#also I'm probably going to be finishing the prompts off counter for a while

[artsysurvivor]

[Image ID: Morgarath, with white hair and dark eyes, and wearing black armor with a tunic over it containing a yellow lightning bolt, is on a balcony. The camera is underneath the balcony facing upward, allowing the viewer to see wargals who are carrying maces, axes, and swords. The lighting is coming from the windows of his castle, lighting up the stones that make it up. Dark clouds surround the top of it. Everything besides what the window light touches—the back of Morgarath and some of the middle stones— is heavily shaded. /End ID]

[buckets-and-trees]

Obsidian Stain and Sin

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Ari Levinson x Female!Reader, soft!dark Curtis Everett x Female!Reader, Ari x Reader x Curtis Word Count: 8.1k Summary: You've thought of getting your first tattoo for quite a while. When you walk into Obsidian Stain Studio, you experience services beyond anything you bargained for.

Content/Warnings: tattooing/needles, DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit smut, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, kissing, anal play/rimming (female receiving), eating it from behind, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink, manhandling, fade to black/abrupt ending

Author Notes: I've had this idea all summer. I've been eager to write it, but literally the muse only kept teasing me with it until literally about six hours ago when she said, WE'RE DOING THIS, AND WE'RE DOING THIS NOW, so it's almost late/maybe it's still you're birthday week for a hot minute in some time zone, but I'm slipping this to you @stargazingfangirl18 for your Birthday Bonenanza! Literally, when I tell you that when you originally tagged me in the announcement, and I read over the myriad of prompts, I thought, "Oh, wow, this is so tattoo Curtis and Ari coded, it HAS TO happen for Siri's birthday..." that's really how my brain thought it was finally going to get the jump on working on this. But then no. Then that other Steve story happened, and I was stoked about that. Then the new chapter for Nomad Steve, and I thought, ah well, still fun stuff, maybe someday this, and then AT THE LAST MOMENT, Muse pulled a plot twist. So here's some ruinous hoe shit. Multiple dialogue prompts from the challenge are used here, and you'll find them in bold.

A/N 2: Shout out to @vonalyn for a few convos hashing out some of this concept!

You are surprised by the tinkling of a classic bell hanging over the door that rings pleasantly as you enter the tattoo parlor.

A man behind the reception desk immediately looks up to greet you. He doesn’t shoot you a phony, business-y smile, but his demeanor is still warm and approachable. “Welcome,” he greets you. “Walk-in or appointment?” he asks.

“Um, walk-in,” you manage. In a black t-shirt with shoulders that are nearly bursting through the fabric, lush hair and beard, and striking blue eyes, he’s more than an impressive specimen. “If you’ve got an opening?” you quickly add.

“Sure, we can take you,” he says. His gaze flicks to a scheduling book in front of him on the counter. “A couple of the boys are on break or about to finish up with other clients. Your first time here, yes?”

You nod. “First tattoo ever.”

“Oh,” he says, and his eyes brighten. “Even better. Let’s get you booked in.”

He takes your name, email, and phone number to set up a profile for you in their system. There are some electronic consent forms that he takes you through and has you agree to and sign on an iPad, and then he takes asks a few questions about what you’re interested in.

“Based off what you have in mind, Curtis might be the best artist, but he won’t be finished for maybe an hour.”

“Ah,” you look at your watch. It was a bit of an impromptu idea for you to drop in to get the tattoo this afternoon, and you had time, but you had probably been foolish thinking a walk-in was any sort of good idea.

“But,” he interjects, “I’ve got two other guys who are excellent, and either one of them should be ready to take you pretty soon. Take a seat just over there, and I’ll go check in with them and get a call on time for you. I’ll also grab you a drink. Pick your poison - we’ve got water or Coke products.”

You give him your preference, and he nods and smiles.

“Right then, sit tight, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He disappears around the corner, and you do as you’ve been told and take a seat on one of the black leather couches in the lobby.

Now you have time to really take in your surroundings. The walls are black with white moldings at the floor and ceiling, and the hardwood floors are a warm walnut. Everything is dark but clean. Classic but clearly in line with current trends. On the wall behind the desk, there’s a gorgeous, white-lettered feature with shop name - Obsidian Stain Studio - that’s sleek and impressive. On the wall next to you, there are ten framed pieces of art on the wall in a mix of sizes, some of them hand-drawn artwork, and the rest photos of finished tattoos on skin.

You’re nervous but determined not to be, so you cross your legs and try to keep your anxious energy limited to just running your fingers back and forth over the edge of your phone. Looking at the different designs on the wall does serve to capture your attention, though, and quell your nerves slightly.

The man working reception returns and hands you the drink. “We should have you back there in a chair in ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Great,” you respond, and the nerves kick up a notch, but it’s with a surge of excitement.

This is happening.

You take a sip of your drink, grateful for something to occupy your hands. The cool liquid helps soothe your nerves a bit. As you wait, you observe a few other clients entering and leaving the shop checking in or paying as they leave. Some sport fresh bandages, while others are clearly here for consultations, clutching sketches or reference photos.

The buzzing of tattoo machines creates a constant backdrop of sound, occasionally punctuated by muffled laughter or conversation from the back rooms. The atmosphere is more relaxed than you expected, nineties music underscoring it all.

As you wait, a couple emerges from behind the partition separating the lobby from the work area. They're both grinning, the woman cradling her forearm gently. Her companion is animatedly discussing something with her, gesturing excitedly. You catch a glimpse of fresh ink on her skin as they pass – a vibrant butterfly with intricate, colorful wings.

The sight makes your heart race a little faster. Soon, that'll be you walking out with fresh art on your body. The thought is both thrilling and slightly terrifying.

But you won’t be walking out with a friend or partner.

Your gaze wanders back to the artwork on the walls. One piece in particular catches your eye – an intricate mandala design with flowing lines and delicate detail. You find yourself drawn to its symmetry and complexity.

"Which one’s got your attention?" a voice asks, startling you from your reverie. You look up to see someone you can only describe as a lion of a man standing before you. All of his attention is focused on you like you’re his next prey. He towers over you with a mane of golden brown hair that’s grown out to tuck nicely behind his ears and curls out at his neck. He’s got a broad chest and shoulders covered in a denim shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. You can see peeks of ink mingled with some chest hair as well as intricate designs over his forearms. His dark blue eyes are zeroed in on you in a way that both unsettles and steadies you at the same time.

You point at the mandala, and the man smiles. “That’s one of Steve’s. He says you’re here for your first tattoo.”

“He… wait, is that Steve?” You nod and glance over at the man at the front desk who’s now consulting with an older man and showing him a few designs.

“Yep, he owns the place and loves to work the front almost as much as the back with the rest of us. I’m Ari, by the way.” He puts his hand out, inviting you to shake hands.

You push up from the couch, stand, and offer your hand for the shake. It’s engulfed easily by his big, warm, calloused hand.

“I’m the one who’s going to make your first time special.”

Your heart stutters and your face flushes. He didn’t just… your mind races. Did he?

He chuckles and drops your hand quickly. “Follow me,” he says and turns and begins striding into the back.

You fall into step behind Ari, your eyes inevitably drawn to his broad shoulders and the confident swagger in his step. The back area is an open space divided into several stations with partial walls, each with its own tattoo chair and equipment, creating semi-private booths. Ari leads you to one in the back corner.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair.

You perch on the edge, your nerves returning full force. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and ink.

He pulls up a rolling stool and sits, leaning in close. "So, tell me about this tattoo you want."

You explain your idea - a simple constellation of stars for your zodiac sign - watching as his blue eyes light up with interest. He nods along, occasionally asking questions or offering suggestions. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Alright, I think I know what you're after," Ari says, reaching for a sketchpad. "Let me rough out a design for you."

You watch, mesmerized, as Ari's hand moves swiftly across the paper. His brow furrows in concentration, and you find yourself studying the angles of his face, the way his beard accentuates his strong jaw. Within minutes, he presents you with a design that takes your breath away.

"What do you think?" he asks, a hint of pride in his voice.

The constellation is there, just as you imagined, but Ari has added subtle details that elevate it beyond your expectations. Delicate lines connect the stars, and a hint of shadowing gives the piece depth and movement.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the sketch.

Ari grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Great. Now, let's talk placement."

You indicate the spot you've chosen - your inner wrist. Ari nods approvingly. "Good choice. Nice and visible, but easy to cover if needed. Mind if I take a look?"

You extend your arm, and Ari gently takes your wrist in his large hands. His touch is surprisingly soft as he examines the area, his fingers tracing the spot where your tattoo will soon be. You can't help but notice the contrast between his rough, inked skin and your own unmarked flesh.

"Nice canvas," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Skin's good here. This'll work well." He looks up, catching your eye. "Ready to get started?"

You nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.

“You’re a sweet, innocent thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth but shut it again, unsure how to respond, and he brushes his thumb over the pulse on your inner wrist, and you think you see his eyes darken.

He releases your wrist and turns to prepare his equipment. You’re frozen in place, but luckily that’s fine as it’s not necessary for you to move. You watch as he efficiently sets up his station, laying out ink caps, adjusting his machine, and pulling on a fresh pair of black latex gloves. The buzz of the tattoo machine as he tests it sends a jolt of excitement and nervousness through you.

"Alright, I'm going to clean the area now," he says, swabbing your wrist.

His touch is clinical now, professional, as he prepares your skin. The cool antiseptic makes you shiver slightly.

"Cold?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"A little," you admit.

"Don't worry, I’ll have you warm soon enough," he says with a wink that makes your cheeks flush.

Ari places the stencil on your wrist, pressing it gently to transfer the design. When he peels it away, you see the outline of your constellation on your skin for the first time. It sends a thrill through you - this is really happening.

"Make sure you’re happy with the placement before we start," he instructs. "This is your last chance to change your mind."

You focus to examine the design on your skin more closely, heart racing. It looks even better than you imagined.

"It's perfect," you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.

Ari grins. "Alright then, let's make it permanent. You ready?"

You nod, settling back into the chair and extending your arm.

Ari takes your arm gently, positioning it just so on the armrest. "Now, I need you to stay as still as possible," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's going to hurt a bit, especially at first. But I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can."

The buzz of the machine fills your ears as Ari brings the needle to your skin. You hold your breath, bracing for the pain.

The first touch of the needle is a sharp, burning sensation that makes you wince. Ari pauses, his eyes flicking to your face. "You okay?"

You nod, determined. "I'm fine. Keep going."

“Move an inch, and you’ll be sorry.”

You open your mouth wordlessly again, and he laughs.

“Only joking. I know you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip and nod, something fluttering in your stomach, mixing wickedly with your nerves and the uncertainty around this man who skirts between being casual, soothing your nerves, concentration on his craft, and making these comments that insinuate and evoke wholly inappropriate thoughts.

He smiles, then concentrates back on your wrist and resumes his work. Gradually, the initial shock of pain fades into a more manageable discomfort. You find yourself relaxing, mesmerized by the steady movement of Ari's hand and the way the muscles in his biceps move and flex.

As Ari continues, your eyes shift to his face. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his blue eyes focused intently on your skin. There's something mesmerizing about watching him work, seeing the care and precision he puts into every line. The buzz of the machine becomes almost soothing, a constant backdrop to the occasional murmur of voices from other stations.

"So," Ari says after a while, breaking the silence without looking up from his work, "what made you decide to get your first tattoo today?"

You hesitate, unsure how much to share. "It's… kind of a long story."

Ari glances up, a small smile playing on his lips. "We've got time. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."

You take a deep breath, wincing slightly as the needle hits a sensitive spot. "I've been thinking about it for a while. But today… today felt like it was finally the day to take the leap."

"Spontaneous decision, huh? Those can be the best kind."

You nod, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I guess I just wanted to do something for myself. Something permanent.”

Ari nods thoughtfully, his eyes still focused on your wrist. "Sometimes we need a physical reminder of the changes we're making inside," he says softly. "Something to look at and think, 'Yeah, I did that. I made that choice.'"

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself relaxing further. The pain has faded to a dull, almost pleasant sensation.

"So, what's your story?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. "How did you get into tattooing?"

Ari chuckles, pausing to wipe away excess ink. "Now that's definitely a long story. But the short version? I was a troubled kid, got into some bad stuff. Tattooing saved me, gave me a purpose."

He glances up, meeting your eyes. "There's something powerful about creating permanent art on someone's body.”

The words send another thrill through your body and you nod, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at his intense gaze. "I can see that," you manage to say.

Ari returns his attention to your wrist, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's intimate, you know? Creating something that becomes a part of someone forever."

The word 'intimate' hangs in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure as he works.

“You’re the one Steve says I nearly got to mark for the first time,” a new voice startles you, and you jump slightly in your chair.

Ari tsks, but his left hand had been holding your arm down firmly.

The other man chuckles. “Sorry, sugar.”

He steps closer, coming into Ari’s booth. He looks to be slightly taller than Ari, and a shade leaner, but he’s still built with more muscles than the common man. His hair is dark, shorn close to his head, and a dark beard covers his angular jaw. Ice blue eyes pierce into you, and you fight hard to suppress an actual shiver running down your spine.

"Curtis," Ari says without looking up, his tone a mix of amusement and mild irritation. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Curtis leans against the partition, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement draws your attention to the intricate tattoos covering his forearms. He’s got more ink than Ari.

"Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Steve said we had a noteworthy first-timer."

You feel your face flush, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. Curtis's gaze is intense, almost predatory, as he looks you over.

"Well, now you've seen," Ari says, his voice tight. "Don't you have your own client to attend to?"

Curtis huffs. "Just finished up. Thought I'd come say hello." He turns his attention back to you. "How're you holding up, sweetheart? Ari treating you right?"

You nod, finding your voice. "He's been great," you manage to say, your voice a bit shaky. "It doesn't hurt as much as I expected."

Curtis grins, a glint in his eye. "Oh, Ari knows how to make it feel good, doesn't he?"

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at the innuendo. Ari's hand tightens slightly on your wrist, and you see his jaw clench.

"Curtis," Ari says, his tone a clear warning.

Curtis holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint." He fixes his gaze once again on your face. "Maybe next time you'll let me be the one to mark you up. Lot more skin still to explore."

With that, he stalks away, leaving a charged atmosphere in his wake. You can feel the tension radiating off Ari as he resumes his work on your tattoo, his jaw clenched.

“Sorry about that,” Ari says after a moment, his voice low. "Curtis can be… intense."

You nod, still feeling flustered from the encounter. "It's okay," you manage to say, trying to calm your racing heart.

Ari looks up at you, his blue eyes searching your face. "You alright? Need a break?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm fine. Let's keep going."

He nods, returning his attention to your wrist. The buzz of the machine fills the silence between you once more. You try to focus on the sensation, the slight sting as the needle moves across your skin, rather than the lingering tension in the air.

After a few minutes, Ari speaks again. "You know, you don't have to let anyone pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with. Not here, not anywhere."

His words surprise you, and you meet his gaze. There's a protective glint in his eye, but he quickly returns his attention to your wrist. Ari's movements become more deliberate, almost possessive, as he continues working on your tattoo. The tension in the air is palpable, and you find yourself hyper-aware of every point of contact between your skin and his.

"Almost done," he murmurs after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all. "Just a few more touches."

You watch as he adds the final details, marveling at how the constellation seems to come to life on your skin. When he finally sits back, setting down the machine, you can't help but gasp.

"It's beautiful," you breathe.

Ari's eyes meet yours, a mixture of pride and something deeper in his gaze. “It suits you perfectly."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. Ari gently wipes away the last traces of excess ink, revealing the full beauty of your new tattoo. The stars seem to shimmer on your skin, the delicate lines connecting them creating a sense of movement and depth.

"Now, let's get this wrapped up and I'll go over the aftercare instructions with you," Ari says, reaching for a roll of clear film.

As he carefully covers your new tattoo, his fingers brush against your skin, sending little sparks of electricity through you. You can't help but notice how his large hands handle your wrist with such care and precision.

"There," he says, smoothing down the edges of the wrap. "All protected."

Ari walks you to the front, and your heart races when you see Steve and Curtis speaking quietly with their heads together. Ari clears his throat, and at the sight of you, Curtis nods, rakes his gaze over you once more. “Come back soon, sugar.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at Curtis's words, but Ari's steady presence beside you helps ground you. Steve steps forward, a warm smile on his face.

"How did it go?" he asks, his eyes flickering to your wrapped wrist.

"It was amazing," you reply, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Ari did an incredible job." You extend your wrist, showing off your new tattoo.

Steve nods approvingly. "Beautiful work. Ari’s one of our best. Let's get you checked out."

As Steve begins to ring up your work, Ari leans against the counter beside you. His arm brushes against yours, and you're acutely aware of his proximity.

"Remember," he says softly, his voice low enough that only you can hear, "take care of it. It's a part of you now."

You nod, shyly meeting his intense gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. "I will," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ari's eyes soften, and he reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the edge of the wrap on your wrist. "Good girl," he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

Steve clears his throat, breaking the moment. "All set," he says, handing you a receipt. "We hope to see you again soon."

You nod, suddenly feeling flustered. "Thank you," you manage to say, gathering your things.

As you turn to leave, Ari's hand catches your elbow gently. "Wait," he says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small business card and presses it into your hand. "In case you have any questions about the aftercare. Or anything else."

Your fingers brush as you take the card, and you feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. You look down at the card, noting the personal cell phone number scrawled on it. "Thank you."

Ari's blue eyes lock with yours, intense and filled with unspoken promise.

You barely seem to turn away, but somehow manage to break off from the eye contact, and quickly rush out of Obsidian Stain Studio.

You keep Ari’s business card, but as the weeks go by, you don’t use it.

After a couple of months, you move the card from the spot next to where you keep your keys where you see it every day, into the top drawer of your desk. Out of frequent sight, but not out of mind completely.

It’s a solid six months before you return to Obsidian Stain again, but ultimately you do. The bell jingles above your head as you step inside.

The tattoo on your wrist had healed beautifully, and you loved seeing it on your skin. You had decided fairly soon afterwards that you wanted another tattoo, but even after saving up for your next one, it had taken you longer to decide whether to return Obsidian or not, the experience with Ari and encounters with Curtis leaving you torn between terrified and desperately curious to go back.

Ultimately the allure was too strong to deny.

But, more logically, although finally going in to get your first tattoo had been on a whim, you had been very thorough in narrowing down and exploring your options for months before. You knew they were one of the best in your area, especially for the style you wanted, and the price point you knew you could afford while still ensuring quality.

Unwilling to make an appointment, though, you were going to gamble on a walk-in again.

No one was immediately at the front desk, but at the sound of the bell, Steve quickly appears. “Welcome back,” he said, a broad grin on his face.

“Walk-in?” you ask, and remind him of your name.

“Oh, I remember you.” Steve beckons you forward. “Let me see that wrist,” he says.

You offer your arm with pride, and he smiles warmly.

“Looks good. You hit us on a slow day, perfect for a walk in. I’ll get you booked in, and then I’ll take you right back.”

You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as Steve leads you to the back. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink fills your nostrils, bringing back memories of your last visit. Your eyes scan the room, half hoping and half dreading to see a certain tattooist.

"Curtis is free right now," Steve says, guiding you to a station. "He'll take good care of you."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Curtis's name. You remember his intense gaze, his bold words from your last visit. Part of you is disappointed it's not Ari, but another part is intrigued.

Curtis looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, well. Look who's back," he says, his ice blue eyes locking onto yours.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very exposed under his gaze. "Hi," you manage evenly.

Curtis's eyes rake over you. "I was hoping you'd come back to us," he says, his voice low and smooth. "What can I do for you today, sugar?"

You begin to explain the design you have in mind - a delicate, line art floral piece. As you talk, Curtis listens intently, occasionally nodding or asking questions. His focus is entirely on you, making you feel both nervous and oddly thrilled.

“And where do you want it?” he finally asks.

You trace an area of your other arm - opposite of the one with your inked-up wrist — moving your above, over, and below the crook of your elbow.

“Hmm,” he hums. “You sure?”

Your eyes shoot to his. “Yes?” an edge of hesitation now in your voice at his query.

He narrows his eyes slightly, then shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No. A piece like this could work well there, but that’s not where you want me to put this.”

“It… isn’t?”

“No, it should go here,” he says, and he reaches out and brushes his fingers lightly over your ribs instead, causing you to shiver.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the chair. As you settle in, Curtis rolls his stool closer, leaning in. "Now, this is going to be a bit more intense than your wrist. You sure you're ready for it?"

You nod, trying to project confidence despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "I'm ready."

Curtis grins, a predatory glint in his eye. "That's what I want to hear from that pretty mouth. Now just sit tight and wait for me while I draw something up.”

Your heart races as you lean back in the chair, Curtis's words echoing in your mind, causing heat to pool in your core. You watch, mesmerized by the intensity of his focus. After a few minutes, he turns back to you, holding up the sketch.

"What do you think?" he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat. The design is beautiful - delicate flowers and vines intertwining in a way that would perfectly follow the curve of your ribs.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the design.

Curtis smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Alright then, let's get started. I'm going to need you to lift your shirt for me."

Your cheeks flush as you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, exposing your ribs. Curtis's eyes darken as they roam over your skin.

"Beautiful canvas," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You feel exposed, knowing your own soft belly and imperfections, but he looks at you in a way that has your head spinning, it’s a hunger that’s almost reverent.

“Better if you take your shirt off for me, sugar,” he says, his tone firm.

Head swirling, you don’t think to refuse, just do as you’re told. With trembling hands, you pull your shirt over your head, feeling incredibly vulnerable as you sit there in just your bra. Curtis's eyes roam over your exposed skin, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"That's better," he says, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's get you positioned just right."

His hands, surprisingly gentle, guide you to lie back and slightly to the side. You shiver as his fingers trail along your ribs, mapping out where the tattoo will go.

"Nervous?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

He already knows the answer, but you nod, not trusting your voice.

Curtis leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar. I'll take good care of you."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

Curtis begins to clean and prepare your skin, his touch clinical yet somehow still intimate. You try to steady your breathing, hyperaware of every point of contact between his hands and your body.

"Now, this is going to hurt more than your wrist did," Curtis warns, his voice low. "But I know you can take it. You're tougher than you look, aren't you, sugar?"

You nod, steeling yourself for the pain. The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the air, and then you feel the first bite of the needle against your skin. You gasp, your body tensing.

"Breathe," Curtis instructs, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, grounding you. "That's it, nice and steady."

As he works, Curtis surprisingly stokes and then keeps up a steady stream of conversation. Mostly it’s inquiry after inquiry, forcing you to focus on finding words, but his deep voice also helps to distract you from the pain. He asks about your life, your interests. You find yourself opening up, sharing more than you intended about your life, your dreams, your fears. His voice continues to provide the counterpoint to the buzz of the tattoo machine.

"You're doing so well," Curtis murmurs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work. "Such a good girl for me."

The praise sends a shiver through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a small moan. Curtis notices, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Sensitive, aren't you?" he says, his voice low. "I like that."

Your cheeks flush, but you can't deny the thrill his words send through you. The pain of the tattoo blends into the sensations he’s evoking as his hands move with practiced precision across your skin.

"So, sugar, what made you come back for more ink?" he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work.

You take a shaky breath before answering. "I loved how the first one turned out. And… I guess I wanted to experience it again."

Curtis chuckles, darkly. "Addictive, isn't it? The pain, the permanence... the intimacy of it all."

His words make your heart race, and you're acutely aware of how close he is, how vulnerable you are beneath his hands.

"Speaking of your first time," Curtis continues, the steadying hand that had been at your waist ghosting just a little lower, "Ari seemed quite taken with you. Did you ever give him a call?"

The question catches you off guard, and you feel a flush creep up your neck. "No, I… I didn't," you admit softly.

Curtis's hand stills for a moment, and he looks up at you, his ice blue eyes intense. "No? Now that's interesting. Why not, sugar?"

You swallow hard, unsure how to answer, yet unable to stop the words from flowing. "I... I guess I was nervous," you finally say.

A slow smile spreads across Curtis's face. "Nervous? Of Ari? Or of what you felt?”

Your cheeks flush at his perceptiveness. "Both, maybe," you whisper.

“Or maybe you were waiting for something else?" His hand resumes its work, but the touch his anchor hand seems more deliberate now, each movement charged with unspoken intent.

"I don't know what you mean.”

Curtis chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "I think you do, sugar. I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you came back here today."

His words hang in the air between you, charged with tension. You can't bring yourself to deny it, can't even find your voice to respond. Curtis seems to take your silence as confirmation.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the silence as Curtis returns his focus to your ribs. You try to steady your breathing, acutely aware of every point of contact between his skin and yours. The pain of the tattoo blends with the heat pooling in your core, creating a heady mix of sensations.

"Tattoo nearly done," Curtis says after what feels like hours.

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over you. The intense experience is coming to an end, but part you that scares you doesn't want it to.

"Just a few more touches," Curtis murmurs, his eyes focused intently on your skin, and the buzz of the machine continues for a few more minutes.

"There we go," Curtis murmurs. He wipes away the excess ink, then sits back to admire his work. His eyes roam over your exposed skin, a mixture of professional pride and something darker in his gaze. "Want to take a look?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Curtis helps you sit up, steadying you with a hand on your lower back as you move to face the mirror. Your breath catches in your throat as you see the intricate design now adorning your ribs. The delicate flowers and vines seem to bloom across your skin, following the curves of your body perfectly.

"It's perfect," you whisper, unable to take your eyes off the mirror.

Curtis's smile widens, and his eyes darken. "Of course it is. I knew exactly what you needed."

His words send another shiver through you, but then suddenly you feel the heat of him too close, and he’s pressed right up against your back, planting his large hands on your hips and caging you in.

"You're trembling," Curtis murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you steady against him. "Are you scared, sugar?"

You can't find your voice to answer, your heart pounding in your chest. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - his broad chest against your back, his strong hands on your hips, the heat of him seeping through your skin.

"Or maybe," he continues, his voice low and dark, "you're excited."

One of his hands slides up your side, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoo, until it comes to rest just below your breast. Your breath hitches, and you see your pupils dilate in the mirror's reflection.

"That's what I thought," Curtis says, satisfaction clear in his tone. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? Since the moment you walked in.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of ink and something uniquely him. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you.

"Tell me, sugar," Curtis murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Did you come back here hoping to see Ari? Or were you hoping it would be me?"

You swallow hard, your mind spinning. "I… I don't know," you manage to whisper.

Curtis chuckles, the sound low and dark. "I think you do know. I think you've been thinking about this for months." His hands slide up and down your sides, careful to avoid the fresh tattoo. "Thinking about what it would be like if you came back. If you let yourself give in."

Your breath hitches. “No.”

“No?” he challenges. His right hand, still gloved, audaciously slips past your waistband and down the front of your panties to cup your pussy. He laughs softly, discovering a growing wetness there. “Yes.”

You gasp as Curtis's hand begins to stroke your most intimate area, your body betraying you with its response. Your mind races, torn between the thrill of his touch and the shock at how quickly things have escalated.

"Wait," you manage to breathe out, your voice shaky. "We shouldn't…"

Curtis pauses, his hand stilling but not withdrawing. "Why not?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Your body is telling me a different story, sugar."

You're acutely aware of how exposed you are, standing there in just your bra with Curtis pressed against your back, his hand between your legs. The mirror reflects your flushed face and wide eyes, Curtis's intense gaze locked on you.

"Someone could walk in," you whisper, a weak protest even to your own ears.

Curtis chuckles darkly. "They could.”

Your mind is spinning, caught between the intense sensations and the voice in your head screaming that this is wrong, that you shouldn't be doing this here, now, with him. But your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch.

"Curtis," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky, and tears springing up in your eyes. "We can’t—"

"Shh," he soothes, his free hand coming up to gently grip your throat. Not choking, just holding. "Don't overthink it, sugar. Just feel."

His fingers continue their exploration, finding your clit and circling it slowly. You bite back a moan, plant your hands on the mirror, and your hips rock back against him.

“Fuck, knew you wanted this,” he speaks directly into your ear.

You whimper and shake your head, but then his hand moves up to cover your mouth. “Gotta keep more quiet than that unless you want someone else to join us, sugar.”

Your eyes desperately seek his in the mirror, fear flashing in them, and the tears begin to spill over. There’s a predatory glint in his icy blue gaze.

His fingers continue their skilled ministrations, drawing forth sensations you've never experienced before. Your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch despite your mind's protests. You're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, shame, and an overwhelming, undeniable pleasure.

"Look at yourself," Curtis commands softly, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "See how beautiful you are like this."

You force yourself to look, to really see yourself - flushed cheeks, wide eyes, chest heaving with each ragged breath. Curtis behind you, his large frame dwarfing yours, his hand between your legs, the other still gently but firmly covering your mouth.

Curtis's eyes meet yours in the mirror, his gaze intense and predatory. The fear in your eyes seems to excite him further, his grip on you tightening slightly.

"Don't worry, sugar," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew all those pretty tears were just for show, you want this just as badly as I do, andI've got you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. And yet, there's a part of you that thrills at the danger, at the forbidden nature of what's happening.

Curtis's fingers continue their skilled exploration, drawing involuntary gasps and moans from you that are muffled by his hand. Each deliberate movement sends waves of sensation coursing through your body, igniting a fire that you never expected to feel. Your body continues to betray you, responding to his touch despite your mind's protests, creating a tumultuous conflict within you. The thrill of the moment is undeniable, yet a flicker of apprehension lingers in the background, whispering the dangers of being caught in such an intimate entanglement, making it impossible to pull away.

"Damn, that’s a pretty sight,” a familiar voice jolts you nearly out of your skin, and you whip your head around to see Ari looming in the entry.

Curtis stops only for a moment and looks over his shoulder at the other man. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Ari shrugs, all nonchalance, and palms the large bulge pressing at the front of his jeans.

Your heart races, caught between exhilaration and apprehension. The sight of Ari standing there, a blend of curiosity, mischief, and lust in his eyes, adds an element of unpredictability that excites and terrifies you.

Curtis grunts, then says, “I’m not stopping, but I’ll share.”

Your jaw would have dropped to the floor in that moment had Curtis’s hand not been holding it in place, securing your response and anchoring you to the present. The idea of a threesome, tantalizing yet fraught with risk, swirls in your mind. How did this escalate so quickly? The thought of being discovered sends a shiver down your spine, but the allure of the forbidden is intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the moment.

You sob, overwhelmed and afraid, but it’s muffled as Curtis turns your body around with him, his grip firm yet reassuring His fingers are still moving, relentless and sure, and you can hardly focus on anything else. Your mind races through the possibilities, the dangerous thrill of being discovered adding an exhilarating layer to the encounter. Would Ari join in, or would he simply stand by and watch, adding to the intensity of the moment? The idea of indulging in such a forbidden experience fills you with a mix of dread and excitement, as if you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to leap into the unknown.

Ari pulls a privacy curtain you had failed to notice across the opening to the booth before taking the few short steps to close the distance between you. This sudden shield from prying eyes heightens the anticipation, transforming the atmosphere into one charged with desire and unspoken possibilities. Ari traces the back of his forefinger down the column of your throat, down your sternum, between your breasts, and then circles around the expanse of your new tattoo, eyes roaming over the beautiful design.

Not to be forgotten, Curtis tweaks your clit, cracking the pleasure that had been mounting like a whip, demanding an orgasm from your body, and you tremble in his arms as you cling to him. Each flick of his fingers sends shivers through you, igniting a fiery response that leaves you gasping for more.

“Knew you were such a good girl,” Ari praises, and your chest surges from his praise, his low, sultry voice invading your mind. Then, he unzips his jeans, the sound echoing in the booth like a promise yet to be fulfilled. He goes to sit on the black leather chair, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, revealing the enticing sight of his big, throbbing cock.

Curtis lifts you with ease and places you in Ari's lap. The transition is seamless, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of Ari's embrace. His hands instinctively find their way to your hips, grounding you as you settle in. With Curtis standing close, the dynamic continues to shift and evolve. You can feel the heat radiating from both men, each one eager to exact pleasure, and you hope the fire doesn’t consume you completely.

“Take off your bra,” Ari directs you.

Your eyes widen over his immediate demands, but, nervous as you still are, you don’t hesitate to do as he says. His hands on your hips hold you steady while you reach around to unclasp, and then you let it drop and fall away, biting your lip. Ari groans appreciatively, and grinds your core against his cock. You let out a shuddering breath at the friction, but it’s a singular sensation for only a moment, because then Ari dips his head and takes one of your breasts into his hot, wet mouth, and you gasp. Your fingers tangle immediately into his hair, looking for some kind of anchor.

Vaguely you hear the rustle of fabric from Curtis close behind you, and then you feel the heat of his now naked chest press against your back. He nips lightly at your neck, but then pulls back slightly. He rucks your loose skirt up over your hips, but then he rips the fabric of your panties right off, and you yelp in surprise.

Ari’s quick to muffle your sound by shifting his lips from your breast to your mouth, but his lips and tongue are no less eager, and the kiss is delicious and demanding, and you’re easily almost completely lost in him again. But Curtis has also discarded his gloves, and now his warm, calloused hands move slowly up your thighs before squeezing your hips, then start to knead the flesh of your round ass.

Curtis places a hand between your shoulders and pushes you forward, coaxing you against Ari’s chest. Ari takes the hint and leans back in the reclined chair, pulling you with him. This exposes your most intimate parts to Curtis, and he spreads you open, then presses his tongue flat against your cunt, eliciting a moan that, luckily, is swallowed up by Ari, who’s still eagerly kissing you, and now kneading your breasts in his large hands. Curtis continues to lick and lap at your cunt, but then his tongue begins to move up, and then suddenly he’s tonguing the tight rosebud of your ass, and you whimper and freeze.

Ari stops when you stop, pulling away to look at your face and assess the situation.

Curtis teases you with his tongue for another moment before pausing to pull away as well.

“Not a virgin,” he guesses, “but never had anyone play with your ass, have you, sugar?”

You close your eyes and try to take a steadying breath, your, “no,” soft and barely audible.

“Do you want him to stop?” Ari asks, and you can feel him studying your face.

Your mind is racing, but you remain frozen, unsure of what to say.

Ari brings one hand up to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch and open your eyes again, but still don’t speak.

“Keep going,” he says to Curtis, and Curtis does.

While Curtis works your tightest hole with his tongue, still splaying your cheeks open, Ari reaches down to slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, and you eagerly rock your hips for more. Ari smiles, then brings you down with his other hand to kiss you again.

When you’re positively humping his hand, Ari pulls back from kissing you again with a darker laugh than you expected, but you’re so far gone between them, you think of stopping or slowing at all now.

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

But it doesn’t register.

He withdraws your fingers and slaps your pussy, making you gasp and groan, and your eyes whip open.

His dark blue irises are barely visible, pupils blown wide with lust, and it just cause another surge of electricity to run through you to your core.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

And then it’s his cock nudging at your entrance.

“Ari,” you groan.

“Since that first fucking minute I saw you in the lobby,” he says. He taps his cock aggressively against your swollen clit, and you keen for him. “Knew you were an innocent little thing, and I wanted to absolutely ruin you.”

You bite your lip, unable to look away from him, and think of that day, too.

“We both wanted to ruin you,” Curtis adds. And his finger takes over where his tongue had been, working gently but insistently into your ass.

You moan softly, but the two men hear it and exchange a glance over your shoulder. Ari looks pleased.

“I didn’t touch you that day, only teased you, enticed you. I knew you’d be back,” he growls. “Shame I didn’t have you on my chair again, but that wasn’t going to stop me.”

He pushes your lips back to his for another devouring kiss, but it’s brief.

“You’re desperate to be filled up, aren’t you?” he asks.

Closing your eyes again, you whimper and drop your forehead to his, but your answer is undeniable. “Yes.”

“You didn’t have to wait this long, but we won’t punish you for that. We’re patient men.”

“It only gave us more time to think of all the ways we’ll take you apart, sugar,” Curtis murmurs against your shoulder, then presses open-mouthed kisses against your hot skin there.

And then Ari is slipping his cock inside of your cunt, slow, insistent, and doesn’t stop until he’s into the hilt, pushing all the air out of your lungs. He’s so big it feels like he’s everywhere, and it takes you concentrating on making your lungs work again to suck in deep breaths, impossibly full of him.

But as full as you feel, it wasn’t everything. Because while Ari was slipping his cock inside you, Curtis had removed his fingers, and now his thick cock was splitting you open and finding room in a hole that had never been filled before, and it was unfamiliar pain, but already pressing into impossible pleasure, and really, you had to press your palms to the leather on either side of Ari’s head and focus on breathing and only breathing if you were going to survive this.

And then they both began to move.

In and out and in and out and inandout.

And you were sure you were going to black out or bliss out from how full you were and all the sensations surging through your body and –

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I make no apologies for this. Send me your medical bills as needed.

[alphabetboyluvr]

PALLADIUM - MYG

title credit: palladium- greyson chance

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut

synopsis:

min yoongi is urgent.  in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent.  the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.  

wordcount: 3.2K

note from holly: this was a prompt from a winner of one of my kofi quizzes! was supposed to be a drabble but now we are looking at a lil three parter. no smut in this part, just setting up our dynamics <3 yoongi is a boy dad! idc! argue with the wall!!!!

PART TWO // PART THREE

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," Yoongi pleads across the bakery counter. Nails bitten down to the bed, he's got bags underneath his eyes. Hasn't been sleeping well these days. Hasn't really been sleeping at all.

"I told you last time—"

"I know, I know," he sighs, pushing off of the countertop and pacing a few steps away, raking a stressed palm through his long, dark hair. Dishevelled, he hasn't had it cut in a while. You'll never tell him, but you think it looks better this way. "Look, it's the last time. I promise. I just really fucked it this time."

With a raised brow, you fold your arms over your chest. The apron beneath you bunches a little awkwardly, but you've never cared much for composure around Yoongi. Have simply known him too long and seen him through too many clumsy stages of life to be bothered. 

Tipping your head back, you exhale a sharp breath from the very depths of your lungs. 

"You are so lucky Jaehyun is an angel baby," you eventually say, shaking your head as you reluctantly agree. "What time do you need me?"

"Deadline is at midnight," Yoongi says, "So whenever you can get to mine, really. Mum has him till seven, but then she's got Bitch'n'Stitch—"

"Hey," you scold. "My mum goes to that knitting group, too."

"I'm not calling her a bitch—but I've heard their conversations," Yoongi reminds you. He swears they don't actually do any knitting (as if they haven't handmade half of Jaehyun's closet). Thinks they spend the entire time gossiping. And while yes, they do do a lot of gossiping, they can multitask. Unlike him, apparently. "But fine. She has her knitting group at seven."

Yoongi will never simply call it a knitting group, if he can help it. 

Bitch'n'Stitch is his go-to, but he's also partial to Stitching Hour. 

Last week, you'd just gone on a rant about how it's inappropriate to insinuate that all women of a certain age from your small town are witches—"Women used to get burned at the stake, Yoongi. Burned!"—so he knows better than to say it out loud today, even if it makes him laugh whenever he thinks about them knitting on broomsticks.

"I'll probably be outta here at just gone six," you tell him. 

It's the late shift, so you're responsible for closing and cleaning up, but after two years of part-time work alongside your studies, you're a dab hand. Can action off every item on the to-do list in record time, and to a standard even your boss can't achieve. 

You're wasted on a small town like this, but someone's gotta do it. 

"That's fine," Yoongi nods. "I just need to straighten this essay out and get my citations done. You can go as soon as I'm finished—and hey, you can order takeout. I'll pay."

Knowing Yoongi, he's probably surviving on instant noodles, and spending all of his money on Red Bull and Jaehyun's meticulously planned diet. 

Jaehyun's been off formula for about two months, now, and Yoongi is terrified of feeding him the wrong thing. By the looks of his slightly skinnier-than-usual frame, he's the one in need of a good meal.

And so, as you're doing your final tasks of the day, you don't bin the breads that need to be chucked. Instead, you bag them up. All of them. The pastries, too. Will just have to hope Yoongi has freezer space.

By the time you make it home, you've only got ten minutes to spare for a quick shower before you need to rush to Yoongi's. You'll be a little after seven, but it's fine. You've resigned yourself to staying at Yoongi's until midnight, now. 

It's how it usually goes. 

He'll work up until his deadline, rewriting and revising paragraphs that are perfectly fine and need no alterations. His own worst critic, you know that he really doesn't need to stress himself out like this.

Still, he does. You think he'll always be this way—at least, he was in high school, and he remains to be this way, even in university. Too much of a habit has been formed. It's ingrained in the ridges of his brain. Pink and permanent—just like the pout on his lips as he opens his apartment door for you later that evening.

Forearm tucked under Jaehyun's pudgy thighs, Yoongi cradles his son into his side, as a look of relief relaxes onto his face. It's a stark reminder of why Yoongi stresses himself out so much. 

You can afford to make mistakes. The only person you have to answer to is yourself.

Yoongi doesn't have that luxury anymore. Hasn't done for a while, now. Won't ever get it again—or at least, not for another seventeen years.

"Hey," he whispers, then casts his eyes down to Jaehyun's sleepy head. Nestling into Yoongi's shoulder, Jaehyun's dark hair now has a little length to it. Much like his own, Yoongi is refusing to cut it. Another thing he's scared of getting wrong. 

The subtle nod Yoongi gestures towards Jaehyun is a request for you to be quiet. 

You're familiar with his paternal habits by now; the behaviours he exhibits only when he's wearing his invisible 'Dad' hat.

He tucks back against the door, letting you walk on through and into his apartment.

Shoes off by the door, Yoongi locks up as you shake off your jacket, and hook it on the empty peg in the middle of the rack.

Small and a little dark, Yoongi hates his home. Is strapped for cash, so turned the open plan kitchen and sitting room into a studio-type set-up. Has his bed where a sofa should be, and manages to cram everything somewhere. His desk, his small keyboard, his clothing rail that he really needs to reorganise. A bunch of his things are in storage. 

Jaehyun's room is what once was Yoongi's. It's got the most natural light, thanks to the window placement, not that it matters at this time of night. The curtains are drawn, playmat full of yellows and oranges scattered across the floor. Beside it, is Yoongi's laptop. The screensaver is running, and it's pretty obvious he'd been playing with the little toy octopus sprawled across the keyboard instead, when you had arrived.

"Bit late for nap time?" You question quietly as you pop your phone on the charging pad Yoongi keeps on the dresser.

Nodding, Yoongi gently rests his son down in his crib. These past couple of days, everything has been a little out of sync. He feels guilty—like he's failing—but the pressures he's been putting on himself are just getting far too great. He's doing the best he can, but it always feels like it's not enough.

But Jaehyun is loved, and sheltered, and provided for. Yoongi is doing all he can. He just still isn't sure he knows how to be a dad.

Which is silly, because as you watch him stroke across the dark hair that sits flat to Jaehyun's scalp, quietly monitoring his condition, you think that Yoongi was made for this. Is far more paternal than you are maternal.

Truth be told, you don't like kids all that much.

Your idea of a fun evening doesn't typically involve hanging out with an infant, and yet you'll do it for Yoongi. Of course, you will. Have known him for too long and have been through too much with him to not help him.

Plus, you really do adore Jaehyun. Sweet as can be when he sleeps, he really does look just like Yoongi at that age—or so you gather from the baby pictures you've seen a dozen times over at his parents' place. It's easier to count which features they don't share. Saves ever needing to do a paternity test, not that Yoongi would do one anyway.

Jaehyun is his kid. A little bit of DNA wouldn't change this fact, not in his eyes.

It worries you. Not because you think Yoongi isn't his father—again, they're too alike to not be related—but in case his mother decides she wants to play an active role in Jaehyun's life. You fear that the 1% of doubt could come true and tear any legal right away from Yoongi. You're not really sure how the courts would work it all out, but you doubt they'd side with him. 

Yoongi was never meant to be a father. Not now, at least. The outcome of a one-night-stand, Jaehyun's biological mother didn't realise she was pregnant until it was too late. Had no real choice in the matter. Was also nearing the end of her tenure in law school. A kid was not—and remains to not be—a part of her plan. 

You know the documents were signed. Legal rights, shit like that. Know that she must have an understanding of the law far greater than Yoongi. Just hope she hasn't done anything that will fuck him over in the future.

Still, it's not a topic of conversation Yoongi likes indulging in, and so you don't push, no matter how much you'd like to know the details. 

"Let him sleep," Yoongi eventually sighs, before sinking down to lie on the rug. "Better he rests while I'm working—and plus, he slept through till five-thirty this morning."

"Till sunrise?" You chirp, a little surprised but conscious of keeping your voice down. 

Yoongi nods, face rubbing against the carpet. "He's basically a teenager."

Rolling your eyes, you reach down for his wrist to drag him to his feet. He's got an essay to finish. 

"Shut up," you smile. "You've barely stopped being a teenager."

Sometimes, it makes you a little sad to think that Yoongi is missing out on his early twenties—but then you glance across to Jaehyun and know that he's not missing anything. Just experiencing different things. That's all. 

"Don't remind me," he grunts, lamely getting to his feet, letting you pull him down the hallway as you swipe the baby monitor that lives next to the charging pad. You'll come back for your phone later. 

"C'mon, gotta finish your essay. Can't be a DILF unless you get this degree."

"Untrue."

"You'll just be a D without a good job," you tell him. "DILF's are always suited up."

"That's simply not true," he doubles down. "I've been told I'm a DILF at least, like, six times. Maybe more."

Definitely more. If he knew the way girls on campus spoke about him? God, his head would be so big he wouldn't be able to walk through doors.

But for now, you shoo him back through Jaehyun's bedroom door and to his sitting room-come-bedroom. The apartment isn't large. A baby monitor isn't needed, yet one is set up by Yoongi's bed, regardless. 

And so, as Yoongi knuckles down with his work, you flop onto his bed, and take prime babysitting position—though you're pretty sure you'd get fired if you ever got under anyone else's sheets on the job.

But it's late, and you've worked a long shift. You're only gonna rest your eyes for a moment. A second. A fraction of one, even. Just to hydrate them a little. Replenish your—

You're out like a light.

The curse of Min Yoongi's bedsheets. You really should have known better. It happens every damn time. You know this. He knows this. 

Yet when he eventually wakes you, neither of you mention it.

"Hey," Yoongi mumbles as he gently nudges your sleepy body. Flopping down beside you on top of the duvet, his exhausted eyes close instantaneously. 

"I'm going, I'm going," you grumble into his duvet, half asleep but knowing that you should go and check on Jaehyun. 

The baby monitor hasn't made any noise to wake you, and Yoongi's just been with him for the last twenty minutes, quietly watching on as he slept. Is pretty confident he's gonna sleep through again tonight. 

Reaching out to pat you down, Yoongi doesn't really acknowledge the way he accidentally taps your ass. Nor do you. Just sort of pretend that he didn't. Pretend that it didn't make your heart race a little.

"S'fine," he says, voice muffled by his need for rest. "He's still sleeping. Just checked on him."

"Sure?"

"Mhm," Yoongi nods, the sound of his hair smooth against his sheets. "You gonna crash here?"

"You all done?" You question right back. Shuffle, and his hand lazily moves with you. His wrist now rests on your hip, and you both pretend like it's normal.

"All done," he confirms. "Was late, so I've lost ten percent, but whatever."

For someone who stresses himself out as much as Yoongi does over his grades, as soon as he's hit the submission button, he just ceases to care. Has a 'what'll be, will be' attitude towards it all. Part of you wishes he would adopt that mentality when he's actually writing his essays.

What you don't realise is that it manifests from the same fear. 

He panics and panics and panics before a deadline—and then is so worried about his grade that he just pretends like they don't exist.

Too sleepy to care at this moment in time, Yoongi's placement of his wrist on your hip becomes more intentional. Deliberate. 

It's not like you're a stranger to the weight of Yoongi's arms draped over your body. Not like it's the first time—it's just every time it does happen, you swear it'll be the last.

It never is.

And it's not like it's anything illicit. Not anything you shouldn't be doing. Nothing that takes you beyond the realms of friendship—but it does threaten the integrity of your oldest connection to another human outside of familial ties. 

So every time Yoongi gets a little too close, or you find yourself lingering a little long on his words, you tell yourself to stop. That this is just a symptom of the dry spell you've been going through.

"Are you staying here tonight?" He asks.

Again, it wouldn't be the first time. Have been having sleepovers with him since you were kids. Ghost stories, midnight feasts. Sneaking out to the park to find UFOs and stopping by the corner shop for snacks. 

Once high school hit, it was deemed unwise by your parents. Open door policy. 

You'd been furious. Outraged that your privacy was being taken from you, and being told it was for your own good.

And so sneaking out the park became sneaking in windows; films watched with headphones on, dinner eaten in your bedroom under the guise of a melodramatic teenage strop, but actually shared with the boy from two doors down who knew better than to deceive your parents.

All innocent. Nothing that required a closed door. Those escapades were saved for—or wasted on—other people. Either, or. Neither you nor Yoongi gave it much thought. Why would you?

Friends, is what you were. What you are. What you always have been.

Which begs the question: why the fuck is Yoongi looking at you like that?

But then the wrist of Yoongi's resting on your hip becomes his hand. The grip becomes intentional. The stillness of your body comes not from tiredness, but from trepidation. 

"Do you want me to?" 

"It's late," he husks, thumb stroking against your hip as if that's what friends do. "You're off tomorrow, right? Don't need to go home?"

"Right."

"Well, then stay," he shrugs, loosening his grip to roll onto his back. The ceiling is far less interesting than you are, but he has to stop looking at your lips and wondering if they taste like the strawberry lip balm you'd tossed on the side cabinet earlier. "Makes sense."

"Stay?" You question as if he still needs to clearly outline that, yes, he'd like you to stay. "And do what?"

"Sleep," he dryly replies, because it's the obvious answer. Because it's what you should do. You're tired. He's tired. Jaehyun is asleep in the next room over.

"Sleep," you nod. "Sounds good."

Domestication becomes you in times like these. A toothbrush sits in an old glass on the top shelf of Yoongi's mirrored bathroom cabinet. The rest of the shelves are pretty much empty, but he always puts it up there. Says it annoys him anywhere else.

"Surely it's more annoying having to get it down for me every time I crash here?" You banter with him as you lean against the back wall of his bathroom, waiting for him to retrieve it. 

Plucking it from the glass, Yoongi is swift with his movements, and the way he wets the brush, puts a pearl of toothpaste on the bristles, then hands it back over to you.

"Doesn't bother me," he shrugs, turning back around to shut the cabinet. When he does, he's greeted with your eyes in the mirror, and a feeling in his stomach that should bother him. 

See, the D in Yoongi's DILF actually stands for dependable (although occasionally dickhead also fits). He likes being asked to do things. Likes being helpful. Useful. Knows that he depends on you far more than you do him, and so he does this to settle the score. 

You help him pass his exams, and he helps you keep good dental hygiene habits. A win-win situation. 

Leaving you to finish washing up, Yoongi does the final checks of his apartment. Bolts the door. Turns out the lights. Makes sure Jaehyun's day bag is packed for tomorrow with his Grandma. Adds the day's clothes to the laundry pile. Stands in the doorframe of Jaehyun's room to just simply watch his son exist for a little while longer. 

He loses track of time doing this. It's a nightly routine, so you think he'd get used to it, but he never does. Still can't fully comprehend that a living, breathing creature relies on him for basic survival. 

Sure, he hides your toothbrush away, and puts things out of reach for you just to get you asking him for help, but this is different. He cares about nothing more than making sure Jaehyun is surrounded by abundance: love, shelter, food. Everything the world has to offer, Yoongi wants for his son—and that's why he's working so damn hard to make sure it happens.

There's a tenderness to how Yoongi strokes your back when you stand beside him. He's far gentler than he used to be. Benevolent with age. Isn't the same kid who used to chase you around his parent's yard with a worm in one hand, and a pile of mud in the other. 

"C'mon," you whisper, walking away because you know you need to break the contact. "Let's rest."

Yoongi nods. Is slow as he tears his gaze from his son, but just as stoic as he watches you saunter down the hallway and into your bedroom for the night. His bedroom.

You slip out of sight, just in time for Yoongi to exhale the air in his lungs. His sigh is full of unspoken words. Uncertain terms—and as he follows you down, he wonders how many more secrets will bloat his lungs throughout the night.

[captainsophiestark]

Mad Scientist

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day 5 Prompt: "You're the smartest person I know."

Summary: Kol's dating a scientist who's buried in college-level work and more than ready for a ridiculous, fun version of science for a break.

Word Count: 1,685

Category: Fluff, Humor

Shoutout/Credit to The Scientific American for the info on how Mentos-Coke reactions work!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Darling? What do you think would happen if I made pancakes with Mountain Dew instead of water?"

I paused, my pen hovering over the page in the middle of summarizing my findings for a lab I'd been working on at my university. I didn't turn around to face my boyfriend, Kol Mikaelson, who stood behind me in the kitchen, instead just staring off in thought for a moment.

"I don't know," I said, finally turning around to look at Kol. "As far as I'm aware, water's not one of the things like baking soda or eggs that's insanely important to the chemistry of baking. As long as you have the same amount of liquid, it should be fine. Maybe a little sweeter than normal, but basically still a pancake."

Kol grinned. "Excellent."

"What exactly brought this on?" I asked, standing from the kitchen table in the Mikaelson compound where I'd been working and wandering towards my boyfriend. "Just out of curiosity."

"Well you see," he said, holding his hands out in a grand presentation gesture and fixing me with a giant grin. "While I was getting the ingredients for making pancakes, I also found Mountain Dew. The rest is history."

"Interesting..."

I trailed off as I finally reached Kol, stopping so I could hold onto his arm and lean around him to look at the ingredients laid out on the counter, Mountain Dew included. My eyes wandered back to my books, still open and waiting for me on the table. I had no desire to go near them again right now, and this was the absolute perfect distraction. I looked back up at the grinning face of my boyfriend.

"Do you need any help?"

Within half an hour, Kol and I's initial experiment had expanded to encompass the entire kitchen and just about every ingredient we had in it. The Mountain Dew pancakes hadn't been much different than the regular pancakes, so we'd gotten progressively more creative in our ingredient substations, snacking on our successes as we went. My books lay long-forgotten on the table, Kol enabling my chaotic science tendencies in the best way possible.

"What if we put pop rocks in it?" asked Kol as he riffled through a drawer of sweet treats in one corner of the kitchen. I hummed to myself as I mixed our latest version, with orange juice instead of water.

"I don't know," I said. "I think we'll just get little pieces of candy in it without the pop, since the liquid in the batter would probably dissolve the candies enough to trigger the reaction before anything else. We won't know for sure unless we test it, though."

I finished stirring, then wandered over to join Kol. He'd set the pop rocks on the table along with a few other types of candies, and now stood in the open door of the fridge. I rested my head on his arm and hummed thoughtfully, until my eyes landed on something else interesting in the fridge.

"Since you've been back in the modern world... has anyone introduced you to the marvel of Coke and Mentos?"

Kol turned to face me, eyebrows furrowed but a smile on his face.

"No love, I can't say they have."

I grinned. "Then I can't wait to be the one to show you."

I snatched the bottle of Coke out of the fridge, snagging the Mentos and a piece of paper with tape too before plopping them both down on the table where we'd been mixing our batter. Excitedly, Kol joined me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Okay, so first we need to make the tube to hold the Mentos,  to make sure they all drop in at the same time when we want them to," I explained while I worked. I rolled the paper into a tube, covering one end with my thumb and then holding it out for Kol. "Put seven Mentos in there, please."

He complied, sneaking one for himself and then passing one to me. I looked over my shoulder at him, smiling, and he leaned in to give me a soft kiss.

"What's next, darling?" he asked, his voice low. I leaned back into him a little more, but returned my attention to the Mentos.

"Now, it's time for the reaction. Unscrew the lid of the soda, please." Kol took care of it, shifting a little behind me in anticipation. "Good. Now, I'm gonna dump these in, and after I do we're gonna step all the way back, okay?"

"Okay. And what happens after that?"

I shot him a grin over my shoulder. "Science."

With that, I put the tube of Mentos to the neck of the bottle, then quickly moved my thumb and let them drop all at once into the soda.

Kol's grip tightened on my waist as he used his vampire speed to get me to the far edge of the kitchen, hopefully out of the splash zone. A moment later, the reaction started, and the soda quickly bubbled and fizzed until it became a geyser, exploding out of the bottle. Kol gasped from behind me as it hit the ceiling, and I smiled.

The reaction didn't last very long, but once it fizzled down, it took Kol a minute to let me go and move to meet my eyes. He had a ridiculous grin on his face that I quickly mirrored.

"That was amazing, darling," he said. I practically glowed at the compliment.

"Thanks! It's really cool how it all works, actually. See, carbonated beverages are full of dissolved carbon dioxide gas, which wants to form bubbles and escape the pressure of the liquid. But to do that, it has to break its bonds with the water and interact with itself. Because the Mentos candies are actually covered in a bunch of tiny grooves, it makes it easier for the bonds between the carbon dioxide and the water to break, making the reaction of bubbles escaping the soda happen at a much, much faster rate!"

I'd started pacing a little, gesturing with my hands as I explained, but froze when I realized I'd been rambling for more than a little. I turned back to Kol with a grimace.

"Sorry. I know you probably don't care about how it works-"

"What? No! That was excellent, the way you explained everything!" He grabbed my hands in his as he pointedly met my eyes. "Darling, you're the smartest person I know. And it's absolutely incredible. Please don't ever apologize for the way your eyes light up and your voice gets all excited when you talk about something you love. It's one of my favorite things in the world to see."

I started tearing up a little bit at Kol's words, and as soon as he finished speaking I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me, kissing him, hard. He smiled into the kiss and wasted no time wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tighter to him. Finally, after a few long moments, I pulled gently away.

"As much fun as I'm having... I do need to finish the lab writeup for my actual science class."

Kol sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then fixed me with a devilish grin.

"Fine. As long as you promise to let me know anytime you have an experiment to do that I can sit in on."

I beamed back at him. "I promise."

Kol gave me a sweet smile, then leaned in and kissed me one last time. Despite the homework hovering in the other corner of the kitchen, I could feel Kol sucking me in and distracting me to the point that I didn't care about my work. I was just about to give in, too, when someone coughed loudly from behind us.

Kol and I turned around to find Elijah standing in the kitchen doorway, his eyes scanning the disaster zone the kitchen had turned into. Soda still dripped from the ceiling, and horrifying pancake mutations were spread on almost every surface.

Elijah sighed heavily, his exhausted stare turning back to me and Kol.

"I trust that this will all be cleaned up before the two of you run off to other activities? Preferably sooner than later?" he deadpanned. Kol scoffed, and I tried and failed to fight a guilty grin.

"Yes, Elijah. We'll take care of it," I said. He nodded once, pausing to stare at everything for an extra moment before shaking his head.

"Good."

With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen. Even without vampire hearing, I heard his heavy, long-suffering sigh from the other room. I turned to Kol and giggled.

"Oops."

"He loves it," Kol said confidently, waving me off. "We keep his life interesting."

"Well, that second part is definitely true. Come on, let's clean up at least a little bit of the mess. We need to do it at some point anyway, and I really do need to go back to my homework."

Kol booed and rolled his eyes, but moved to start helping me deal with the mess anyway. He picked up the now mostly-empty bottle of soda and held it thoughtfully, then turned to me with a glimmer in his eye that I loved.

"You know darling, if we pointed these in a specific direction for the reaction... we could probably shoot the soda at Elijah and the rest of my siblings."

I grinned. "We absolutely could do that."

We stared at each other for a few beats, nodding slowly, communicating without words.

"I'll superspeed cleanup," Kol finally said. I nodded.

"I'll finish my lab writeup as fast as possible."

"And I'll go get more soda and Mentos while you do."

I high-fived Kol as I crossed the room to retake my seat at the kitchen table and he turned into a vampire-tornado of cleaning. We had evil masterplans to enact, after all, and with the two of us working like a well-oiled machine, the rest of Kol's family and anyone else in this house didn't stand a chance.

****************

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[luv4fandoms]

Santa is real! (DwayneXFemVamp!ReaderxLaddie)

This ask was so freaking adorable that I just HAD to finish up my little Dwayne x Reader x Laddie Christmas stories with it. I know we've all probably been through something like this and I know my mother did a lot to convince me that Santa was real for as long as she could. I hope you like the final story Anon, thank you so much for the prompt!! ❤️ And Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night 🦇😊☃️🎄

(this prompt was so cute it deserved two gif images lol)

Word count: 2,528

Pairings: DwayneXFemVamp!Reader (Romantic) Laddie x FemVamp!Reader (Maternal)

Warning: EXTREME FLUFF AND CHRISTMAS CHEER! Dwayne being an amazing dad, the boys and Star being an amazing aunt and uncles, Laddie being sad for a little bit.

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Ko-Fi

It had started out a normal night on the boardwalk, everyone was riding rides, playing games, scoping out that night's meal, and just having fun. You and Dwayne were currently walking down the boardwalk hand and hand with Laddie, the little boy happily walking between the two of you, holding your hands as you swung him every now and then. You were currently on your way to the ice cream place to grab a treat before you met up with the others again.

"Mom you can't pick Vanilla again"

"What is wrong with Vanilla?"

"It's such a boring flavor"

"I beg your pardon"

"It kinda is"

"Oh no you are not jumping in this sir"

"See even Dad agrees"

"What if I get French Vanilla…it's not boring…it's French"

"..."

"..."

"Fine! What are you going to get hmmm?"

"Superman!"

"Well I can suddenly see how you thought my choice was boring"

"What about you Daddy? What are you gonna get that isn't as boring as my Vanilla?"

"Probably cookies and cream"

"Cookies and…. THAT'S JUST VANILLA WITH COOKIES!"

"Exactly, so it's not as boring"

"I swear to God Dwayne"

"Come on mom, pick something we're almost there!"

"Fine…I'll get Mint chocolate chip"

Dwayne smiled at the two of you while you relayed your order before he paid the man behind the counter.

"Vanilla isn't boring" you grumbled.

"It's ok princess, we love you even if you like boring stuff" He smiled while wrapping his arms around you.

"Don't say that too loudly, I do like you remember" you smirked, earning a laugh from him while he leaned in and gave you a kiss.

"Hey mom can I go look at the new comic place while we wait?" Laddie asked, looking over at the new comic place that took over the old Frog's shop.

"Sure go ahead sweetie" you nodded, watching as Laddie ran off, he would still be within eyesight after all. Looking back at Dwayne you noticed that soft look in his eyes.

"What?" You laughed.

"I'm just glad you showed up here. Laddie really needed a mom"

"Well I'm more than happy to be it, especially with the perks of comes with" you smiled, taking yours and Laddie orders when the man handed them to you, Dwayne taking his own.

"Perks?"

"Yeah, I mean after all" you spoke while looking around, before leaning in close to whisper.

"Between you and me, he's got a smoking hot dad" this just made Dwayne laugh before he wrapped his arm around your waist, leaning down to kiss your neck as the two of you made your way towards where Laddie ran off to…what you didn't expect was to see him looking absolutely crushed.

"Sweetie what's wrong?" You asked, squatting down to try to look at his face as he stared at the ground, but he simply shook his head, not meeting your gaze.

"What's wrong?" Dwayne asked, also squatting next to you while placing his free hand on Laddie's shoulder…That was when the two of you heard the young boy sniffle.

"Is Santa not real?" He asked in a very quiet, defeated voice.

"What? Who said that?" You asked, instantly going into mama bear mode, looking around for whoever the demon was that told your little boy such lies.

"I was talking to a kid in the comic book shop who said he asked Santa for the newest Superman comic, and then these older boys came and said that we were babies for still believing in Santa, and that he wasn't real" he explained, finally meeting your eyes with his own tear filled ones. Your heart instantly shattered, not only for Laddie but for the other little boy who was no doubt crying to his parents as well at this moment. Those boys had absolutely no right to snatch the innocence of someone away like that, and honestly if they had been adults and not children you would already know who your meal would be for the night, as of right now they were tiptoeing that line.

"Laddie don't listen to them, they don't know what they're talking about" Dwayne told him, letting the boy collapse in his arms.

"But what if they're right dad?"

"They aren't"

"How do you know"

"Because your mom is friends with Santa" He smiled while looking at you, you two had already talked about what you would say if a situation like this ever occured, you had honestly wished it never would, but just to be safe.

"You are?"

"Yup!"

"How?"

"Well when I was about your age, I stayed up late one night, with my parent's permission of course, and waited to see him. Now living in the south we didn't have a fireplace for him to come down so he had to come in through the front door. So I was prepared. And I met him, and we became really good friends. So much so that he lets me in on his secrets" you smiled, telling your story while Laddie took his ice cream.

"Can I know a secret? I promise I won't tell anyone! Please mom!"

"Ok ok…this isn't one I'm supposed to tell you buuut…I don't think he'll mind. He told me that he is going to make a special stop to the cave this year"

"REALLY!?"

"Really! But you'll still have to follow all of Santa's rules though ok"

"Ok! I will!"

"Ok, shall we head back now?"

"Yeah let's head back!"

🦇🦇🦇🦇

So here you were, Christmas Eve, returning back from a friend's house who let you use her oven to bake some cookies for Santa with Laddie and the boys. Of course Dwayne was invited because Laddie thought it should be a family event. And that led to Paul giving Laddie puppy dog eyes asking if he could come since he was his big brother, which in turn led Marko to want to come, which led David to come to keep an eye on everyone, and Star to come to actually help if needed. Because let's be honest, Paul and Marko weren't going to be too helpful and David was going to just supervise…Which is exactly what happened. So after many apologies to your friend, and a couple of dozen cookies later, you were all heading back to the cave, a very happy Laddie walking between you and Dwayne, holding the cookies. A very done David and Star, and an icing and flour covered Paul and Marko.

"I still don't understand how you two managed to get that much icing on you…we didn't even make that much" you spoke when you entered the cave.

"Magic" Paul smiled, scooping a bit off his cheek and dabbing it on your nose. You quickly wiped it off and ushered them back outside.

"Go clean off before you get it everywhere"

"Ugh, fine mom" Paul playfully groaned. Marko was already heading towards the water since he was a bit more concerned that it had gotten in his hair and was beginning to dry. You turned back towards the group and noticed Laddie yawn, good, your plan to tire him out early tonight had worked.

"You tired Sweetie?" You asked, brushing his hair out of his face while he sat on Dwayne's lap.

"No, I can stay up"

"You know you're not supposed to stay up to try and catch Santa" Dwayne told him.

"But mom did!"

"Mom is very naughty sometimes" he said while looking at you, God you sometimes hated how easily this man could fluster you.

"But she made friends with Santa"

"But I also got a warning that year to never do it again, after all, that's one of Santa's rules" you told him.

"But I'm not sleepy" he said before breaking off into another yawn.

"Come on, how about your mom and I read you a story before bed?"

"Twas the night before Christmas?"

"Definitely" you smiled, watching as he jumped down and slowly went around saying goodnight to everyone before going towards his bed. You and Dwayne followed before you shot a wink towards everyone, their cues. Just as Dwayne finished the last line of the book, Laddie drifted off, and you both gently and slowly untangled yourselves from the boy. You made your way out into the main area again and found all the boys had gathered the stuff, ready to be placed in their right spots.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

"What are we doing again?" Paul asked as you, him, and Marko all walked the boardwalk, it had been a couple nights since the incident, and only a few nights left until Christmas, most stores were sold out of things but you knew these two would be able to help you grab everything you needed…be it paid for or not.

"We're gonna get everything possible to make Laddie believe in Santa again"

"Stronzo...I still can't believe some little punk told him that" Marko seethed, just as angry about the situation.

"Yeah honestly that kid needs his ass kicked, who goes around telling little kids that Santa isn't real?! Like that is the biggest crime you can commit!" Paul added, all of you felt so protective over Laddie, and knowing that he could have such an innocent thing snatched from him made all of you upset.

"Agreed, but that is why we are going to change Laddie's mind. Dwayne and I have already convinced him that I know Santa and that he'll make a special stop at the cave this year…only thing we have to do is make it look like he did" You all stopped in front of the all year round Christmas store on the boardwalk, all of you exchanging a look.

"Ready boys?"

"Leave it to us!" Paul smiled while opening the door for you and Marko.

"With us along sorella, we'll have him convinced for sure" Marko smiled, slinging his arm around your shoulder while you two walked in, Paul close behind.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

So here you all were, quietly putting your plan into action, even Star and David were helping out as they decorated the tree that Dwayne had pulled in. Marko and Paul unleashed the cans of fake snow they had gotten all over the cave, quietly laughing to themselves as it began to rain down all over the floor as well as the walls from their snow fight. Once you were done putting up the few ornaments you had acquired and David put the star on the tree, you had Marko lightly mist the tree with snow from above to make it look like Santa had brought it with him. You then got a plate and glass out for some cookies and milk, and as everyone ate and drank you wrote a letter, smiling as you did and remembering the letters your own mother would write that were "from Santa", they always did make you excited every year. Finally, with full bellies and boosts of pride, the boys and Star all said goodnight and went to bed, leaving you and Dwayne up.

"Last thing?"

"Last thing" you smiled at him, following him to the cave entrance and watching him walk out before making the path of flour, from the entrance all the way to the tree, over to the cookies and back. Dwayne walked along the path, leaving very clear boot prints as he took the path that Santa would take. He flew over to you once he was done, making sure to not mess anything up, and gathered you in a hug from behind.

"He's gonna love it"

"I hope so, I don't want my baby boy not to believe in the magic of Christmas anymore" you pouted while looking towards where his bed was.

"With you as his mom, I don't think that's possible" he smiled at you, kissing your head.

"Well him having an amazing father like you definitely helps" you laughed, reaching behind you to rest your hand on his cheek, your other resting on the hands around your waist.

"We make a good team"

"We really do," you said with a smile as you looked back at him, sharing a kiss before retiring to your darkened corner.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

The next night you were awoken by Laddie excitedly calling for you and Dwayne. Rushing towards the main area (just in case he wasn't yelling for you both for the reason you thought) you were greeted by Laddie with a smile from ear to ear.

"HE CAME! SANTA CAME!"

"I told you he would," you giggled while hugging him.

"He even brought snow! And he ate the cookies we made!"

"He must have really liked them, there isn't any left" Dwayne said with a smirk, looking at you while you both remembered Marko and Paul eating the most cookies.

"He even left a note mom!" Laddie smiled.

"Oh really? What does it say?"

"Whoa! What happened here?" Paul asked, looking all around the cave, successfully playing his part.

"Who brought the north pole to California?" Marko asked, jumping onto the couch.

"Santa did!"

"Well didn't have to leave snow on everything" David said while brushing the fake snow off of his wheelchair and giving Paul and Marko a pointed look.

"Laddie, what do you have there?" Star asked while pointing to the letter in his hands, causing the boy to remember it.

"Santa left a note! It says."

"Sorry I couldn't put up a better tree or bring too much snow, this old mans' got his agenda busy you know, I gotta give presents to the whole world after all! Ho Ho Ho! Don't believe in the lies those naughty kids tell you Laddie, they say I don't exist because they got coal for being on the naughty list. I'll even let you keep one of my reindeer's bells! See ya next year boy! P.s: I loved the cookies and milk, it was a good snack ;)" He finished, picking up the bell that was beside the cookie plate and ringing it.

"See! Those boys were just being mean cause they knew they were on the naughty list"

"Yeah! You were right mom, I feel bad for even doubting Santa" Laddie spoke, pouting a bit.

"Don't feel bad, I'm sure we've all been there" Dwayne told him.

"Oh without a doubt, Santa doesn't hold grudges" you smiled.

"If he did I doubt he would have left you something" Dwayne nodded towards the tree, to which Laddie immediately whipped his head around, having been so caught up in everything else he hadn't noticed the present laying under the tree.

"I GOT A PRESENT!" He cheered, rushing over towards the wrapped gift, and excitedly tearing into it.

"What did I get?" He chanted while tearing away the paper.

"IT'S A SKATEBOARD!!" He cheered, holding it up for everyone to see.

"I can be just like you now dad!" He smiled while running over to Dwayne.

"We gotta get you one too mom, so we can be the skater family!" He added.

"Yes we do" Dwayne smiled at you as well

"Well...I supposed if I had an amazing teacher I would consider it" you sent a smirk towards Dwayne.

"I'd love to teach you both"

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Bad Day - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Rating: No warnings that I know of, just a bunch of fluff with the briefest of mentions about other enjoyable activities with our boy

Word Count: 800

Prompt #5 : Intertwining fingers

a/n: Okay, so I've been working on something for a while, and this is not that something, but rather a small piece of a different something that I'm really trying to convince myself to share. But for now, here's a small piece of that thing that I want to share for @browneyes-issac. I'm so sorry you had a horrible day at work and my brain wouldn't stop until I wrote this in hopes that it might help, even just a little. This is also my first ever released Frankie fic, and also my first time writing f!reader, and also the first thing I've written and shared on Tumblr in literal YEARS, so go easy on me. And if you like it, tell me to post the other ones that may or may not be sitting in my folders.

Masterlist | Next Drabble

Your day has been nothing short of miserable. 

As if a broken water heater hadn’t been enough, the standstill traffic on your way to work and the blown tire just two blocks from the restaurant gave you pause. And then you’d been foolish enough to believe that maybe, at least, work would be tolerable for once. 

But it hadn’t been, and now you're alone in an empty restaurant with a room full of tables still yet to be cleaned. Your coworkers had been no help, piling onto your load with table after table, nevermind your lack of a break. And then they’d left, all citing important events that they needed to attend while you stood, glancing at your watch as it told you your shift should be ending in ten minutes. Keyword, should.

A flash of headlights from outside brightens the empty room, and with a sigh, you head toward the front door, unlocking the deadbolt as Frankie appears on the other side. He’d agreed to pick you up when you’d called him about your blown tire, and he was, of course, on time. 

You're willing yourself not to lose it entirely when you breathe in his familiar scent, but it only takes a second for his wide smile to fade into genuine concern. “What’s wrong?” 

Saying nothing, you turn and walk back into the dining room, gesturing to the tables still stacked high with dishes. “There’s more in the kitchen,” you sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of you, trying to hide your frustrated tears. 

Slowly, he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together and raises them to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ll help.”

A laugh escapes you as you finally glance up at him, “You can’t.” 

Frankie’s eyebrows raise quickly, “and why not?” 

“For starters, you don’t work here. And you wouldn’t get paid. And it’s my job. You probably shouldn’t even be in here like this and you really can’t go in the kitchen and…” 

His grip on your hand tightens, causing you to stop your rambling. Without missing a beat, he counters your concerns with a plan. “How about you wash and I collect the dishes and bring them back to you? Then I can wipe down all the tables and rearrange everything out here while you finish up.” 

“Let me help you, Querida,” he continues when he notices you biting your lip, eyes flickering over the piles of work, and you feel him kiss your hand once more. You have to admit that his plan makes a lot of sense, and it would probably allow the two of you to be out of here long before you would if you did everything on your own. 

“Okay,” you agree after a long breath.

Frankie looks pleased, almost excited, and kisses your forehead quickly before rushing off in the direction of the nearest table. He picks up a stack of dishes and follows as you lead him toward the kitchen. Once you’ve shown him where to set things, you head toward the sink to begin the cleaning process. 

He appears every minute or so as he clears the dining room, stopping in between each trip to kiss you. Sometimes on your forehead, sometimes your shoulder or your nose. Whatever part of you he can reasonably reach, and with each passing moment you feel the weight of the day become a little lighter. A smile here and there, a laugh when he kisses you in the crook of your neck before rushing back into the dining room once more.

Methodically, you scrub away at the dirty plates, working as quickly as you can. Frankie is gone for a while, probably cleaning the tables, and soon the pile dwindles down to nothing.

Strong arms wind around your waist as you rinse off the plate in your hands, a warm chest at your back, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Almost done?” 

You nod, pressing into him as you place the last dish on the rack. “Done.” You turn in his arms, and he doesn’t protest when your wet hands wind around his neck to bring him down for a proper kiss. It’s soft and warm, and you hum when you pull away to find Frankie smiling at you. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

“Anytime,” he returns, hugging you a bit tighter. “Now, are you ready to go home? Because I think I have the perfect remedy for your bad day.” 

His contagious smile finally transfers to your own face, “Is that so?”

Frankie nods eagerly, and you know the spark in his eyes well, so without another word you lace your fingers through his and tug him in the direction of the door. 

And later, when you’re laying in his arms, feeling sated and so very loved, your bad day is nothing more than a forgotten memory. 

Masterlist | Next Drabble

[inkedobsidian]

~ I don't guess pt.2 - S.R ~

summary: After the lecture, Y/N runs into Spencer in a coffee shop and questions about specifying in profiling and potentially finishing her FBI training at the BAU

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (criminal mindsxteenwolf)

warnings: none

word count: 2,061

a/n: This is actually my favourite fic that I've wrote in a long time. I made it sickingly sweet because Spencer deserves it honeslty. Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

Almost immediately after the lecture ended, Y/N abandoned Stiles to go to their local coffee shop. She would've gone with him but she wanted to avoid the inevitable teasing that was about to occur after what happened with the surprise lecturer, DR. Spencer Reid. She couldn't get too far though because as she reached the door her phone started to buzz, of course, it was Lydia. With a preparing sigh, Y/N answered the phone and opened the door to the coffee shop getting in line.

"So… you going to tell me or do I have to pry it out of you?" Lydia asked over the phone with a laugh in her voice. It was times like this that Y/N really missed having Lydia and the girls around, of course, Stiles is your best friend but he could be so clueless sometimes, it was a wonder how he ended up with Lydia in the first place.

"Nothing actually happened, he was just super cute!" Y/N said trying to avoid the conversation knowing that Lydia would pry, not in a malicious way. She was telling the truth, nothing DID happen Y/N just tried to show off to the attractive man in front of her.

"Okay yeah, showing off, eyes changing, blood pressure rising enough to shift slightly. A totally normal reaction to seeing a cute guy." Lydia knew that Y/N hadn't even attempted to date since she left Beacon Hills, they were like sisters and all Lydia wanted was for Y/N to find love as she had.

"Okay, so it's been a while. There was just something different about him, but with my 'condition' it would never go anywhere. I just miss how easy dating was when people around me were also 'different'" Y/N knew when Derek turned her that she would probably never be able to have a normal life, a normal relationship, but when it was both Lydia and Stiles' head on the chopping block and she was only human… she had to do something.

"I'm not saying this guy has to put a ring on it, but you deserve someone to care for you the way Kira did okay. Even if it's temporary you need to see that you can have a life, that's why you joined the FBI Academy with Stiles in the first place." Lydia had to admit that it was easier to love and feel safe when you didn't have to hide who you were.

"I hear you, darling… I needed to hear that thank you, Lyd. I'll call you back later I'm getting to the coffee counter."

"Okay babe, I love you," Lydia replied before hanging up. Y/N did need some reassurance that she wasn't a monster and deserved happiness. She did what she did for her family and she doesn't regret it a single day.

Y/N put in her coffee order and stood at the end of the counter and just waited letting her mind wander, that was until she felt a slight tap on her shoulder and she swung around coming face to face with the guest lecturer from earlier, Spencer Reid. Her heart momentarily skipped and she could already feel her pulse rising, so she just tried to think about the time Stiles fell out of the Jeep drunk and landed face first, it helped her keep a funny level head. Spencer just smiled and raised his hand not wanting to shake her hand.

"Oh, hi! Dr. Reid, correct?" Y/N questioned as if she could ever forget.

"That's right, good memory, Your name is Y/N L/N correct?" Spencer acted as if he could forget too.

"Lovely to meet you! The case file was super interesting, I hope you guys catch the guy." Y/N didn't know how to make small talk. Was it inappropriate to try and flirt with the guest lecturer? She didn't know, Lydia would tell her it wasn't but Lydia just wanted her to flirt with anyone.

"Your answer was incredible, I called it through to my team and our Technical Analyst is running it through now. I'll let your professor know if you're correct so he can relay the information to you if you would like?" Spencer was trying to talk to more people that weren't on his team, hence why he decided to be a guest lecturer for the academy sometimes, it did help that Y/N seemed genuinely interested in him and the subject.

"That sounds amazing Dr. Reid thank you, I actually had some questions about your team if you don't mind?" Y/N asked gesturing to an empty table in the coffee shop. Spencer knew she might have just been interested in the team but it was nice of her to offer to spend some time with him, he didn't really get that much with people outside his family.

"Of course I have time." He said smiling back at her. They weren't too dissimilar in age maybe 3-4 years between them so it felt nice for him to spend some time with people close to his age, and considering she was here at the academy they definitely had something in common.

"Now I must warn you, I tend to ramble a bit so if I go off just tell me to stop," Y/N said breaking into a smile that would make the sun jealous. Spencer knew what it was like to be cut off when being invested in someone so he wouldn't dare to imagine cutting her off but he nodded his head in agreement to please her anyway and to hopefully make her more comfortable.

The pair must have been sat there for a good 30 minutes by now just talking, at first all of Y/N's questioned was about Spencer and the BAU team. She seemed very interested in how Spencer described Penelope saying 'That definitely sounds like a woman that I would love to meet one day.' Spencer even offered to take Y/N to look around the BAU and meet the team after their case was done, he said it so quickly it shocked him. He was never this comfortable or even this forward with someone, let alone a pretty girl he was having coffee with. There was a good 15-minute section where Spencer hadn't stopped talking about each member of his team in detail. Y/N hadn't stopped him once either, she was just looking at him with such a deep interest in what he was saying he never wanted to stop talking. Neither of them had noticed that the coffee shop had almost completely emptied they'd just been focused on each other. They'd subconsciously gotten closer, both of them leaning further over the table as the conversation deepened.

"So is there any option of me finishing my time at the academy with the BAU team? Even if it's just doing the paperwork?" Y/N couldn't think of anything better than joining this team after Spencer had talked about the job and the team with such love. Spencer knew that Ashley Sever had done some of her academy training with the BAU team before moving to the sex crimes unit to Spencer didn't see any reason that wasn't her grades as to why Y/N couldn't

"There was a girl who did before, so if you're grades and physical are up to par I think my unit chief would consider it. You would have to show skill in profiling and take the class too though." Spencer was almost getting excited at the idea of Y/N being on the team so he could see her more.

"Physical will be no problem I was always a sporty child and well I'd say I can read people very well, it's like I've got a sense for it." Y/N laughed at the end of her sentence and Spencer had no clue as to why but he didn't mind, her laugh had such a musical tune to it he was happy to hear it on repeat.

"Okay give it a shot, profile someone," Spencer said smiling. He knew he'd talked non-stop for a while and after hearing her in class he couldn't wait to hear what she had to say this time. Now Y/N knew it was unfair to go off pheromones and pulse considering her 'sense' for people but she couldn't deny that this time she really just wanted to impress Spencer.

"Okay… Take Ellie for example. She's the barista taking orders. Her face with uplifting with a smile because she's the face you first see, but if you keep watching when she doesn't have a customer there's a micro-expression of contentment, her lip corner tightens and raises on only one side. We can't control micro-expressions but no one would notice it behind her happy and mostly faked macro-expression. This tells me it's near the end of her shift because the more time she's here the less her happiness is genuine from exhaustion, also her eyes keep darting to the top of the register then the door signaling she's near the end of her shift." Y/N said while pointing at different places and also waving at Ellie as she getting to the end of her explanation. Spencer was genuinely surprised that Y/N already knew micro and macro expressions and how to accurately point them out. He knew without a doubt that she'd do well it was just a matter of convincing Hotch to get a new and even younger team member.

After that big explanation Y/N just beamed a smile at Spencer and hoped she got it right, she tried to do it without her senses because she knew she had actual intelligence to back up the fact she'd be good at this, that's how she got into the academy in the first place. Spencer immediately texted Hotch to meet with him once he was back and he found himself praying that Hotch would play ball and consider it.

Just like that, they went straight back into a comfortable conversation that had Spencer regretting that he had to leave and go back to the BAU soon, he tried to use the time to ask Y/N questioned about her childhood and schooling instead. They both got so enamored with each other that another 10 minutes slipped by like no time at all. Y/N hadn't even noticed that Stiles had walked in, she was even oblivious to the fact that Stiles and his phone camera facing them and Lydia was definitely on the other end of it.

"Well in all honesty this has been the most fun 45 minutes of my life, unfortunately, my unit chief wants me back to discuss something. This has been great that someone took interest in what my lecture was about," Spencer hoped she was also interested in him, even though it felt selfish.

"It wasn't just the lecture, Doctor," Spencer nearly melted when she called him doctor. She said it in a way that made it sound almost mythical and he'd give anything to hear it again. "Here's my number, in case you ever decide to hold up that promise of taking me around the BAU." Y/N just smiled. Spencer started to forget what the ground felt like underneath him, almost as if he was falling.

"I'll definitely keep the promise." He said almost as a whisper as he nodded to her. He raised his hand knowing he didn't have any clue on how to actually say goodbye to her.

"Goodbye Doctor." There that was again, Doctor. Spencer had never loved being called Doctor so much as he did right now. She raised her hand to say goodbye as Spencer took his bag and walked out the door. Y/N didn't even look around she just sat straight down staring at the empty seat. That was until it was quickly taken by none other than Stiles who had his phone screen pointed at her to show Lydia on the other end of face time. Lydia didn't even know what to say she was just beaming and Stiles had a smile on his face that she hadn't seen unless he was looking at Lydia. They both started to talk at the same time, sometimes it was like having a pair of golden retrievers as friends, funny coming from the actual werewolf. Y/N just held up her finger stopping them from talking and tries to suppress a smile.

"Not. A. Word."

[everybodyshusband]

"no one understands me like you do"

mushy may ; day sixteen !! (approx. 1.6k words)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

(i'm still obsessed with @crimsonclergy's coffee shop au fic, thanks for asking :) and i haven't thanked crow in a while, so thank you @forlorn-crows for putting the mushy may prompt list together <3)

this one contains: they/them rain, hypermobile rain, hypermobile(?) dew, post-self harm dew, discussions of self-harm, hurt/comfort, australian mountain

Dew wanders around the cafe, rearranging the tables, collecting dirty cups and plates, and wiping empty tables down while there’s a lull in customers. Well, maybe it would be more accurate to say that he limps around the cafe. His leg hurts like a fucking bitch and he can’t wait until he can rest on his break; there’s nowhere to sit down while he’s working unless he’s sitting on the floor and restocking the lower shelves behind the counter.

Admittedly, giving in to the urge to cut himself right before his shift was probably not the smartest idea he’s ever had, but he’s proud to say that, somehow, it’s also not the dumbest. Every time he moves, he can feel the cuts stretching, and little trickles of blood run down his leg, smudging between his thigh and the inside of his jeans. He hasn’t covered or cleaned them properly, and he knows he’s going to be dealing with red, angry scabs on his thigh for at least a week because of it, but he didn’t have the time to look after the cuts properly. By the time he’d washed his blade and wiped the blood off of his thighs—and fucking carpet—where it had dripped down, he was already almost late for his shift.

Besides, even if he’d waited to do it at work, it’s not like there’s a place at the cafe he could have done it; the staff toilets have a faulty lock, and Dew’s lost count of the amount of times Rain has come barging in while he’s been in there. He’s not willing to risk the door banging open and Rain staring at him while he explains to them why he’s got the blade from a children’s pencil sharpener slicing through his skin.

“Are you… alright, Dew?” Rain’s voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he looks up from the table he’s wiping to see them staring at him in concern, the spoon in their hand frozen over the box of tea leaves. “You look like you’re limping.”

“Hmm? Oh,” Dew laughs. “Yeah, I’m okay. My, uh– My hip’s flaring up I think.” It’s a good lie. Believable, convincing.

Rain winces in sympathy, their knees do a similar thing to Dew’s hips; they deem it a good day if their knees only give out once or twice. “You need a heat pack?” They ask, raising their voice over the sound of the coffee machine boiling water. “I think I’ve got a wearable one with an adjustable strap in my bag, it might fit ‘round your waist.”

Dew’s touched by their concern, but—since his hip isn’t actually flaring up; small mercies, and all that jazz—he shakes his head. “I think I’ll be okay,” he assures them, “but I’ll let you know. Thanks, though.”

“No worries,” they smile, pouring the finished tea into a takeaway cup and sliding it across the counter. “This is Mountain’s, by the way.” Dew perks up at the mention of his partner’s name, placing the spray bottle down and walking—limping, wincing, whatever—over to the counter. “I know you’ll say no,” Rain starts, “but since you’re in pain, do you want me to walk it over?”

Dew smiles and shakes his head, swiping the cup off of the counter. “She’ll be right. His shop’s only next door.”

“She’ll be right?” Rain parrots in confusion.

“Picked it up from Mount,” Dew explains. “I dunno why he says it. Some kind of weird Australianism, maybe?”

“Christ, that man confuses me,” Rain mutters under their breath.

Dew snorts in agreement and begins making his way towards the door. Now that Rain can’t see his face, he winces openly, screwing his face up tightly with every step on his right leg. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Have fun,” Rain sing-songs.

“I will,” Dew replies in the same tone. The moment the door swings shut behind him though, and he’s out of Rain’s view, he sags against the wall and takes a deep shuddering breath. On the exhale, he pushes himself off the wall and wills himself not to cry as he walks the few metres to Mountain’s florist.

When he gets there, Mountain is ringing a customer through at the register, so Dew places the tea on the counter with a small nod in Mountain’s direction to make sure he actually sees the tea, and begins to walk out.

“Sorry, one moment,” he hears Mountain tell the customer “Dew! Wait a minute, will you?”

Dew nods and hobbles over and leans on the counter-slash-workbench to wait while the customer finishes paying for their flowers. It’s a lovely bouquet they’re buying; all bright reds, cheerful yellows and fiery oranges arranged neatly, but in a way that looks intentionally hap-hazardous—what with all the extra stems, leaves, and clusters of small white flowers trailing lazily out from in between the main flowers. It shouldn’t look nice, but it does, and Dew doesn’t know how Mountain does it.

It’s only when the bell above the door rings to signal the customer’s departure from the shop that Mountain speaks to Dew. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“What?” Dew furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he moves behind the counter to sit down. He’s never been more jealous of the fact that Mountain is allowed a chair behind the till.  “Nothing’s going on, everything’s fine.”

“You’re limping,” Mountain notes, pointing to Dew’s thigh.

“Y– yeah… My hip’s flaring up?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, but Dew thinks his point still gets across well enough. 

“When your hip’s sore, you shuffle. You’re not shuffling, love. You’re limping.” Dew should be touched by the concern shining in Mountain’s eyes, as well as the fact that Mountain seems to understand him and his functions more than anyone else, but it only makes him feel bad. Mountain crouches down in front of the chair, placing a  hand delicately on Dew’s good leg. When he speaks, his voice is impossibly kind and gentle. “What’s going on, sundew?”

Dew tries to stop the flood of tears, really, he does, but once the dam is opened, there’s no going back. He falls into Mountain’s arms and starts crying in earnest, sobbing when his leg moves the wrong way and he feels his cuts all over again. “I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m really fucking sorry.”

“Hey, hey, no. You don’t have to apologise, love. This isn’t something you need to apologise for.” Dew barely hears him; just keeps forcing apologies from his lips as he cries into Mountain’s shoulder. “I’m going to go tell Rain that you’re having your break now, okay? Will you be fine here on your own? I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Dew sniffles and nods up at Mountain through the tears. “Yeah, I’ll– I’ll be fine,” he says through a watery smile.

Mountain leans down and presses a kiss to Dew’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute.” The door jingles on his way out, and through the window Dew can see Mountain locking it, in case anyone were to come in looking for flowers and find no one but a crying employee from the cafe next door.

True to his word, Mountain returns in about three minutes, a hot chocolate clutched in his hand. He hands it to Dew, who accepts it—with shaky hands and a whispered “thanks”—gratefully. He takes a sip and lets the warmth seep into his body, focussing on the way it blooms out from his throat and stomach into his limbs and chest. It’s a strangely calming feeling, which is probably why Mountain brought it for him, he supposes.

He lets Mountain pull him up and waits as his partner rearranges the chair’s positioning until it’s in a more convenient spot for him to still get work done. “I told Rain your hip got worse,” Mountain explains as he helps Dew back into the chair, careful to ensure his leg doesn’t twist awkwardly and makes the cuts worse. “They said you can be on break for as long as you need to, okay? They’ll cover for you.”

The warmth that spreads through Dew’s chest isn’t the hot chocolate’s doing. Rain is too good to him. Dew makes a mental note to cover every shift they need covering for until the end of time as a thanks. “Can I–“ Dew starts, tentatively. “Can I stay here? Just– Just for a bit, then I’ll get out of your hair,” he laughs; it’s not a happy sound.

“‘Course, love. That’s why I moved the chair. Stay for as long as you need to, yeah?”

Dew nods and takes another sip of his drink. “Yeah,” he says, softly.

“Now,” Mountain crouches down in front of him again, “I don’t have any customers in the shop right now, and I’m guessing you didn’t have enough time to take care of your cuts before work, right?”

“I was going to,” Dew protests, weakly. “But, I–”

“I’m not mad at you, sundew,” Mountain reassures him. “I’m just taking care of you.” Oh. Dew didn’t even think of that. “Right. I’m going to go find a clean cloth, and then we’ll get you all cleaned up. How does that sound?”

“Good, yeah.” Dew nods, moving to set his drink down in preparation of cleaning himself up.

“No, no,” Mountain says, pushing the drink back into Dew’s hands gently. “I’m gonna do the cleaning, if you’ll let me?”

Dew nods slowly, pulling the cup closer to himself. “You– You can do it. If you– If you want.”

“Good,” Mountain smiles. “Now, relax,” he orders, playfully. “Let me take care of you for a bit, sundew.”

[sortofanobsession]

Buddie prompt: After Buck recovers from the lightening strike, Eddie is distant and trying to be stoic. One night Buck shows up for impromptu movie night. Chris is thrilled while Eddie barely holds it together. During the moving Chris lays his head over Buck's heart and listens to the beat, and then tells his dad to come and do the same. Before Eddie can protest Buck's pulling him in. The steady beat fills Eddie's ears and he finally looses it spectacularly, full emotional catharsis. Love ensues

Author's Note: I love this prompt soooo much. I stayed up later than I should have last night to start it and put off my actual work to get it finished. I just love prompts like this. They make me so happy. Hopefully I did it justice.

Buddie Fic

Ao3

Buck/Eddie, Christopher & his dad(s)

SPOILERS! other warnings: hospitals, injury, angst.

Word count: 3k+ (because of this song...)

I'm afraid of what you'll see, right now

Buck doesn't understand what is happening. Everyone seemed so glad to see him awake. Everyone but Eddie. Eddie would say he was glad, and Christopher was so happy to see him. But Eddie was pulling away from him, and Buck didn't understand why. Buck knows he was injured again. He was hit by lightning. The same lightning bolt had knocked Eddie off the truck too. Everyone has told him how Eddie reacted. They told him how Eddie had screamed for him over and over. Not even thinking about the fact he got hit too. Eddie had gone up the ladder without hesitation, without safety gear, without worrying about another lightning strike. A second hit so close to the first one would have killed Eddie. A second hit would have thrown Eddie off the ladder without a safety harness. Eddie could have died. But he had been more worried about Buck. That is what everyone told him. 

So why wouldn't Eddie look at him now? Why was Eddie making excuses to avoid hanging out? It hurts almost as much as his injuries. 

"Give him time, Evan," Maddie had told him. 

"But I don't get it-"

"I know," Maddie adds, squeezing Buck's hand gently that is holding Jee-Yun to his chest. The little girl playing with the fingers on Buck's other hand. Maddie had hoped seeing his niece would lift his spirits. And it did for a bit. Buck had smiled and hugged her, but as usual, things always swung back around to Eddie.

"When he came by with Christopher, he stayed by the door or stared out the window. What if he is mad? What if he doesn't want me to be Christopher's guardian anymore because it's too risky?"

"I can't tell you what is going on in his head, but the fact he brought Christopher means it's nothing you did, Buck. You know that. He isn't taking Christopher from you. He brought him to you, even when you weren't awake. If he hasn't said anything about changing it yet to you or any of us, I think your safe in that one."

"Or he is just waiting until Christopher isn't around or until I'm better to break the news," Buck counters.

"Or you're overthinking it," Chim said from where he sat beside Maddie. "I mean, this is Eddie. He's broody, and he can be a jerk, but he isn't the best at tact when he is in a mood. He always lets that stuff slip out. And it hasn't. And you know he's normally too stubborn to ask for help or advice, but he still drops hints even if he doesn't realize it. And no one has seen any. Not to any of the team. And trust me. Bobby has been watching. Since the two of you got knocked off that truck, Bobby hasn't stopped watching him. So Maddie's probably right. Let Frank deal with it and focus on what matters, getting better."

Buck didn't want to admit he could see what Chim meant. He just also couldn't shake the doubt he still had. Because this was Eddie. And Buck liked to think he knew Eddie better than anyone, but did he know this Eddie?

It was like the lawsuit all over again. Eddie wasn't talking to him. Not like before. Not like when Eddie would tell him everything. It stung. But every time Buck would try and bring it up to him, Eddie would shut it down. Tell him he just wanted Buck to focus on getting better. 

"You don't need my shit right now, Buck," Eddie had told him the one time Buck managed to get an answer. "You deal with getting better. Besides, that's what Frank is for." Then Eddie had made an excuse to leave the room, and Buck was left with just Christopher for a good half hour. Eddie may have thought that would make Buck feel better, but it didn't. 

Buck had hoped it would get better once he was out of the hospital. That Eddie would see that the doctors had deemed him healthy enough to go about it on his own. But it only made it worse. After Buck's leg, Eddie hovered. He would drag him out of bed. Take him to PT and force Buck to socialize. After Eddie got shot, it was more dinners with Buck. They had guys' nights, movie nights, and game nights. This time was different. Eddie made excuses. He'd still drop Christopher off to have days or nights with his Buck.

"Oh, Buckaroo," Carla had hugged him one day as she dropped Christopher off with him. "It's not you. He's trying to work through his issues. He's just too stubborn to admit he has them to us."

"What issues? What has changed other than me?" Buck asks her.

"I wish I could tell you, but you're just going to have to be more stubborn than he is and wait him out. He won't fully disappear on you. I can guarantee that much. He just might need a bit of a push."

Buck thinks about that, and with Christopher's help, he makes a plan. 

The next week he rents a movie. Buys a pizza and a few drinks and goes to Eddie's house. 

Eddie's eyes go wide when he answers the door. Buck feels uneasy at the brief panic that seems to cross Eddie's face before Eddie can hide it. Buck thinks maybe he screwed up. Maybe he is pushing too hard, too fast. Or that maybe Eddie has someone over. Maybe he- 

"Christopher is in the living room," Eddie says, interrupting Buck's mental panic. Eddie steps back to let Buck into the house. Buck hesitates, which earns a raised brow from Eddie. 

"You coming in?" Eddie asks. 

"Yeah," Buck nods.

"You okay? How you feeling?" Eddie asks as he takes the pizza from Buck and brings it to the kitchen. 

"I'm okay," Buck tells him. His nerves have him shifting his weight back and forth as he sets the drinks down. His hands go into his pockets to keep from showing how nervous he is. "Doctors said I could start getting out more, hence…" he gestures to the pizza, the rented movie on top of it, and the drinks. "This. Figured no better place to be than a medic's place." Buck's stomach dropped at the way Eddie seemed to flinch at his statement. And Buck starts to think he made the wrong decision. He doesn't realize that Eddie flinches because of the idea that Buck is afraid to go out somewhere he would enjoy hitting him hard. Buck picked him because either Buck was here just because Eddie would keep him alive while he hung out with Christopher, or maybe Buck was just scared to go anywhere yet.

"You're always welcome here, you know that," Eddie told him as he grabbed plates.

Buck had to bite his tongue to keep from questioning that statement. Because to him, it felt like Eddie was pushing him away. Like Eddie was keeping him at an arm's length, and Buck hates every second of it. But it was selfish to want more. Eddie was letting him in his house. He was letting him see Christopher. That was more than he had gotten during the lawsuit. So Buck kept that question to himself. 

Buck didn't see that as Eddie grabbed the plates. He was actually having a mini panic of his own. Eddie was taking a second while his back was turned to take a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Frank had told him something like this was a good thing. They needed to get back to normal. For Buck. For Christopher. For Eddie. It would help with Eddie's nightmares. It might help ease the constant fear that Eddie has now that every time he closes his eyes he sees Buck dying. Heart stopped by the lightning that hit both of them. Eddie had bile rising in his throat on more than one occasion since that night. He had been hoping the others hadn't noticed the dark circles under his eyes. That he didn't eat nearly as much these days. And the fact he seemed to run on pure caffeine and anxiety. Bobby had noticed but agreed to let Eddie keep trying to work through it with Frank. 

Eddie forces himself to breathe before turning back around and setting the plates on top of the pizza box so he can carry everything. The less Buck has to carry, the better. 

 "Grab those, and we'll get the movie going," Eddie says with a gesture to the drinks. 

They watch the movie as they eat. An uneasy tension fills the air that both men hope Christopher is spared from. Christopher was tucked tight between them, curled into Buck's side as they watch the movie. Or at least pretend to. Eddie couldn't describe the plot if he tried. He just watches the two of them out of the corner of his eye and tries to keep his breathing even. He had to force himself to eat normally. To not let Buck see the constant edge that Eddie seemed to teeter on these days. It's not until Christopher lets out a little hum of a sigh as he snuggles into Buck's chest that Eddie lets himself fully look down at him. 

Buck smiles down at Christopher. Ruffling the boy's hair slightly. And Eddie's heart hurts. It hurts because they were so close, never having this again. If they hadn't been able to get Buck down as quickly as they did. If Chimney hadn't started chest compressions as quickly as he did. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut against the mental image. Only opening them when he feels a slight tug on his forearm. 

"You should listen too. It helps," Christopher whispers as he tugs again at his sleeve. Eddie shakes his head. He was about to open his mouth to argue when he feels a hand on the back of his neck. Eddie goes ridged, and his gaze snaps to Buck's, but Buck just gives him a nervous smile and a gentle squeeze to the back of his neck. Eddie's muscles practically melt under Buck's movement. His breathing hitched, and he felt himself losing that tight grip he had had on emotions. Eddie's eyes close again as he tries to get himself together. But before he can, Buck is pulling him down. Eddie's eyes open to see Christopher now half on Buck's knee and half on the other side of the couch. Buck was now in the middle. Buck pulled him down until Eddie's ear is against his chest. And Eddie can hear the way Buck's heart beats steadily in his chest. He can feel Buck's breath in his hair and the rise and fall of his chest against him. Any grip Eddie had left on his emotions, his control deteriorated. The sobs hit him harder than the lightning had. Harder than he hit the ground that night. It stole the air from his lungs and blurred his vision. He fists tight in Buck's shirt.

"Eddie…" Buck starts but is stopped as he feels Eddie shake his head against him. "Eds, It's okay." Buck shifts to hold him tighter. He wants to comfort him. He can't help it. Eddie buries his face in Buck's neck and cries. Buck looks over at Christopher, who looks a bit scared. He hadn't expected such a visceral reaction from his dad. "It's okay, bud," Buck assures him. "I'll take care of him." 

Christopher nodded and moved to sit on the chair to keep watching the movie. Or at least give his dad and Buck more space. But he didn't want to leave, not if his dad or Buck might need him. He knew his dad might feel embarrassed. So he would stay for now.

"Hey," Buck whispers to Eddie as he holds him tight. One hand rubs Eddie's back as he cries. The other is in his hair as he holds the back of Eddie's head. "I'm here, Eds." Buck could feel the way Eddie's breath stuttered against his skin. The way Eddie shook. Eddie was falling to pieces in Buck's arms, and it tears at something deep inside Buck. He had missed Eddie the past few weeks. He didn't like the idea of Eddie suffering without him. And now it was clear Eddie had missed him too. Eddie had meant it when he said he didn't want to put his shit on Buck. But Carla was right. Maddie and Chim were right. Eddie had clearly been working through something. He clearly didn't want to be a burden to Buck. He didn't want to hurt Buck and was willing to hurt himself to do it. But Carla, Chim, and Maddie were wrong about one thing. Buck shouldn't have waited. He should have tried sooner. Because if this was how Eddie was now, after weeks of working with Frank and trying to sort through it. And knowing what the others had said about that night. This is what they both needed. They both hadn't wanted to be a burden, but they both needed each other. "I'm not going anywhere, Eddie. Do you hear me? I am not leaving. I'm not going to leave you. You made sure of that. I'm here because you saved me."

"Buck…I…you…" Eddie tries. 

"Shhhh," Buck brushes his fingers through Eddie's hair. "It's okay. Cry if you need to. Scream if you need to. I don't care. Take whatever you need. I'm here." 

Eddie struggles to steady his breathing enough to speak. "I need you," Eddie manages. "God, I need you." He goes absolutely pliant as Buck pulls Eddie into his lap. 

"I need you too," Buck tells him. He glances up when he realizes the movie is no longer playing. Christopher is no longer in the chair. He looks back to see Christopher put his finger to his lips and shush him and smile as he disappears down the hall. Buck's heart swells at how much he adores that smart and loving kid. When Christopher is gone, he looks back to Eddie. "The last few weeks have been shit because I missed you. Maddie and Carla said to give you time. You told me that too, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't wait anymore because I missed you. I need you."

"I'm so sorry," Eddie says. Any strength he had melts away as he meets Buck's gaze.

"Nothing to apologize for," Buck smiles before shifting himself so he can brush his thumb along the edge of the dark circles under Eddie's eyes. "I do regret not coming here sooner."

"You needed to heal," Eddie says, one hand still tight in his shirt. The other now pressed over Buck's heart to feel the steady beat under his palm. "I needed you to be okay. I can't lose you…I just can't. I'm not-"

"I know the feeling," Buck chuckles. "Eddie, when you were shot, it was one of the most terrifying moments in my life, and yes, that includes being crushed. The only moment that comes anywhere close to that was losing Christopher in the tsunami."

"Buck, you-"

"I know it wasn't my fault. Just like you getting shot wasn't. Just like it's not either of our fault that lightning hit me. Hit us." Buck brushes tears away from Eddie's cheek. "What you can take credit for is saving me. You made sure the line wasn't damaged. You helped get me down. You drove me to the hospital. And you give me every reason to keep pushing to get better."

"You saved me first," Eddie points out. "You got me to the truck after I got shot. You kept me from bleeding out. You took care of Christopher. You drove me home. Then when I just kept losing myself, you pulled me back. You took care of Christopher again. You called Bobby. You helped patch my walls. You are always the reason I get back up off the ground. Even after the lightning."

"We make one hell of a pair," Buck says with a grin. "Please don't push me away again. I know you thought you were doing what was best, but it just made me miss you. Because you were there, but you weren't really there an-"

"I won't," Eddie is probably too quick to agree, but he's sitting on Buck's lap, for Christ's sake. Who was he to argue now? "I was stupid." 

"You were doing your best," Buck assures him, his fingers brushing against his skin again. "I know you weren't doing it to hurt me."

"I'd rather eat glass than intentionally hurt you again," Eddie admits.

"Let's not do that," Buck shakes his head but smiles. "And I was more confused than anything."

"Nah, I'm sure you had that kicked puppy look you always get," Eddie grins.

"That's rich coming from the guy sitting in my lap," Buck teases. 

Eddie turns red when he realizes how he must look, but when he tries to get up, Buck holds him tighter.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing, Eddie," Buck takes the opportunity to bury his face in Eddie's neck this time. "I wanted nothing more than just to talk to you the last few weeks. If you think now that I've gotten you here that I'm just going to let you get away, you are wrong. You must have forgotten that I can be just as stubborn as you." 

Eddie shudders at the way Buck's breath ghosts across his skin. Buck can't help but chuckle. 

"Chris is-"

"In his room," Buck grins.

"What?" Eddie looks around as best he can from his spot pinned against Buck. 

"He shut the movie off and went to his room when you started talking again. I think he figured I had it under control. Bold of him to assume I wouldn't say something stupid. I did get my brain fried by a lot of electricity."

That earns a breathy laugh from Eddie. 

"Probably was more worried he'd see something scarring. Like his dad balling like a baby in your lap," Eddie winced. "Poor kid's gonna need even more therapy." 

"No more than the rest of us," Buck admits. "But he's a smart kid. He knows you can't just keep things bottled up. That this is a good thing."

"I am glad you're here," Eddie says. 

"Me too." Buck grins, and it's Eddie's turn to reach up and touch. He runs his fingers along Buck's cheek. Then his birthmark. Something he's wanted to do since day one but never thought he would get to. 

"I thought I lost you," Eddie admits. 

"But you didn't," Buck assures him. "Quite the opposite. I think you're stuck with me even more now."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Eddie counters, his hand moving to Buck's jaw. "And the feeling's mutual. You thought I used to hover. Well, you're in for it now." He gently tugs on Buck's chin until they are a breath apart. "You're never getting rid of us."

"Never want to," Buck breathes before he closes the gap, and their lips meet in a kiss. 

"Carla says the doctor says none of that serious stuff!" They hear Christopher shout from his bedroom. Buck blushes to the tips of his ears as Eddie groans. But Buck is first to recover.

"Tell Carla she's off the clock, and you come back, and we'll finish the movie," Buck manages to say. Eddie groans again but moves back to sit in his own seat. 

"You guys aren't going to be gross if I do, right?" Christopher's voice comes from the hall now. 

"We won't be gross," Buck says with an eye roll.

"I make no promises," Eddie mutters. His hand finds Buck's and laces their fingers together. Buck grins over at him and steals a kiss.

"Gross," Christopher mumbles as he sits in the chair, but the grin on his face speaks volumes. Clearly happy his dad is feeling better and that Buck is happy too. 

"Sorry, not sorry," Buck smirks before grabbing the remote with his free hand and starting the movie again. He snuggles tighter into Eddie's side when Eddie drapes his arm over the back of the couch before dropping it on Buck's shoulder. 

"Not one bit," Eddie mutters with a smirk. 

"Nope," Buck agrees.

"Shhh, you already talked through half the movie," Christopher doesn't even look at them. The pair try not to laugh as they all settle back in. 

"I don't even know what is happening in this movie," Eddie whispers. Christopher shushes him again.

"I'll explain it later," Buck assures him.

[the-real-spot-conlon]

For the Sprace one-shot prompts: Spot coming down with a really bad fever or something of the like and just refusing to look after himself, so Race has to step in for him :)

This is such a good request! This is my first newsies fic so it may not be very good but here you go!

Spot lay on his couch, head spinning from his fever. He nearly dozed off to a sick slumber when he heard a knock on his door. "Come in!" Spot shouted, not being able to muster the energy to open the door. Spot heard a key jangle in the door knob and a few seconds later, Race and his goofy smile entered. "What do you want Higgins?" Spot groaned, leaning his head back onto the couch. "God you look like hell" Race joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Oh yea nice to see you too Higgins. Hey what do you have in your hands?" Spot motioned to the three bags in Race's hand. "I have soup, medicine, and games!" Race lifted the bags onto the counter and started messing around the kitchen. Spot heard the pots and pans clinking against one another, and finally decided to get up. "Higgins? What are you doing to my kitchen." Spot asked as he sat himself on an unused part of the counter. "You're sick, and I damn well know that you weren't gonna do anything about. Also, it's our kitchen, not yours." Race added, as he chopped up green onions to put in the soup. "Higgins, I know how to take care of myself. I don't need ya mothering me." Spot exclaimed, but Race wasn't gonna hear it. "Spot if I hadn't known you were sick from how you looked while sellin, you probably would have just sat in agony, all alone. I'm gonna take care of you, and you're gonna like it." Race shot back as he added more things to the soup. Spot just made a disapproving grunt as he layed down fully on the counter now, not caring if he was in Race's way of cooking or not. Spot wasnt acting like it, but he really did love that Race had shown up prepared. "Thank you Higgins" Spot whispered while looking down, being uncomfortable with the vulnerability he was showing. "Huh? What was that? I didn't quite hear you!" Race teased, and spot threw a carrot at him. "Can you hurry up and finish the soup? I need to get better by tommorow so I can go back to work," spot complained, still spread out on the unused area of the counter. "Spot Conlon I swear to everything good in this world, you will not even be leaving this apartment tommorow." Race threatened, pointing a ladle a Spot, who shot his hands up in innocence. After Race finished the soup, he and Spot rested on the couch together, Spot's head lightly snoring blissfully on top of Race, as Race fiddled with Spot's red suspenders. "I love you" Race whispered, thinking Spot couldn't hear. "I love you too babe." Spot whispered back, his voice scratchy from being sick. The two cuddled on the couch watching movies for the rest of the day, Race holding Spot the entire time.

[forevfangirlwrites]

Hiiii hope ur doing well, was wondering if you could maybe write a truth or dare thing for the how to handle fame series. Ik it focuses on Percy and Annabeth but it could be cool to see more of their interactions with the other characters like Jason, Will, Frank, Hazel etc, maybe they all come to Annabeths place for like a movie night or just to chill and be normal people for once without the fame and end up playing truth or dare, a very normal friends thing to do. Anyway hope you like the idea, if not then don't worry about writing it but yh, if you do decide to write it then I look forward to seeing what u do, u writing never fails to amaze me😊 Have a great dayyy!!!

It’s the first time since he’s started living with her that Annabeth is inviting her friends over. Apparently, it’s taken this long because movie schedules don’t always align easily (shocking) and Annabeth is clearly looking forward to it.

“It’ll be chill,” she had said. “We’ll just get takeout and catch up.”

But he’d insisted that he make the food instead, something he’s just now starting to regret. He’s always been confident about his cooking, but doubt is beginning to creep in as it gets closer to five.

Maybe he shouldn’t have tried out new dishes. But he’s been working on the menu of the café, and making finger food versions of the sandwiches and quiches is the best way to test out his ideas.

Plus, he’d figured that if Jason Grace and Piper McLean liked them (when they have probably had all the fanciest food) then they’d be good enough to serve.

“What are you thinking about?” Annabeth’s voice cuts through his thoughts, her arms coming up to hug him from behind.

“Nothing important,” he replies, basking in the warmth of her body against his.

She steps out by his side and raises her eyebrow. “Seemed pretty important.”

“Not as much as you,” he replies, effectively distracted by her lips, freshly glistening with lip gloss. He leans down to steal a kiss.

“Percy,” Annabeth giggles as he steals another one. “I just put on lip gloss.”

“I noticed,” he replies with a grin.

Annabeth shakes he head. “You’re—”

But whatever she’s about to say is cut off by the buzzer letting them know that the guests had arrived. Annabeth glides out of the kitchen to go receive them while Percy finishes laying out the kitchen island with the assortment of food.

Jason is the first to spot him.

“Hey man!” He says with a smile going in for the official bro handshake.

“Hey,” Percy replies, returning the smile. It’s the most casual he’s seen Jason in a while. But then again, the last time they’d hung out was at a famous restaurant for the double date.

Annabeth and Piper show up a second later as Jason eyes the food.

“Damn Annabeth, this is an upgrade from the usual,” he comments, moving towards a quiche.

“All Percy,” Annabeth responds. “You know if it was just me, we’d get the usual takeout. “

“Oh, I know,” Jason laughs before taking a bite. Percy tries not to stare too hard to note his reaction.

“It all looks amazing, Percy,” Piper says, stepping up the counter.

He shoots her a grateful smile. “Thank you, let’s hope it tastes amazing too.”

“Amazing confirmed,” Jason pipes up, mouth still full of food.

“I believe you,” Annabeth starts, “but how can you tell if you’re inhaling it?” She grabs one of the mini sandwiches and takes a bite, giving him a thumbs-up as she chews.

“If only his fans could see him do this,” Piper jokes, also picking up a quiche.

KEEP READING ON AO3

A/N: Thanks for the prompt! It's not full on truth or dare because I'm not sure how realistic that would be for them to do but I did include the concept and elements of it in the fic and included the interactions with others in it! I hope you like how it turned out! Thanks again!

[ladylilithprime]

When In Need

Series: Fluffy Faerie Tales

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags/Warnings: Half-Fae Sam Winchester, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Selkie Jack Kline, Sam Winchester Is Jack Kline's Adopted Father, Brief Allusions to Canon-Typical Violence, Stealth Crossover: Guardians of Childhood

Summary: Since the Magical Revelation, strange things tended to happen a lot more often and openly, and it was usually best to check with a magical before deciding if something was cause for alarm or just another Thursday. And then Jack came home from school with two shadows.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 19: Shadow

Read on AO3

EVER SINCE THE Magical Revelation had happened in the year 2000, it had slowly become more and more commonplace for humans to encounter literally fantastical things in their day to day lives, particularly if they lived in one of the openly Integrated cities and neighborhoods that were cropping up all over the place. Quite a few misunderstandings had happened over behaviors that humans saw as threatening while other species were honestly trying to be friendly. Cas and Jimmy had seen quite a few things once they got to college that would have been quite strange to them growing up, and relied a lot on their magical dorm mates to help them sort out what was actually cause for alarm and what was just another Tuesday.

So when the door to Lighthouse CommodiTeas opened to let in a rather distracted Jack who appeared to be muttering to himself, Jimmy didn't immediately twig to something being off. Even when Jack joined the line at the counter rather than going straight to his usual after school corner table to start on his homework, it was a little odd but not cause for alarm. It was only when Jimmy caught sight of the second shadow along the floor next to Jack's extending from the boy's feet that Jimmy started to get concerned.

He handed off the iced Unicorn Berry Latte he had just finished making, gave Charlie the covert "calling in the big guns" sign, and ducked into the kitchen. "Hey, boss, got a minute?"

Sam, alerted to the potential trouble more from being called "boss" by Jimmy than by his tone, set down his pen and closed the notebook around it. "Category?"

Jimmy shook his head with a grimace. The category system was a nice shorthand for the types of customers that meant capital-T Trouble and usually required the half-faerie's special brand of encouragement towards good behavior. A category one to two was usually a particularly entitled Karen-type who wanted to speak to the manager. Category three was the harassment types, the ones who thought a barista was there to service them in other ways besides just making a drink or warming up one of their cookies, muffins, or scones. Category four was the religious bigots who occasionally came in with crosses or a petition to try and make the "devil's creatures" leave their neighborhood even though Avalon was one of the most heavily magical boroughs on Seven Mile Island. Category five was the violent types, and those usually got Sam's attention from the yelling well before someone had to come back and get him.

This wasn't something Jimmy knew how to categorize. "What's it mean if Jack comes in talking to someone I can't see and has two shadows?"

"Did he look scared or hurt?" was the predictable first question, which Jimmy also wasn't sure how to answer.

"He didn't look scared, exactly," he said, frowning as he thought back. "Preoccupied, yeah, and he got in line rather than go to his usual table."

"Hm," Sam frowned and got up. "I'm glad you came and got me. It's probably nothing to worry about, but..."

"Better safe than sorry?" Jimmy offered as he followed Sam back out to the front counter.

"Something like that," Sam agreed, sounding a bit preoccupied himself now. Charlie finished handing off the change for the customer just ahead of Jack and slid away to make the man's drink just as Sam and Jimmy got to the register. "What's going on, kiddo?"

"Mixy Nox needs help, Father," Jack said solemnly, with more formality than Jimmy had ever heard from him. He looked up and his eyes flared a strange dark silver. "Please, my prince."

The hairs on the back of Jimmy's neck stood up. That was not Jack's voice speaking, much deeper and carrying an undercurrent of something that scratched at the back of his mind like branches on a window in the middle of the night. He glanced up sharply at Sam, hoping for a clue as to whether this was cause for alarm or not, but Sam didn't even so much as flinch.

"What do you need, Nox?" he asked softly, his own expression going very serious.

"There is a boy," that strange voice intoned with Jack's mouth. "His name is Matthew Alphonse Pike. His father is a real estate developer in the territory called Oklahoma. He has been warned of a curse on the land on which his company means to build houses, that Kahnanesgi will protect the land from defilement. He thinks sacrificing his son, who has affinity for Kahnanesgi's children, will break the curse."

"Idiot," Sam hissed under his breath even as Jimmy bit back a curse of his own. The Revelation had brought back a lot of superstitions and fearmongering with the knowledge that magical beings, creatures, and old gods were very, very real, and the government didn't always have a handle on stopping the more extreme groups from doing something incredibly stupid. Jimmy rubbed at the ring on his left thumb and resisted the urge to press close against Sam's side. "Alright, Nox, come on out of my son and we'll go talk about how to help your boy and the price it will cost."

Sam held out a hand, and Jack shuddered before a dark silver light seemed to seep out of his skin to form a glowing orb that hovered in Sam's palm. Jimmy caught Sam's eye, read the pleading there, and nodded shortly, taking his place as Sam stepped back and swiftly carried the floating orb into the back. Jimmy looked down at Jack, possessing only one shadow now and looking a little pale around the metaphorical gills. "You want a hot cocoa, Jack?"

"Yes, please, Mr Jimmy," Jack mumbled, shivering a little before seeming to settle. He looked up, a little sheepish. "I'm sorry if Mixy Nox scared you. Their physical form is kinda stuck in a tree back in the main courtyard of the Summer Palace, so they hafta connect with someone to talk when they're running errands between the Realms. It doesn't hurt, s'just kinda cold."

"So long as you're sure you're alright, I'll take your word for it," Jimmy said, mentally resolving to double check that verdict with Sam just in case. Jack still looked rather cold and the hot cocoa was going to take a bit to make, so Jimmy shrugged out of the open flannel shirt he'd been wearing over his uniform T-shirt and leaned over the counter to drape it around Jack's shoulders. "Go on and sit down and I'll bring your drink out to you."

"Thanks, Papa J!" Jack chirped, burrowing into the flannel and all but skipping over to his usual table, leaving Jimmy to stare after him and try to convince himself that he had actually heard the boy say that.

And then he shook himself and traded places with Charlie to go make the mug of hot cocoa.

[emmyspov]

Prompt 77 (Tom Stall x Reader Drabble)

author's note: hah, apparently i enjoy writing for non-existent fandoms, but that's cool! I did say I was craving some domestic sweetness after watching a history of violence and the winter / Christmas prompts were amazing to get started with that!

warnings: none that I'm aware of, also no spoilers for the movie :)

word count: 0.7k

gif by @fancydracula

It was the first Christmas with Tom owning his small diner in your little town in Indiana. You've been a regular there ever since - the beverages were good and the pie was even better.

The fact that Tom himself was kind, quiet and a little shy was simply another perk.

This morning was no different.

"Hi Tom", you greeted the man behind the counter who immediately had a smile on his face.

"Hiya, honey. What can I get you? The usual?"

You nodded and climbed onto one of the chairs right across from him after taking off your coat and scarf. Watching him do all of his little tasks brought you immense joy.

The smile on your own face widened once Tom set down a steaming mug in front of you, as well as a piece of your favourite pie.

"So what are are you up to this Christmas? Visiting family?", you asked, digging into the baked good.

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing special. I'll open the diner like usual so everyone who doesn’t have someone to celebrate with either can drop by here."

You let the statement sink in for a few seconds while following his every move with your eyes.

"Do you maybe want to spend the evening at my place?"

The question probably came out quicker than he could understand which made the situation only worse.

"You don't have to obviously! I mean, you could, if you're comfortable. Not that I wouldn't be comfortable with you, I am just saying. Your plan on letting the diner stay open is also good- not just good, pretty great actually." The realisation that you were rambling set in, so with the last bit of courage you had, you quietly added your last statement: "I just don't want you to be alone on Christmas."

His lips were slightly parted as he stared at you. "You being serious?"

You nodded. "I could pick you up after your shift."

Tom put down his hands next to the sink before leaning over the counter, closer to you.

"It's a date then." You felt the blood rushing into your cheeks at his statement. "I might be the luckiest son of a bitch alive", he whispered again and showed you that grin you started to adore.

You were excited.

After finishing the pie and your favourite drink, you went back home to prepare everything for tonight.

And finished just in time - with butterflies in your stomach and feeling good about yourself, you went back to the diner and arrived just as Tom was locking the door to his apartment right next to the diner.

His eyes fell on you as soon as he turned around, pupils dilated. "Holy cow."

"Hi there", you replied softly, a smile gracing your lips. "Ready to go?"

The man across from you nodded and let the keys slide into the pocket of his coat. "Never been more ready."

You chuckled and held out your glove-covered hand for Tom to grab. Where the confidence came from you didn't know, but you also didn't care.

The walk to your place was filled with both comfortable silence and pleasant conversation.

"Here we are", you stated after you unlocked the door and mentioned for your date to head inside.

You were currently standing in the kitchen, pouring two drinks, when Tom cleared his throat.

"Before we do anything else, I just-" He handed you a small envelope. "I suck at giving gifts, but… I hope you still like it."

"Oh my, thank you, Tom! You didn't have to!"

He smiled. "I wanted to. By inviting me over today you literally made me the greatest gift possible and I wanted to return the sentiment."

You pulled out a piece of paper and simply stared at the sheet in your hands.

It was a drawing of inside the diner, Tom behind the counter and you in your usual spot across from him, pie and mug in front of you.

After what felt like forever, you finally pointed at your outfit in the drawing. "Isn't this what I wore when I came into your diner the very first time?"

Tom shrugged once again, a grin playing around his lips as he noticed the smile on your face.

"What can I say? It was admiration at first sight."

[sunsrefuge]

hi del im here for the dating sim asks and. :) youll never guess. :)

(yeah its Quinn- i have to pick Quinn's route HAHAHBDJ)

QUINNIE !! (tbh at this point you might be her biggest fan next to Tres and it warms my heart so so much !! my silly mundane girlie ♥)

Quinn's Route could potentially be very fun!! She lightly frequents a few bars around DR and LA, but it's also not uncommon for her to wander around in the middle of the night, and to be off on her Whispers Agent missions! Man, wouldn't it suck if you met her while she was undercover so she had to lie to you about a bunch but you both hit it off really well regardless?? <- Not the take I'm gonna use here but it occurred to me and now I want to put her in such an AU fdfksjdnf - She's a part-time bartender in Divinity's Reach, so maybe you meet her at the bar one time! Regardless of which side of the counter she's on, she's very friendly and nice! When working, she's diligent about her responsibilities, but if you prove to be fun conversation then she'll do things a bit quicker just to have a few more seconds to chat with you! - You're gonna have to be either chill or affectionate towards cats, and you can't talk down to her about her bar job! ;w; She loves her job and has an absolute ball with it most days, so talking down about working in a bar in any form is going to be a huge turn-off for her !! Same thing with cats; you gotta at least be nice to her baby boy Pepper!!

(apparently i have WAY more to say about her than i THOUGHT i would. so !! readmore in the middle lmao)

[Fun fact continuation!] - She loves spontaneous outings!! Little adventures in between everyday life is what keeps her happy and goin'!! She'll likely try to invite you to some late-night street exploration, or dropping into some party she heard conversation about, or even just running around some woods at night!! Even better if you're the one who suggests something spontaneous first!! - Quinn's a huge sucker for sparring and duels as well; if you're the combat / adventurer type like she is, she'll absolutely want to spar with you and it is absolutely bonus points if you go through with it! A bonus for YOU is that she typically banters and flirts during duels. >:) - But she is OBLIVIOUS to flirting!! yours OR her own!! She's dumb!! She is absolutely the person that you could flirt with in increasingly obvious ways, and she would absolutely think that you just Really enjoy her company!! (Literally, her husband [who ive been ignoring for the sake of this bc his involvement would prompt It's Own Route ♥] was taking her on dates and giving her kisses and even calling her Dearheart and she never got it until he wrote her a whole ass love letter. She's THAT level of oblivious!!)

Good Ending: The trick to getting the good ending requires one thing: Being Very Direct With Her. As previously stated: Quinn is a total airhead about love. You could literally be making out with her on the couch and she would just think that you're great buddies who are hella comfortable with each other!! Being direct with her is going to give her a small crisis, but mainly in the "oh gods i've never been in a relationship before" department; the good news is: Even if she's hella bad at the whole relationship thing at first, she is undoubtedly going to give it her all. :3 This is definitely a girlie who's good ending finishes out with a wedding tbh, or at least a "years later" wedding bonus scene

Neutral Ending: Basically achieved but just. Not Saying Anything, lmao. You could be flirting with her, you could also not be flirting with her! Either way, platonic ending, basically! :D you'll still get to share your late night adventures and do spontaneous shit together, you're just (probably) not kissing in alleyways on your way home and whatever.

Bad Ending: you just?? don't hit it off that well i guess?? or you were mean to her cat, or about her job. :( She's not like a vengeful person so nothing all that exciting would happen here tbh! it'd be more like a gentle drifting apart! Unless you mistreated her on purpose and her brothers find out ♥ then you suffer at their hands, and that might be exciting! KSDJFNS

[panandinpain0]

Reminiscing Can Hurt

Hello and welcome to my writing!

I'm Author Max, at your service, and I wanted to write more gay stuff- HAPPY PRIDE MONTH- because I'm gay and so are other people <3

Remus Lupin x Male!Reader

This won't follow the books or movies like... at all... BUT CUT ME SOME SLACK I'M JUST TRYING TO HAVE FUN AND BE GAY

Harry is in like, what, his 5th year? Yeah. And you're all in Grimmauld Place for summer holidays. :)

Oh, also? You and Remus raised Harry because I said so and he deserves to be treated like a normal human being and raised as such.

Sorry- one more thing; watch out for kind of a twist because I hate angst/sad things so I pretend no one dies ever :3

Thank you for reading! (Sorry for the long intro)

--

(Y/N) was leaning his back against the counter as he watched Molly cook next to him. You see, he offered his help, but knowing his luck in the kitchen Molly declined. He probably would've burnt the house down.

Sighing from boredom (Y/N) kicked off the counter and made his way out of the kitchen, down the hall to the living room where everyone else was. He walked in on Remus hunched over and whispering to the kids around him who were copying his pose. None of them had noticed his entrance so he quietly tiptoed closer to the group and were able to pick up bits and pieces of what they were saying.

Remus was holding a picture that he had found of the Marauders at Hogsmeade during winter, snow decorating their hats and rosy pink faces. He was seemingly telling the story behind the picture.

"See, (Y/N) had just slipped-"

(Y/N) snuck up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, quickly taking the picture from his hand and looking at it. The group startled, backing up and looking at you while you stayed low next to Remus.

"If I remember correctly, I didn't slip, you tripped me," he scoffed, smirking at Remus.

"No, I was your hero! I caught you and saved you from a very cold and hard stone death!" Remus dramatized, wrapping an arm around his husbands waist and pulling him into his lap.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, my love." He kissed Remus' temple and wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, his legs hanging off the side of the chair they were in.

"Get back to the story," Harry basically whined, tugging at the bottom of his coat sleeves. (Well, technically (Y/N)'s coat, but he had given it to Harry seeing as it didn't fit you anymore.)

"How about you tell it, since you remember it better," Remus prompted him, kissing his cheek.

"What's going on in here?" Sirius asked as he skipped down the stairs.

"Uncle (Y/N) was just about to tell us the story of this picture," Harry informed.

"Ohoho, I've got to get in on this!" Sirius chuckled and sat on the chair next to Remus and (Y/N).

"Alright, but no interruptions Padfoot!" (Y/N) warned, waggling a scolding finger at Sirius.

"Can't make any promises." He winked at the kids for extra effect.

"So it was probably mid-day and we were finished buying everything we wanted. Peter-" Sirius and Remus grimaced but (Y/N) continued unfazed- "wanted to get a picture of us all. So James and Lily got all cute and pretty and stood up like good little children for the picture."

Sirius and Remus snorted at your wording and the kids snickered under their breaths.

"All jokes aside everyone was ready for the photo, but as Peter went to take it, our lovely Remus right here swiped my feet out from under me!" (Y/N) exclaimed, looking at the kids with wide eyes.

"I told you, you slipped!" Remus shot back with a wide, teasing smile. Mischief bubbled behind his eyes and everyone knew he was lying, not that he would admit it.

"Remus John Lupin, don't even try to convince me otherwise! And then, to top things off, he caught me in a way that would portray him as the hero in the permanent picture!" (Y/N) rolled his eyes, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"So chivalrous," Hermione teased sarcastically, making (Y/N) laugh and nod.

"It's alright, we got over it," Remus assured, holding (Y/N) tight in his lap.

"Do you guys ever miss Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

Letting out a bittersweet sigh (Y/N) looked at the boys.

"For many reasons, yes. A lot. I miss Hogwarts with almost every fiber of my being," (Y/N) whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

"I'm afraid I'd have to agree," Sirius responded, trying to keep a smile on his face.

"Me, as well," Remus added.

"Dinner!" Molly shouted from the kitchen.

"Well, we'd better eat. But we'd love to hear more of your stories from Hogwarts some other time!" Hermione said eagerly as she stood, Harry and Ron agreeing with the same enthusiasm. Everyone stood and walked to the kitchen, (Y/N) following behind them all.

"Hey Love, I'm just going to look for something Molly couldn't find earlier in the closet. I'll be with you in a bit," (Y/N) informed Remus, making him cast a worried look over his lovers face before kissing his knuckles, walking into the kitchen.

(Y/N) shut the closet door behind him and lit his wand in the dark space. He sat down next to the wall and let the tears gather up in his eyes. He couldn't believe he was still grieving. After this long, he still missed his friends Lily and James. He missed everyone they had lost in the war. He tried to keep his sobs quiet, wiping at his tears ferociously.

He gasped as a bright light suddenly entered his vision, blue casting over his face in the dark closet. A portal stood in front of him, blue and never ending. With wide, teary eyes he watched it with an open mouth. Suddenly he heard James laughing, Lily's giggling accompanying it. Regulus said something gruffly to them and then all sounds stopped.

"H-hello?" (Y/N) whispered into the quiet.

"(Y/N)?" James said- and then suddenly the portal disappeared.

"Are you alright, Darling?" Remus asked as (Y/N) sat down at the table, appearing distraught but no signs of tears marked his face. (Thank goodness for magic.)

"I... I'll tell you later, yeah?" (Y/N) smiled unconvincingly at his husband who simply nodded, trying not to pry.

--

I don't like character deaths 👍

Thanks again for reading! (It was lowkey probably the worst thing I've written)

-Author Max <3

[under-sedationnn]

the arcana: main six reacting to injured! reader

anonymous: Could u do m6 reacting to mc coming home injured? I want some hurt/comfort >:))

Warnings: talk of being injured, blood. if that bothers you or tiggers you in anyway, please scroll away! i want this to be a safe place, only :)

thanks for the request anon!! i hope you enjoy!! <3 requests for the kissing prompts and physical affection prompts are STILL OPEN. please send them in with the character of your choice (which could be any character from any series i write for) and i will create an imagine!! thanks and happy reading!!

- tries his very very best to stay calm

- you can see panic bubbling under the surface

- faust is on high alert

- slithers around your shoulders and squeezes you for a hug

- "friend! hurt!"

- doesn't immediately ask what happened, just gets you to a comfortable place to be cleaned up

- then, and only then, will he brave to ask what happened to you

- or who did this to you

- wipes the blood from your skin with very gentle swipes

- winces when you wince, and apologizes profoundly

- "Y/n, how did this happen? i thought you were just taking a quick trip to the market."

- "i fell in the market, tripped over a stone"

- "and nobody helped you?"

- in this case he's disappointed with the bystanders, but does not become angry

- in a situation where someone hurt you?

- oh god

- "Y/n, how did this happen? i thought you were just taking a quick trip to the market."

- "yeah, well, somebody had their eye on the same apple i picked up. somehow, though, they managed to push me to the ground and steal it from my hands."

- i don't even think he would know what to say

- and asra is not really the type to march out into the streets of vesuvia and seek to challenge the one who hurt you

- but he would certainly hold a grudge against whoever it was if he did find out

- and would feel absolutely awful about letting you get hurt

- his mind would race about the possibility of losing you again

- because he simply can't handle it

- and what if that person had been particularly violent or malicious? what if you had been taken??

- you'd have to comfort the hell out of him to make sure he knows that you're okay

- "asra, hey, i'm fine! i can handle myself, you know that"

- "you're right, and i know you're right. it's just hard"

- "it's still hard for me, too. the market still makes me a little nervous and i got caught a little off guard, is all"

- that would make him feel better

- would finish patching up your wounds and would make sure to bring you to julian the next day if they were too bad for him to fix or needed stitches

- would also create a special brew to help with the pain and ease you to sleep

- "why don't i go down to the market tomorrow?"

- "why? so when you pick a fight over apples, i can pay you back for all of this high quality medical treatment?"

- "well of course, surely you didn't expect all this tender love and care to be free" *wink*

- panicked doctor mode enabled

- immediately begins checking you over, asking questions

- something tells me it would be a head injury of some sort

- "oh darling, what happe- you're bleeding!"

- "julian, i'm okay! it's just a little scratch"

- "no no no you might need stitches, come sit down. i'll go get my kit!"

- there's really no use in arguing

- he has cold ass hands, so he tries to warm them up before he begins suturing the wound

- tries to be gentle, and his expert hands move quickly without any snagging

- "so, how did this happen?"

- his voice is literally trembling

- "well, i was in the clinic grabbing the list of ingredients we need for our next grocery trip and there was a puddle of... something on the floor. i slipped and hit my head on the corner of your desk"

- immediately thinks it's his fault

- like "oh shit i should have cleaned better that could have killed y/n and then what would i have done-"

- doesn't necessarily voice this, but you can tell by the silence that follows that he's feeling really guilty

- would kneel for you, head on your knees

- "y/n, i am so sorry"

- "juli, it's really okay, i should have watched where i was going"

- "i'll make sure to clean better from now on, okay?"

- would guard you throughout the night in case of concussion

- nurse juli <3

- but let's say someone had put their hands on you

- would patch you up the same way, and apologize profusely for not being there with you

- tuck you into bed and fetch mazelinka to keep an eye on you throughout the night incase of a concussion

- would most definitely be self destructive and seek that mf out

- maybe not successfully, but would try his hardest

- "i'll be back in the morning, get some rest"

- "I can find them myself if I want to, you know"

- embarrassed blush

- because he KNOWS you can take care of yourself

- "of course, but right now you're hurt. as your partner, i will do what must be done on your behalf darling"

- probably shows up the following morning with battle scars of his own

- the guards found you in the garden, passed out in the maze

- blood trickled down your arm, a large gash marking your bicep

- ran you up to the palace and immediately to the medical wing

- them]n nadia gets word

- the calm, collected queen act disappears

- abandons anything she's doing, anybody she's talking to

- "we will finish this at a different time, i have more important matters to attend to"

- she is so worried and it's honestly adorable

- very much giving "where tf are they?" energy

- god i love her so much

- anyways um

- asks the nurses over and over what happened, if you're okay, etc.

- watches the physicians and nurses like a hawk as they clean the wound and suture the cut

- and they're so intimidated lmao they never come face to face with her literally ever

- brushes your hair back from your face as they do so

- holds your hands

- would demand that you be brought to her sleeping chamber

- so that's where you wake up! how cute

- she's laying beside you, her brows furrowed

- maybe even her eyes are a little hazy

- "y/n, sweetheart, do you remember what happened?"

- patiently waits for your answer, you're still a little groggy

- you were either attacked by an animal and passed out from the fright

- or you were attacked by an armed person and was knocked out

- either way, the guards are on it

- nadia isn't letting whoever or whatever did this get away without a fight

- the palace is meant to be a safe haven for you

- for the both of you

- "well, don't you worry, we'll take care of that"

- you try to sit up but she won't let you

- "oh no, you must stay down, y/n. you are possibly concussed from the fall"

- "oh okay, sorry"

- "is there anything i can get you?"

- the countess of vesuvia, serving you in your time of need

- "just some water would be nice"

- "of course, i'll have some brought up right away"

- i literally feel like he would just start crying straight up

- cause like he has some problems anyway

- he big sad boi

- and you coming home to the hut bleeding from a gash in the arch of your foot is not helping

- picks you and carries you to the bed without a word

- just starts examining the cut

- inanna is also very concerned

- she licks the blood from the cut, she's trying to be helpful

- meanwhile muriel is stumbling around the hut looking for anything to stop the bleeding, disinfect it, bandage it, anything

- but he's not the best about keeping that stuff in stock

- keeps looking back at you with worry in his eyes

- he doesn't know what to do

- "muriel, let me see if i can contact asra. maybe he or julian can bring me a salve. i'm pretty sure i'm gonna need stitches"

- low-key makes him feel worse

- cause he feels like he's unable to care for you and keep your safe

- even tho this was just an accident

- he's breathing really fast, his anxiety creeping

- agrees anyway, but goes to get them himself

- "i'll be back soon, just keep this piece of cloth pressed against it"

- cause you're bleeding like a lot

- inanna stays behind

- he returns very quickly with julian in tow, though he doesn't look happy about it

- leaves the hut without another word

- julian gets to work immediately

- "so, you cut your foot i see"

- smartass.

- "yeah, muriel always tells me to put on shoes when i walk in the woods but i love to feel the grass beneath my feet"

- julian chuckled at this

- "and i'm assuming you, what, stepped on a rock?"

- "...yeah, sliced it right open"

- after julian is done cleaning up the cut, he tells you to just stay off of it for a while and make sure it doesn't get infected

- once he's gone, muriel trudges back into the hut

- "muriel, baby, it was just a cut it's not a big deal"

- but his eyes look hurt, and you beckon him toward the bed

- "hey," your hands on his cheeks, "i'm okay, really"

- "sorry, i just got scared. blood is still a trigger for me and since you got hurt in my woods, i felt like it was my fault"

- "muriel, of course it wasn't your fault"

- he really needed a hug

- after this instance, he made sure to keep medical supplies in the hut and you promised to try and wear shoes in the woods more often than not

- "i'll try my best to be more careful. deal?"

- sweet lil smile

- "deal."

- "oh my god, y/n, what the hell happened??"

- you were tending the garden

- without her supervision

- and the garden sheers might have sliced into the palm of your hand

- deep

- brings you over to the sink and runs water over the cut, covering it with a towel when the dripping blood had been washed away

- girl is on the move

- cause she knows what to do! love that

- low-key a main reason why julian managed to live as long as he has

- pepi is curiously perched atop one of the counters, peering down

- finds her personal first aid kit she had stashed in the bathroom

- guides you over to sit on the counter while she tries to figure out what to do

- "damn, you really cut yourself, y/n"

- "sorry! i think i just got a little carried away"

- she giggles at that, though she is still worried about the fact that it won't stop bleeding

- gently wraps the cut in gauze and adheres it together

- places a kiss to your fingertips

- "all done! no more gardening for you!"

- "hey, why not?"

- "well you don't want that cut to open back up again and again, do you?"

- "no"

- "alright then," she smiled, moving to put away the first aid kit again, "and we're going up to the palace medical wing first thing tomorrow morning to make sure it's not infected"

- eye roll

- "yes ma'am" you mocked

- even though you know it's just because she loves you

- "but since you got hurt, you want me to bake you some cookies?"

- "only if you let me eat the dough!"

- good god do i love this man

- but he is so self-absorbed it's actually insane

- and I feel like he wouldn't even notice at first

- cause he's too focused on himself

- gazing into the mirror without a care in the world when you walked in

- "y/n, thank goodness you're home, how do you feel about these pants?"

- you just hobbled to the nearest seat, hand resting over the gash on your knee

- mercedes and melchior were lazing across a rug at the base of his mirror, their attention set on you

- "u-um, yeah, they look good"

- literally just trying not to bleed out, over here

- "good? oh really, now, y/n don't they look amazing?"

- "yes, they look ama- ow, damnit"

- then he turned around

- immediate shock and worry! oh no oh no y/n is hurt!

- mercedes and melchior walked over first, whining as they took in the cut, brushing around the edges

- lucio raced over, squatting down in front of you, and began examining the cut

- "hey, hey, what happened?"

- "i accidentally tripped on my walk in the garden and scraped my knee on the cobblestone"

- he was lightly touching around the cut, gauging how sensitive it was

- when you flinched he stopped, looking into your eyes with a soft "sorry"

- "i think i need to go to the palace infirmary"

- "oh there's no need, i can take care of you!"

- you were not convinced he could take care of you, at least not well

- "uh, lucio, are you sure?"

- he looked slightly offended, at that

- "you know, y/n, i did fight in battles at one point. i have not only tended to my own wounds, but the wounds of others, as well"

- you giggled at the thought

- "much to your protest, though, i'm sure"

- he moved to the small cabinet of medical supplies in the ensuite to your bedroom, returning to your side with it in hand

- "at points, but i don't mind helping you in the slightest"

- for all of his antics, his soft side was enough to make you fall in love all over again

- and although i know he would take care of you in literally any situation, i can't say for certainty that he would stick around and place nurse lucio for long if a person had hurt you

- attacked you

- much like nadia, the guards would be sent out without a second thought, lucio leading the pack in the search for you aggressor