here comes the lecture. Gimme a break. Can’t a girl celebrate her birthday in peace?”

You drag your hand over your mouth and wipe sticky wine residue away. In the process, you smear black lipstick. Dark like night, like a crow’s inky feathers, it leaves your once-flawless appearance in disarray.

“There are much better ways to celebrate. Did I not say I’d take you into town this weekend and we could celebrate then?”

“That’s so far from now.”

“It’s three days away, (Name).”

“Still too far.”

“Don’t expect me to provide cover if you get caught.”

“And you can just leave campus whenever you please?”

“This is different.”

“Yeah?” You giggle into the speaker, warm and fuzzy and endlessly entertained. It’s enough of a distraction to keep winter from seeping into your marrow. “How so?”

“This is official Student Council business.”

“Really?” you ask with an impressed whistle. 

“Indeed. On account of my being President, it’s only natural I punish students who conduct themselves poorly. Shall we review your list of infractions and decide on a suitable penalty together?”

“I’d rather we not.”

“Oh, but I insist. Perhaps our discussion and the cold will sober you and teach you a valuable lesson about integrity.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you lower onto the step to await his arrival. The icy stone digs harshly into your rear, which is hardly covered by your too-short dress. It’s definitely not fingertip length or weather-appropriate. You shiver and stuff your hand into the pocket of your cropped sweater. You should take shelter inside, where it’s plenty cozy and inviting, but your inflated pride disagrees. Retreating to the warmth after you’ve already bid farewell would be foolish. At least, that’s what the alcohol in your system is telling you.

So the goat endures the cold, for it knows that that is all that awaits it as the crow closes in.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an academic criminal. Get on with it, President Flamme.”

“Let’s see. You’ve disobeyed campus curfew, snuck out on a school night, attended a party when your grades could use improvement, neglected your studies, drank carelessly, called the one person who can and will punish you for this and the aforementioned…”

The sound of crunching snow pierces the air then, and you look up in time to see Rollo approaching. He’s dressed in a long woolen overcoat with a scarf twined around his throat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He smirks at you from where he stands on the pavement, cutting the call and sliding his phone into his pocket. Tilting his head at you, he pulls another coat from under his arm and offers it to you.

“And you’re dressed for your death.”

“Okay, that one’s personal.”

Rolling your eyes, you rise on unsteady legs. He meets you at the stairs, climbing two of them to help you into the coat. It’s an embrace more welcoming than that of a lover’s, so soft and comfortable that it immediately rejuvenates your weary skeleton. It smells like Rollo, too—like coffee and weathered pages in an old book. You hum your approval, snuggling into the fluffy fabric. He’s plopping his hat on your head next, tugging it so far down that you almost slip on the slick stoop. Like he always has, ever since he first met you, he catches you. 

“Hello to you, too.”

You blink back at him. “Yeah, thanks. I owe you.”

“Let me see your hands.”

He takes them in his, runs his thumbs over the tops, and then procures mittens from his pockets. You watch him slide both over your hands, rubbing them together briefly to generate heat at a faster rate. Your body sways, gaze unfocused. He’s just about to unwind his scarf from his shoulders when you reach out to stop him.

“I’m good. This is enough.”

“You’ll catch your death—”

“And you won’t in just a coat and scarf? At least let me give you your hat back.”

He shakes his head, holding his hand up in objection. “You’ve been out in this weather longer. It’s only fair. But, really, did you have to wait out here? Couldn’t you have gone inside?”

“My pride’s on the line.”

Rollo’s unamused stare cuts through you. “You won’t have much pride left if you’re encased in ice.”

“Then we’d best get moving. Campus awaits!”

You wrap your arm around him, clinging out of instinct. Rollo peers at the proximity, his lips upturned in a covert half-smile, and his arm snakes slowly around your waist in return. You don’t notice this, for you’re too busy dragging your feet through the snow while he acts as a helpful crutch, stable in a way you just aren’t. Not right now, at least.

But then the goat is never stable enough to survive the inevitable—the swift, sacrificial blade that befalls and beheads, leaving gory spatters to run red and visceral in the wake of the end.

You’ve never known, and you never will. How could you when he’s been nothing but cordial? A clean slate. Admirable guidance. A helpful friend. Your only friend.

The crow descends in three knocks. He lets himself in regardless of whether you wish to have him as a guest. He is unwanted and feared, the very foundation of death and destruction, and he has set his beady eyes on you—the goat.

It’s common knowledge that you cannot pray away the crow. He persists, as always, quiet even when his wings beat against his sleek, feathered body like the loudest war drums. And the caw—the dreadful caw! It’s a most disturbing cry, one that pierces through the dark like jarring slivers of light in shadow. Or a butcher’s blade through flesh, sawing through sinew to get to brilliant bone beneath. The hoarse call of Death’s crows—they circle in a murder, swooping down to meet you as harbingers of malevolence.

Rollo has always strived to lead a virtuous existence defined by a rigidly righteous moral compass. In the gloomy pits of misery and hatred, where he festers in a bundle of tar-colored feathers, he does not hope for sunshine. He no longer knows the uplifting ebullience of life’s greatest miracles. Because there is no miracle in death or tragedy. Because there is no happiness to be found in a doomed hand, every card showcasing Death and its many forms. Not for him. Never for him.

But then, amidst the despair and despondency, each all-consuming, a goat fell into his lap.

A divine offering to the crow, who is so far from divinity himself, can only mean one thing. It is neither conciliatory nor a reward.

It is a sacrifice.

But then the City of Flowers adores its goats—reveres them for all that they are. Goats are cherished, not sacrificed. But to drag a nameless, magicless goat from the grounds of its far-off, inconceivable pasture—is that not the cruelest form of sacrifice? To drop this goat into the equitable embrace of the crow—is that not the sweetest gift? Generous yet unfair. Plucked right from the folds of another heaven.

The mortal coil can be callous, which is precisely why the crow is permitted to exist in impartiality. Death does not care for who you were in life and who you will be in the next, and the crow only ever oversees finales. Never beginnings. Much like a deity does not care for what good you can do if you do not first adore them in copious adequacy.

The crow carries with him a most fearsome knell—the chime of judgment, to be delivered right on time like an execution staged for noon.

All throughout life, you can plan for the crow and all that he shall deliver, and still you will never be fully prepared to greet him. He brings misfortune bundled in baskets woven from the bones of sacrifices past. In holy scripture, it is the goat who is punished most often—who is slaughtered at the altar, who is arranged as peace to quell the torrential fury of the deity, who is made to suffer at the hands of those hoping to avoid damnation or godly wrath, who is meant to shoulder the blame when no one else wants to. Favors have been bought with the blood of the goat, its head nestled amidst verdant grasses, pure forevermore even when it is dyed carmine. It appeases and pleases.

So it’s just—religiously so—that the crow takes the goat for himself, strips it bare, and proves to the prying eyes in heaven that the greatest sin is more than lustful temptation.

For the crow—for Rollo—the heaviest sin, a vile, cursed burden from his very first breath—it is existence itself.

And only the blood of a pure goat can wash away such filth—can cleanse what has been rotting within. The goat can make a garden out of the crow—bring life and love to its barren insides regardless of however fleeting its presence may be. It is within this garden—within the softest, fertile soil—where the crow shall sow the most special seeds.

You cross the bridge with Rollo, your laughter filling the cloudy sky as you recall all manner of amusing stories from the past few hours. Drinking games paired with drunken gossip. Delicious wines and snacks. A party with an energy so lively it could rival the city’s annual festivals. Even though he doesn’t seem outwardly pleased to hear any of it, he listens well and occasionally stops to steady you before you can topple over the railing into the water below. Your heels clack against smooth, frosted stone, and the wind whips at your face, each snowflake biting and vicious. Noble Bell’s vast campus waits just beyond the wrought iron gate, standing proud and backdropped by the night.

“You think anyone’s up?” you ask, curling your fingers into his arm as he guides you through.

Rollo eases the gate shut. “They might if they hear you. It would be best to keep quiet.”

You pantomime zipping your lips and discarding a nonexistent key. He quirks a small smile at that and then hurries you along. Nights are always peaceful at Noble Bell. The halls are desolate and quiet, devoid of all signs of student life. Your and Rollo’s shoes click in unison as you walk through the hall and past the courtyard. You gaze at the arched openings, counting each one as they become fainter with the growing distance.

Your breath materializes in front of you when you sigh. “I’m so sleepy. I wanna go to bed for a thousand years.”

“You’ll miss your exam if you do that,” he chides, tutting. “And every other exam that will follow.”

“That’s the point!” Your voice bounces off the walls, returning to you in a reverberating echo. Cringing under Rollo’s disapproving glower, you speak softer. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Just how much have you had to drink? You can hardly walk straight without leaning on me for support.” He narrows his eyes, his lecherous gaze crawling down to your bare legs. “Not that I mind…”

His words don’t reach you, for they’re swallowed in a howling gale as it sweeps across the courtyard. You spy the dormitories then, each one looking more like gingerbread covered in confectioners’ sugar instead of buildings dusted with snow. Your eyelids droop while you cross the distance to reach your designated building, your every movement feeling slower than molten molasses, and by the time you’re actually inside the dorm—Rollo’s shushed you more than once—you’re yearning for the warmth of your bed.

So it’s bewildering when, rather than your own room, you stop at Rollo’s instead.

He opens the door and steps inside with you in tow. You keep your mouth shut, too tipsy to think coherently. After he clicks the lamp on, which leaves the room awash in soft shades of amber, he shrugs his coat off, draping it over a nearby chair. You drag yourself over to his bed and flop down, squeezing your eyes shut to block out both the light and your spinning surroundings. Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you hear him shuffling about his room, crossing to close and lock the door before walking back towards you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you feel nimble fingers working to undo the buttons on your coat.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask, cracking your eyes open just as he’s pulling the coat from your person.

Rollo folds it neatly and sets it aside. “You’re practically melting into my bed already. It would be quite the undertaking to make the walk back to your room at this hour.”

“So considerate,” you tease, grinning up at him. Sleep stretches your expression into something dazed, and you yawn loudly. “Then I’m gonna sleep here. Wake me up before class.”

You almost drift off, but those frigid fingers are moving to tug you out of your sweater next. They crawl across your bare shoulders like a spider on a web.

“You really are something,” he marvels, glancing at your body sprawled beneath him. “To brave the cold in such thin material…”

“Stupid choice. I know.”

“It appears we’re in agreement.”

“Shut up,” you snap back with a weak laugh. “You’re no better, showing up so cozy and then giving everything to me.”

Rollo memorizes the way the form-fitting dress hugs your figure. He inhales a shaky breath and brings his hands back to his sides. Your chest is right here. So close. So frustratingly close.

He can’t indulge. He really shouldn’t. It’s unbecoming to show such unfair favorability when he’s meant to remain impartial. Death should not lust for the beauty of life because it only knows endings—or the beginnings of ghostly eternity. The crow should not allow himself to be swept up in tumultuous temptation.

And the goat is the only friend he’s known—the only one who understands the crow, if only by a few meager slivers. But someday the goat will know.

Rollo swallows his inhibitions, beating his urges away with a stick. He’s not one for rash decisions; he’s meticulous and thoughtful. He would never take such a risk—would never nosedive into a crude confession. He’s plotted it in his diary, but it’s never come to fruition. He restrains himself because he must. Because it’s the polite and proper thing to do when caught up in courtship. Because if he opens his torso and allows you to poke around inside, you’ll find that he is not the friend you’ve known for all these months.

He is a fiend, devilishly so, wearing the hide of a goat to put the real one at ease.

Warring with rationality, he slides away from you and intends to recover at his desk. He’ll scrawl all of the things he wishes to do to you in there and that will be enough. That will help clear his head of the intoxicating fog that settles whenever he’s with you in private. But then he’s reaching to untie the canopy draped over his bed, each corner undone within seconds. The sheer curtains fall in thin layers, confining the both of you to this island in the middle of a barren sea. It’s darker in here, dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp outside.

You blink up at him, owlish.

“You…” He stops himself, shakes his head, and turns away. Hastily, he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket. With this enclosed propinquity, he can smell your perfume. It’s spiced and flowery—alluring and adorable all at once—and it assaults both his nose and mind. “You should sleep. It’s late.”

This is for the best. The crow is only meant to look after the goat, remain unaffected even in the face of lustful, fateful sacrifice.

But you’re here. You’re splayed like a spill, perfectly imperfect, and your shoulders are a canvas coveting kisses. He clutches his handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist.

“Mm, okay. Night…”

“Yes… Yes, good night,” he mumbles, lowering his handkerchief. He swallows thickly.

This is for the best.

But even though he thinks this, his arm is stretching out. Closer. Closer. So close, until his hand is hovering just above your chest. He’s so close.

When will he ever have another chance as fortuitous as this?

His hand closes around your breast and he squeezes it experimentally. It’s soft when his fingers dig in gently, depressing with the pressure of his digits. Rollo’s green hues flick to your face. Your eyes are shut, and soft snores slip from your parted lips. He glimpses your chest again and, with the utmost care, slides your dress down to free your breasts. They’re mostly bare, save for the heart-shaped pasties covering your nipples. Rollo heaves a disbelieving sigh.

“Promiscuous,” he mutters, plucking the edge of the first adhesive and peeling it away to reveal the perky nipple beneath. You look so soft, so clean, so pure… What was he even worried about? No one’s had you before. He’s sure of it.

He’s about to remove the other heart when your voice freezes him.

“What…are you doing?”

He holds your gaze. It’s tense for a moment, unspoken accusations brewing between the both of you.

“A massage,” he blurts, but there isn’t a hint of haste in his tone. He suspected this outcome when he chose to traverse the line of right and wrong—and ultimately sided with the former. Because to him it’s right, even if it’s wrong. He knows what will soon follow: disgust and detestation.

Instead, you giggle. It’s sleepy and silly-sounding, but it’s also light and lively.

You catch his hand in yours and drag it back to your chest. “If you wanted to touch, just ask,” you murmur, your words slurring. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

You’re not just perfect and pure. You’re everything.

Yes, it’s the alcohol blurring your brain and the intimacy of being trapped in a quiet, comfortable space such as this one that allows you to desire him. Would it be the same if you were sober? He can’t quite say, but he doesn’t wish to know. This is enough. This is paradise.

He kneads slow, steady motions into your breast, and you watch from where you’re lying on the bed. His other hand slithers between your legs to search for your clothed clit. Your breath hitches just as his fingers brush it, and he presses in, rubbing with his index. Your arm falls over your face, and your chest rises with every breath.

“How does it feel?” he asks, rolling your nipple between chilly digits.

“Not enough,” you bemoan, curling your fingers into a fist. “S’not enough…”

“How fascinating. I suppose cheap wine truly does turn you into a pute.”

“No… Was definitely expensive. The fancy kind.”

“Was it now?” He circles your clit, predatory and shark-like, his eyes alight with glee. “You say that, but look at the state it’s left you in. Utterly disheveled.”

“That’s because of—” you gasp, your voice rising in pitch— “because of you…”

His heart hammers in his chest, a resounding, pounding melody.

The City of Flowers treasures its goats, and the crow loves his fiercely even though he shouldn’t.

“Did you enjoy drinking yourself foolish and indulging in debauchery?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, hooking around the hem of your underwear. “Was it a fun celebration?”

You lower your arm to glare halfheartedly at him. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“More so disappointed, mon chou chou,” he coos, sugary, sickeningly sweet. “Someone could have taken advantage of you. Someone could have tainted you with magic.” His lip curls up into a nasty sneer. It lingers for a moment before fading into something calm. He gazes at you, oddly tender. “That didn’t happen, though, yes?”

You shake your head and flinch when he drags your panties down. Dewy strings of your slick come away with it, and you shudder at your newfound nudity. He hums approvingly and drags his finger through the wet patch staining your panties. Driven by libertine compulsion, he stretches viscous strands of your essence between two fingers.

Your eyes find his deceitful greens once more. Silence sparks between the both of you, quickly broken by your exhalation. Rollo kneels before you, taking in the sight of you as your face wavers through the stages of consideration. Upon arriving at your conclusion, you sit up slightly and shuck your dress over your head. And then you’re lying back, shaking your panties from off your ankle, and wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in closer. 

You grin, coquettish. “Why not search for yourself if you’re so worried, Mr. Student Council President?”

There’s no turning back. Not that he ever would. Not when the goat’s given him the signal. The blade doesn’t fall, but he does.

And this is better than dreams and erotica. This is real.

He surges forward to fit his lips against yours. Sloppy and inexperienced, he molds himself to your body. You tug him against you, your hands working to undress him. Clothes and shoes are cast aside between open-mouthed kisses, torn off half-buttoned and ripped away from soles. You breathe him in, gasping into his mouth. Translucent strings of saliva connect your mouths when you part, soon broken when you lean in for a chaste peck.

“You’re okay,” he says, the words practically bleeding onto your own tongue with how close he is. “Still as pure as the day I first met you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“The best thing.”

His third and fourth fingers prod at the depths of your pussy, pressing inwards. Shallow at first. He watches your face unblinkingly, burning every pleasured contortion into his brain, and slides his thumb along your clit. Your breathing staggers, coming in quick huffs, and you grab at the bedsheets to steady yourself. Rollo works you open on those fingers, curling and scissoring in equal measure. The slick squelches join in the salacious symphony you’re currently producing. Every sigh and groan come together in perfect harmony. You’re a heavenly harp, and he’s plucking your strings like an expert musician.

“Tonight is unforgivable,” he adds, and you blink through blissful tears to view him. “Folly is the worst distraction.”

“Then be stupid with me,” you joke, running your hands over his shoulders. He’s so cold. “Warm yourself with me.”

And he will because he’s always wanted to. He’s desired it. Craved it. Coveted it. Thought of nothing else for days and days, each delusion so cyclical it often felt tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his other hand up your hip and towards your rib. He traces the path of where it lies beneath layers of flesh before pressing down to feel it. “So beautiful…”

Your hand glides into his, fingers twining like silken thread around a spool. A lopsided smile lifts your lips, and you preen under him. “Yeah? Am I really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about the obvious…” Your walls hug his fingers tighter then, and a shiver electrifies your nerves. He hums again, quite pleased. “Oh, did you like that?”

“I did. Very much.”

Lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, your head thrown back in ecstasy ever-mounting, you render him ensorcelled. Like a prized Renaissance nude, a goat laid to sacrifice in the crow’s nest, you are beatific. Divinely so.

“Allow me to reiterate then.” He hastens his pace, pumping his fingers relentlessly. You tamp down a shameless moan. “You’re exquisitely beddable. A work of art. Enchanting. Une belle femme.”

You’re nearing the edge—very gradually, but not quite—and so it’s devastating when he slips his fingers out, each one thoroughly coated in you. They shimmer in the dim light, reminding you of where they had previously been.

“Put it back in,” you beg with wide, glossy eyes. “C’mon… Please don’t stop now. Was so close. So close and—”

Your complaints are curbed when you follow his hand as it moves to wrap around his half-hard cock. He strokes himself thrice, using your slick as lube, until his cock is curving up against his stomach. You stare at him; he stares right back.

And then you realize he intends to go all the way.

“Wait, Rol…lo… S’not my safe day,” you say, shifting away. Whether impatiently or anxiously, he can’t tell, but he can certainly guess. Your world spins once, a dizzying blur, before it promptly clears. In the very center of your vision, as he’s always been, Rollo remains. “S’not safe…”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with levity. “I know.”

He’s kept track, dutiful like always.

You attempt to crawl out from under him, but he stops you. Your stomach churns.

“I’ll pull out in time,” he promises, rubbing soothing circles into your plush hips.

Even with the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you aren’t convinced. “N-No, really, we should stop here…”

“You’ll feel so good. Come now, aren’t we nearly there already?”

Rollo lifts your legs onto his shoulders. You squirm with more determination this time, but his fingers dig into your thighs. With a startled squeak, you sink into the mattress, cowed into submission.

“We… We can’t.”

“Why not?” The smooth, soft head of his cock prods curiously at your pussy.

You chew your lip, admitting in a meek tone, “I… I could get p-pregnant…”

“Pregnant,” he parrots, tasting the word as if it’s a delicacy he has yet to sample. His cock twitches. “Pregnant…”

“So… So that’s why…”

“Do you not want children?”

“I… Well… Now is kinda…”

He presses onwards, sinking in slowly. Your breath hitches; your heart stumbles. The intrusion is not entirely unwanted, for your slick, snug walls cling to his shape, and you almost give in to bodily inclination. But it doesn’t feel right. You’re scared. No matter how naturally your body reacts, you don’t want this.

“Rollo, wait—”

“It would be a wonderful thing—to see you rounded with my children.” Rollo props himself on either side of you, his body pinned to yours in sinful, sweaty connection. He exhales a deep breath, restraining himself as he pushes deeper. Patience is a virtue, after all. Your expression tightens with discomfort, and so he peppers your face with placatory kisses. “To see you grow in and—mmh—out of the most flattering maternity wear. To behold every change that blesses this beautiful body of yours… To see you swell with my love, filthy as it may be. Ah, but pregnancy is just as messy… Nevertheless, it shall be a special bond for us—a sacred vow, if you will. We are connected here—” he punctuates this point by slotting the rest of his length inside, and your legs involuntarily close around him to keep him there— “and soon here when life develops within.”

One hand splays across your stomach to pat it with fondness. You choke on your helpless whimper when he rocks his hips once, experimenting with the movement. It’s awkward, but it reminds you that he’s inside. So close to your womb that in just a few more thrusts he might—

“No… No, please… Rollo, you have to—oh—have to pull out. Please pull out. Don’t wanna get pregnant…”

“Oh, but you would be so beautiful.” He breathes you in, savoring sex and floral fragrance. “If I’m allowed one miracle—just one for all the anguish I’ve endured—let it be this.”

You know not of what anguish he speaks, for he’s never verbalized it, but even so it can’t possibly be so agonizing that it would warrant such invasion.

The vise-like hold your velvety walls have on his cock is deliciously addictive. He groans while he ruts into you, his eyelids fluttering. He could be animalistic and cruel in his movements—ravish you as if the world is faced with annihilation and this is his final hour—but instead he settles for exploratory leisure. His hand fits into yours and he squeezes it gently. A feeble protest builds in your throat and so he swallows it with a hungry kiss, his mouth molding against yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when he draws back and slides in again, filling you deeper than before. You breathe between kisses, panting and licking into his mouth in even intervals. He does much the same, anchored to you in a way that is both temporary and yet so permanent.

The world narrows down to this single sliver of space, enclosed in a canopy. And in it, laid bare and fertile, the goat is sacrificed to the crow. Death cannot reach either one here. There is only the promise of new life, thrust upon the goat all at once.

You don’t have the willpower to object, for you’ve already found yourself entrapped, so instead you cry. Tears track down your cheeks; your mascara runs with it. Ruined. So, too, is your pitch-black lipstick, smeared along the edges of your lips and printed onto Rollo’s porcelain skin.

Rollo’s hips stutter to a halt and he holds you against him when he spills thick and hot inside. Nothing is wasted; it’s all emptied deep within. If you’re lucky, it won’t take. But if some mischievous fertility goddess has cursed you, you’ll wake nauseous in the coming weeks.

If you have anything worth praying for, it’s the former.

The both of you are panting in the aftermath, but only one is coming down from his glorious high. You remain unsatisfied, your peak not yet breached. Rollo rolls his hips once more for good measure before easing out. You crumple into the wrinkled sheets, frigid and still as a statue. Carved empty and hollow, yet stuffed with sin.

The crow has come. Though this time the gift of tragedy is something between boon and curse.

— — —

The curtains are drawn to let in sunlight. It filters in through frosted glass, each pane stamped with snow, and it blinds you the moment you try to open your eyes. You twist and turn in bed, feeling heavy with hangover. A splitting ache cracks your head in half, and you groan loudly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hiss, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “This sucks…”

You force yourself to wake after two more minutes of rolling around. Groaning once more, you sit up in bed. The canopy has been tied back in place, and when you glance sidelong at Rollo’s desk you notice something. A glass of water and a plate are waiting for you, seeming more enticing by the second. You throw the covers off, realize you’re nude seconds later, and promptly snatch them back. They’re wrapped around you like a comforting cloak. You stagger out of bed to check the contents. Two croissants, a single orange, a dollop of strawberry marmalade, and two tablets are arranged on the plate.

Hangover medicine, you realize, lifting one up to scrutinize it.

You peer around the room. It’s empty. And then you see the clock. It’s a little past noon.

“Oh,” you mumble, lowering into the chair. You clutch the blanket closer. “Rollo must be in class.”

Amidst the piercing migraine, which you quickly resolve by throwing your head back to swallow both tablets in a single gulp of water, two things occur to you. You’re in Rollo’s room. Naked. In Rollo’s room. Surely you must have spent the night after you returned from the party. Why are you naked?

But more importantly…

“Shit! My exam!” The excitement doesn’t help your current state, and you slouch in your seat, even more exhausted than before. “I completely missed it… Rollo’s gonna kill me.”

You scrub the sleep from your eyes and reach for a croissant, content with giving up. You don’t want to endure the walk of shame from Rollo’s room to yours. If anyone were to catch you, they’d certainly be left wondering.

As you nibble on the croissant, admiring the way Rollo’s arranged the contents of his room, you spot the edge of something beneath the plate. Perplexed, you push it aside to reveal a note. Penned in Rollo’s effortlessly pretty script, it reads:

I’ll forgive your transgression just this once if you’ll forgive mine. For now, get some rest. I’ve left breakfast here. Stay for however long you’d like.

You scowl at his attempt of ‘breakfast,’ and your stomach rumbles in dissatisfaction.

“Right?” you say to your stomach, clicking your tongue. “If anything, this is hardly a snack.”

But you’re grateful for his efforts. He cares. He always has. From the very first day you found yourself in this world, he cared.

While you peel the orange, pondering foggy recollections of last night, you begin to realize just how sticky you feel. As if someone’s slobbered all over you and left it to dry. The feeling persists between your thighs.

You pause momentarily, overcome with an uncanny sense of panic as you piece the puzzle together. The still-forming picture does not look good.

“Shit…” you whisper, haunted with a fragmented timeline. “What the hell did we do last night?”

You know. The deep, dark part of your brain knows, but you don’t want to confront it. Because Rollo wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t. He’s always done what’s best for you, so he wouldn’t.

Right?

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamm x reader #yandere rollo #yandere rollo x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon

[yourdoorisunlocked]

Something Unexpected - Lucifer Headcanons

𝐀/𝐍: A fluffy bulleted fanfic in the form of bulleted points and a dash of headcanons, featuring the apple daddy of hell himself, Lucifer ;)

This is mostly me simping for the short, awkward duck-loving lil guy, and also experimenting with writing for his character.

Anyways, enjoy!

. . .

🎪 When you met Lucifer, you were honestly shell-shocked. He was so... whimsical, and captivating, maybe a bit awkward, and with his ringleader getup, it made him look equally as silly as he seemed. He just... wasn't whom you were expecting at all.

🎪 "Charlie... That's your dad!?"

🎪 "Well... Yeah? Why do you sound so surprised?"

🎪 "Look at him!" He didn't seem anything like the Lucifer you'd heard stories of from your parents, who tried to scare you away from debauchery and sin with their over-exaggerated tales from their biblical teachings.

🎪 They didn't exactly pay off, clearly.

🎪 But this? This was absolutely not who you thought you had to protect Charlie from.

🎪 You were the 'mom' of the Hazbin Crew, always looking out for everyone, and earning yourself a soft, irreplaceable spot in their hearts. And you clearly had a soft spot for Charlie, and that set off many initial alarm bells for Lucifer.

🎪 He didn't want to have another Alastor on his hands.

🎪 Lucifer cornered you about this, of course, and you were still grappling with the fact that he wasn't how you thought he was going to be at all.

🎪 And you turned out to be just as unexpected...

🎪 “I’m just worried about her… She has such a big heart, and I just don’t want her to get hurt. I should know what it’s like to be taken advantage of by people I put my trust and love into."

🎪 Though he is slightly curious about that, he decides that perhaps it'd be nice to have someone checking up on Charlie from time to time, and there is no way he's encouraging Alastor's presence anywhere near her.

🎪 You also found his love and overprotectiveness for his daughter quite endearing, although it was insufferable to watch them be so awkward around each other in the beginning.

🎪 So, you agreed to watch over Charlie for Lucifer, making sure to encourage her dreams in his stead. For Charlie's happiness, and because, well, why would you say no? You were already looking after her before.

🎪 As soon as Lucifer leaves, Charlie is bounding up to you with a wide smile, taking your hands in hers and bouncing up and down on the carpeted floors, so hard she's making indents with her hooves.

🎪 "Oh, isn't it great!? He believes in me! Me! I thought that after, well everything that happened with Mom, that he'd..." her eyes grow sullen as the mention of her mother sours her mood, and you brush a hand against her cheek with a gentle, reassuring smile.

🎪 "I have a feeling he always has, Charlie. He just never knew how to say it. And sometimes, when a parent sees themselves in their own children, it... Terrifies them." You turn to an apple-paned window with a melancholic gaze.

🎪 "He's just trying his hardest for you because he doesn't want to see you fall like he did. You can't fall farther than Hell, but if you try..." you trail off, and your implication held heavy in the air.

🎪 "But he loves you, and I know that his pride for you knows no bounds, and nor does his worry, Charlie." The demoness brightens at your words, practically tearing up as she grips your midsection in a hug. "Thank you," she whispers, and you ruffle her pale blonde hair with a fond smile.

🎪 Little did you know, Lucifer had been silently stalking watching the both of you from afar, and he leaves that evening with a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders.

🎪 As he continues to visit the hotel, he checks in with you for a moment upon the establishment's progress, Charlie, and casual conversation in general.

🎪 As more time passes, and Lucifer makes more and more frequent visits to the hotel - much to Alastor’s chagrin - after spending some precious time in his daughter's company, he'll ask around for your whereabouts.

🎪 You'll both naturally fall into more casual conversation outside of the hotel's progress, and you soon realize that there was more beneath the surface of Hell's estranged ruler.

🎪 Lucifer was captivating, alluring in every form of the word. A creative, inspiring soul who once held dreams and aspirations, and now, the fire that once burned within him was passed onto his daughter.

🎪 And you could see his desperation to keep that flame inside of Charlie alight.

🎪 Lucifer slowly grows fond of your company, giving you little sculptures of ducks, and spending near hours raving about his little creations with you.

🎪 In a haze of his sleep-deprived subconscious, he even made a little duckie for you, complete with all of your defining features that he found the most attractive prominent.

🎪 It ended up being his personal comfort/therapy duck until you found it, and putting together the resemblance, teased him about it slightly, to which he kept stubbornly denying it.

🎪 "Okay, but you have to admit, it's clear where you got your inspiration from," you held the duckie up to your face, noting just how precise Lucifer was when making it. Huh, he really hit the mark with this one.

🎪 The king of Hell turned on his heel, his jacket and hat discarded to the side, and leaving him in his striped circus-patterned dress shirt and ivory slacks.

🎪 "I don't know what you're talking about," Lucifer bent over his desk, trying to look like he was actually doing something, but his heart and mind were going a mile a minute. Damn his adorable hyperfixations!

🎪 "Maybe it was just coincidence! I don't know, sometimes I get inspired by things that I..." he glanced at you as you raised an eyebrow at him, and the small red circles plastered against his moonlight-stricken skin glowed a bright red.

🎪 "J-Just coincidence. Uh-huh, that's right..." he wasn't sure whether he was trying to convince you, or himself with that one.

🎪 Oh, yeah, you totally bought that bullshit.

🎪 "Well, for what it's worth, you did a pretty good job. This is your best one, yet!" You beam at him and tuck the small duck figure under your arm.

🎪 "So... can I keep it? Pretty please?"

🎪 Lucifer shoves some papers and blueprints off of his desk, completely focused on his work instead of how beautiful your smile was. "No."

🎪 After that, he creates a little duck of himself to keep beside the one in your likeness upon his desk whenever you aren't around. He inches them closer together every now and then or whenever he gets nervous or jittery.

🎪 Slowly but surely, Lucifer began to fall. And he is terrified of it. He's starting to yearn for your company, visit the hotel simply to seek you out, and this familiar thudding feeling is giving him a headache that can't be soothed by the fizzling warmth of alcohol.

🎪 Charlie begins to notice her father's strange behavior, and how it happens particularly around you...

🎪 Of course, the eccentric princess puts it all together, and she tries to keep it a secret, she really does, but the fact that her dad could actually be falling in love with one of her closest friends, and that he might finally be able to move on from her mother makes her heart overflow with a plethora of emotions.

🎪 The poor girl ends up spilling the details of your rom-com of a love life to Vaggie while hugging a pillow, crying joyful tears as her girlfriend chuckles and simply kisses her forehead with a small smile.

🎪 "Don't worry, hon. I'm sure it'll all be fine in the end. Just sleep it off, okay? And don't, I mean DON'T get involved in their love life, alright? Your dad needs some time to figure this out on his own."

🎪 "But I really want to help them! I know she likes him back; I just know it! And besides, he'll never confess on his own-!"

🎪 "It'll all be solved later, don't worry, Charlie. Besides, we can't just drop everything for this, can we? The hotel still needs our help,"

🎪 "Their love needs our help," Vaggie raised an expectant eyebrow, and Charlie receded with a pout. "But I guess it could wait..."

🎪 "Attagirl."

🎪 Meanwhile, as you toss and turn in your own bed, a deep fondness for the king that ran deeper than you would like to admit blossomed in your heart and was beginning to see the first rays of radiant sunlight that just so happened to be your unconditional adoration for the king of Hell.

🎪 Lucifer could make you laugh, smile, and gasp with a wonderment that you hadn't ever felt before, and your heart began to ache for more. More of his presence, and his whimsical, goofy nature that time had taught you to relish and look forward to.

🎪 All you could do was sleep, close your eyes and hope that these feelings would stamp themselves out soon.

🎪 But all of that proved to be futile as you woke with a start in the middle of the night, the hazy visions of clipped wings, magnificent and radiant in all their seldom glory, remained fresh in your mind.

🎪 The glow of a shiny red apple faded from your vision, as you clenched your arms and buried your face into your pillow.

🎪 You were in for a long night...

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This was... surprisingly really fun and cute to write! I'll definitely be continuing this, since I really want to flesh it out more

Once again, please, PLEASE use the taglist for my sake 😭🙏 it can get sort of overwhelming when I can't remember certain usernames and tag them, and it's just to make things easier for me.

Oh and Lucifer's aesthetic is circuscore, of course. Underrated aesthetic frfr 🎪💫🍎

. . .

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #yourdoorisunlocked #lucifer hazbin hotel #I'VE DONE IT! I'VE MADE HEADCANONS! #HELL YEAAH #this is a beautiful development #expect more of this guy in the future 🐍✨🍎

[dragonrider9905]

Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him. 

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart. 

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing. 

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same. 

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands. 

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could. 

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for? 

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you. 

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart? 

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.” 

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering. 

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage. 

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.) 

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you. 

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them. 

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok. 

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could. 

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little. 

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.” 

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved. 

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out. 

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better. 

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh. 

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit. 

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that. 

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.   

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door. 

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you. 

Kriff. He had to fix this. 

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship. 

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before. 

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken. 

He was lost. 

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it. 

A lost love. 

And it was his fault. 

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible. 

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on. 

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep. 

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty. 

He saw it. And he caused it. 

And he hated himself for it. 

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t. 

Turns out he was wrong.  

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that. 

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt. 

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold. 

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality. 

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else. 

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be. 

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her. 

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice. 

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate. 

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed. 

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand. 

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack. 

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy. 

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated. 

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands. 

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face. 

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for. 

It was ‘that’ look. 

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time. 

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.  

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone. 

You squeezed his hand. 

“We’ll find her. I promise.” 

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long. 

He squeezed your hands. 

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore. 

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself. 

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering. 

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free. 

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him. 

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again. 

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before. 

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”  

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead. 

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him. 

Taking a look around, you carefully considered. 

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.” 

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker. 

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back. 

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?” 

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.” 

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.” 

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?” 

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you. 

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go. 

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two. 

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun. 

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had. 

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed. 

Your voice. 

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training. 

“Meshla, no!” 

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror. 

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you. 

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you. 

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter. 

Your painful cry.

No

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart. 

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge. 

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.” 

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…” 

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started—“ 

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body. 

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.  

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled. 

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly. 

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?” 

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep. 

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run. 

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.” 

Hunter came in running. 

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him. 

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls. 

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open. 

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up. 

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you. 

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space. 

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand. 

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat. 

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up. 

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating. 

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing. 

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat. 

Oh well, you could only push forward. 

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help. 

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding. 

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago? 

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry. 

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing. 

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face. 

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak. 

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened. 

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing? 

You had an infection. 

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly? 

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you. 

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you. 

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water. 

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle. 

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter. 

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes. 

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least. 

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt. 

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late. 

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response. 

 “Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope. 

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him. 

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk. 

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand. 

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her. 

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed. 

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area. 

You blinked your eyes open with a smile. 

“Hey Handsome.” 

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss. 

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?” 

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him. 

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled. 

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.” 

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help. 

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words. 

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.” 

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon. 

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you. 

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level. 

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets. 

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern. 

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way. 

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm. 

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out. 

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most. 

This one, he couldn’t do. 

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could. 

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you. 

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow. 

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes. 

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself. 

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips. 

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air. 

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain. 

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard. 

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.  

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there. 

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.” 

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again. 

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—” 

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss 

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier. 

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace. 

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened. 

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler. 

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest. 

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

#I gave Hunter's scarf a fate #We now know what happened to it #It deserved a story #Hunter's scarf is important and we recognize that here #sergeant hunter x you #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter #the bad batch #tbb hunter #star wars #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb echo #star wars the bad batch #clone fic gift exchange #TBBE24

[russellsppttemplates]

hello! Can I ask about Oscar and his youngest son's first day of school? Where his son is very nervous and fears what might happen but he calms him down

"You must be Jack!", the young man said, crouching down in front of your son so he could face him, "I'm Luke and I'm going to be your teacher", he introduced himself.

"Hi, I'm Jack", he said, looking around the environment he was in. You did tell him he would be going to spend the day with new people and meet all his new friends, and there seemed to be toys to play with like his brother told him.

"You can stay here with him at the start while we wait for the other little legends", he smiled before greeting another family that stood by the classroom door, "you can leave your things in the cube with your name, Jack!", he pointed.

You noticed your son walking slowly, always making sure you and Oscar were near him as you put his backpack on the cube alongside his cardigan, "is everything alright, buddy?", Oscar asked once he noticed tears pooling in his eyes as he looked at the floor.

"What's wrong, love?", you asked, crouching down so he could hug you, his little arms wrapping around your neck as his tears soaked your shirt, "it's okay, little man, it's okay", you soothed as you rubbed circles on his back.

"Do you want to tell us why you're upset?", Oscar encouraged softly as he sat down on the floor, you following his movements and kneeling down so you would be more comfortable.

Jack looked at both of you, "I'm going to spend the day here, right? What am I going to do the whole time?", he asked.

"You can't read yet, but Luke has a timetable on the board there", you smiled as you pointed out to the projected timetable, "right now, you're going to wait for everyone to arrive, then you'll introduce yourselves, and then you'll have snack time".

"Then you'll come back to the classroom for some arts and crafts", Oscar carried on, "then onto lunch time, which sounds delicious because it's spaghetti, and then you're going to spend the afternoon playing outside".

"Oh, okay, and then you'll come to pick me up?", Jack questioned. If you were telling him the truth, it didn't sound that bad.

"Yes, love, me and daddy will come pick you up and then we'll go pick up Lucas, how does that sound?", you suggested.

"Sounds nice", he mumbled.

"If there is any problem, your teacher can call us and we will come to get you, okay?", Oscar checked, not wanting him to not do it because he thought he'd be bothering you.

Luke approached you with a little boy next to him, "Jack, this is Colin and he and the rest of the class were wondering if you'd like to come with them to paint in that big sheet", he spoke to your son, "I'm not rushing you, though, if you want to stay here with him for a bit longer, it's okay", he checked with you and Oscar.

Jack wiped his cheeks and dried his hands on his shorts, "okay, can I draw an orange car?", he asked, "of course!", Luke gasped, "those are my favourite, too!", Colin said.

"Are you sure you want to go in now? We can stay for a bit longer if you want to, Jack", Oscar assured your son, "I can do it, daddy", he said as he kissed his cheek before kissing yours, "I love you, see you later!", he waved cutely as they walked to the big white sheet and the different paints and brushes.

"He's all grown up", you cooed, smiling at how brave he was for asking for help, "he is", Oscar agreed, helping you up and walking out of the classroom with your hands intertwined.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#oscar piastri blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

[moonstruckme]

hi mum can we get more dr rem PLEASE :3

Always pookie <3

cw: implicit nausea and vomit, no description

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

The sound of his voice makes you smile even in your sorry state. “Hi, Remus.” 

“Hi.” Something softens in his tone; you like to think he’s smiling too. “I’m not late to pick you up, am I? I’ve only just got home from work.” 

“No, so did I.” You lean your forehead on the cool ceramic of your toilet tank, thanking your past self for having cleaned it just yesterday. “I actually…I’m sorry, I think I’m going to need a raincheck.” 

A pause. “Oh.” You wince at the disappointment in his voice. “That’s too bad. Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I think I’ve just caught a bug,” you say. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much fun.” 

“You’re always fun,” Remus replies warmly, and you smile. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not great,” you hedge. You’ve been dating Remus long enough to know how he worries, and you don’t want that. “I’ll live, though. Maybe we can meet later in the week?” 

“Or,” he says, low and coaxing, “I could come over now and make you some soup.” 

You almost sigh, it sounds so nice. What you wouldn’t give to have him rub your back, carry you to bed and press a kiss to your brow. But you’re a mess right now, and you’re trying to save him from it. 

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” you say reluctantly. “Anyway, it’s not that kind of sick.” 

“Tell me your symptoms.”

“Ew,” you laugh. “Take me to dinner first, Lupin.”

“Well, I did try,” he says, and you can almost hear his smile through the phone. It catches just as easily as it does in person. “Seriously, love, how do you feel? Do you know what it is?” 

“Not necessarily, but it’s really not bad. I just don’t want to infect you.” 

“I could probably help.”

“But when you got sick I’d feel awful,” you tell him sincerely. “Thank you, but really, don’t worry about it. I’ll give you a ring when I’m no longer a biohazard, okay?” 

Remus harrumphs, but when he speaks his voice still crackles with fondness. “Alright.” 

“Thanks. Bye.” 

You hear him echo you as you lower the phone from your ear, setting it on the bathroom floor before following it down. You don’t feel secure enough in your stomach to leave the toilet just yet, so you curl up on the small mat by the shower and succumb to the exhaustion that’s been chasing you since lunchtime. 

~~~

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

You wake to a warm hand on your even warmer shoulder, startling a bit as you pull your face from the rug. Remus is looking down at you with an awful little crease between his brows. 

“Remus?” you ask, just to be sure. 

“Hi,” he says softly. “You didn’t sound this bad over the phone, you know. I’d have rushed if I knew you were about to take a nap on the floor.” 

You blink, trying to clear the fog from your brain. “How’d you get in here?” 

“You showed me the spare key when I took care of your plants, remember?” Remus looks a bit sorry, wedging a hand underneath your ribs to encourage you sitting up. “I did try to call, but I think you must have slept through it.” 

“Oh,” you murmur, getting upright and crossing your legs underneath you awkwardly.

He smiles thinly and sets a hand to your forehead. The gesture feels oddly intimate. You’ve slept with this man, met his friends, shown him where you keep your spare key, and somehow this feels intimate.

Remus makes a terribly lovely cooing sound. You think you might just die right here. 

“You’re burning,” he says worriedly. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

“Since about lunch,” you admit. 

“Yeah?” He frowns, cupping your face in the basin of his palm. “How’d you fare at work?” 

“I got sick in the bathroom, but then I just finished out the day.” Remus’ frown is starting to look mortifyingly near to a pout. “It wasn’t this bad then, I don’t think. It got worse once I was home.” 

He hums. “Do you know how you caught it?” 

You glance at the toilet, horrified at the sight of your unflushed sick inside. “Some of my coworkers went home sick, but…look, Remus, it was really nice of you to come, but you don’t have to be here.” You say this with your cheek tucked into his palm, soaking up the feeling of his touch. “It’s way too early for you to see me like this.” 

“Oh?” One corner of his mouth twitches, but he keeps his expression curious. “Why’s that?” 

“Because…because.” You try to imbue your tone with some sternness. “It’s the standard progression of things. Peeing together, saying I love you, then you see me when I’m sick.” 

Remus nods, humming pensively. His thumb strokes at your cheek. “You want to pee together before saying I love you? That’s interesting.” 

You feel your face heat, which you didn’t know was even possible at this point. You thought surely you’d maxed out. “I’m serious.” 

“Alright,” he says. Soft, pacifying. “All that notwithstanding, I’m afraid I can’t leave you like this, lovely girl. I’ll avert my eyes if you want me to, but I’m really not too worried about seeing you any way you can be, so I think it might be easier on you if you didn’t worry about it either.” 

You wither. “But I’m gross.” 

He frowns. “You’re not. You’re just not feeling your best right now, and that’s fine. Let me take care of you.” 

You look at him for a few moments, and Remus looks back. His amber stare is steady. Finally, you give in to your more pathetic urges and nod. 

“Alright.” He gives your cheek another tender stroke. “Do you feel like you’re going to be sick again now?” 

“No,” you say meekly. It feels weird to discuss these things with him, but Remus acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

“Perfect. Think you can make it to bed?” 

You definitely can, but Remus still walks you the whole way, one arm around your waist and his attention cautiously on your feet should you stumble. He gets you situated under the covers, forbidding more than one blanket until your fever comes down, and goes back into the bathroom to get the supplies he’d brought with him. 

You hear the toilet flush and cringe, but he comes back out like nothing happened. 

“I wasn’t sure what to bring since you wouldn't tell me what you had on the phone,” there’s a bit of light admonishment to his tone as he sits on the edge of your mattress with a paper bag, “so I brought most of my medicine cabinet. Do you want some anti-nausea, or are you still alright for now?” 

“Yes, please,” you say in a small voice. Remus passes you a cup of water before shaking a pill into his hand. He watches as you take it. 

“You’re going to want to keep taking small sips of that,” he tells you. “It sounds like you’re right and it’s just a stomach bug, so we’ll probably keep you off solid foods for a little while. You just let me know when you’re feeling up to some crackers or something, okay?” 

“Okay,” you echo him. Your heart suddenly feels as warm and tender as if your fever were affecting it, too. You’re enamored with the idea that you could go to sleep, right now, and Remus would still be here to take care of you when you wake up. He’d probably hold your hand if you asked, or read you something, or just sit with you if that was what you wanted. It makes you feel pathetically teary to think of being so cared for. 

Something shifts in Remus’ expression. He looks at you more closely, pushing a piece of hair away from your face. 

“Everything alright, sweetheart?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Just, thanks for coming.”

Remus smiles. “Changing our minds about the standard progression of things, are we?” But before you get a chance to hide under your covers and never come out, he leans forward, kissing your cheek. “Don’t mention it.”

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