#as for the prompt i like it and i think there is a lot of wiggle room despite one of the words having only one definition | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witchywithwhiskey · 2 days ago

Note

Hey, hehe. Flipped the coin to decide a character and it’s Ari, with bite me, please?🥺🥺

bite me, baby

pairing: ceo!ari levinson x female reader

summary: when your nightmare of a boss, the ceo of the company, insults your valentine's day plans, you're so fed up that you quit. and he has a reaction that you did not anticipate even a little bit.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, pool sex, biting/marking, edging via sensual massage (ari puts sunscreen on reader—never forget your sunscreen, friends!!), prone bone, some brattiness, light bd/sm, light power play dynamics, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (baby), aftercare, references to marathon sex, reader has a cat (idk if this needs to be a warning but just fyi!), enemies to lovers with a happy ending

word count: 6.0k

a/n: i love a coin flip because i hate making decisions 🤭 i'm so glad it landed on ari because he, and the "bite me" prompt, inspired this fun and dirty idea that i'm so so so happy with!! (i also think i managed to throw in some of the other stuff you requested because it ended up giving me a lot of inspiration.) thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

That was it. You had had enough of Ari Levinson.

In fact, after months of working for the CEO, you’d had more than enough of the infuriatingly arrogant, wildly inconsiderate, exasperatingly entitled and frustratingly handsome man.

Wait, no, forget that last one. Ari was the worst man you’d ever met—and you’d met plenty of awful men in your line of work as an executive assistant to high-ranking executives—so he certainly was not also the most attractive man you’d ever met. Absolutely not.

You’d worked for Ari Levinson for a little less than a year, and even though you were one of the best damn EAs in all of New York City, he’d already driven you to fantasizing about quitting multiple times a day. It wasn’t a good sign that you also liked to imagine kicking him in the shin before storming out in all your righteous glory.

The problem wasn’t that Ari Levinson was a demanding and exacting boss. He was a CEO, after all, and most executives held their employees to incredibly high standards. No, the real problem was that Ari was prone to seemingly impulsive whims, which always made your already difficult job nearly impossible.

More times than you could count, you’d had to reschedule meetings with titans of the industry and heads of state, all because Ari had forgotten to tell you he’d gone to play pickleball. Or you’d had to completely rebook a board meeting because Ari had decided to take a spontaneous trip to Costa Rica or the Seychelles or some other warm and sunny place while winter ravaged the city.

The worst part about those trips in particular was that you were still expected to commute into the office. So while Ari was off enjoying a white sand beach and crystal blue ocean, soaking up the sun that would undoubtedly bring out the blond highlights in his perfectly shaggy brown hair and deepen his glorious golden tan, you would be bundled up in a ridiculous amount of layers and braving the subway in the city.

When Ari was gone, you would spend most of your day sitting at your desk alone on the top floor the company’s building, twiddling your thumbs outside Ari’s empty office. Inevitably, your mind always strayed to Ari and began to wonder what he was doing at that very moment.

Since the CEO had you working 60-hour weeks, and you spent most of those hours by his side, you could very easily picture him standing on a beach. He’d be wearing a rakish smile on his bearded face, the clear blue of the ocean making the bright sapphire of his eyes pop while the shining sun would highlight the mischievous look that was, more often than not, sparkling in the depth of his gaze.

You’d never seen Ari shirtless—only ever having seen him in the tailored suits he wore to the office—but you’d caught glimpses of dark hair on his chest on the late nights when he’d undone the top buttons of his shirt. You could just imagine how his broad shoulders would frame his barrel chest, dark hair dusting so much of his bare skin that would be on display, with a pair of shorts riding indecently low on his hips.

And if you let your mind wander further down that path, you began to wonder if Ari ever swam naked in the shimmering waters of the tropics. You wondered if he floated on his back, basking in the sun with his entire body bare, looking even more like the golden god you thought he resembled…

With a forceful shake of your head, you made yourself stop thinking about Ari swimming naked, and refocused on the present moment.

You stood in Ari’s office, your back straight as a knife’s edge while you typed notes furiously into your phone about everything you’d have to reschedule to accommodate the last-minute, week-long trip to Belize he’d informed you he was taking.

You’d bitten back a sigh, like the polite little EA you prided yourself on being, and tried to get more details from him about his availability while he was away. But instead of answering your extremely relevant questions, Ari had changed the subject and asked about your Valentine’s Day plans.

The words had taken you by so much surprise, you’d had to pause your typing and blink a few times before your mind could process them. It wasn’t until Ari had voiced the question that you even realized the holiday had snuck up on you.

Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like you were seeing anyone, so you had no romantic partner to spend it with. As such, you’d given Ari a bland answer about catching up on the new season of The Traitors with a bottle of rosé and Freddie.

You didn’t expect Ari to remember that Freddie was your cat, and not a partner—though Freddie was, admittedly, your closest companion since you lived alone in a very nice one-bedroom apartment and had little time for other friends.

You’d hoped Ari would’ve forgotten about Freddie and assumed you were just having a lowkey Valentine’s Day, thereby getting the hint to drop the subject. You’d wanted to refocus him on answering the questions you’d asked about his trip.

But you’d had no such luck and, for the second time in five minutes, Ari had surprised you—and not in a good way.

The CEO had scoffed at your Valentine’s Day plans, rolling his gorgeous blue eyes in a way that made you grind your molars in an effort not to snarl at him. He’d said you could find better company for the evening than a cheap bottle of wine, some trashy television and a flea-ridden furball.

That last comment had been the final straw. The one that broke the proverbial camel’s back.

You’d felt something inside you snap, and you realized you’d had enough of Ari Levinson.

It was bad enough that Ari was the worst, most difficult and flighty boss you’d ever had, but you drew the line at anyone insulting Freddie. He was your precious little man, the one who greeted you every night with sweet chirps and warm affection when you got home to your otherwise empty apartment.

You loved him more than anything else in the world, and had even used a good chunk of the generous salary you made working for Ari to splurge on a place with lots of natural light so Freddie could bask in the sun to his heart’s content. So you would absolutely not stand by and listen to Ari insult Freddie.

“You know what, bite me, Levinson,” you hissed at the infuriatingly arrogant CEO, using a voice so filled with fury, you barely recognized it as your own. “I quit.”

You took a second to savor the slightly stunned look on Ari’s face—his normally sparkling blue eyes dulled with confusion and his perfectly plump lips, offset by his dark, well-groomed beard, parted in surprise like you’d slapped him—then you whirled around on your heel.

You were determined to stalk out of the CEO’s office with your head held high, but Ari had other ideas.

Quick as lightning, Ari’s hand shot out and wrapped around the back of your neck. His grip was surprisingly gentle, even if it was still firm enough to spin you back around and reel you in until your body nearly collided with his broad chest.

The astonished look on Ari’s face had already been replaced by a devastatingly arrogant grin, his bright blue eyes sparkling like the sun glinting off the ocean, a wicked kind of mischief in their depths. He held you close, so close that you had to tip your head back to look into his eyes.

Your hands had come up to brace against Ari’s chest when he’d tugged you into the cage of his arms, and you could tell, even through the thick wool coat he wore over his suit, that he was sturdy beneath his clothes.

The only thing stopping you from trying to push him away was the sneaking suspicion that he was strong enough not to allow you to put any space between your bodies if he didn’t want it. If you did try to fight and he didn’t give you an inch, you knew it would turn you on more than his manhandling already had, and you couldn’t deal with that just yet.

So instead of fighting him, you stood there, letting Ari tower over you while your hands rested uselessly against the lapels of his coat, your phone still clutched tightly in your fingers. You tried to keep a glare fixed on your face, showing him all of the ire you felt, and none of the desire that was scorching through your body as you inhaled his warm, spicy scent.

“Bad move, baby,” Ari rumbled, his mouth curving into a wicked smirk that had your betrayer of a heart beating mortifyingly hard in your chest, the warmth between your legs turning into a disloyal dampness. “Now there’s no employee code of conduct stopping me from doing this.”

You didn’t even have a hope of processing Ari’s words before his mouth crashed down on yours.

If you ever thought about it—which you did, an embarrassing amount, in fact, though you’d never in your life admit it to anyone (except maybe Freddie)—you would’ve expected Ari Levinson to be a selfish kisser. You’d expected him to totally lack finesse, to plunge his tongue into your mouth right away and take what he thought he was owed.

But Ari’s kiss wasn’t like that at all.

Sure, there was a barely leashed hunger in the way his mouth worked against yours, like he was holding onto his restraint by the tips of his fingers. But his lips were more coaxing than demanding, his tongue more teasing and playful than plundering as he licked along the seam of your mouth.

Before you knew what was happening, you were falling under the spell of Ari Levinson’s kiss. Your lips were parting of their own accord, and you were letting out a contented little sigh as your body melted into his arms.

You could taste the smirk on his lips as he readjusted his grip, one of his arms banding around your lower back to hold you securely against his chest while his other hand shifted from the back of your neck to cup your face. He held you exactly where he wanted you while he tempted you into giving yourself completely to him.

Then, Ari deepened the kiss, and you were lost to him.

He smelled like expensive cologne, rich and spicy, but he tasted like bitter coffee and dark chocolate, and the contrast was driving you wild. You wanted to climb the tall, sturdy CEO like he was a tree, but you settled for curling your fingers around the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer, sucking on the tongue he’d slipped into your mouth and reveling in his groan of pleasure.

You could already feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into your stomach, and you desperately wanted to feel his bulge move lower, shoving between your thighs while Ari spread your legs wide open—preferably with no layers of clothing between your bodies. You wanted him to sink into your wet heat and pound into you until you forgot everything except his name.

But you wouldn’t beg Ari Levinson to fuck you. You refused to stoop to that level.

Instead, you pressed your body more firmly against his hardness, nipping at his plump lower lip and stirring a low growl in his chest. Then you sucked on his lip hard enough that his arms crushed you to his chest, his hips thrusting instinctively against your soft curves and making you smirk against his mouth.

“Come to Belize with me,” Ari murmured when he’d pulled his lips from yours to press kisses to your cheek and jaw and neck. He kissed you anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your mouth, which he devoured with a hunger that had a pulsing need throbbing between your thighs. “Come with me, baby, and we can continue this for the whole week.”

A scornful laugh, light and frothy as the waves crashing on the shore, bubbled from your lips and you tipped your head back. Ari took the movement as permission to brush even more kisses to the underside of your jaw, a shiver racing down your spine when the softness of his mouth contrasted with the rasp of his beard.

But, though a part of you wanted to get even more lost in Ari Levinson and take him up on his request, you couldn’t forget everything he’d done and said. You certainly wouldn’t forget the slight against Freddie.

“Why on earth would I go anywhere with you?” you asked, your voice so breathy, it almost sounded like you were flirting with the arrogant CEO instead of scoffing at his offer. “I just quit, remember?”

“I remember,” Ari muttered into the fluttering pulse beneath your jaw. He kissed his way back to your mouth and licked inside, making you melt even further in his arms.

By that point, your legs were so weak, you were certain Ari’s strong arms were the only thing holding you up. But if he’d been trying to persuade you with pure lust into relenting and giving in to his invitation, he must’ve realized quickly it would take more to sweep you off your feet.

“Let me put it this way—come to Belize with me and I’ll tell HR I fired you so you get your full severance package,” he rumbled in your ear, nipping at the lobe and dragging a reluctant gasp from your lips. “Otherwise you get nothing.”

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your rational mind, you knew you should bristle at Ari’s threat. After all, he was toying with your financial future like it was nothing but a tool in his negotiation arsenal to get what he wanted.

Except…you had been the one to quit without thinking about what it meant for your ability to pay rent and keep a roof over Freddie’s head. Ari wasn’t threatening to take away your severance, you’d thrown that away all on your own. Instead, he was offering to give it to you in exchange for a week-long vacation to one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Later, you could chalk up your questionable decision-making to the drugging effect Ari’s mouth had on your body and mind, but in the moment, you were hard-pressed to remember why you shouldn’t go with him to Belize. Especially when your body seemed unwilling to do anything except press further into him, begging him without words for more.

You realized belatedly that you’d already made up your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell the exasperating CEO just yet. So you slid a hand from the lapel of Ari’s jacket into his soft, brown hair, your fingers curling selfishly in the strands while you pulled his mouth back to yours. You shared a slow, decadent kiss that almost made you forget the conversation you’d been having.

“They’ll believe that?” you asked on a gasp, breaking away from Ari’s devastatingly perfect mouth to suck in the air your lungs were begging for.

You pulled back enough to look up into Ari’s handsome face, finding him smirking knowingly down at you, and you realized he knew you’d already decided to go with him. You were prepared to seethe in fury and snap at him, but something in his expression made you pause—there was a hint of affection in his crystal blue eyes that you’d never seen before, and it rendered you speechless.

“Baby, I sign their paychecks,” Ari said, stroking a finger tenderly down your cheek, his words reminding you of the conversation you were still in the middle of. “They’ll believe what I tell them to believe.”

A derisive scoff burst from your lips as you rolled your eyes at the arrogance of Ari’s statement, but you held your tongue. You’d known the man long enough that there was no point in arguing with him, so you changed the subject to something that mattered more to you anyway.

“I’m still furious with you for what you said about my Valentine’s Day plans—and Freddie,” you said, giving Ari your best, most withering glare.

Unfortunately, you suspected it wasn’t all that scary, at least not to the CEO who still held you in his arms, because Ari just chuckled and ducked down to press a kiss to your lips. His laughter flickered teasingly into your mouth, making the warmth of desire bloom even more hotly in your body.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Ari vowed before kissing you again, though it didn’t last long as his mouth tipped up into a smirk. “You’re going to enjoy Belize, baby.”

The sun that shone on Belize was better than the sun above New York City, you were convinced of it. If anyone tried to tell you that was simply because Belize was closer to the equator and it was February, you wouldn’t hear it. The sun was better in Belize.

It fell across your bare shoulders like the softest and comfiest of blankets, warming you down to the bones that you would’ve sworn had been permanently frozen by the city’s frigid winter. But even with the sun beating down on your body, you never got overheated thanks to the gentle breeze coming in off the water of the near-distant ocean, caressing your skin like a lover.

For the millionth time since you’d arrived in Belize, you let out a sigh of contentment and reveled in the bright sunshine and the smell of salt on the air. The lapping of the waves was a constant soundtrack, lulling you into a state of near-sleep as you lay out on the deck of the private vacation home your former boss had booked for the week.

And, thanks to the privacy afforded by the high walls on either side of the pool and deck, which overlooked a strip of beach reserved entirely for you and the CEO, you were basking in the sun completely naked. Your body was stretched out on the soft cushion of a sun lounger, laying on your stomach with your arms folded beneath your chin.

The only thing you wore was a pair pink heart-shaped sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose, casting the world in shades of bubblegum and taffy while you watched the ocean. It felt deliciously wicked to be laying outside wearing nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you reveled in the feeling of the sun warming your skin—all of your skin.

The sound of the door to the deck opening and closing pulled you from your reverie, though you didn’t turn to see who it was. There was only one person it could be—Ari Levinson.

“The beast’s been fed,” Ari said, no small amount of fondness in his tone. His heavy footsteps padded in your direction across the wooden deck, coming to a stop somewhere near the foot of your lounger.

It surprised no one more than you to learn that Ari’s invitation to go to Belize for the week had included Freddie. The CEO had even accompanied you to your apartment, where he’d helped herd Freddie into his carrier before taking both of you to the airport where he kept his private jet.

Freddie had been wary of the large intruder in your home, and was taking some time to warm up to Ari. In an effort to endear himself to your precious furball, Ari had insisted on being the one to feed him, which you’d only allowed once your former boss admitted he planned on keeping you in his life long after the trip to Belize ended—and was willing to do anything to make that happen.

It turned out, Freddie was just as much of a traitor as your heart, because he’d warmed up to Ari just as fast as your the betrayer in your chest had, abandoning their initial hatred of the CEO for something much warmer and more affectionate.

“I gave him some of that wet food he likes,” Ari went on, finally dragging your attention away from the ocean so you could look up at the man who was quickly becoming your second favorite person in the world—after Freddie, of course.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Ari, standing on the deck with his hands propped on his hips, his face tipped up toward the sun and his eyes shaded in dark glasses—all while entirely naked.

There was so much golden, tanned skin on display, you didn’t know where to look—at the dark hair blanketing his barrel chest, at the gentle taper of his waist and the hair trailing down from his navel, or at the thick cock hanging between his even thicker thighs.

The two of you had barely made it into the vacation home in Belize and gotten Freddie settled before Ari had been pushing inside your entirely too willing pussy, finally finishing what you’d begun in the CEO’s office in New York. Since then, neither of you had been able to keep your hands to yourselves for longer than a few hours, and you’d learned, intimately, how it felt to have Ari’s cock buried in each one of your holes.

You’d also confessed to Ari, early on in the week, that you’d wondered whether he spent his vacations swimming naked in the ocean. In response, he’d pulled you into the ocean wearing not a stitch of clothing between the two of you; ever since, he’d taken to walking around naked all the time, so you’d done the same.

Considering all the fucking you were doing, it was way more convenient anyway.

“I think it’s about time you put on more sunscreen, isn’t it, baby?” Ari asked, dragging your focus back to the moment.

His tone had dropped a little lower in that way that made your belly swoop and dampness begin to gather between your thighs. Your body warmed as arousal settled heavily in your center, your legs falling open just a tiny bit, as if the infuriating CEO had trained you to react instinctively to the barest hint of desire in his tone after just a few days.

Still, though your body might betray what you desperately wanted from Ari, you weren’t going to make it so easy for him.

You tipped your head up toward him, finding he’d pulled off his sunglasses and dropped them on the lounger beside yours, leaving him able to pin you with a scorchingly heated look. You simply raised a brow at him.

“If you think so, you can go ahead and apply it for me,” you said primly, tossing your head and turning back to look out at the ocean.

A smirk quirked the corners of your lips as you heard Ari chuckle behind you, and you could easily picture him picking up the bottle of sunscreen from the deck while he stepped closer to you.

A moment later, you felt the slight shift of movement when Ari threw his leg over your lounger. Then he settled down on the cushion, planting his knees on either side of your hips. You took off your sunglasses and set them on the deck, pretending not to care about what Ari was doing.

But every spot where his bare skin touched yours tingled with awareness, excitement bubbling in your belly and mixing with your desire into the perfect kind of anticipation that had you squeezing your thighs together against the ache building in your core.

Ari was quiet while he squeezed the sunscreen onto his hands and began massaging it into your shoulders, his strong fingers working methodically at the knots in your muscles—knots he’d created while he’d still been your boss—until they were entirely loose and unraveled.

Then his hands were moving lower, his fingers brushing along the soft sides of your tits in such a teasing torture that you had to force yourself not to squirm beneath him. You were trying your hardest to keep up the appearance that you were unaffected by Ari’s touch, but the longer he deftly worked your body, the more effort it took to bite back your moans.

However, all hope of hiding your reactions from the arrogant CEO fled when he got to your ass. His big hands rubbed and kneaded the soft flesh in such a way that Ari kept spreading your pussy lips apart, the quiet sounds of your own wetness reaching your ears even over the near-distant hum of the ocean.

Ari lingered over your ass and hips and thighs, groping your body shamelessly under the guise of working sunscreen into your skin, even as both of you knew exactly what he was doing. He worked you up until you were squirming beneath him, biting back little whimpers of desire, and then he stopped and you nearly growled in frustration.

Picking up the bottle of sunscreen, Ari laughed softly while he squeezed more into his hands, then made quick work of smoothing it down the rest of your legs, making sure you were entirely covered before resuming his previous position.

His hands groped your ass again and his hard cock bobbed against the backs your thighs, but neither of you moved to take things further for a long moment. You simply enjoyed the feeling of being together, a sense of peace like none you’d ever known washing over you.

“How many times d’you think I’ve made you cum so far this week?” Ari asked, his tone light with an undercurrent of huskiness betraying his desire.

The question broke whatever spell Ari had put on you and you stretched languidly beneath him, reaching your fingers out toward the ocean and pointing your toes while you tested your muscles. Your body was loose and relaxed, but you were despairingly empty, so you pushed your hips up, brushing your ass teasingly against Ari’s hard length while you hummed in thought.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, grumbling only a little when Ari pushed your hips back down on the lounger. He rebuffed your wordless offer, pinning you down while his knees shifted higher up your body and his calves kept your thighs closed together. “A lot, I guess.”

“And how many more until you forgive me for being the worst boss ever?” he asked, a playful smile in the warmth of his tone.

You may have called him that—more than once—when he was edging you earlier in the week. But he’d earned the insult, and more, frankly, for how much you’d put up with in your months of working for him. He truly had been the worst boss ever, and you never intended on rescinding your resignation since he deserved it.

Thankfully, Ari seemed determined to make it up to you, just like he’d promised. Mostly through orgasms, but you weren’t going to complain. Not yet, anyway. (Besides, you’d already gotten him to promise to give you the most glowing letter of recommendation he could write, and help you secure a position with a much less demanding company.)

“At least a hundred,” you murmured in a breathy tone, your hips lifting hungrily into Ari’s palms when he kneaded your ass, his thumbs brushing temptingly close to your dripping slit.

That time, he took you up the wordless invitation, the tip of his hard cock pressing into your tight hole, which was more than eager to take his thick length. Ari’s cock met with no resistance from your body as he slid inside, burying himself to the hilt with one relentless stroke.

You were plenty wet from the massage he’d given you, and your body had long since grown accustomed to the feel of his fat cock stretching your tight pussy. It had taken some time to work his full length inside you that first night, but your body had come to know him, and you stretched to fit him perfectly, his hardness nestled deep in your cunt with his tip pressed against your cervix.

A pleasured groan slipped from Ari’s lips as he felt your pussy squeezing around him. He fell forward, covering your body with his broad form until he was pressed flush to your back, pinning you into the soft cushion of the lounger.

The movement shifted his stiff length in your dripping hole, and it felt like he was pushing impossibly deeper, which wrung a shrill desperate, keening sound from the depths of your lungs.

Ari shushed you softly, his palms skimming from your shoulders down your arms until his fingers tangled with yours. He held your hands in each of his, keeping you grounded in the moment while undeniable euphoria filled your body and mind, blotting out everything except Ari and the pleasure he offered.

“And how many more until you forgive me for the comment about the beast?” Ari asked, his voice gravelly with his own barely leashed desire. He turned his head slightly, brushing a kiss to the apple of your cheek like he couldn’t help himself, and waited for your answer.

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts enough to respond, knowing he wasn’t going to move, to fuck you, until you’d answered his question.

“It’s gonna take five hundred more,” you huffed, trying for a pert tone and failing miserably. Your voice was little more than a breathy moan, but that didn’t stop you from curtly adding, “That was my son you insulted.”

“By the end of this trip, he’s going to be our son,” Ari growled in your ear, pulling his hips back and thrusting inside you again, harder and rougher than before.

You moaned loudly at the delicious drag of his cock in your tight hole, fighting back the warmth that wanted to curl around your heart at the determination in Ari’s tone when he talked about making Freddie his son too.

Thankfully, the way Ari was rocking into you, fucking your prone body while you were pinned beneath him, easily distracted you from the fact that the infuriating CEO was stealing his way deeper into your heart with very little resistance since you just couldn’t seem to muster it. Not when he felt so fucking good and said so many sweet things.

“And if I have to make you cum one thousand times to make you forgive me, I’ll do it,” Ari went on, pounding into you harder, his hips smacking against your ass with every thrust, wringing mindless moans from your lips while he kept spilling filth in your ear. “I’ll fuck your sweet little cunt until she’s so sensitive and swollen, you’ll be begging me to stop—but I won’t. I’ll make you cum on my cock so many times you’ll be forgiving me over and over and over again.”

Ari punctuated each of his words with a ruthless thrust, the clapping of his skin against yours loud in the quiet and otherwise peaceful afternoon. It was all you could do to mutter, “Oh god,” and cling on to Ari’s hands, holding him tightly while you took every inch of his cock and every single one of his rough thrusts.

“And then, when you’re addicted to my cock and you’ve finally forgiven me—really, truly forgiven me—I’ll put a pretty little ring on this finger,” Ari rumbled, squeezing your left ring finger between two of his own, so you couldn’t possibly misunderstand what he was saying. “And I’m going to make you my wife. How does that sound, baby?”

A sob of overwhelming bliss wrenched free from your lips, your mouth too busy wailing your pleasure to form words to respond.

But it didn’t matter that you couldn’t answer Ari’s question with words because you knew from the way he chuckled in your ear that he’d felt the way your pussy had clenched down on him when he’d said he was going to make you his wife. Your body had answered for you, and it had been much more honest than your mouth would’ve been.

Ari kept fucking you, perfectly hard and perfectly fast, and the pleasure swirling through your body was reaching a fever pitch. It was almost too much for you to bear, so you turned your head and buried your face against Ari’s thick bicep. Mindless moans spilled from your lips as your teeth pressed instinctively into the hard, flexing muscle.

“That’s it—bite me, baby,” Ari cooed in your ear while he shoved his other arm under your body, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the aching bundle of nerves in tight, ruthless circles. “Bite me while you’re cumming all over my fat cock like the good girl I know you are.”

Ari’s words and his relentless determination to make you cum were your undoing.

You came with a muffled scream, your teeth sinking so deep into Ari’s bicep, you knew you’d leave a mark behind. That thought only made you cum even harder, your body trembling and shaking with the force of the pleasure crashing over you.

Ari followed right after you, his hips rutting into you for a few more thrusts before he came with a grunt, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed deep in your pussy. The two of you writhed together, eking out every last shred of pleasure before eventually collapsing on the sun lounger with exhaustion.

Maneuvering the two of you onto your sides, Ari held you in the cradle of his arms, his cock staying wedged deep inside you so you kept him warm as he gradually softened. You dozed off in the comfort of Ari’s hold, feeling his heart beating against your spine and listening to his soft breaths mingling with the gentle lapping of the ocean.

After a time, Ari roused you from sleep, murmuring in your ear that the two of you should take a quick dip in the pool before deciding what to order for dinner. The sun had fallen low in the sky, ducking behind the house so that the deck was cast in shade, but the air was still pleasantly warm.

The cool water of the pool helped to wake you up, and there was a pleasurable burn in your muscles as you swam and splashed and fooled around with Ari.

Before you dragged yourselves from the pool, he fucked you again, using the gentle weightlessness of the water to lift you up and down on his cock while your head lolled against his shoulder and you moaned your pleasure into his neck.

When the two of you finally stumbled back inside, smelling like chlorine and sunshine, Freddie hopped up from the patch of light he’d been laying in at the front of the house. He chirped happily, twisting around your ankles and waiting for a brief pet before he pranced over to Ari.

Freddie rubbed his furry body against Ari’s calves, staring up at the man like he’d hung the stars and moon in the sky. Your cat’s welcome made the infuriatingly handsome CEO chuckle affectionately while he bent down to scuff the creature under the chin, murmuring soft praises to the beast.

It was too much for your heart—too sweet and pure and perfect—and you fell in love with Ari Levinson in that exact moment, though it would be many more months before you confessed those feelings to the man himself.

By the time you did, Ari would have whispered his love into every inch of your body. When the words finally fell from your lips, he would chuckle, having known it before you’d voiced it, because he knew your heart better than anyone else in the world. Even Freddie.

That first Valentine’s Day with Ari was much better than watching trashy TV with a bottle of rosé. In fact, it was the best you’d ever had. That is, until the next year’s Valentine’s Day, when Ari whisked you and Freddie off to another tropical location, and fulfilled the promise he’d made about putting a ring on your finger.

The Valentine’s Day after that, Ari Levinson made you his wife. And the two of you lived happily ever after.

#ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x you #ari levinson au #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson imagine #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans smut #witchywithwhiskey's sweethearts #witchywithwhiskeywork #buck-star

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grandline-fics · 2 days ago

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Hey, can I get op boys>reaction to a child or anybody else hugging you,the way momonosuke hugged nami. It's okay if you don't want to do it.

DESCRIPTION: Their reaction to a child stealing your attention and affection

WARNINGS: slight insecurities/jealousy I guess but nothing serious

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Luffy

WORDS: 1,564

A/N: Hey there and thank you for sending in this request. I had a lot of fun thinking of how to make this scenario work and decided to just stick with two characters this time. If you want to request any other characters, please do. I hope this was to your liking 😊

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

SHANKS

It was a sure bet that everyone would naturally go to Shanks. It was a given that he was the most popular member of the crew. He was the Captain after all and any island you stopped at, he just had a way about him that charmed practically everyone in the vicinity. Ordinarily that was the case. Today it was almost the same, apart from one exception to the norm. You had an admirer and Shanks never had a problem with that because you always let them down kindly but firmly, only having eyes for him. This though? This was uncharted territory. You were staring at your clingy admirer with the warmest smile and his eyes narrowed. This was war.

Abruptly Ben nudged his shoulder and he looked as his right-hand man and closest friend pulled up the stool beside him. Shanks scoffed at Beckman’s unbridled amusement at his Captain’s sulking and very clear displeasure at what he was witnessing. From across the room your laughter drifted up and Shanks’s gaze snapped immediately to you, his glare sharpening. Nothing could be that funny, not without him. “Cap…relax. They’re-”

“A snake. They know exactly what they’re doing.” Shanks muttered, lifting his drink to his mouth as he glared at the snake in question, stealing you from him.

“They’re one, Shanks.” Beck reminded his Captain with his grin broadening. “You aren’t getting insecure because of a baby are you?”

“This food better be worth it.” Shanks grumbled. Stopping here was only because everyone was hungry and wanted to eat and drink together before separating to begin gathering supplies for the next leg of the stretch at sea. When you all entered you were met with a friendly but very stressed woman, trying to manage serving customers while also looking after her son. Her son in question stared with wide eyes at the arrival of the Red Haired Pirates, shy but curious. Then his gaze fell to you and he squirmed in his mother’s hold while stretching to get to you, immediately besotted.

You had no issue with helping keep the baby entertained since it helped his mother out and meant you could all still get something to eat and drink. As you held the baby close you couldn’t help but smile when the little boy let out a long yawn, using his fist to rub at his eyes. Finally you took a seat on the other side of Shanks and settled in the hopes he’d fall asleep. You finally broke your gaze away from the adorable little face to look at Shanks and Benn. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Yeah, adorable.” Shanks forced out, eyeing his tiny rival with a scowl. “Why don’t you let me take over?”

“I don’t mind, plus he’s falling asleep I don’t want to unsettle him.” You smiled, watching Shanks as he reached his hand out. The baby in your arms, half-asleep eyed Shanks with equal disdain. With an incoherent but very obvious noise of rejection, the baby’s fists latched tightly into your shirt and he nuzzled his head into your chest. “See? He’s comfy.”

Shanks knew better than anyone how comfy it was to lie against you and be wrapped in your arms. His eyes narrowed when the baby threw him one last look- pure smugness, Shanks saw-before he closed his eyes and feel asleep. Seeing the baby drift off and still maintain his vicelike grip on your close made you all but melt. “Shanks, how long are we staying on this island for?”

“We’re leaving as soon as the ship is restocked.”

“So soon?” You asked in surprise. Ordinarily you all stayed to relax and interact with the locals. Even short stops on islands would be a few days. It had been a long time since Shanks had made a decision like this. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah just really itching to get back to sea is all. We can’t laze around when we’ve got treasures to find and adventures to have.” You arched an eyebrow at Shanks’ explanation. When he turned his head to grab his drink you looked over his shoulder to throw a questioning look to Beck. Subtly the man dropped his gaze to the baby in your arms and mouthed ‘jealous’ making you grin.

Rolling your eyes at how the most laidback man in the world you decided to fall in love with could be so ridiculous at times. Shifting your chair closer you lay your back against his side and reached up to press a soft peck against his cheek. “Love you, you big baby.”

“Love you too.” Shanks grinned down at you, wrapping his arm around you to hold you closer. “Make sure to say that again though when the little brat wakes up. He needs to know I’m the winner.”

LUFFY

“Hey you little brat let go of them!”

“Make me!”

“I. Said. Let. Go.”

“Nuh-uh! You’re not the boss of me. Just go away and leave us alone, stupid hat!”

“Stupid hat?!” Luffy repeated with an angry glare, looking to you sharply with wide eyes, silently checking if you heard the added insult to him. It was nearly as bad as the fact some little kid was clinging to you happily with their arms tightly around your neck with no sign of letting go. You could only shrug and smile, it was just a little kid. You’d been the one to save them from an attacking enemy so of course they would be more attached to you than any of the others on the crew. The boy was harmless but Luffy was acting like he was top of the list of people he wanted to beat on his quest to be King of the Pirates. “Say it again brat! I dare you!”

“Stuuuupid haaaat!” The little kid leant further in to Luffy’s face, stretching out the insult with a taunting grin and defiance in his eyes that would have been something Luffy would have respected had it been directed at anyone else. Satisfied, the little boy relaxed back against you and stuck his tongue out at your seething Captain and boyfriend. Luffy snarled and grabbed the child’s ankle, ready to pull them off of you. The boy only let out an overly dramatic squeal and tucked their head under your chin. “No!! Stop him! He’s scaring me!”

“Luffy, c’mon be nice. Please?” You asked settling your hand soothingly over Luffy’s hand to make him stop immediately. This was meant to be a party to celebrate another victory for the crew and for some reason Luffy was getting confrontational with a child instead of enjoying himself and eating all the food on offer. “They’re only doing it because they know it’s annoying you.”

“But-”

“I know, I know.” You spoke softly, lifting your hand from his to affectionately run your fingers along the rim of his hat. “I love your hat, it’s not stupid to me.”

“It’s only stupid because he’s wearing it.” The little boy muttered sourly, turning his head to glare at the fact you were giving Luffy a compliment. “It’d look great on you though.”

“Awww thank you.” You smiled, relieved that they hadn’t been too scared by Luffy. It was no wonder he was acting up, after finally being free from the group of pirates terrorising his home he was finally getting to act like a child again and not have to worry about living in fear from you or the rest of the crew. “I think you’d look cool with a hat like Luffy’s too.”

“He can keep his hat.” You held back your initial urge to laugh but still you grinned when his arms tightened around your neck. “He gets his hat, and I get you!”

“Wh- WHAT?!“ Luffy shouted, the calm you’d managed to evoke with him disappearing faster than the food in the fridge when Sanji’s back was turned. “You can’t have them, they’re mine!”

Once again the shouting picked up and you were stuck between the two, listening to the fight and bicker over you with vicious possessiveness. You were jostled when the little boy moved to perch himself on your back, shouting over your shoulder as Luffy’s arms wrapped around your body so he could get into the kid’s face as they argued back and forth about who you were going to stay with, not that either of them thought to ask your opinion on that fact. Having no choice you were helpless and just had to stand there as these two equally persistent energies until finally they both tired themselves out and in unison they fell asleep, slumping over but keeping their grips on you as tight as ever. Sighing you managed to drag yourself over to an empty seat and awkwardly sit down despite the hinderances having two people clinging to you brought.

Eventually the boy’s mother came across your predicament and managed to lift her son off of you, leaving you to just have Luffy hold you possessively but that was something you were used to at night. Alone you smiled at your boyfriend. Yes it was childish of him to take the little boy’s infatuation with you seriously but it was reassuring that if he fought for you this fiercely then it meant you really had nothing to fear if anyone else came sniffing around you.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow

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boromir-week · 3 days ago

Text

Welcome to Boromir Week!

After discovering that there was Boromir Week event 10 years ago and losing sleep because I was constantly thinking about how much Boromir DESERVES to have an event dedicated to him, I decided to try and bring it back. We'll see what happens!

I can make a separate FAQ post if I get additional questions from people, but here is some info I can provide now:

What is Boromir Week? It is (will be) a week-long event where people can submit fic drabbles (100 words), ficlets (≤1000 words), one-shots, fanart, gifs, moodboards, and headcanons set to prompts that highlight the awesomeness that is Boromir.

When is Boromir Week? It will run June 14-20, 2025. The original event, which was held in 2014 and 2015, ran the last week of March, but that is cutting it VERY close. I chose these dates in June because, in canon, June 19th is when Boromir and Faramir have the dream about the riddle, and June 20th is the attack on Osgiliath and the official start of the War of the Ring. I'm weird about calendars.

What is allowed for Boromir Week? As mentioned above, fanfiction, fanart, gifs, moodboards, and headcanons about Boromir that are tied to any of the day's prompts are allowed. Please tag any ships and/or triggers, and place NSFW/graphic submissions under a "Read More" and tag as such.

What is NOT allowed for Boromir Week? Anything created using AI. This event is intended to show Boromir in a positive light and show our appreciation for the character, so anything that is blatantly anti-Boromir is strongly discouraged. Submitting an AU where Boromir succeeded in obtaining the One Ring or writing a Dark!Boromir AU is different (and hot, let's be real). This also applies to commenting on submissions. Don't like, don't read. Don't yuck on someone else's yum. Ship and let ship. Please keep your comments respectful.

How do I submit posts for Boromir Week? The main tags I will be using will be #Boromir Week and #Boromir Week 2025. However, Tumblr's tag search is pretty much useless, not only showing results that have nothing to do with what you searched for, but also omitting a lot of results. So, the best way for me to know that you've posted is to tag @/boromir-week (without the slash). Depending on how many people participate, I may reblog your submissions as soon as I get home from work (on week days during the event) or it might be the following day.

Who is running this shindig? Hi, I'm @lucifers-legions! I write fanfiction, have way too many OCs, make moodboards (it's therapeutic), and simp over Gondor and Rohan blorbos. I started writing Boromir fanfiction in 2012 and have been obsessed with him ever since. I'm still trying to figure out this whole event mod thing, so please be patient with me, and thank you in advance for your understanding.

What are the prompts for this event? Day 1: Brother of Faramir, Childhood, Protector and Teacher

Day 2: Son of Finduilas, Maternal Family, Grief and Loss

Day 3: Son of Denethor, Paternal Family, Thorongil

Day 4: Teen Years, Captain of Gondor, Friend of Rohan

Day 5: The People's Prince, Rivendell, Member of the Fellowship

Day 6: Change of Fate, Fourth Age, Alternate Universe

Day 7: Freeform

#intro post #Boromir Week #Boromir Week 2025

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witherby · 2 days ago

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What would happen if Mouse got sick? Like super, probably at deaths door kind of sick? ok maybe that last part was exaggerating it a bit...But like almost 39 degrees fever, coughing to the point of gagging and vomiting, runny nose, fatigue, no appetite for anything, etc. Based off my own experiences when I get sick. I wanna know what they would do and who would panic the most. Who would lose the little sleep they already have even more. Who would think that the babeh is at deaths door. And who would be the most relieved when Mouse is better a few days later with the help of a paediatric approved medication

-🍨

I like this prompt a lot so I'm gonna do it. Hope u reaaaally like angst tho.

The Littlest Wayne: Sick Bed, part 1

Masterlist is Here!

⚠️ Spoiler/content warning: Young sick child, fever, depiction of seizure ⚠️

It starts with a cough.

"Hey, careful," Jason says, patting your back. The water you'd been sipping sprays across the table as you choke. Tim reaches over to right the glass and Alfred goes and collects a rag to mop up the mess. "You okay?"

"Mhmm," you mutter, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "Sorry...I can clean it, grandpa Alfie."

"It's quite alright, Flittermouse." Alfred gently runs a hand through your hair. "Oh, my, you're quite warm. Why don't you head up to your room and I'll have someone bring a tray to you with soup and crackers?"

"Okay." You push your chair away from the table and duck underneath it, allowing the shadow of the furniture to swallow you up. Bruce watches the dark blob you've become slide out of the dining room and towards the stairs with less energy than usual.

"I'll take it, Alfred," Dick says before anyone else can volunteer, rising from his seat. He sets his leftovers in front of Jason as he passes, helping the butler prepare a tray for you. "Do we have any Tylenol for little kids? If not, I can just crush up a half-pill for them."

"Child-friendly medications will be found in the young master's en-suite bathroom cabinet," Alfred says. "It will just be a few minutes for the soup, Master Dick. I'd recommend you head upstairs and measure out a small dose for your sibling before it's ready."

"Kay, sure," he nods, excusing himself.

Dick hops up the stairs two at a time and enters the family wing of the manor, trailing his hand along the walls and door frames until he finds yours. He knocks lightly and rapidly, a silly little sequence to let you know which brother it is, then opens the door to let himself in.

Your bedroom is almost pitch black. Since the development of your powers, your space has changed to reflect your needs overtime, which means the overhead lightbulbs have been removed and the sheer, pastel blinds over your window have been replaced with thick blackout curtains. For your family who require some form of illumination to see, you have several night lights you pick and choose from; you currently have a round projector plugged in that casts aurora borealis across the ceiling (a gift from Tim) and you've activated the touch sensors installed in the floor that briefly light up everywhere Dick walks, leaving his footprints behind for several seconds until they fade away.

The furniture you originally had, designed in warm, woody colors with bright accents, have also been replaced with black hardware and dark materials. Your bed frame is a dip-dyed wood with silver accents, your mattress and sheets are black, and your dressers, nightstand, and closet have all been painted to match.

At first glance, the large bedroom looks like every goth kid's biggest dream, but the light from the hallway spills briefly into your space when Dick walks inside, showing the bright, colorful books sitting on your black bookshelves, the even more colorful clothes in your wardrobe, your vast collection of toys, and a litany of pictures and photos on all the walls. There is a vibrant, beautiful life in the darkness, which encapsulates you perfectly in his opinion.

"Hi, Flitty," he greets, moving slowly as his eyes adjust to the light. "Alfred's working on your soup, so big bro Dicky's here to do medicine time. Holler at me so I don't accidentally step on you in here."

"Okay," you say from his left. Dick turns and squints, spotting a lump on your bed. He smiles.

"There you are. Lemme see if there's any of the gummies in your med cabinet. Those ones don't taste all gross."

He steps into your bathroom and turns the fairy lights on, bathing the area in a soft glow, and rifles through your cabinet for a minute. Then he makes his way to your bed, sitting on the edge of it with some chewables and a glass of water.

"C'mere," he says, and you comply, shuffling across the bed to give him a quick hug. "Alright. Can you show me you're a big kid and take this for me? Then you'll get a nice bowl of soup and maybe some juice."

You comply without fuss. Dick hears more than he sees you take the medication in the low light, and you go back to hugging him when you're done. Dick wraps his arms around you and lies down, propping you mostly on his chest.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yeah. Just sleepy," you reply. "And my throat hurts kinda, from when I spit my water."

"Aw, I'm sorry. You only need to stay awake long enough to take a couple bites and then you can rest as long as you want."

"Okay...stay?"

Dick hums, running his fingers gently through your hair. He was supposed to go back to Blüdhaven this afternoon, but...

"Yeah, Flitty. I'll stay."

It turns into a fever.

"I'm sorry to turn you away when you've already come by, Delilah," Bruce says, meeting your private tutor in the vestibule. "Mouse came down with something yesterday, and I don't think they'll be up for lessons for the next few days. I forgot to tell you."

"Oh, that's absolutely no problem, mister Wayne," the tutor smiles, shaking her head. "I wish them a speedy recovery! Let me know if there's anything you need."

"I will, thank you. Take care!"

Bruce closes the door after seeing her out, the Charming Socialite mask slipping off his face as he heads for the stairs. He meets Alfred at the top with a nod, stepping past him and walking up to your bedroom door.

He gently knocks three times against the glossy wood, calling your name. "Can I come in?"

After a moment, he watches it click open, and you squint up at him in the doorway.

"Hi, daddy," you croak, voice dry and harsh from the progression of your flu. Bruce tuts and scoops your clammy body into his arms, carrying you back to your bed.

"Honey, you didn't have to come greet me," he says, "manners get thrown out the window when you're sick, remember? Let's get you tucked in."

You don't fuss or complain, which makes the worry flare up in Bruce's mind. He pushes it back, refusing to catastrophize a cold. All of his children get sick, it's not unheard of. A little fever is fine, and so is your lack of excitable energy. It's normal and expected.

"How do you feel?" He asks, pulling the blankets up to your chest. You squirm a bit, kicking them down.

"Hot," you say, "sleepy."

Bruce compromises by tucking the blanket around your tummy instead. You don't push it down any further. He pulls out a thermometer from his pocket and scans your forehead.

"Yeah, you are running a bit hot," he admits. An even one hundred degrees. Should be easy enough to control with careful attention. "Alfred says you refused breakfast this morning. Do you want to try eating something small for lunch? More soup?"

You shake your head. "Not hungry."

"I know you're not hungry, pumpkin," Bruce says, gently squeezing your hand. "But you don't wanna starve, either. Then you'll shrink up like a raisin! How am I supposed to snuggle a raisin?"

You smile a bit and give a wheezy huff of laughter. Bruce smiles back.

"So, will you try? You can have anything you want. I just need to see you take a few bites of something."

"Okay, daddy. Want...um... I want more soup please."

"You can have more soup," Bruce promises, running a hand through your sweatslick hair. He reminds himself to run you a bath in a couple hours. Maybe after a nap. "Do you want anything else?"

"Mmmyeah. Bedtime story?"

"Yeah," he says. "Any story you want, after we get some soup in you."

You smile again. It eases the knot of dread in Bruce's chest.

It gets worse.

Three days into it, your fever spikes in the middle of the night. You completely refuse any sort of food or drink all day, despite the angry growling of your stomach, and the family unanimously decides to bring you to the hospital in the morning to get looked at. Dinner without you is full of worry and tense glances toward the family wing, and it seems like not a lot of sleep is going to be had before they find out the total extent of your illness.

When tossing and turning in bed for a few hours doesn't lead him anywhere, Damian decides to give in to the nagging in the back of his head and pop in your room to check on you. He rushes to your bed when he sees you seizing and gasping for breath. Your temperature's shot up to a hundred and six and you don't react when he tries to shake you awake.

Fearful and, for once, feeling every bit the child he still is, he clutches your body to his chest and screams.

"BABAA!!"

The door slams open in seconds, though to him it feels like an eternity. Hal and Jason are coaxing Damian to let go of you and Bruce climbs on the bed to roll you onto your side, carefully wiping the foam and drool away from your mouth while he checks your vitals. Tim is in the hallway calling 9-1-1 and texting Dick to let him know what's happening.

"Dami, you gotta move," Jason says, placing his hands overtop his brother's. Damian's grip on your arm is so tight it's bruising. "Let go, they're okay. Let go."

"I'm tracking their pulse, you dumb bastard!" Damian snaps. "Release me!"

"You're hurting them, Dames," Hal says in his ear, wrapping his arms around Damian's waist. "Bruce has them, now. You have to let go and get out of the way for the paramedics."

Green eyes snap to your arm. He seems to finally take stock of what he's doing and eases off, letting Hal pick him up and pass him off to Jason, who carries him into the hallway.

"Stay out here," Jason says. "It's our job to keep out of the way for now."

"Who's going to let the paramedics in?" Damian asks, trying to pry himself out of Jason's grip. As much as he tries to crane his neck, Jason's standing too far away from your door to let him see how you're doing, and his iron grip is unyielding.

"Alfred's by the gate controls, he'll let them inside."

Tim gets off the phone with the emergency dispatcher and glances at your door with a frown. Every hitching gasp and choke you make can be heard from the hall, along with Bruce and Hal's barely-concealed, panicked murmuring, and he crosses his arms tightly and shuffles over to Jason now that his task is done.

"Can we wait downstairs?" He mutters. Jason keeps one arm wrapped around Damian and slings the other around Tim's shoulders, guiding them to the staircase.

"I want to stay!" Damian insists, pulling against Jason, who ends up needing to sling the little assassin over his shoulder to get him to move. "Todd!!"

"Robin," Jason snaps in his best Batman impersonation. It's a damn good one, because Damian quiets immediately, stiffening in his arms and ceasing his struggling without further protest. Tim freezes beside him, but Jason just pats his back and keeps guiding him down the stairs.

The trio is quiet as they file into the main living room. Jason and Tim sit on the couch and Damian gets propped up in his brother's lap. Try as he might, he can't wiggle out of Jason's arms.

"This is asinine," he hisses. "I should be up there."

"Doin' what?" Jason asks. "Bruce and Hal are both in there with Mousey. Alfred's about to guide the EMTs inside. Tim called 911 and then told Dick the situation. You were the one that first found 'em and got help."

Jason gives Damian a squeeze, propping his chin on top of his head.

"You saved their life, Damian. Ya don't need to do more than that right now. Let the grown-ups take the reins for a while."

"But I —"

"You've done more than enough," Jason insists, not unkindly. His tone has been uncharacteristically soft the whole time, Damian realizes belatedly. "I'm sure they'll thank you when they come out the other side of this."

Damian didn't do it for your thanks. He did it because he loves you. Despite you quickly approaching the age where Bruce might offer you the Robin mantle soon, which has filled him with more anxiety and anger than he's had in a long time, he loves you dearly and doesn't want anything to befall you.

In spite of everything, he's your big brother and he loves you just as much as he can't stand you.

"They will be fine," he mutters firmly. "There's no alternative."

"Right," Tim speaks up. He sounds like he needs the reassurance just as much as Damian. "M is gonna be okay."

The three of them turn their heads when several pairs of footsteps enter the vestibule. Four paramedics rush in with a stretcher and duffel bags of medical equipment. Alfred orders them in the direction of your bedroom with simple, firm instructions, and they head off.

The butler then turns, spotting them out of his periphery, and he clears his throat and adjusts the belt around his robe. He's still in his sleepwear, having rushed out of bed to help prep for the emergency like everyone else.

"I've had my fair share of exciting nights," he comments, "but I must say, they never become more enjoyable. Why don't you all join me in the kitchen and I'll prepare some drinks? Hot chocolate should suffice on a chilly evening."

"Sounds fantastic," Jason says, hopping to his feet. He lifts Damian up with him, denying him the chance to refuse, and with a glance and jerk of his chin, coaxes Tim to get up and follow after.

"Put me down," Damian says, reaching up to tug on Jason's night shirt. "I won't run back upstairs. I swear."

"Yeah? You double-swear? Don't make me chase you, kid, I really do not have the patience."

"On Father's life," he insists.

Jason sets him on the floor. Damian follows them into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island, cupping his hands around a warm mug of hot cocoa when Alfred hands it to him a couple minutes later. He watches the wisps of steam curl up into the air and dissipate, unable to stop thinking about your writhing body in bed. Your eyes had rolled back and your limbs had locked up, jerking uncontrollably. And the noises you were making...

The mug gives a foreboding creak under his grip. Alfred gently places his hand on Damian's back and gives it several soft pats.

"Do not fret, master Damian," he says, "our little Flittermouse is very resilient. An illness turning poorly won't keep them down for long."

"I know," he says. Alfred nods, and with a final brush against his shoulder, tends to Tim next to ensure he's also doing okay. When Damian looks at Jason, he sees him calmly drinking from his mug without so much as a furrow in his brow. But there's an almost imperceptible ricketing noise that means he's bouncing his leg nervously. It makes his stomach twist almost painfully, to know he's just as scared as everybody else.

Damian takes a deep breath. He sips his coco. He thinks of the froth pouring out of your mouth when Bruce rolled you into the recovery position. He puts the mug down.

He knows you'll be okay. You have to, because he just can't live with the alternative.

#el speaks #littlest wayne au #batfam x reader #angst #platonic batfam #🍨#tw: depiction of seizure

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acidblum · 22 hours ago

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i LOVE your babysitter!vi series and now i can't stop thinking about Vi walking in on you pleasuring yourself AGHHH 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

babysitter!vi walking in on you??? yes gawd!!.. MDNI 18+

you've sent the kids to their grandmother's house for the rest of the day with vi, which meant pure quiet for a while.

have just gotten back from work you opted on getting under the scolding water and washing it all away, an ache forming between your thighs as you walk out laying on the bed with a certain redhead in mind.

the loud magic wand buzzing against your clit had you reeling as you rubbed it all over your wetness, eyes rolling over and a smile gracing your face for the fact you haven’t came in oh soo long, other hand reaching to pinch and pull at your pebbled nipples. “uh ahh fu-uuck violet” when the creaking of your bedroom’s door stops you in your tracks…eyes widening at the sight in front of you.

vi stood so fucking still as if she’ll vanish if she did so, cheeks reddening as the sound of the loud vibrator buzzing against your clit never stopped. her eyes cannot help but look down at the state of you. wetness covering your clit, clean shaved with a landing strip down the middle.

it was definitely a sight for sore eyes. and did you just moan her name?? the buzzing finally coming to a halt. “oh my god vi-”

her lips slamming against yours and all of a sudden she’s on top of you, body engulfing yours as her other hand slithers into the nape of your neck as she drinks in your moans. breaking it with a string of spit forming between your lips.

"let me?..please"

looking into her darkening eyes you can't help but nod, her knees hitting the floor with a thud. both of her hands coming up to pull your legs to the edge of the bed emitting a soft gasp from you.

forefingers opening you up as she coats her fingers with your cum, inspecting the mess you made of yourself, head sinking back at the contact.

she starts kitten licking back and forth, cleaning you up before suckling onto your clit. blue eyes looking up at the way your mouth falls agape as you scramble to sit up. "oh you're so good f-"

stopping abruptly, her pinkish mouth unlatching as a defeated whine falls from you—prompting a very smug smirk to paint her face.

her hand coming up to hold the wand you discarded earlier, almost studying it as she turns it on, the buzzing getting louder as she plays around with the settings. “you use that a lot?”

“something like that..c’mere”

holding her hand that’s still clutching the wand, you help her—sliding it down you navel in a slow taunting motion, opening your thighs for her as it lands on your clit, sending you reeling as you mewl “f-u-uuuck” her other hand rubbing down and up your thigh, pressing it harder against your swollen clit.

your breath hitches at the feeling as her hand doesn’t let up. “im u-ahh vi im cummin-ngh” you cannot help but squirt hard, wetting the shirt she was wearing.

her eyes widening as her pussy starts aching at the sight of you, and the wetness that’s now covering her.

#☆-acidblum #reqs.#→ arcane blurbs ☆.#arcane #vi #violet arcane #vi arcane #arcane smut #arcane x reader #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #violet x reader #violet x you #violet x y/n #vi smut

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sidekick-hero · 2 days ago

Text

Sing Me A Love Song

rating: t | cw: off-screen domestic violence | wc: 5.6 k | tags: fluff, modern au, love songs, first love, bartender Steve and Eddie, platonic hellcheer, Jason Carver being an asshole as usual, hurt!Chrissy (off-screen)

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My fill for the @steddielovemonth Day 1. Prompts: 🎵 You and Me - Lifehouse and ❣️"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet." - Plato

"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet." - Plato

“You don’t understand,” Eddie groans, raking a hand through his curls. “If I don’t get this done, I might lose my contract.”

Chrissy doesn’t look impressed. She wipes down the counter in front of him, barely sparing him a glance. “I still think you’re being dramatic. You already have, what, ten songs? Isn’t that enough for an album?”

God, he wishes she were right. She should be right. Ten songs isn’t a lot, but it’s enough. Maybe he could throw in a cover, remaster one of his old tracks, stretch it to eleven. A solid number. A prime number, even—Jesus, he really needs to stop talking to Jeff.

But none of that matters. Because the problem isn’t the number.

The problem is the clause in his contract that requires one of those songs to be a love song.

Why did he agree to that? Oh, right. Desperation.

He needed the deal. Needed the money. Because Wayne’s life depends on it. And if Eddie can’t pay for his treatment, his uncle—the one person who’s always been there for him—will die.

So, yeah. It was either this record deal or selling a kidney in Tijuana.

“It’s not enough, Chris. I need one more song. And it’s like—” He exhales sharply, gripping his hair. “It’s like I’ve never written music before. My head’s empty, my hands are clumsier than a toddler’s, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t fail. I just can’t.”

That finally makes Chrissy pause. She sets down the rag, brows drawing together as her bright blue eyes search his face. “Eddie… this doesn’t sound like it’s just about an album.”

The bar is empty. No one’s here to overhear when he finally breaks.

Wayne’s diagnosis. The impossible cost of his treatment. The record label that dropped him like a bad habit the second he was outed—one stupid drunken mistake and suddenly, he was toxic. The desperate, humiliating scramble to find a new label, the rejection after rejection until he finally landed in Chicago, closer to Wayne, signing this contract.

Signing that clause.

Chrissy listens without interrupting, her hands folded over his. When he’s done, she exhales.

“A love song? Why would they insist on a love song?”

Eddie shrugs. “Something about bad boys with a secret soft side pulling in fans.”

She snorts. Loudly.

“Oi!”

“Eddie, sweetie.” Her grin is infuriating. “When I first met you during our shift, I thought you’d be mean and scary. But the moment you tried to slide over the bar and ate shit instead? Yeah. I knew you were just a giant dork.”

It’s impossible to fight off the answering grin tugging at his lips.

“I should be offended, but you’re not wrong. Just don’t tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation to uphold.”

Chrissy hops onto the bar, swinging her legs as she leans in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Then, more gently, “Look, don’t overthink it. Just write about the first guy you fell in love with. First love’s always a hit.”

Yeah. If only it were that simple.

“Great idea. Know any guys willing to fill that spot?”

Chrissy blinks. “Wha—” She stops, eyes narrowing as she really looks at him. “Wait. Are you— Is this your way of telling me you’ve never been in love?”

Eddie gives her finger guns. “Ding, ding, ding! The pretty young lady wins the jackpot.”

She just stares at him. Eddie braces himself, expecting pity, but all he finds in her eyes is warmth. Understanding.

Chrissy exhales. “Well. Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bartending wasn’t exactly the glamorous, fame-laden career Eddie had dreamed of. But it was something he was surprisingly good at—always had been. Even back in high school, when he worked at the local dive bar just to buy himself and his band a weekly gig.

More importantly, though, it paid the bills.

Most of the first half of his record deal advance had gone straight to Wayne’s medical expenses. A small chunk covered recording costs, but food and rent were a whole different story. Maybe, if he actually delivers this album, the rest of the money will be enough to buy himself a place. But that’s a big if.

So, for now, bartending it is. It keeps a roof over his head, food in his fridge, and—maybe the best part—it gave him his first real friend in this city: Chrissy.

She keeps him sane on the bad days, when the anxiety sinks its teeth into him and won’t let go. And when he told her the embarrassing truth about his love life—or complete lack thereof—she had been nothing but kind. She offered tips, boosted his ego with her sheer bewilderment that someone like him had never been in love, and insisted it was only a matter of time.

Eddie isn’t so sure.

Most of his time is spent combing through Wayne’s medical reports or checking in with his nurse. He calls every day. Visits three times a week, taking the long trip back to rural Indiana to be with the only real father figure he’s ever had.

His nights—except Tuesdays and Wednesdays—are spent at the bar. Sure, plenty of the regulars are hot, and a few of them are actually nice, but Eddie isn’t naïve. He doesn’t expect to show up to work one day and suddenly have the man of his dreams stroll right up to him and say—

“Hello? Are you Eddie, by any chance?”

Eddie looks up from where he’s been taking stock of the liquor and locks eyes with the most ridiculously gorgeous pair of hazel eyes he’s ever seen.

It’s like grabbing a live wire. A jolt of electricity races through him, buzzing under his skin, making his heart slam against his ribs and his stomach do an actual, literal flip.

What the fuck is happening?

“I—uhm, yeah, that’s Eddie. Me. I mean—me is Eddie. Goddammit.” He squeezes his eyes shut for half a second, mentally kicking himself. “I’m Eddie. That’s right. How can I help you?”

The guy in front of him looks like he’s this close to laughing, biting down on a full bottom lip, hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. But he holds back, tilting his head slightly before offering a warm, easy smile.

“I’m Steve. Steve Harrington? Chrissy said she’d give you a call—told you I’d be covering for her for the next six weeks.”

She had done no such thing. Eddie would remember if she had.

Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t heard from her all day. Not that they text constantly, but there’s always something—a meme, a random thought, a conversation that drags out over days. It’s Thursday now, and the last time they talked was Tuesday night, when she asked about Wayne.

His stomach twists.

“From the look on your face, she hasn’t done that.”

Eddie exhales. “Uh, no. No, she hasn’t. What happened? Why does she need someone to cover for her?”

Six weeks. That sounds serious. That sounds… bad.

Steve’s expression softens, but his voice is firm. “It’s not my place to say, I’m afraid.”

That just makes Eddie’s anxiety spike. He should appreciate that Steve is protecting Chrissy’s privacy—normally, he would—but right now, it’s just frustrating. Besides, Chrissy has never mentioned a Steve before. And he tells the guy as much.

Steve nods like he expected that. “She’s a friend of my best friend and roommate, Robin. That’s how we met. She asked me to help out, and that’s all I can tell you, man. I’m sorry.”

He does sound sorry. And Eddie does care about Chrissy, which means he needs to talk to her, not interrogate some guy she apparently trusts enough to take her place.

Steve must read something in his face because he adds, “If you want to call her, I can handle things here. Just tell me what to do.”

It sounds more like a question than an offer, like Steve isn’t sure where he stands and doesn’t want to overstep. Eddie has always had a problem with authority, with people telling him what to do. Steve doesn’t know that, but it still rubs him the wrong way for half a second—until he realizes Steve isn’t telling him anything. He’s offering.

Eddie hesitates for a beat, then exhales sharply and nods. "Yeah, okay. Thanks. Just start by restocking the bar—I’ll show you how to place an order for liquor and supplies when I get back."

Right now, he needs to hear Chrissy’s voice. Needs to know she’s okay. Everything else can wait.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out that Chrissy’s asshole of a boyfriend—ex-boyfriend now, thank fuck—had grabbed her so hard during a fight that he broke her wrist. The only good thing about it was that it had finally been the last straw for Chrissy. She kicked his sorry ass to the curb.

Eddie had hated Jason from the second he walked into the bar, all possessive grip and territorial bullshit. Throw in the holier-than-thou attitude, the obsession with “purity” and Christian values, and the way he sneered at Eddie the moment Chrissy’s back was turned? Yeah. He saw this coming from a mile away.

They talk for a few minutes, and Eddie promises to stop by her place tomorrow. He’ll bring ice cream, they’ll watch some cheesy rom-com, and he’ll do whatever it takes to cheer her up.

When he walks back into the bar, his face must be as thunderous as he feels because Steve actually winces.

“She told you what happened, huh?”

Eddie nods, grinding his teeth. “Fucking asshole. I wish I’d run him over with my van when I had the chance.”

Steve doesn’t even blink. “Amen to that. Robin’s already plotting his demise. You two should team up. I volunteered to get rid of the body, because Robin’s not exactly… athletic. Can’t dig deep holes, can’t lift heavy stuff. But she’s scary smart—probably knows some undetectable poison or something. What’s your specialty?”

Eddie hates what happened to Chrissy. Hates that she had to go through it. But hearing Steve talk like this, hearing how much her friends care? It makes him feel a little better. And the fact that he’s apparently included in this unhinged murder plot now? Yeah.

Maybe he got lucky, after all.

“I’m creative and ridiculously good at planning—years of being a Dungeon Master. No one thinks of as many scenarios as I do. I’ll cover every possibility. They’ll never catch us.”

They grin at each other, and for the first time since hearing Chrissy’s small, shaken voice, Eddie feels like himself again.

Steve grins. “Perfect. We’ll make a great team.”

And just like that, the weight on Eddie’s chest lifts a little. It’s easy with Steve, like they’ve known each other longer than just—what, an hour? He’s funny, sharp, and clearly good to the people he cares about.

And, well. It doesn’t hurt that he’s stupidly attractive.

They slip into working together without much effort. Eddie shows Steve the ropes while stealing little glances when he thinks the other man isn’t looking—at the way his fingers move deftly around the bottles, the smooth way he leans against the bar when talking to customers, the stretch of his arms when he reaches for a glass on the top shelf.

He’s a natural. Charismatic as hell, too. More than one customer lingers just a little longer when Steve serves them, and Eddie is absolutely not annoyed by that. Nope. Not at all.

“You know,” Steve says at one point, when the rush has died down, “you’re not bad at this.”

Eddie scoffs, tossing a bar rag over his shoulder. “Not bad? Please. I’m great at this.”

Steve hums, eyes twinkling. “If you say so. I guess I’ll have to stick around to see for myself.”

There’s something in his voice, something that makes heat curl in Eddie’s stomach. A challenge. A tease. A promise, maybe.

Eddie leans in, close enough to catch a hint of cologne and something unmistakably Steve. "Yeah?” he murmurs, smirking. “Guess you will.”

The air crackles between them, heavy and charged, until a customer clears their throat and pulls them back to reality.

Eddie straightens, fighting back a grin as he goes to take the order.

He has a feeling working with Steve is going to be very interesting.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out he was right—working with Steve is definitely interesting. It’s also confusing and exhilarating. And, honestly? It’s driving him insane.

Steve is everything Eddie never knew he wanted or needed. None of the guys Eddie’s ever hooked up with or tried dating were even close to being like Steve. And maybe that had been his mistake all along.

Because Steve makes him feel things he didn’t even know he could feel. He catches himself daydreaming about kissing the moles on Steve’s neck and face, wondering what it would be like to run his fingers along the smooth line of his jaw. He catches himself thinking about what he could ask Steve next, wanting to learn more and more about him. Eddie wants to make him laugh, wants to tell Steve about his day, about the last book he read, ask him what he thinks of a certain song or movie.

It’s like every little moment with Steve only deepens the curiosity, the pull. And Eddie can’t seem to stop himself from wanting more.

And yet, he can’t bring himself to take it any further than the harmless flirting they’ve been doing. Steve never seems to mind Eddie’s over-the-top flirting—calling him pet names, throwing himself at his feet dramatically, draping himself over Steve and acting like personal space is a suggestion, not a boundary.

One night, after another intense moment between them, the air crackling with something Eddie can’t quite name, he comes home, sits down, and writes it all out. He lets all these feelings he doesn’t even really understand pour onto the page. Every thought, every feeling—the longing and wonder, the joy and insanity of liking someone, wanting someone so much it’s almost physical.

A few weeks ago, he would’ve been bouncing off the walls with excitement at having written his first love song.

Now? He has a hard time bringing himself to care, because all he wants is to tell Steve these things. To have the courage to look into those beloved hazel eyes and make Steve understand the depth of what Eddie feels for him.

Now, all Eddie wants is to take Steve home and never let him go.

That’s why he’s struggling to feel as joyous as he should when Chrissy tells him she’ll be back next week.

Eddie’s wiping down the bar when Steve steps up, leaning against it with a casual ease that makes Eddie’s heart skip, like it always does when Steve’s close.

“Hey,” Steve says, a little more softly than usual. “You heard from Chrissy?”

Eddie pauses, glancing up, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes. “Yeah. She’s coming back next week. Gonna be back at the bar on Monday.”

“Ah, that’s great,” Steve says with a smile, but there’s something in his tone that doesn’t quite match the words.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “You don’t seem so excited.”

Steve shrugs, the movement casual but his gaze fixed on Eddie now. “I mean, I am. I’m glad she’s doing better. Just… I don’t know. Things’ve been good here, you know?”

Eddie’s pulse quickens, his mind racing. He knows exactly what Steve means. Things have been good. They’ve been intense—charged, even. And now, with Chrissy coming back, it feels like a door he’s been carefully edging toward might slam shut.

“Yeah, I get that,” Eddie says, trying to sound casual even though his throat feels tight. “It’s been… nice, having you here.”

Steve’s lips twitch into a smile, a little teasing. “Nice, huh? Just nice?”

Eddie meets his gaze then, the air between them thick with unspoken words. “Yeah. More than nice. I—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

Steve doesn’t let it slide. His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans in, his voice lowering. “No, come on. What were you gonna say?”

Eddie hesitates, heart pounding. He wants to say so much, but the weight of it is too much. Instead, he grabs a glass, fills it with water, and hands it to Steve, forcing a smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

But Steve isn’t buying it. He takes the glass, but his eyes stay locked on Eddie. “It does matter. You matter, Eddie.”

There’s a long silence, and Eddie feels like he’s about to drown in it. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

“Hey,” Steve says, his voice softer now, “don’t worry about it. I get it. Chrissy’s your friend.”

Eddie nods, but it doesn’t feel like he’s actually hearing him. He’s still stuck on the fact that the connection between them has shifted somehow. And now, Chrissy coming back just feels like the beginning of the end of whatever this is.

But all Steve does is give him that reassuring smile, and for a moment, it feels like maybe he’s not as worried about it as Eddie is. Maybe.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Eddie murmurs, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

Steve’s expression softens. “Me too, man.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

On Sunday, Eddie gets a visit from Chrissy. He’s just in his pajama bottoms, pouring himself a cup of coffee when the doorbell rings.

“Chris! What are you doing here?”

She steps into his flat, pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek as she brushes past him. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just surprised to have you drop by like that. I’m always happy to see you, you know that.”

He follows her into the flat, where she’s already made herself at home at the kitchen island, pouring herself a cup as well.

“Yes, I know, I was just teasing you. I wanted to drop by to see how you’re doing.”

“You’ll see me tomorrow at work.” He tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but he probably doesn’t succeed. He really needs to work on his poker face.

Chrissy eyes him like she can see right through him, like maybe she’s already read his mind. Eddie knows better than to think she hasn’t. She’s sharp like that.

“Yeah, and something tells me you’re not doing so great because of that.”

That’s his girl—blunt and straight to the point. Eddie considers brushing it off, pretending he has no idea what she’s talking about, but he knows better. She deserves his honesty.

“No. I’m not really. Not because I don’t want you back,” he adds quickly, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “I missed you, Chris. Like crazy. You’re one of my best friends, and I’m so happy to have you back.”

She nods, her small hand curling over his in a comforting gesture. “But you don’t want Steve to go.”

“How—”

Her smile is soft and amused, like they’re in on some private joke together. “You’ve been talking about nothing but him for the past few weeks, Eds. I’ve never seen you take to anyone so fast. It took me months to get you to talk to me about anything but work. And you and Steve are sending each other memes and texts all day.”

Then, with a mischievous gleam in her eye, she adds, “Besides, you should see your face when you talk about him. I’m just waiting for you to start twirling your hair or kicking your feet.”

“Shut up! I’m not doing that.”

“Might as well be, with the way you’re acting. You like him.” She singsongs.

Burying his face in his hands, Eddie groans dramatically. “God, I hate you.”

Chrissy pulls his hands away, her fingers warm as she gently makes him look at her. Her face is a picture of seriousness, though a hint of a smile still lingers at the corner of her lips. “No, you don’t. You just know I’m right. I told you it was only a matter of time until you fell for someone. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Eddie glares at her, but there’s no real heat behind it. He stays quiet, his eyes darting around the room like he’s searching for an escape. When he doesn’t say anything, she raises her brows, giving him that ‘I knew it’ look. “See? Now you can write your love song!”

He mutters something under his breath, too low for her to hear.

“What was that?”

“I said... I already did,” Eddie says, a little sheepish, but trying to keep his cool. “It’s actually pretty good, I think. One of my best.”

Chrissy’s eyes light up, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Eddie, that’s awesome!”

Eddie shrugs, though his expression is far from pleased. “Yeah, but it’s not enough. He’s still leaving after tonight, and then... I’ll never see him again.”

Chrissy waves a hand like she’s brushing off a bad thought. “That’s such a load of crap, and you know it. We can totally visit him and Robin. I’ll invite them over! You’ll still get to hang out.”

Eddie sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe, but it’s not the same. I won’t see him every day, won’t have an excuse to talk to him, flirt with him. We’ll just be... acquaintances.”

Chrissy taps her chin, looking like she’s piecing things together in that genius way of hers. “Okay, but... have you ever thought about just telling him?”

“Stop saying that like it’s easy,” Eddie demands. Okay, whines. He’s aware he’s acting like a petulant child instead of a grown-ass 26-year-old, but honestly? He doesn’t care. This shit sucks. No wonder he never bothered with it before—falling for someone is exhausting.

“It could be,” Chrissy says with that maddening calm of hers, like she’s solving a simple math problem instead of his entire emotional crisis.

Eddie glares. “Oh yeah? How do you figure?”

“Well,” she says, taking a casual sip of her coffee like she’s not about to drop a bombshell, “it’s not like Steve isn’t talking about you just as much.”

“He is?” Eddie all but shrieks, and Chrissy winces at the sheer volume. He claps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. He is?” he repeats, softer this time, though he still sounds way too giddy to play it cool.

Chrissy just laughs at him. “Yes, Edward. Steve talks about you, too. Or so I heard from Robin. And the few times we talked, he asked me questions about you.”

Eddie’s heart picks up speed, slamming against his ribs like it’s trying to break free. That’s something, right?

“What did he ask?” he presses, leaning forward like Chrissy is holding onto state secrets rather than just casual conversation.

She taps her chin, pretending to think it over. “Oh, just normal stuff. How long I’ve known you, what you did before coming to Chicago… if you’re single.”

Eddie freezes. The butterflies in his stomach go feral.

But then—like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head—another thought creeps in.

“Then why didn’t he make a move?” he asks, deflating just as quickly as he puffed up.

Chrissy just raises an unimpressed brow. “Why didn’t you?”

Fair.

“Because I’ve never dated anyone before,” Eddie admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Never felt like this for anyone before. I have no idea what I’m doing. I highly doubt Steve has been single all his life.”

Chrissy opens her mouth, then hesitates, like she’s conceding his point. Normally, Eddie loves to be right, but this time? He wants to be wrong. Wants Steve’s questions to mean something.

“I see your point, okay,” she finally says, then adds, “but maybe there’s something in Steve’s past that makes him cautious too. Ever think of that?”

Eddie frowns. “Like what?”

Chrissy’s face softens. “It’s not my place to say,” she says gently. “Let’s just say… love can hurt. And if you’ve been burned before, it makes you scared to touch the stove again.”

Eddie’s chest tightens, both at the thought of Steve getting hurt and at the way Chrissy’s voice dips—because she’s speaking from experience, too. Without thinking, he reaches for her, pulling her into a tight hug. Her head tucks neatly under his chin, her small frame warm against him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” he murmurs. “You deserved better.”

She nods against his chest. “Yeah. And I’ll get over it. Just need some time. Just like Steve, probably. Maybe he’s not sure if he’s ready to let someone in again, you know?”

Eddie does know. Letting someone in after you've experienced the pain of losing someone, of mourning the presence someone once had in your life, it's scary as hell.

But maybe… just maybe… it’s worth the risk.

“I think I have an idea,” he says, and really hopes he’ll be brave enough to follow through.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their last shift together goes by way too fast.

It’s weird. Like Eddie’s waiting for something to happen, anything. He doesn’t know what exactly—except that’s a lie. He does know.

He wants Steve to kiss him. Wants Steve to grab him, lift him onto the bar top, step between his legs, and cradle his face in those steady hands before finally—finally—giving him a first kiss that means something.

More than that, he wants Steve to tell him. That Eddie’s not crazy, not alone in this. That he feels it too—this maddening, electric pull that makes Eddie’s knees weak, makes his stomach flip, makes his heart hammer against his ribs like it’s trying to escape.

Steve does none of those things.

Instead, they pour drinks, chat with the regulars, do their jobs. And when the night winds down—when the last stool is flipped onto the tables, the floors are swept, and Eddie flicks off the lights—they step outside and fall into each other’s arms without a single word.

They hold on for far longer than what anyone would call normal.

Fuck normal, Eddie thinks, tightening his grip around Steve’s solid frame. Normal never made me feel like this.

Steve exhales against his neck, his voice quiet but soaked in something Eddie can’t name. “I’ll miss this,” he murmurs. “I’ll miss you.”

Say it, Eddie begs in his head. Please. Just say you feel this too.

But Steve doesn’t.

Eddie wishes that he were brave, wishes that he could bridge the metaphorical gap between the two of them by simply taking a leap of faith.

But he doesn’t.

So they pull away, exchanging promises to stay in touch, and Eddie walks away feeling like he just lost something he never even had.

Two weeks later, Eddie finds himself back at The Upside Down, waiting for Chrissy. But this time, he’s not behind the bar, taking stock of liquor bottles or wiping down counters.

He’s behind the curtain of the small stage they built at the far end of the bar, fidgeting with the strap of his guitar, his heart hammering and his hands shaking. The stage usually belongs to local bands on the weekends, filling the space with music that draws in bigger crowds.

But today is Monday. And behind the bar—his bar—is Steve, restocking the cabinets, just like he did the first time he stepped in to cover for Chrissy. Full circle, Eddie thinks, watching from the shadows.

Except this time, Steve is covering for Eddie.

Steve thinks Eddie had to leave for an emergency, an excuse Chrissy fed him about needing to see his uncle. Eddie isn’t exactly proud of using Wayne’s health as a pretext to lure Steve here under false pretenses. But what’s the saying?

All’s fair in love and war.

And if Eddie is going to do something about this mess of feelings, he’s going to do it in the way he knows best.

Through music.

“We’re ready,” Chrissy whispers, squeezing his arm. “Bar’s surprisingly full for a Monday, so don’t be nervous. The only thing that matters is getting your man.”

Eddie salutes her with a grin that’s only half forced. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Then, with a deep breath, he settles onto the small stool at center stage, guitar resting on his knee. The curtain pulls back, and suddenly, he’s bathed in the warm glow of the stage lights, staring out at the sea of faces in front of him.

But there’s only one face that matters.

His eyes find Steve instantly, standing behind the bar, frozen mid-motion with a bottle in his hand, wide-eyed and staring like he’s just had the wind knocked out of him.

Eddie taps the mic, wincing at the light thump it makes through the speakers. “Is this thing on? Yeah, sounds like it.” He clears his throat, nerves tightening in his chest. Here goes nothing.

“Hi, everybody. Some of you might know me as the guy who pours your drinks and listens to your problems, but tonight, I’m here as a humble musician playing a song.” His fingers flex around the neck of his guitar as he exhales. “A special song for a special someone.”

A ripple of murmurs runs through the crowd, but Eddie barely hears it. His pulse is pounding too loud in his ears.

“I ask you to be kind because—well, this is a love song. And I’ve never done that before.” He huffs a breathless laugh. “Written a love song, I mean. Or been in love.” His fingers tighten on the frets, his throat thick with something unnamed. “But then I met someone who changed all of that. Someone who makes me laugh even when I don’t want to. Who makes me want to rip my hair out with how much I want to touch and hold them.”

A beat of silence. His heart feels like it’s about to break his ribs.

“Someone who is kind and brave and quick-witted. A secret nerd.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “And the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

The room feels impossibly still. Eddie can feel Steve’s eyes on him now, burning, waiting. But he doesn’t dare look. If he meets those hazel eyes, he’s not sure he’ll make it through this without forgetting how to breathe.

He takes another shaky inhale, tilts his chin toward the mic. “So, yeah. Please be kind, because this is all new to me.”

And then—he plays.

All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right I'm tripping on words You've got my head spinning I don't know where to go from here 'Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do Nothing to prove And it's you and me and all other people And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you

The last note fades into the air, leaving the bar in a thick, charged silence. For a split second, Eddie’s convinced he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life. His fingers hover over the strings, his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat.

And then—

The bar erupts into applause.

Someone calls his name, and he thinks he hears Chrissy cheer Bravo but Eddie barely registers it because his brain is still trying to catch up.

But then he sees him.

Steve.

Still standing behind the bar, both hands braced against the counter like he needs the support. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes wide and shining in the dim lighting. And then Steve runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head in what looks like pure disbelief, and laughs.

Not a mean laugh. Not a nervous one. A stunned, overwhelmed, delighted kind of laugh.

Eddie barely has time to put his guitar down before Steve moves.

He pushes past the bar, past the regulars clapping him on the back, eyes locked onto Eddie like there’s no one else in the damn room. Eddie stands frozen on stage, unsure what’s about to happen but aching for whatever it is.

And then Steve’s there, grabbing Eddie’s face in his hands and kissing him.

It’s not a shy, hesitant kiss. It’s everything. Warm, firm, desperate. Steve’s lips press against Eddie’s like he’s making up for lost time, and Eddie melts into it without hesitation, gripping Steve’s waist like he’s afraid he’ll disappear.

The bar goes wild.

Someone catcalls. Eddie hears Chrissy’s delighted I knew it! but all of it is background noise to the way Steve feels against him, the way his fingers tighten in Eddie’s hair, the way he lingers even as they finally—reluctantly—pull apart just enough to breathe.

Steve's forehead presses against Eddie's, his voice barely a whisper. "Please tell me that song was for me. Otherwise this is going to get awkward very quickly."

Eddie's laugh is joyous, relief palpable in every tone. "Of course. Who else would it be about?"

"I don't know, I've seen the looks you give Herbert," Steve grins, his eyebrows wagging. God, Eddie loves him.

Eddie kisses him again. "No, unfortunately my heart is set on you. Does your reaction to my song mean you feel the same?"

“You idiot,” Steve murmurs, but he’s smiling. Grinning. “You really think you’re the only one who feels this?”

Eddie exhales a laugh, overwhelmed and dizzy and so stupidly happy he can’t stand it. “I dunno,” he rasps. “You never said anything.”

Steve huffs, nudging their noses together. “Neither did you.”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, well. I wrote a song instead.”

Steve shakes his head, laughing again, and kisses him once more—just because he can.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #eddie x steve #stranger things fanfiction #steddielovemonth #my writing

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captain-huggy-bear · 3 days ago

Text

The Giggles

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI because making out and Kells getting a lil' hot and bothered...maybe a lot hot and bothered

Summary: You have your first ever kiss with Clayton and you can't stop giggling, it's fucking adorable.

Notes: The first time I ever kissed a guy (at 24) I kept giggling (did that every time he kissed me for at least a month) and I think Kells would find it fucking endearing. So that's the inspo for this.

I'm a sucker for late bloomer/inexperienced reader shit cause that be me so have this little brain rot.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You have no idea what the fuck you are doing. It's so stupid that you've made it this far in life, your 20s, without so much as a kiss and now you're sat in Clayton Keller's car and he's looking at you like that and you're certain he's going to kiss you and you have no idea what you are doing or what you're supposed to do.

It's late, near midnight but neither of you had wanted the date to end and Clayton had suggested you go to a lookout point, sit in his car and talk for as long as you wanted. All on your terms he said, when you wanted to leave he'd take you straight back home. He's been nothing but a gentleman, it makes sitting there with him like that, alone, feel safe, comfortable.

Turns out the lookout point had a great view of the city and the stars. Turns out sitting in a car talking to Clayton Keller makes you never want to go home. There's something about the atmosphere inside the car that has you melting under his attention; the way the interior of the car is lit solely by a few internal lights that give off a cool blue light, how Clayton had put the heating on the moment he saw you shivering, heated seats turned on for added measure, his hand reaching out to rub warmth into your leg until the car warmed itself, how he moved both your seats until your headrests were inline, the fact the music was playing, but so low that it removed the awkwardness of silence while still allowing you two to be in your own bubble.

You were both facing each other in your seats, you leaning your cheek into the leather of the seat, watching him from underneath your eyelashes as he finished telling you about a story from practice. Something about the new pup Archie being brought out onto the ice and scrambling about, all four legs splaying wide as he struggled to grip the ice properly.

He's beautiful, you knew this when he first asked you to go out, but it's even more clear like this when he's smiling wide, teeth on show, dimples deepening as he laughs at the memory. You can't help the way you look at him and he can't help that he notices.

You're so fucking pretty, the way you lean your cheek against his car seat, how you tuck your legs underneath you like you're both sat in his house, on his couch. You wore the prettiest dress to the date and he's been almost incapable of ungluing his eyes from you all night, and now is no exception. In the dim lights of his car you look so fucking soft, sweet, looking up at him from underneath your lashes like he's the most interesting thing in the world.

You blink slow at him as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, but a silence that's no less filled with tension. You can feel it, the buzz in the air that would normally be your cue to say something that ruins it, something that cuts the tension. The buzz in the air that has you swallowing nervously because his blue eyes keep dipping down to your lips, tracing them like he doesn't want to forget what they look like, like he wants a taste of you.

You try not to jump when he moves slowly, coming to lean into your space, his arm resting over the back of your seat until he's so close you can count the few freckles on his skin, and smell the expensive cologne he's wearing. Your eyes aren't sure where to look; his eyes, his lips, the way his Adam's apples bobs in his throat, that chain of his that peeks out from beneath his dress shirt.

Clay's eyes dart from your own to your lips and back again, his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip, a motion you instinctively copy. The air feels thick, heavy and there's a roiling buzz in your gut, a giddy sensation so strong you're not sure what to do with it, not sure how to relieve it or cope with it.

"Can I kiss you?"

You can't help it, the giggle slips out without your permission, a hand coming up to cover your lips as look at him all wide eyed and sweet. It's fucking adorable and he can't help the way he smirks at you, eyes becoming more heavily lidded because fuck he wants to kiss you and swallow that giggle in his mouth.

"Can I kiss you? Please, baby?" He asks again, watching the warmth flood your cheeks, the way your eyelashes flutter against the apples of them like the wings of a dove and you lower your hand, lip bitten between your teeth. You're the picture of innocent seduction and it floors him further because you have no idea what you're doing to him.

"...Yes..." Your voice is so so quiet, shy like speaking too loudly might ruin it, might break this moment.

Clayton's free hand reaches out for your cheek, fingers brushing across the warm skin with a reverence that is better suited for worship in a church than the interior of a car at 11:45pm on a Friday night. The nerves grow in your stomach as his fingers trail down, thumb pulling your lip free from between your teeth.

You have to swallow another giggle of nerves as his hand reaches your throat, lightly holding your neck, thumb brushing underneath your jaw in a soothing back and forth that has your eyelids fluttering. He's slow as he leans in, gives you time to pull away at any second, but you don't. For once in your life you stay put in this moment, in this feeling.

His lips are warm against yours, softer than you expected from a hockey player. Bottom lip plush as he captures your own between his lips, you have no idea what you're doing, but you trust your gut, follow his lead, moving your lips against his in a rhythm that you think is passable. Your hand coming up to tangle in the strands of hair at the base of his neck.

When he pulls back, he leaves little distance between you, just enough to breathe, your noses brushing. It's the overwhelming giddy feeling that surges in your stomach, in your blood that has you giggling again, face pressing into his neck to hide it, giggling like a little girl at your first kiss.

"Did you just laugh?" He's not mad, no, he can't be. Not at the cute little giggle that keeps escaping as your feet curl under you, like his kiss has given you a burst of undiluted energy. You're hiding your face into his neck, smile growing against his skin and it makes Clay's own begin, corners starting to turn up, teeth starting to peek out. His hand on your throat flexes, not constricting, just a reminder it's there, that he moved with you, his ring cool against your skin.

"I'm sorry...I don't know what I'm doing..." His smiles grow wider, pressing his face into your hair, nose nuzzling just besides your ear like this isn't the first time you've kissed, like you do this all the time.

"Have you never kissed someone before, baby?" He expects you to say you have, that it's just been a while but you don't, pulling back to look at him, eyes wide and lip back between your teeth like it's found a home there.

"I'm sorry...I...no..." and shit, if he doesn't want to puff up a little at that, that he's the first guy that ever got to kiss you, that's ever got to taste you. That he's the first guy you decided was good enough to get this close to you. That he gets to show you how a kiss should be, how you should be treated...fuck...

"Hey, don't be sorry, just tell me...the giggles are good right?" He smirks at you even as he reassures you because he doesn't want you shying away from him, doesn't want you thinking he has a single problem with how inexperienced you are, cause fuck he wants to show you everything.

You nod shyly, a confirmation that your giggle fits are nothing if not positive, an expression of all the unusual feelings, the giddy rush that fills your body every time he touches you.

"C'mere then, sweet girl," You follow his lead when he grips your hips, leading you to move across the centre console until you're straddling his lap, knees pressing into the warm leather on either side of his thighs, arms over his shoulders, stomach buzzing with nerves as you look down at him.

Clay's hand tugs the skirt of your dress down for you, eyes staying on yours, not daring to peak, covering you properly like a gentleman before you settle comfortably on his lap. His hands smooth over your thighs. His hands so large they're twice the size of yours.

"'m gonna kiss you again, okay?" It's whispered almost on your lips, his hand trailing up slowly, oh so slowly from your thigh, over your hip and ribs, almost ticklish in its course of travel, until it comes to rest back around your throat like it belongs there. Flexing just slightly so you can feel how his whole hand covers your throat, like it was made for the space. The way his ring touches your skin, cool metal against the hammering pulse at your neck, how his fingers have you, firm, but gentle in their grasp, how his bracelets tickle the hollow of your throat.

He can feel your giggle against his palm, the way your throat contracts and relaxes under his hand as you unleash it again, like you can't stop it. The most perfect fucking sound he's ever heard. The giggle you let out doesn't stop him this time, nor the way your eyelashes flutter nervously. He gets it now. You're nervous, you're giddy, your body full of those unknown feelings, things you're not used to, things he's making you feel for the first time.

Clayton's breath is warm across your lips as he hovers just over them for a second before slating his mouth back against yours. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, pulling slightly, tugging until you open up all hesitant and sweet because you had no idea what you're doing even as you giggle and sigh into his mouth, into the taste of the tiramisu he had for dessert.

You gasp at the feeling of his tongue against yours, the way he delves into you hungry, desirous but slow, not rushing as his free hand tangles in your hair, just tugging slightly at the roots. Enough that it sends a warmth through you, every inch of you tingling with a want you've never felt directed at someone before.

One hand of yours curls into his hair, freshly done nails scratching against his scalp in a way that has him groaning low in his throat, the feeling made better by the fact you don't even realise how good you are. Your other hand curling over his shoulder, nails biting into the back of his dress shirt, he wants you to leave a mark, a reminder of this moment, that he's the first man to make you feel like this. That he's the first man to have you falling apart, trembling in his lap like a simple kiss is too much.

The way he kisses you leaves you breathless, head dizzy, teeth clanking together, tongue licking into your mouth like you're the best thing he's ever tasted and you might just be. The hand at your throat tightens, not enough to constrict anything, but just enough to make your head buzz a little, to make you whimper into his mouth like this is all too much, this, something people do everyday, is too much.

You're scrabbling to find purchase on him, holding him close, tight like he's an anchor in rough storm. Every tug of his hair, every dig of your nails into his shoulder, sends tingles down his spine and he has to remind himself this is new for you. This is enough for tonight. Reminds himself not scare you off, no matter how badly he wants to flatten the car seats and climb over top of you, no matter how badly he's straining against his dress pants or how badly he wants to taste you right now. This enough.

When he releases your lips you gasp in a breath like you've been underwater, giggle quickly taking over, loud and bright and so fucking lovely. Uncontrollable as you giggle into his shoulder and he loves it, he loves the warmth of your cheeks, the brightness of your giddy smile, the way you burrow against him in your joy.

He hopes you never lose it. Hopes you giggle every single time he kisses you until the day he dies because there is nothing more beautiful than the naked, raw expression of how he makes you feel. The girlish delight at a man, a guy, you like kissing you for the first time, for the second time, maybe forever?

"Fuck, you're so beautiful..." The way he looks down at you as you're giggling on his shoulder makes you stop, breath non-existent because god, how can he look at you like that with eyes like that an not expect you to fall in love. "So pretty..."

He can't help it, dipping back down to capture your lips because fuck you're gorgeous and pliable and warm. You taste like the cocktail you drank at dinner, a little bit fruity and a little bit alcoholic.

It takes everything in Clayton to pull away. Everything in him to let your lips go, to not drag you to the backseat and spread your thighs for him, but he knows that's too much too soon, knows you need easing in if a kiss makes you have a giggle fit.

His nose nuzzles against yours, smirk firmly in place because you're already trying to hold back another giggle and he just can't help how proud it makes him, to know he's brought you to that, made you a giddy mess in his lap.

"Should probably get you home, 's getting late, baby..."

You want to whine, want to complain, ask to stay here all night but you can feel how hard he is underneath your ass and you know...you know this is his way of being a gentleman, his way of going slow. You know if you ask to stay it'll go further than you're ready for, so you nod instead and let him guide you back to your seat.

You let him fix the skirt of your dress again, like a good boy, covering you up. You let him buckle your seatbelt and don't comment when his fingers linger over your cleavage or pinch your hip lightly.

The whole ride back to your house his hand is on your thigh, maybe a little higher than normal, maybe slipping just slightly under the hem of your dress, pressing circles into your inner thigh in a way that makes your blood heat, makes your cunt tingle because fuck...

You consider it. Consider asking him to come inside, but you can't. Not yet. Still you let him walk you to your front door, let him help you up your steps as if you aren't perfectly capable and when you turn to face him under your porch light, ring doorbell camera capturing the moment, you don't resist when he pushes you lightly into the side of your house. You don't protest when his hands barricade either side of your head, leaning over you until you're in your own little cocoon called Clayton Keller.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Fuck, you've never had a guy want to see you so soon, but then you've never had a guy like Clayton Keller. Tonight's full of firsts.

"Yes, please."

It's the sweet little please that you tack on the end that has him groaning, head falling forward, forehead pressing against your own because you're so fucking sweet that he wants to absolutely ruin you.

The lips slant against yours this time in a bruising fashion, desperate, hungry, still he's careful, a hand cushioning your head as it bumps back against the side of your house, a hand at your throat tilting your head back like it'll help him devour you further.

The way he rips his lips from yours to breathe is almost feral, panting over you like he might eat you alive and you consider it, consider letting him, consider unlocking your front door and dragging him in by the hand, consider how it might be to tug at his hair while he kisses down your neck...but you don't.

"Fuck, sweet girl, you're gonna be the death of me, y'know that?"

You can only giggle again, face pressed back into his chest like you might be able to hide from him there and like that he's a goner. He's pretty sure you've dug his heart out from his chest and popped it into your pocket.

His hands, so fucking large one of them could cover your face, tilt your head back gently and away from his chest until you're looking at him again, meeting his baby blues as he smiles down at you all soft and gentle, "Tomorrow, 6pm, I'll pick up, okay?"

"Okay..."

He can't really resist it, the last kiss he presses to your lips, short, sweet but no less delightful than every taste of your lips he's had tonight. "G'night, baby."

"Night, Clay..."

He watches you unlock your door, waits until you wave goodnight, until you're inside, door closed and he hears the distinctive click and turn of the lock before he all but skips down the steps of your porch.

He's practically dancing to his car cause fuck, that's his future wife right there and he's determined to make you his by the end of the month.

#huggy bear writes #clayton keller x reader #clayton keller #clayton keller/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #18+ mdni

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cupidbedsy · 3 days ago

Note

hi!! congrats on 1k, i love your writing so much 🤍

could i request the sunny sunflower with luke, with the prompt "i think about you a lot." "aw, really?" [panicking] "no." "oh." i was thinking frat!luke who's usually confident but there's one girl he's awkward around, but if you feel it fits better elsewhere, i don't mind :))

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked sunny sunflower 🌻 !

warnings: none... i think !

word count: 840

florist cupid: if i'm being honest, yes i am writing these out of order but my brain is being very picky today. FRAT!LUKE STFU

from the moment you bumped into him walking through campus, you've been drawn to luke hughes. it was no secret that everything about him captivated you, from his messy curls all the way down to his dirty sneakers.

and it was also no secret that he was entranced with you since the moment the two of you ran into each other, the way your hair fell around your face, the way you basically had to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you blushed easily from whatever he said, you were his... or least, he was going to make you his.

from there on out, you had dragged your friends to many frat parties in hopes you would see him again, and a lot of the times you did. usually, he'd be talking to a group of guys, hand clutching the red solo cup, flicking his eyes to a girl who had latched onto him.

but he also almost always found you, walking over to pull you into a conversation where most of it was him flirting with you, saying the most random things that got you to blush.

that was the extent of your relationship with the boy, however; endless flirting, sporadic interactions, fleeting glances, everything but what the two of you wanted.

standing in the corner of the party, you tried to spot one of your friends but to your luck, none of them were within sight. after many parties you had gone to, you should've been used to them and mingling with some of the other people there, but you couldn't.

you had already spent an hour and a half in the frat house, so maybe it wasn't such a bad thing if you left.

you mentally prepared yourself to make your way through the crowd, phone held tightly in your grip as you bee-lined it to the door. but just as you were approaching the kitchen, almost to the door, a figure cut in front of you causing you to stop abruptly and look up at them.

"hey pretty girl."

pink covered your chinks, staring up at luke, "hi."

"leaving so soon?"

"i've been here for a while actually, but i'm getting tired."

"oh." luke frowned ever so slightly, and if you weren't attuned to every facial expression of his, you would have thought he was indifferent about your departure.

you sighed softly, trying to think of a way to prolong your exchange. it took all of one minute for an idea to spring into your mind, a shy smile growing on your face, "i was gonna go get some ice cream, if you want to come with. not like you have to! i was just wondering-"

"sure. let's go." you stood shocked at his quick response, blinking, opening, and closing your mouth quickly.

you were in such a state of shock that you hadn't noticed him walking towards the door until he turned back and raised an eyebrow, "you coming?"

"right. yeah."

you followed after him, fidgeting with your hands as the two of you walked down to his car, giving him a grateful smile as he opened the door for you.

the drive to the ice cream shop was relatively silent, save for the music that was playing through the radio.

you couldn't help stealing glances over at him, taking in his appearance; the rolled-up shirt sleeves of his button-down shirt resting just below his elbows, the top buttons were undone, a few bracelets covering his right wrist, his hair damp and messy but the curls were still mostly intact, peaking out from underneath his backward baseball cap.

if he noticed you staring at him, he didn't say, continuing to drive with one hand on the wheel and the other resting in his lap. his shorts rid up from how he was sitting, man-spreading as much as possible, exposing his thighs that made your mind go blank.

the two of you arrived at the ice cream shop two minutes later, hopping out of his truck and walking towards the building, luke opening the door for you.

"what do you want?"

you blinked up at him, telling him what you wanted and he stepped forward, ordering it for you before paying at the other end.

he led you outside, itching to reach over and hold your hand but he didn't just barely able to keep the thought to himself. you sat down on one side of the picnic table, him on the other, as the two of you ate your ice cream.

it was silent for the first few minutes before you gained the courage to say something, "i think about you a lot."

a smirk covered his face, doing nothing to hide the internal panic he was experiencing, "aw, really?"

"no." you licked your ice cream, training your eyes to the table in order not to laugh at his fallen expression.

"oh."

finally, you looked up at him, giggling at the pout on his face.

"luke."

"hm?"

"i was kidding."

"oh."

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

#. ˚◞ ✿〚 cupid's floral shop 〛#˚ ༘♡〚 cupids writing 〛ₓ｡#˚｡⋆〚 blurbs 〛#˚｡⋆〚 luke hughes 〛#luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader #𝜗𝜚 into you au !#𝜗𝜚 luke and y/n !

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moe-broey · 2 days ago

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Reposting this one on its own bc. It means So Much To Me. It means EVERYTHING TO ME.

#fire emblem #feh #i kinda already said it but the body language here DOES drive me insane. like. oooughhf #also like you give me an inch i'm taking a mile. when it comes to askr family.#LIKE how much physical affection do you think was normal for them? how much seemed genuine #and how much seemed like a social ritual? but the performance of something doesn't always negate Real Feelings in there #also sorry i have been playing w SOMETHING in the way back of my mind.#specific alfonseisms where like. where the hell did you pick that up from. you extremely standoffish emotionally constipated man.#like. sharena clearly in every way takes after henriette the most. both naturally AND on purpose #but. what if... what if.... alfonse growing up Did pick up a few henrietteisms. he's shaped to be like gustav for sure #but for my own nefarious purposes. the idea that alfonse has this extremely doting side to him.#LIKE for the record this is just me Saying Things having feelings and less about what's portrayed here LMFAO #like i really should be making a separate post about it. but. these are thoughts i have a lot of difficulty #putting into words. so. tag ramble. and the art that prompted it. ect.#fe henriette #fe alfonse #sharena #MY SWEETIE PEES....#official work #fe kiran #fe anna #SORRY I GOT LOST IN THE SAUCE

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midnight-mourning · 2 days ago

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Roses are Red

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 2💘💘

I was feeling, something, when I wrote this, and by that i mean lots of flirting and such ajsldkfjklsjdf

Prompt: Gardeners Sun and Moon preparing a special bunch of roses for their dear Y/N and hiding an engagement ring in a single special rose. Y/N happily saying yes and giving the boys a smooch!

Word Count: 2403

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

You stand by the kitchen door, hand on your hip and brow raised.

"This again?" You ask the moon-themed bot in front of you, as he leans one elbow on the counter. Awkwardly, mind you, with his height.

He shrugs, despite very clearly blocking the door to outside. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Sweet."

You cross your arms, nodding to behind him. "Okay, then may I get past you to go outside?"

"Why bother?" He tsks. "Dreadful weather today, wouldn't you rather stay inside?"

You wrinkle your nose. "No. I think it's a lovely morning actually, based on how sunny it is, and the nice breeze coming in through the window. I'd like to read my book on the swing."

You'd gotten up extra early for exactly this reason. You were hoping if you woke up just a bit sooner, you could sneak out and enjoy the garden as you'd so been hoping to. It was a bit frustrating that you had to put it that way. 'Sneaking out' of your own home. But that's what it had come to at this point.

Loved them as you did, but your gardeners had been exceedingly... difficult over the course of the last month or so. Despite the spring months finally being upon you, the prime time to truly enjoy the garden and appreciate their hard work, you'd been banned from the space entirely.

Keep in mind, they were always bashful when it came to their work, and would sometimes not let you see their handiwork in the early days of spring since it wasn't 'complete' until all the flowers bloomed. This was different however, as you hadn't been barred from seeing the castle gardens just mere yards from your residence, nor the plants being tended to in the greenhouse.

No, it was specifically what they were working on in your garden—the walls far too high for you to peek over, unfortunately—where the source of your woes lied. Apparently. They were being incredibly secretive about the whole affair, going so far as to deny outright that you were banned from your own space.

Or in this case, making excuses.

"Ah, but the weather could change at any time. Surely you'd rather not take the risk and spend your time doing something else?"

You lean back on the kitchen counter. "Like?"

"Reading your book inside, of course." Moon nods, straightening and walking over to you. "Even better, you can read it to me, out on the parlor couch, perhaps. I could hold you, or better yet, you could hold me. I've a terrible crink in my neck that only resting in your lap can resolve I fear. What do you say?"

You tilt your chin up as he now stands in front of you, towering over you even when he sets his hands on the counter on either side of you. Not so subtly blocking you in.

You hum. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Sun can handle himself for a bit, and really I think I've more than earned a morning's rest." He leans down so your faces are only a few inches apart. "You wouldn't deny your poor Beloved a break, Star. Right?"

You huff, though the temptation to take him up on his offer—and more—was at an all time high. "Beloved is a bit of a stretch at the moment."

"Is it now—" Just as the gap was about to close between you, Moon is gone. He makes a strangled noise of surprise as he's yanked back by a half-gloved yellow hand.

Sun releases him after a moment, cheery as can be. "More than earned a morning's rest, hm? Last I recall you didn't spend six hours potting pansies without a break, did you?"

Moon grumbles, but doesn't retaliate further than that.

Before you can say anything, Sun turns to you, seeming to know what you were going to say. "The garden is off limits for the time being, Sunbeam. I might suggest the castle grounds for a good location instead. Once we've finished up here this morning I'd be happy to join you. I'll even bring lunch if you'd like." He finally finishes putting on his glove, adjusting his work apron.

"And just where do I fit into that scenario?" His counterpart asks, searching around for his own outerwear.

Sun's grin widens further, eyes upturned crescents. "Why, you'll be busy trimming the hedges that you've been putting off all week, of course."

"That all sounds lovely, though I do feel bad for Moon." You step closer to the sunny animatronic, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. "But I do have to press you on the reason for why I can't access part of my own home. Which you live in, mind you."

He sadly doesn't buy into your scheme, hand cupping your cheek as his rays click. "You'll find out soon enough. No need to go spoiling the surprise at this time. Go enjoy your morning, Love." He presses a kiss to your forehead and you scoff lightly, despite the heat rising to your cheeks.

"Fine. But no more putting mud on the windows, while I'm gone. Makes me feel like I'm living in a cave." You hadn't expected them to go to such lengths, though knowing them you weren't surprised either.

"No promises~"

Later on in the day you do in fact, enjoy a picnic with Sun, Moon nearby as he begrudgingly trims hedges. Though, another week goes by, and you still can't enter the garden. Not to mention, the flirty banter you typically so easily exchange has dropped to practically nothing.

Your advances are avoided, to the point you can hardly even get a goodnight or good morning kiss. Which, given that you were used to being overwhelmed with affection, being underwhelmed is, incredibly deflating. So, you decide to change your tactic.

You wait until one of them is alone, in this case Sun, to strike. While he may act very blunt and avoidant with Moon around, alone you think you can get him to slip up and finally tell you what they're up to.

You find him on a quiet rainy afternoon hard at work in the greenhouse. The rain pitter-patters softly against the glass far above, the space cast in a bit of shadow from the grey sky and plants that are all encompassing throughout.

He's at a workbench, tending to a group of sickly looking hydrangeas when you find him. He jumps a fraction when your arms wrap around him, head resting on his shoulder as you watch him work.

"Oh, hello, Starlight. What brings you here in these conditions?" Despite the evenness of his tone you can hear a tinge of anxiety underneath.

Your hands shift to slide across his arms, causing him to freeze at your touch. "Was curious about you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Well, as you can see, I'm simply just—" He hesitates as you turn to kiss one of his rays. "B-busy. Would hate for these hydrangeas to wither away because of a lack of care."

You chuckle, kissing him again. "I suppose so. What a pity." Just as he turns to face you, you pull back from him, moving to sit on the workbench instead.

"Something else you need, Sweetpea?" Sun chuckles nervously, you can see the smallest hint of steam arising from him.

You have to smother your smirk to keep your own composure. "Nope, just want to watch you work is all. Don't mind me."

"Ah, of course."

For several minutes there's nothing but muted clinking and such as Sun works, posture stiff as you keep your eyes—and hands—on him. Just simple little touches, traces patterns on his forearms or handing him things every so often. It only spurs you further as you notice your plan is working, the flustered avoidance you'd been experiencing is now just fluster, and you see your chance.

"You know. There is something else I'm thinking you could help with." You reach out and cup his chin. "If you're willing, that is."

You see his rays flutter just a tad. "That so?"

"Mhm. It'd be really easy for you to do too. And if you do, I might have something for you in return." You lean in, just hovering your lips above his smile.

He chuckles, eyes-lidded. "A trade then? I'm certainly not opposed."

"I was hoping you wouldn't be. Now, close your eyes—hey!" You're suddenly plucked off the bench and hauled over a shoulder by blue and white hands. Quickly marched away from a startled and utterly confused Sun, as you see when you glance back.

Moon sets you down by the door to the greenhouse, displeased grin on his features. "Dirty tricks like that belong in the garden, Moonflower."

"Well, I'm not allowed in the garden, so I had to resort to other locations." You huff, brushing off your clothes. "Was that really necessary?"

He bends to your level, eye to eye and inches apart. "It was."

"You're not on my kiss list now, I hope you know that."

Moon's hands cup your cheeks, faceplate spinning once. "What a shame then, that you're on mine."

He kisses you once, then steps back.

"Tomorrow, if the weather clears up, tomorrow you can go in the garden as you choose. I promise." His thumb rubs against your cheek, troubled look in his eyes before he shakes his head.

You keep your frown, despite the heat on your face, and nod. "Tomorrow, then."

You stomp out of the greenhouse and into the rain in the hopes of making it clear your resolve is temporary. In reality you think it just makes you cold, and wet.

But, the next morning the sun peeks through the clouds and after a brief and somewhat quiet breakfast, your gardeners finally relent.

While you're beaming with excitement, they both seem nervous as can be. You're so caught up in all the activities you wish to do that you're only half catching the anxious looks and fidgeted movements they share between each other.

Sun's hands are clasped in front of him as he speaks. "We're sorry it's taken so long, Love. We had several setbacks—" He sends a glare to Moon, who shrugs. "But, we hope you like it."

"And if you don't, just keep it to yourself." Moon's hand rests on your shoulder with a snicker, though there's still that nervous hint to his tone.

You scoff at the two of them. "I always love what the two of you create. Regardless of whether it's for me or anyone else."

With a final sigh, Sun steps out of your way and you all but skip over to and out the door, the warm morning light hitting your skin like an embrace. The garden sparkles from the dew and the day prior's rain. All across—

"Roses?" You ask, in awe at the sheer abundance of them.

Several varieties and colors cover the expanse of the garden, from the edges to the center. Every flower bed is filled to the brim with them. Yes, there's the typical flowers and bushes they plant as well, sprinkled in here and there. Primarily, however, are the roses.

You walk through the grass with a sense of curiosity at the scenery around you. It's breathtaking, but not the least bit suffocating. Brimming with life, but not crowded. It was, in a way, perfect.

Though, you don't understand why they tried so hard to hide this from you. Yes, it was stunning, but the secrecy you just couldn't—

As you turn around again, you see the two of them standing there, together, with a large bouquet in their hands. It consists of bright yellow and deep purple—near black—roses.

"These are for you, if you hadn't already guessed." Moon's gaze is elsewhere as he holds the flowers out with his counterpart.

Sun's rays are spinning quickly as you flick your gaze to him, he coughs and also looks away. "We, we hope it's to your taste. We got what we thought would suit you best."

You're too stunned to really think on the words. "Oh, these are, incredible." You say, gently taking the neatly wrapped bouquet from them. "For me, really? You didn't need to—"

Inspecting the flowers closer, you realize that in the center of the cluster, there's something shimmering in the middle of a rose. This one is different from all the others. Its center is yellow, but the outer petals expand out into that deep violet, with speckles of contrast all throughout. Lying in the very center however, is a ring.

It clicks then for you.

"This needed to be special, to show how much you mean to us, hence all the preparation." Sun states.

Moon continues. "An ordinary flower wouldn't do you justice, nor would an ordinary proposal. The garden served as the best place to refine both."

You nod slowly, feeling a little more than just choked up.

"Is, are you, will you—" Sun stops himself.

"Would you do these two humble fools the honor of having your hand?" Moon asks.

"Yes, that."

You nod again, quicker now, face on fire and tears pricking your eyes. "Yes, yes, absolutely yes!"

Before either can react you shift the bouquet so you can grab them both by their shirts, planting a kiss to each of their smiles several times.

Breathless, you pull back to hug them both. "I would have taken just a simple stroll by the lake, you didn't have to go through all this trouble just for me. But know I appreciate it more than anything. Thank you, I love you. So, so much."

Based on the clicks and whirls that emit from the two of them, and the bits of steam, you think they're as overwhelmed as you in that moment. Sun's lop-sided grin and Moon's half-lidded daze makes you chuckle.

"Duly noted." Sun states.

Moon nods. "Don't spend four years seeding, growing, and experimenting with roses next time. Understood."

"Four years?" Your brows shoot up. "But we met just roughly four years ago."

"We know. We started on this about a week in."

At this you shake your head, laughing outright. You give them another kiss, and revel in that moment.

It's going to be one you cherish for years to come.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the lovely request @amarynthian-chronicles!! I love how you always write the boys with a sense of whismy and charisma so I tried to channel that for this hehe ^^

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful

#fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf sun #fnaf daycare attendant #sundrop #fnaf moon #dca fic #moondrop #x reader #mm dca valentine's #hope you're doing well amary <33 #had much fun writing these two into situation oof #i was feeling #mischevious #hehe

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outerwilds-events · 2 days ago

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CAMPFIRE FEST IS MARCH 2nd - MARCH 8th

TIMELINE

March 2 - 8: Posting Period Begins March 9 - 15: Late Submissions & Event Feedback Period March 16: Ao3 Collection and Ask Box close March 17: Event Museum is posted

PROMPTS

Day 1: Sap Wine, Festival, Rafting, Dance Day 2: Explosion, Third Eye, Slide Reel, Vision Day 3: Radio, Eye Shrine, Artifact, Longing Day 4: Scout, Projection Pool, Simulation, Discovery Day 5: Fishing, Warp Core, Ring World, Home Day 6: Campfire, Supernova, Candle, Light Day 7: Open Prompts

GOSSAN’S HANDBOOK (RULES)

Submissions to the event must be made during the Submission Period or Late Submission Period.

Submissions must be completed during the event, including the late submission period.

One single work will not count towards multiple days. This excludes interconnected chapters to a story or comic.

Submissions will only be posted on the day of the prompt, all late submissions for a prompt will be posted during the late submissions period.

NSFW content is not permitted.

Submissions must be appropriately tagged for triggers/spoilers/etc.

All Submissions must have titles. Untitled works will be titled by a mod. (Mod Muse reserves the right to title every unnamed work “A Terrible Fate”.)

Submissions will be made by posting to your own blog and mentioning the blog like so “@outerwilds-events” in the body of your post.

LOST TRAVELERS INFORMATIONAL GUIDE

Q: What is A Fest?

A fest is a challenge in which participants choose a prompt or prompts from a list compiled by the fest moderator. It’s like telling tales, sharing art, and making music around the campfire.

Q: Do I have to answer all the prompts?

Of course not, Traveler! That’d be a lot of work! You can answer as many prompts as you want over as many days as you want. You can submit a single work for a single prompt during the whole week, or try to hit them all.

Q: Do I have to write for this?

Traveler, we aren’t all tale spinners and that’s a good thing! You can respond in any medium you want, art, fic, pod fic, playlists, or anything else you can think of is fine!

Q: If I do write, is there a word limit?

Nope.

Q: Is shipping allowed?

Yes.

Q: Are spoilers okay here?

Did they not cover that in training? Traveler, spoilers are fine as long as you tag for it.

Q: What does “open prompt” for Day 7 mean?

The sky’s the limit on open prompt day! You can submit anything you want, as long as it complies with the rest of the rules.

Q: I'm ready to submit! When can I do that?

During the submission period from March 2nd - March 8th on each prompts day. You can also submit any prompts during the late submission period from March 9th - March 15th.

Q: Right. How do I submit?

We're retiring the submission feature, that’s for sure. When you're ready to post just post on your blog and @ the event blog somewhere in the post. We will reblog posts in the order they were received.

Q: I have another question.

That’s why there’s an ask button, Traveler.

#outer wilds #outer wilds events #campfire fest #campfire fest 2025

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aernx · 2 days ago

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IT'S A WRAP ! ⌗ 이희승 ( THE TEASER )

synopsis ⟢ wrapping is easy when it comes to dumplings. but when it comes to your feelings…not so much. after getting separated from your childhood nemesis, lee heeseung, you think your life will go smooth like butter (js like what BTS sang). but fate has other plans when he was forced to help around in your family’s dumpling restaurant.

◌ wordcount﹒ tba

◌ pairing﹒ lee heeseung x fmr

◌ genre﹒ childhood enemies to lovers, hs au, takes place in their summer break, reader is taehyun’s (txt) older sister

◌ featuring﹒ txt, chaewon lsrfm, enhypen, brief mentions of other idols

◌ warnings﹒ profanities/cursing, heeyn annoyed at eo lol, lots of cursing guys

read full fic HERE

aerinotes ⟢ teaser!! I will post the fic in a week or two! COMMENT or SEND AN ASK to be added in the taglist. This is my first long fic, hope it piqued your interest! (for ppl who didn't know this concept used to be a smau but it's disc)

ONE WEEK HAS PASSED since you were forced to be Heeseung's mentor in your family's dumpling shop and you are now used to seeing him lurk around the area. Now that he’s already familiar with the register and serving people you have to go to the next step: teach him how to make dumplings.

At first, you were against the idea. But your mom insisted that Mrs.Lee wanted Heeseung to be more adapt than any other employee. Hence why he needed to master more than one skill to manage. So, you gave in.

Heeseung was ready to start his new routine. Coming to the shop everyday (excluding Sundays and Saturdays) at 8am and start preparing the register and other things before opening at 9am. He’ll be honest, the first few days, he was dreading it. But eventually, being surrounded with the busy yet calming atmosphere of the shop feels so comfortable? Or maybe because he was spending his summer productively.

But yesterday, Yn had messaged him to arrive at the shop an hour earlier than usual. Seven am?! That’s basically dawn! Heeseung dragged his feet towards the welcoming door. The sun greeted him with a morning glow as he slowly entered his demise.

“Morning, sunshine. Are you awake?” Sitting in one of the chairs, you chuckled, amused at his hunched silhouette.

“You’re crazy for forcing me to work this early on. This is basically child labor!” He sat opposing you, hands folded above the table as he buried his head in between his arms.

“Well your mother consented to this. Get up, lazy.” Your request was left hanging as Heeseung replied an audible “no”, prompting you to leave the boy behind.

Droplets of water soon trickled to the back of his neck, stirring him awake before he-hold on why was he wet? His fingers touched the source of coldness, upon realizing what you have done, his head jolted up meeting your gaze. ”You’re fucking crazy!”

“Awake now?” The smirk on your lips is evident and Heeseung swore that he was going to rip your face off.

“What are we doing?” Instead of answering, you hand a slightly-damp Heeseung an apron and ushered him to wash his hands before starting. “Just go wash your hands first.” He rolled his eyes before complying to your demands.

After finishing with such tasks he returned to his position beforehand. “All clean now.” He dangled his palms to align with your vision. Now that the two of you are clean it's time to start this mission. Wrapping dumplings.

Heeseung eyes lingered on the swift movement of your fingers. Quick hands easily wrap the ball of meat between a thin layer of dough. He shifted his attention elsewhere for a second and when he returned, you were already done with the process. The perfectly wrapped mandu sat in the heart of your palms, sitting proudly before him.

“That doesn’t look hard, let me do it.” The boy shrugged, earning an amused scoff from you. He took the initiative to try it for himself, but before he could reach the layers of thin dough, he felt a slight sting lingering on his arm. “Gosh! What was that for?!”

“Do you ever pay attention? Lace your hands with some flour before taking the dough so it’s not sticky, bambi.”

Bambi? Did you just refer to him as a Disney cartoon animal?! Well sucks to be you at least he was a Disney character. Not some meaningless being.

“Crazy bitch.”

“What did you say?!”

“I said I got the hitch!” Was hitch even a word? Probably. Or not.

Heeseung grudgingly dipped his fingers into the bowl of flour before spreading a light amount in his palms. He then took a thin layer of dough and a little ball of minced meat mixed with onions and other dumpling stuffings(?). He placed the ball in the center of the surface before…before…uhm what was the next step again?

His hands froze mid air for a second. Should he ask for help? Oh and get roasted for not paying attention again? No thanks, his ego was too big for that. Right he’ll figure this out. This is Lee Heeseung we’re talking about. Lee Heeseung vs dumpling, let’s see who’ll win this game.

The tall boy recalled your hand movements, trying hard to remember the steps you did. Right it was uhm….take the left corner, then the right, unite them to the center? Yeah that right. Next is…squish the edges! He’s too smart and talented for this. Heeseung 1, dumpling 0.

The satisfied smile he wore was so apparent. The tips of his finger lightly pressed onto the dough in an attempt to link them together. Except it was not sticking. He kept on applying pressure, more and more as the seconds tick. Once he thought that it would hold, he settled the…ill-shaped dumpling on the table. With his hands on his hips, he turned to face your observing stance. Not bad for his first try. Or so he thought.

Five seconds of victory was cut short when the dumpling slowly–but surely–unwrapped itself from the shape Heeseung molded it to. Heeseung 0, dumpling 1.

The guise of his face showed it all–his mouth hung open, eyes deadpanning the dumpling like it was his sworn enemy–it was so hard not to erupt in laughter. You covered your mouth to contain your glee. This was too funny.

Your oddly timed coughing shifted Heeseung’s gaze to yours. At first the look in his eyes reeks of annoyance but the sound of your echoing laugh was enough to leave a ghost of a smile on his face. You didn’t get angry, that was a first. Heeseung was shocked to see how calm you were after witnessing his failure (well except for the laughing part). “I would be a hypocrite if I got angry at you.” You started. “The first time Eomma taught me how to wrap these, I would always rip the dough.”

“Oh.”

“Right, let me repeat the steps again, slowly this time.”

The clueless boy watched your movements distinctly. He noticed how eased you were as you did the task at hand, focused yet you were doing it so effortlessly. He also noticed how you poke your tongue slightly when your fingers pinched the perfectly folded dumpling’s little details, and the little specks of flour that landed on the tip of your nose. There was something about you today that he couldn’t ignore.

Heeseung looked at your current expression, and suddenly you both were five again. You were sitting in his living room while your mothers chat in the kitchen.

With a crayon tucked in between your fingers, your tongue slightly stuck out as you fully averted your attention to your drawing before you. His gaze lingered there maybe too long than it should have been. You were so focused on that drawing and little Heeseung can't help but wish you would play with him instead. Maybe he could change that.

Shortly after, young Heeseung approached you slowly, attempting not to make any noise before tapping you in the shoulder from behind and whispered a "boo" that resulted in a big red slash in the drawing and an extremely angry Yn.

Twelve years have passed yet you still look the same to him. The first girl that entered his life other than his mother, the first girl he fought with, and the first girl he ever loved. Not that he realized, of course. But perhaps just for today, he would forget your fuse with him and pretend that you didn't hate each other's guts.

“That’s how you make a perfect dumpling.” The curve of your lips were so warm and inviting. Maybe because it was too early in the morning that’s why Heeseung felt so out of it right now. “Ehem, okay. I should be able to do it now.”

TO BE CONTINUED

#kflixnet #k labels #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #lee heesung x reader #enhypen heeseung #enhypen fic #heeseung imagines #enhypen x female reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #enhypen #heeseung x you #heeseung x yn

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pinklotushere · 2 days ago

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Gotham’s Most Insane Love Triangle (That’s Not Even a Triangle)

Tim Drake has had enough.

Not of being Red Robin—no, he signed up for that nightmare. But of this absolute clown of a villain who has decided to make his civilian life hell. The dude isn’t even a real villain, just some rich, eccentric, probably-a-little-deranged Gotham socialite with too much free time and very questionable taste in romance.

He has been through a lot in his life.

He’s fought assassins, taken down crime lords, and survived the literal Lazarus Pit. But none of that prepared him for this.

Because, apparently, being a billionaire CEO means attracting a very specific brand of problem—namely, a very rich, very persistent, very theatrical stalker-suitor who has decided that Tim is their one true love.

And the worst part? They have no idea he’s Red Robin. They just think Tim Drake, boring businessman, is the ideal romantic partner.

Tim has tried to get rid of them. He’s shut down their advances, ignored their ridiculous gifts (including a whole building—seriously, what was that?), and even considered faking his own death. (Bruce did it like six times. It’s an option.)

Nothing worked.

the courtship? Is aggressive.

Think:

• Giant, embarrassing billboards with love poems that definitely sound like they were written by someone’s AI assistant.

• Dramatic, unsolicited “gifts” (one time, it was a tiger. A real one. In his office. He had to call Damian to get it out).

• Showing up at his press conferences to declare their love, completely derailing everything ("I AM WOOING YOU, TIMOTHY! SAY YES TO DESTINY!" "Sir, this is an earnings call—")

So, in a moment of desperation (and supreme bad decision-making), Tim panicked and told the press that he was already in a relationship.

With both Superboy and Wraith.

Because Tim Drake does not do things halfway.

(Kon does not hesitate. The second Tim says, “Hey, will you pretend to date me?” Kon’s already slinging an arm around his shoulders, grinning, and saying, “Obviously, babe.”

And, okay, maybe he’s having too much fun with it. Maybe Tim gives one kiss on the cheek in public, and suddenly Kon’s cranking the PDA up to 11.

Tim swears Kon is just doing this to annoy him. (Spoiler: He is. And also because he’s in love. But mostly to annoy him.)

Dani has no idea what’s going on. One day, she’s just vibing, and the next, Tim is begging her to be his fake girlfriend in his civilian life while also fake-dating Superboy in his hero life.

“So you’re publicly dating both of us?” she asks. “Yes,” Tim says, exhausted. “At the same time?” “Yes.” "Love that. Love the drama. I’m in.”)

And that’s how he ended up in a very public, very fake, and very annoying love triangle where he is “dating” two of his best friends.

Which prompted the start of plan : get rid of creepy guy

—

Step One: Make the Villain Regret Their Life Choices

If Tim thought this was going to be a subtle plan, Kon and Dani immediately proved him wrong.

Kon goes full Superboy mode. Dramatic rescues? Check. Carrying Tim around way too much? Check. Way too many kisses on the cheek? Check.

Dani (Wraith) is the wildcard. She literally picks Tim up in public like he’s a prize, occasionally phases through walls to randomly show up at his meetings, and once materialized into existence just to kiss Tim’s forehead in front of the press.

Tim cannot do anything about it. Because if he protests, the villain wins. And also because, unfortunately, he kinda likes it.

The villain loves this. It becomes a challenge. They start sending hate letters to Superboy, promising to “win” Tim’s heart from him.

Kon gets way too competitive about it. (“I dare you to try, buddy.” “KON, STOP ENCOURAGING THEM—”)

The media loses their minds. Suddenly, “Tim Drake’s Shocking Super Love Triangle” is trending.

Bart starts a betting pool on whether Tim actually survives this ordeal. Cassie is taking bets on when the fake relationship stops being fake. ("Wait, you all think this is fake?"—Cass, genuinely confused.)

—

Step Two: Turn the Public Against the Villain

The villain’s new strategies are straight out of a soap opera.

They show up at Tim’s press conferences, interrupting him mid-sentence.

( “Timothy! You don’t have to settle! You deserve true love!”

Tim: "I deserve peace.")

They try to out-romance Kon and Dani by sending ridiculous gifts.

• Kon: "Oh, you sent him roses? That’s cute. I carried him to France for pastries this morning."

• Dani: "I made him a custom necklace out of ectoplasm. It glows when he’s in danger. What did you do?"

Tim is so tired.

So, so tired.

For weeks, he's been playing damage control while Gotham's most deranged suitor escalates his antics. What started as embarrassing billboards and ridiculous gifts has somehow escalated into a full-blown public stunt designed to "prove" their love.

The disaster of the day?

A flash marriage proposal.

Tim barely has time to process what's happening before an entire choir descends on him in the middle of a press conference. They begin singing a dramatic, original ballad about love and destiny while the villain (dressed in a tuxedo and cape, because of course they are) strides forward. With an engagement ring, the size of Tim’s suffering.

"Timothy!" they declare, their voices booming through a hidden microphone, because this is obviously being broadcast. "I've waited long enough! Accept my love! Marry me and together we will dominate Gotham's social scene as the couple of the century!"

Tim's eyes twitch. He's two seconds away from making this a Red Robin problem.

fortunately for everyone involved, Kon and Dani have zero chill.

Kon lands from the sky, draping an arm around Tim with the most obnoxiously smug grin imaginable. “Oh, wow. A public proposal? That’s adorable. Almost as adorable as the six months I’ve already spent dating this guy.”

Then he just kisses Tim’s temple like it’s nothing.

Before Tim can recover (he absolutely did not freeze), Dani materializes next to him, grabs Tim like a princess, and kisses the other side of his face.

Timothy Jackson drake-Wayne did not squeak. What?

“You really don’t get it, do you?” she sighs.

And that is the moment the villain realizes they have lost.

Because Gotham? Gotham loves drama. And right now, the story isn’t “Determined Suitor Wins Over Tim Drake”—it’s “Homewrecker Tries to Steal Gotham’s Most Beloved Power Couples” (because, yes, the media still refuses to acknowledge this is a throuple).

The crowd turns on the villain.

• “You’re breaking them up? Boo.”

• “Have you seen the way Superboy looks at him?”

• “Sir, how do you respond to the allegations that you are a clown?”

#TimsuperWraith4Ever trends within minutes.

And the villain, realizing they are rapidly losing public favor, does the only thing they can do—

They flee

(“…Well,” they say, trying to regain some dignity. “I can tell when I’m in over my head.”

(They can’t.)

“I’m going to retreat—for now.”

(They're not coming back.)

And then, with a dramatic wave of their capes, they run away.)

Tim is still being held.

By both of them.

In front of every reporter in Gotham.

Kon, still smiling, pulls Tim even closer to him. "So, babe, how about we go celebrate our victory?"

Dani smiles. "Ooh, yeah. I'm thinking date night."

Tim, who physically can't escape, groans. "I hate you both."

Neither of them let go.

And, okay, maybe he doesn't really mind .

—

Step Three: Realize You’re the Only One Still Pretending

Later, after the chaos dies down and Tim finally gets a second to himself, he turns to Kon and Dani with a sigh.

“Well,” he says. “That was exhausting, but at least it’s over.”

Kon raises an eyebrow. “Over?”

Tim frowns. “Yeah. The villain’s gone, so… y’know. We can drop the act now.”

There’s a long silence.

Then Dani just… tilts her head. “Wait. You think this is fake?”

Tim stares. “What.”

Kon grins. “Oh, babe. You really thought we were faking?”

Tim.exe has stopped working.

Because, oh no, he did think this was fake. But now Kon is looking at him like he’s an idiot, and Dani is smirking like she knew all along, and—

Oh.

Oh, he’s so dumb.

Because this entire time, they weren’t playing a role. They were just—being them. Touchy, affectionate, protective—except now, they had an excuse to be obvious about it.

Tim buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

Dani pats his head. “You’ll get there, babe.”

Kon leans down, kissing the top of his head. “Take your time.”

Tim groans.

(But maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind so much.)

—

Bonus: Cassie & Bart, Watching From Afar :

Bart: “You think Tim actually figured it out?”

Cassie : "probably. It was fun watching him suffer"

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star-41306 · 1 day ago

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How do y'all think the duffers are going to go about initiating Byler?

I've been thinking about this a lot lately and would love some thoughts on how everyone thinks Byler will progress. This is my opinion on the matter. (PS: this is a very mike centered analysis as I believe his perspective is the most beneficial to the conversation since he is at the center)

Mike is hiding his feelings for Will, but what benefit does this have for those involved? To us, the viewers, we can see the pain Will, El, and Mike experience through this situation. No party is receiving what they truly need to progress their happiness and growth.

El wants a boyfriend who will tell her that he loves her for who she is as a person, not her capabilities. At the heart of this is a need to be understood, but El herself doesn't really know who she is. Her growth is dependent on finding herself without outside influence.

Mike wants a girlfriend to seem/feel 'normal' and cool. He knows who he is but is repressing it. At the heart of this is a need to be desired. Sure, El wants him, but she does not know the truth about Mike. Mike's growth is dependent on someone finding comfort in the real him.

Will wants someone to treat him normal. He knows he's a freak and while he doesn't necessarily try to hide it, he wants the comfort of not being treated differently for it. Will's growth is dependent on the acceptance of those around him.

The existence of a romantic relationship between Mike and El goes against all of this potential growth. Mike idolizes El, never being able to see past her abilities. El is unable to find herself at the cost of being mikes cover. While doing this, he rejects his true self and affection for Will, because he believes he is doing what's right. Simultaneously, Will is left feeling dejected and alone in the disregard of his feelings.

I think Mike has very low self-esteem. It comes with the territory of being a nerdy queer teenager in the 80's. I also, however, believe that when he has enough faith in himself, or the stakes are high enough, he's good at taking charge of a situation. He is selfless, a kind of selfless where you can't always tell he cares for those around him, but he would sacrifice his own comfort and livelihood for the people he loves.

But if Mike is so selfless, why isn't he fixing the situation for everyone involved? Because of one simple fact: He is clueless. He has no idea what he's doing to El or Will.

He may know Will is upset about something while in the Van with him, but that boy has no idea what's going on in Wills head. He might not even realize the painting he got from Will is the one El was talking about in her letter. With everything going on, he probably still thinks will has a girl he likes back up in Cali and this is a completely different painting.

He senses El is upset and won't talk to him, but he thinks it's because she lost to Vecna. He has not even the slightest clue it's partially due to his conditional and untrue love confession. El believes that mike only said he loved her because she finally got her powers back.

Mike thinks he gave El and Will what they wanted. El wanted a love confession? check. Will wanted mike to move on and fix his relationship with El? check. done and done. At least that's what he thinks.

Now that we have motives and perspective out of the way, here's a general idea of how I think the Milkvan-Byler transition will pan out.

We have already established in the show that Will is too selfless to confess, thinking he's saving a perfectly healthy relationship that just so happens to involve the boy he loves and the girl who saved him. There is no way he would break them up on his own, or he would have done that already. The action relies on Mike and El. They both need to respectively decide a breakup is necessary for this to work.

The breakup cannot be prompted by one or the other, it must be prompted by both. Mike cannot be the only one desiring a breakup, because El needs to take her power back and make that decision by herself. At the same time though, El can't be the only one either, as mike needs to accept his feelings on his own and stop being someone he's not. Mike not initiating would also make Will seem like a second option and completely negate Wills growth of being accepted for simply being.

El will have distanced herself from mike tremendously. They may not have broken up officially, but she's realizing Mike is not what she needs right now. She will probably be spending time with Hopper and Joyce training to fight Vecna, and the reminder that that's the only thing mike seems to like about her will only push her more towards her own sense of self. Maybe she still has hope for her and mike, but that is not her focus right now.

While El is distanced, Mike and Will will fall into the same roles they did in season 2. Will will struggle with the supernatural aspects of the plot, while Mike takes care of him and keeps him safe. This will restore Mike and Wills friendship.

Mike simultaneously will realize how much happier he is away from El, because he can't help but act like someone he's not when he's around her. He will also realize the comfort he finds in being relied on by Will. This won't necessarily prompt him into the breakup, as he still believes dating El is the best way he can support her. He might want Will, but he still feels like he can't have him.

I Because of this, El will be the first to initiate, but it will be mutual. I think they will have a long discussion (maybe starting as a fight) about Mikes lies in his speech and the pressure he felt to conform to this relationship. El will share how his actions have not helped the relationship, but instead made them both feel miserable, trapped, and unappreciated. They will realize that the other is not what they need, and though they will both need platonic support through this journey, they just can't benefit each other this way.

While Mike and Will are reconnecting, El will finally notice... everything. The stares, soft voices, comforting, and everything will click. El might need some help understanding though, because even though she did not have a normal childhood, she is still subjected to heteronormativity even if she joined the game late. She will make the connection that that is how she should have been treated, and though they are both boys, I think a sit down with one of the other characters (Johnathan? Hopper? Joyce?) will help her connect the dots.

I think the painting and mikes feelings for Will may become an entirely different discussion later in the season, and this is what will push mike into feeling allowed to want him. The combined acceptance from El, and the implied reciprocation from Will could be the push mike needs for his own self-acceptance.

This will allow Byler to build up in a healthy way where all parties benefit and are able to build even stronger connections with each other. Through honesty, acceptance, and love, all of which have been lacking.

Thank you if you read all of this. Please let me know if you feel like this will go in an entirely different direction in ST5!!!

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