#ari writes got fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunarbuck · 1 year

Note

DBF!Ari Levinson + beach day

alice you're gonna kill me lmao

pairing: DBF!Ari x f!reader (any race)

wc: 1.5k

beta'd by @late-to-the-party-81 <3 <3 <3

sneak peek: “You see something you like, princess?” You nod, practically in a trance. Ari steps toward you, tilting his head down to whisper into your ear. “Then take it.”

warnings: age gap, fluffly flirting, dbf, edging/orgasm delay/denial, oral (m receiving), smut (p in v), pet names [daddy, princess, baby]

my masterlist | 1.5k sleepover

The sand is warm beneath your toes as you settle onto your towel, letting the sun soak into your skin. It’s early enough in the season that the beach isn’t incredibly busy, so you just had to take advantage.

As you close your eyes and let the summer heat warm you, you feel fingers brushing against your arm. Calloused but gentle, the fingers draw up your arm, tickling your neck, and find their way to cup your jaw.

“Princess,” Ari practically groans, shifting to block the sun from your face. “You’re killing me.” You grin, keeping your eyes closed.

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” You taunt, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in the way you know drives Ari crazy. “ Daddy .” You draw the word out and peek an eye open just in time to see Ari’s pupils blow wide.

Ari shifts closer, sidling himself right next to you. Your mouth waters as his broad chest brushes against your shoulder, as his hand slides from your face and down your neck. His fingers trace over the edge of your swimsuit. You’d chosen it specifically to tease him, knowing it’s too small to fully cover your breasts.

You hum lightly in pleasure as Ari runs his strong hands over your body, and for a moment, you worry about the possibility of someone seeing you. The beach isn’t too busy today, but the possibility of someone walking past and seeing the way Ari is touching you, the way you’re reacting to his touch, makes you shiver.

“You think you can tease me and not have any consequences for that?” Ari asks, dipping his head to kiss the sensitive spot on your neck.

You shrug, keeping up your air of indifference. “You’re gonna pay for that, princess. But not right now. Right now, I want to enjoy the weather with my gorgeous girl” Suddenly, Ari’s arms sweep under you, and he swiftly picks you up. You giggle into Ari’s chest, holding onto him as he carries you toward the water.

Ari walks into the surf until the crystal blue waters come up to his waist. He settles into it, letting you adjust to the temperature and as you do, you wrap your arms around his neck, letting your fingers play with the ends of his hair.

“I’m glad you got the day off,” you tell him as he shifts your position, wrapping your legs around his hips.

“Me too, princess. Your dad might be getting a little suspicious, though.” You sigh at the mention of your father. Ari and your dad have worked together for years now. You hadn’t meant to fall for your dad’s friend, but you don’t regret it one bit. One day, you’ll tell your dad, but you don’t want to think about it right now.

“We’ll tell him soon,” you say, pressing a kiss to Ari’s firm chest. “But let’s just be here. Let’s just enjoy today.” Ari gazes down with you, blue eyes shining like the water, and smiles.

You and Ari swim around, talking and laughing, carefree in a way the two of you often aren’t able to experience. Once your fingers get pruney and the sun starts to set, Ari picks you up and carries you back onto the beach.

After gathering your things, you and Ari wander back to the hotel. He’d surprised you by booking it for the weekend and you were so grateful because it means no sneaking around, no hiding; just an entire weekend of you and Ari.

When you’re back in the hotel room, you bask in the chill of the air conditioning before wandering into the bathroom and turning on the shower. You slip out of your bathing suit, leaving it on the counter, and step under the spray.

You start your routine using your favorite shampoo to rinse the salt from your hair. As you engross yourself in the routine, you hear the bathroom door click open. Ari wanders in through the steam, leaning against the counter. You watch as he picks up your bikini bottoms and twirls them around his finger.

“This bikini is gonna be the death of me, princess,” he says, voice low and gravelly. “You looked so sexy in it.” You smile to yourself as you rinse the shampoo from your hair. Ari slides the shower door open and steps under the water with you.

“Ari,” you whisper, drinking in the sight of his gorgeous body. Your eyes drift down his muscular chest, his abs, his adonis belt. When your eyes land on his hard cock, you go weak in the knees.

“You see something you like, princess?” You nod, practically in a trance. Ari steps toward you, tilting his head down to whisper into your ear. “Then take it.” You sink down to your knees, letting your eyes flick up to Ari’s face. He grins and cups your face with his big hands as you lick a drop of precum from his tip. He tastes salty and sweet, and you bite back a moan.

Before Ari, you’d never really enjoyed giving head, but Ari changes everything. How reactive he is, how much pleasure he gives you as you pleasure him. It’s amazing. You take him into your mouth, sucking him as deeply as you can, and Ari’s hands shift to your head. He doesn’t push, just guides you as your mouth moves over his dick.

“So good, baby,” he tells you through gritted teeth. “So fucking good.” You glow under his praise and squeeze your thighs together. Pleasure shoots through you and builds in your belly. You lose yourself as you take Ari deeper and deeper, loving his taste on your tongue.

Ari suddenly pulls away, and you watch him for his next move. He helps you stand and pins you to the cool tiles. He lets his eyes travel over your body, and you feel heat settle in your belly.

“See something you like?” You ask, tossing his words back at him.

“I do,” he replies, running his hands up your torso to your breasts. He runs his fingers over your nipples, toying with them. “And I’m gonna take it.”

Ari dives in and kisses you, stealing your breath away. Your knees wobble beneath you, and he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him. Your pussy grinds against his cock, and you moan into his mouth. You wiggle your hips, aching for him to fuck you, to drive himself deep inside of you.

“Please, Ari, please,” you whisper, building your pleasure higher and higher as you grind against him.

“Tell me what you want, princess,” he says, sucking a mark into your neck.

“Ari, I want you to fuck me, please,” you beg, picking up the pace of your hips. Your orgasm builds and builds. “I need it so bad, Ari.”

“Yeah?” he asks, gently biting your shoulder. “You want me to fuck you?” You nod, already a whimpering mess in his arms.

Ari snakes a hand between you and finds your clit with his fingers. He rubs circles in the way he knows you love, and it nearly sends you over the edge. The moment you’re about to come apart, he stops. He holds your hips still, and you groan as the orgasm fades.

“Ari,” you whine, trying to writhe against him, but he holds you still.

“Hm, princess, you shouldn’t have talked back to me earlier,” he says, running his thumb back over your clit. You jolt, sensitivity setting in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Ari,” you tell him, hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

“Actions have consequences, baby.” He grinds his hips against yours, resuming his ministrations on your clit.

Ari works you up to orgasm after orgasm before ripping each of them away, not letting you come, over and over again. He shuts off the water and carries you to the bed, not caring that both of you are still dripping wet. You shake in his arms, a puddle in his hands. When he’s finally decided that you’ve had enough, you have tears pricking your eyes.

“You did so good for me, princess,” he whispers, kissing you gently. “So good.” Ari shifts your hips and lines his cock up.

“Please, Ari, please, I need you so bad.” Ari kisses you and finally presses inside of your aching pussy, making you see stars. He stretches you so much it almost hurts, but he soothes the pain with his lips on your cheek.

His pace is gentle but deep, hitting the spot inside you that makes your body shake. He worships your body, wringing pleasure from you. He whispers words of praise to you, making your body sing.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby,” he tells you as an orgasm builds deep inside you. “My perfect princess.”

When you come, your whole body tightens, and your vision blacks out. Ari fucks you through it, kissing you senseless. With a few more flexes of his hips, he follows you over the edge and sinks to the bed beside you. As you come down from the high, Ari pulls you into his side, holding you close and pressing kisses to your temple.

In moments like this, your love of Ari seems to flow from you. In every touch, in every whispered word.

“I love you, princess,” he whispers into your hair.

“I love you too, Ari.”

please message me to be added to a taglist! must be 18+

general tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @nekoannie-chan @late-to-the-party-81 @chibijusstuff @midnightramyeoncravings @wickidlady @buckyb-stan

535 notes · View notes

scorchedmazes · 16 days

Text

ok but think about it,, minho ran three years in the maze.

meaning he had a first day of running. a first week. a first month. a first year.

so,, imagine:

he runs the inner sections first. then gradually, he runs the outer sections. mostly alone at first, until alby decides they need partners.

each day his legs becoming more tired. more sore.

he hides it. he hides the pains in his sides as he runs. he hides the pain that shoots up and down his legs from overuse. he hides the fact that his lungs feel like they could explode if he runs anymore.

he hides all of that bc he’s the fastest runner,, which eventually leads to him being named keeper.

none of the gladers know that he spends the rest of his day/night massaging his legs and stretching. none of them notice how his face twitches in pain when he sits down or stands up after sitting for too long. none of them see how hard it is for him to hide his pain not only physically but mentally as well.

#the maze runner #tmr minho #he eventually got used to the pain and the more he ran the stronger he got #but those first few months had to be hard on him #physically and mentally #might have to write a fic ab this or smth #i started to run so this is lowkey me just projecting but shh #my headcanons #ari rambles ab minho (per usual)#ari talks

112 notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 4 days

Text

the demons (cult leader geto) got to me again :///

#SIGH .#mystery fic might have to wait ngl #was gna write the outline for a geto drabble but got too into it :’3 #i think . i kinda ate w it BUT. don’t i always feel that way when cult!geto is involved……….#sigh #the chokehold he has on me needs to be studied. sad sickeningly charming awful romantic of a man #ari noises ✩

45 notes · View notes

oopsallmabari · 3 months

Text

related to rewrite i'm leaving off on viv's introduction and i Hope that in my time baking in the da oven that i will be able to convey her vibes better than i once did. admittedly when i started writing the longfic it was before i had played inq myself so like. that def helps

#ari speaks #i need u all to understand that much of my initial desire to write this fic.#was bc i believed i would not be able to play inq for a Looooong fuckin time so i was like. well if i can't play the game i'll read the gam #and then i got a gaming laptop lmao.#but i'm still invested in this lil bugger. if a 90k wip can be called lil.

6 notes · View notes

xiaonesis · 2 years

Text

Fell back into my Saint Seiya shit; I periodically fall back into this series several times a year.

How is this show/manga not more popular, with all the hot men (and women) in it? Everytime I look at the Gold Saints, I am grasping at my heart with pure love and pain, knowing their stories orz Also, Lost Canvas Gold Saints are on another level of pretty 😳 Like, hello Albafica, Sisyphus, Degel, Kardia and even the Gemini twins as unhinged one of you were, I am free whenever you are--

I just want to write fanfics about them but also haven’t because I know nobody will read them nowadays orz to think it was such a critically acclaimed series for its time.

If Sailormoon got a remake, Saint Seiya deserves one too! Towards later seasons (in particular from Hades arc onwards) their production value got better and I thought it was astounding for its time during the Heaven Overture movie. I keep dreaming that if a studio like Ufotable took them on now... Saint Seiya deserves so much.

#Saint Seiya definitely awakened my appreciation for muscles at a young age; it shows in the type of men i date but unfortunately men i date #got nothing on the Gold Saints who drink their respect women juice and are the epitome of honor and selflessness (most of the time)#a couple of them went off the rails for sure #i just wanna snuggle my face into their buff chests and be wrapped safely in their strong arms and pretty hair #Aries Mu used to be my obsession too and we share the same birthday; his character was so pure; i love him #you know what #maybe i will write fics for it anyways and see if i cant spread the agenda around #ren talks #saint seiya

28 notes · View notes

flashhwing · 1 year

Text

so I've established that an Anders rivalmance while still being a decent person is very difficult. what about Fenris? I'm considering replaying Oliver when I'm done with Ari and maybe rivalling Fenris this time. getting pro-mage rivalry points should be easy enough, but A Bitter Pill gives sooooo much friendship just for ..... not being a dick to him. so like. can it be done?

#the thing about Oliver is he only does fenrismance for the beginning of act 2 #getting his heart broken by Fenris is actually a Key Part of his character arc #i think it could be interestign to have him rival this time #....... then again may run into some of the same issues as rivalmancing anders as ari #because oliver is pro-templar in act one #last time i brought fenris everywhere act 1 and got his friendship to 100 before the deep roads even lol #also divided whether to do templar or warden carver #on the one hand carver becoming a templar is Also A Key Character Moment for Oliver #on the other hand p much any post da2 fic i write would have warden Carver just coz idk that's how my brain sees the worldstate #oliver's headspace is less. 'failed his family' than 'can't keep the people he loves by his side'#he feels like he's never enough #and fenris leaving and carver becoming a templar Feed Into that #and part of Oliver's arc is sort of coming to terms with the fact that neither of those were about him #nothing he could've done would have made them stay #anyway. don't be fooled by my liveblogging Ari playthrough. Oliver is my canon hawke #this has been a post

4 notes · View notes

artful-aries · 11 months

Text

This corporate queer is currently dying at work but happy pride month everyone

#aries rambles #on the plus side there’s talks of getting me a major promotion soon which means a hell of a lot more money #bad news is I’m losing the will to live and to write LMFAO #but I got plans to fulfill one of my requests soon and then I’m finally gonna crack down on pt 2 of my Dottore fic

2 notes · View notes

joongernaut · 1 year

Text

haven't been on here as frequently cause of work but i have a hongjoong fic i want to post so badly soon hopefully tomorrow!

#like i had another fic i was writing and then got smacked with joong brainrot and now i have an abomination on my hands #can't wait for y'all to read it 🙏🏾#ari can't stfu💭

2 notes · View notes

uni-seahorse-572 · 2 years

Text

my heart a fool and yours laid bare (part 2)

anyway. it's after midnight I think and I'm not coherent. writing schedule went to crud somewhere during this piece so it took way longer than intended sadly. but this is 7K. literal 7K. this was not supposed to be 7K. the entire fic was meant to be 5 at most and I've already hit 10. I can't live like this. i'm 90% sure my writing style changed partway through and guess what! i'm still not editing

also! there will most likely only be one more part to this which I hope to post in a timely manner but won't inevitably

taglist (aka those who are cursed to deal with my tomfoolery): @song-tam @gay-otlc @rainbow-frog-earrings @synonymroll648 (lmk if you'd like to be added / removed!)

From there, Keefe quickly begins to realize something entirely new about himself, something scary: he’s an incredibly tactile person when he’s allowed to be. Constantly, he finds himself bumping his shoulder against Fitz’s and slinging his arm around him, hugging him loosely at any opportunity where it seems acceptable; Keefe will muss Fitz’s hair and flop over him limply, dramatically just to feel Fitz’s exasperated fondness. Fortunately, Fitz doesn’t seem to mind, as while occasionally he’ll stiffen at the sudden contact or put up a good show of grumbling he never really complains—not even, say, when Keefe’s weight on his chest must be stopping up his breath in his lungs.

This constant contact means that Keefe gets used to the ebb and flow of Fitz’s emotions. Most people’s are hard to detangle, as they feel different for everyone, but he becomes so familiar with Fitz’s that he can decode even what he can glimpse through the tiniest brush of their skin.

A week before things will change forever, though Keefe doesn’t know it yet, he makes himself at home on Fitz’s bed without the hesitation that once characterized his every movement. The bedroom door is closed, unlike the times when he drops by Biana’s room nearby to complain about her brother or discuss music, usually dwarvish but never elven and only sometimes the smuggled human stuff (because despite what Fitz seems to believe, their tentative friendship doesn’t only center around terrorizing him—that’s a fringe benefit).

Fitz’s settled against the bed’s headboard, reading, the absolute loser, fully focused on the newest in some overly thick series he’ll gush about to anyone who’ll listen. Which isn’t many people, so that usually falls to Keefe. It’s a human one, Keefe knows, judging by the foreign shapes of the symbols inside, and Fitz never does explain how he gets any of them no matter how much he tries.

“What if,” Keefe says idly, wondering whether Fitz would kill him if he painted his horrifically dull ceiling with those spiders he’s so scared of, “instead of going to Foxfire, we harvested triceratops wool for a living? One way to get out of exams, am I right?”

“Tragically, yes. But triceratops wool is horrendously scratchy, so you couldn’t make much of a living out of that,” Fitz says distractedly, though his foot starts tapping back and forth. One way, the other, again and again as his leg becomes a pendulum broadcasting the depth of his stress. He’s awfully predictable, honestly. “I think I’ll stick with my tests.”

Really, things would go so much easier for Fitz if he’d just give up wanting to do well already. Keefe did that! And it’s going great, if he ignores his parents’ lectures. Which he always does. Sadly, Fitz has never been one for abandoning caring, even when it would make his life exponentially easier.

Rolling his eyes, Keefe reaches out one hand in an offer that needn’t be spoken. Fitz takes it without a moment’s pause. The two of them fit together like they always have.

With the years of closeness between them, Keefe has quit worrying about extrapolating too much from his Empathy entirely. He’d never use any of Fitz’s feelings against him. By now, it’s grounding for both of them when they’re connected, bonded by skin touching skin. Keefe has grown so used to Fitz’s emotions they’re as natural as his own. Sometimes, they may as well be one and the same.

Which—on some level—will never stop feeling wrong. How is it fair that he knows this much about Fitz yet the same isn’t true in return? Empathy picks up on even the things the person themself might not know is there. While Fitz has spent quite a bit of time in Keefe’s head, he sticks to surface-level thoughts, which are basically what Keefe wants him to see along with a few stray bits of nonsense Fitz can never understand.

Right now, despite the constant chill of Fitz’s long, spindly fingers and freckled palm, the emotions Keefe can sense are all warmth—sweet, hazy contentment intermingling with swelling fondness. A ribbon of nervousness cuts through the warmth, though, darting with its unease and shivering between every other feeling to send them spiraling off kilter. “Something wrong?” Keefe asks, absentmindedly running his thumb over the back of Fitz’s hand, slow slow slow and steady as he tries to impart some of his own heat.

Fitz’s protest comes seemingly without any consideration behind it. “Nothing,” he insists, at last turning to look at his best friend, their hands still interlocked between them. Yet his gaze resolutely avoids Keefe’s, cast down at the ticking anxiety of his own constant fidgeting (the same kind that ‘somehow’ always manages to go away at Foxfire, replaced instead by a subtle tension in the straining set of his shoulders). “I’m a bit worried for those tests these week is all. No need to mother hen.”

“I’ve never mother henned in my life and you know it,” Keefe retorts. “C’mon, Fitz. We’re best friends. That not only means you can trust me with anything, but also I have access to your hair products. And food. Just about everything, really.”

“So apparently trusting you with ‘anything’ doesn’t, in fact, include my stuff?” Fitz asks drily.

Unbothered, Keefe shrugs. “You knew what you were getting into when you met me, Fitzy.”

Still without deigning to put down his book, Fitz huffs. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” Keefe adopts a carefully crafted innocent expression, though of course Fitz knows far better than to fall for it—truly unfortunate, that. “Fitzy, Fitzy, Fitzy-a-roo,” he sing-songs, finding progressively more ridiculous twists on the nickname and adding each to his taunt with a solemn mischievousness.

“Keefe.” Fitz draws his name out until the single syllable lasts an eternity, finally setting his book outside. “Okay, I give in. I’ll indulge your insatiably childish need for attention if you’ll just stop already.”

“Or you could actually tell me what’s bothering you. I’ve heard it works wonders, venting and all that.” Keefe makes the words sound like a challenge, needling Fitz out of his shell—he knows all the right buttons to push, just from the precise waves of irritation and subtle joy emanating from where their hands meet.

Fitz throws both his hands up in the air, thereby disentangling their only point of contact. “You’re impossible. I’m entitled to my privacy, aren’t I?”

“File that among the things you should’ve thought of before letting me into your lame, lame life.” For an eternal moment, Keefe stares Fitz down, one eyebrow arched high in a silent challenge. He smirks, rather deliberately, before springing forward and tackling Fitz into the bed.

Sputtering, Fitz wriggles out from under him, twisting one of Keefe’s arm’s behind his back. Keefe promptly drives his other elbow into Fitz’s stomach, sending him sprawling backwards. Even as Fitz lashes out with his unfairly long legs, Keefe strikes, pinning Fitz’s shoulders down to the bed and sitting on his torso.

Fitz glowers up at him, chest heaving. “Get off me,” he huffs, dark hair arrayed messy around his head, “you jerk, what’d you go and do that for? A warning wouldn’t hurt.”

“Expect the unexpected,” Keefe pants. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“That can’t really be what this is about,” Fitz complains, rolling his eyes grandly as though he expects that to prove his point. “You’re heavy.”

Keefe lets out an unbothered hum, bouncing up and down slightly so as to achieve his full irritation potential. “And I’m staying here until you spit it out. I’ll have you know I could do this all day. You’re rather comfy.”

Fitz returns to his ineffectual glaring, not seeming to realize how unintimidating his scrunched nose and crinkled brows are as always. His emotions seep out into Keefe, a quiet storm. A low, thundering rumble of anxiety paired with the cleansing rain of airy happiness, soaring skies of uncertainty and the steady grassy ground of comfort, all cut through by lightning strikes of something undefinable. Strikes that ring with excitement and flash with fear, warm yet tentative and new as flower buds. The river of Fitz’s breathing winds through Keefe’s Empathy and the real world, a bridge keeping him tied together.

With heated cheeks, Fitz glances away and carefully avoids any and all eye contact. Keefe frowns. “Whoa. You okay?” He pauses, removes his hands from Fitz’s shoulder. The constant input through his Empathy softens around the edges. “Those are some pretty intense feelings I’m getting.”

“Yeah, that’d be my desire to push you off the balcony,” Fitz grounds out, seeming to find Keefe’s face again. He’s trying to deflect now, then. That’s a familiar dance of half-forced frustration.

“Very convincing,” Keefe says drily, but he lets up on Fitz regardless, rolling over to fiddle with the things crowding his bedside table. “Oh, hey, I knew you had that kelpie Prattles pin I lost, what, a year ago? How long has it been since you cleaned this off?”

“Shove off,” Fitz mutters, rising and rummaging through his Foxfire bag to grab and start scanning through his Elementalism text. “Since I last had the freetime and energy to do it with, probably. So who even knows.”

Keefe subtly sends Fitz a long, searching look and keeps his answer too quiet to be heard. “That long, huh?”

The difference, he knows, between him and Fitz is that Fitz still cares. Caring is harder. Caring makes him tired, consumes him, while Keefe can just drift and let it all go crashing down only to live in the rubble. The last time he neatened up his own space is never because his dad’s appalled expression is funny, despite its consequences.

The subject slips away. Keefe lets it.

If Foster is a mystery, she’s a forbidden one.

The first week, Keefe avoids her; the second, he tries to annoy her into being scared away. Her emotions are entirely unguarded. The moment he steps into her vicinity, they strike—overwhelming, suffocating him with their force and making it nigh impossible to even think about anything else.

Yet that’s not the only reason why he has to stay away. Every time he’s near her, he can hear Sir Richard and Lady Merewyn’s voices ringing inside his head. It’s an invasion of privacy. He doesn’t even have the option of asking like he did with Fitz, because this doesn’t rely on contact. Sophie’s not his friend, really. She’s not in his inner circle. This shouldn’t be possible. It certainly isn’t right.

Fitz, on the other hand, has no such reservations. He doesn’t need to. With the sheer amount of time he spends around Sophie, Keefe is virtually alone with little hope of reprieve.

When he gives up on all reservations, admits that Sophie’s too persistent to allow him to avoid her so easily, it is—miraculously—worse. Far, far worse.

Everglen, compared to Candleshade, serves as a refuge. The house is far from kind. It holds that same coldness, repackaged in intricate, colorful crystal designs and rich-toned wood, but yet lacks any true comfort. The furniture is elegant, but always too stiff or strangely shaped or itchy, and fragile creations lie around every corner and topple at the merest breath. At least Candleshade doesn’t try to hide its nature.

Keefe meets Fitz on the grounds. The landscaping makes a simple distance wind through towering, flowering hedges, dance through hidden alcoves of trickling fountains and shaded benches, elaborately built and carefully maintained. He still gets lost out here sometimes.

The day is cool, a chill wind cutting through the air, but Fitz’s arms remain bare. No wonder his skin’s always so cold to the touch.

Sophie stands out on the grounds too, shifting her weight from foot to foot and smiling a smile that speaks more of nervousness than it does joy.

“Hey!” Keefe calls, staying as far away from her as he can without it looking odd. “What’re we doing, Fitz? Two-against-one Basequest doesn’t seem fair, you know. You guys deserve a chance too.”

Fitz rolls his eyes. “Hilarious. Nah, we were practicing Channeling. Sophie’s still struggling a bit in P.E.”

“Can’t imagine why, after you flung pretty boy here into a wall.” Keefe snickers at the memory. Good times.

“The drive to beat Fitz doesn’t exactly work with Channeling,” Sophie says drily. In the breeze, her blond hair whips wildly around her head, lashing against her face. The way she leans into Fitz carries an unspoken emphasis Keefe doesn’t need Empathy to decode.

Keefe moves to sling an arm around Fitz’s shoulders, yanking him closer (if that happens to pull him further away from Sophie, well, that’s just an unexpected consequence). “Personally, I find that works for just about anything. After all…”

He trails off, freezes. The roar of Fitz’s emotions has hit him harder than usual. There’s so much tangled there, shades of feelings he’s not fully used to, not with Fitz.

Affection, soft and sweet, paired with fondness and admiration. Exasperation (at Keefe?). And more than any of those, there’s something strong, something warm. It washes everything else away. It’s old and new at once, unyielding, and its power sparks a surge of bittersweetness deep within Keefe. He knows what this is. Or at least, he thinks he does. It’s not an emotion he picks up on often. It’s too raw for that, too filled with protective fury and passion and tenderness all at once. There’s no perfect word for it. Usually, he’d call it love, and that would serve well enough. But not now.

Fitz is in love. Fitz is in love, and the force of it is more than it has any right to be. That’s not even the most sickening thing.

He’s in love with Sophie. Why else would it be this strong right now? This present? Why else would his face be warm, tinged red, his smile be this soft around the edges? There’s no other explanation, and Keefe’s more upset than he has any right to be. He should be happy for his best friend, right? No, of course he’s happy for him, there’s no reason not to be. He’s just terrified of being left behind. That’s all. He doesn’t need to be distressed over a simple crush.

No simple crush, Keefe’s traitorous brain argues. Sophie feels the same, just look at her. And who wouldn’t? Fitz is possibly the best person out there. He’s too good for you in the first place. There was never any chance of him sticking around.

Keefe’s hand tangles together with Fitz’s, and he refuses to let it mean anything. This doesn’t get to mean anything. The moment he starts reading too far into the little thing sthey share, he knows he’s doomed. Keefe needs to pretend that they’re just friends.

Because Fitz is always aflutter around Sophie. Always blushing, stumbling in love, and it’s obvious that Keefe has already lost a game he didn’t even know he was playing. He needs to be happy for them. He can’t.

“Hey, Keefe?” Fitz cuts into his thoughts, tethering him back to reality when Keefe would rather spiral further into his moping. Sometimes it’s a shame Fitz knows him so well. “Everything all good? You kinda blanked out on us for a moment there.”

Sophie nods in agreement. Keefe almost wants to hate her. Is she really good enough for Fitz? Does she even truly know him? “Yeah, it was starting to get creepy.”

“I’m very sorry to be telling you like this.” Keefe says, with a long, dramatic sigh, “but I’ve been possessed by a ghost that makes me do things, like blank out. Or like—this!” With that, he snaps up a clump of mud with his Telekinesis and whips it into Fitz’s face before he can so much as blink.

Fitz splutters at him, using the back of his hand to wipe the mud off. “I can literally taste it,” he complains. “What are you, twelve?”

“Out of ten,” Keefe fires back. “Though, really, you’ve gotta add extra points for the hair.”

“Not if it’s covered in mud.”

With a wink, Keefe says, “You’ll have to catch me first”, and darts away, laughing at Fitz’s growing glower.

Later, when all is said and done, all three of them covered in the outdoors with heaving sides and racing hearts, Sophie jokes about how that was probably a better lesson in channeling than traditional practice would have been. Keefe grouses so much about being tired that Fitz agrees to give him a piggy-back ride, their sweaty bodies pressed tight together, and all is right in the world.

Or it would be, if not for the pulsing love that still coils within Fitz.

Keefe decides, afterwards, that he’s scared of change. Sophie’s a huge one, particularly if the spark between her and Fitz does end up becoming something more, and so of course all of this is scaring him. One day he’ll wake up and Fitz will be spending all his time with a girlfriend, maturing into the man everyone expects him to be, and Keefe will just be there. The exact same, spinning every serious moment into a joke and still refusing to grow up and accept ‘reality’ as his father would say.

One Foxfire Tuesday, then, Keefe turns to tradition. Not the dull kind, but one of his and Fitz’s own making. He skips detention for something-or-other (he never knows what anymore, he’s pretty sure he’s booked through until the end of his time at Foxfire) and drags Fitz with him to the library instead. Not the cafeteria, because a mentor would surely notice him there, but there are certain places among the towering bookshelves where it’s simple to hide.

Fitz doesn’t ask questions. He settles himself on the floor, resting his back against a couch rather than properly sitting on it, and Keefe does the same.

“So,” Fitz says, softly, like he’s internalized the rules of library quiet to the extent that he can’t help but follow them.

“So,” Keefe echoes.

Fitz glances at him, and shakes his head. He curls one hand atop Keefe’s knee, and Keefe leans his head on his shoulder. “What was so bad about detention today?”

Right. Most of the time, Keefe only skips when the mentor or their assignment is particularly unbearable, but today he wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about Fitz. “Nothing. Just didn’t feel like it, I guess.”

“You’re really not worried about what consequences they’ll try if they can’t even keep you in detention?” That’s a typical Fitz question, given that the only rules he’s ever broken have all been at his best friend’s… not pleading, really, because some of the time all it takes is a simple question and he’s giving in. Usually he even follows the stupid ones like ‘don’t make dinosaur noises in the hallways’ (a rule added solely because of Keefe, which belongs solidly on his list of greatest accomplishments that would exist if he didn’t despise making lists).

“I mean, what else can they even do?” Keefe would shrug, except his shoulder lies against Fitz’s and he doesn’t want to jostle him. “Anything drastic, dear ol’ dad’ll bail me out. Might finally tick him off enough to see the next color on the ‘Lord Cassius’ anger spectrum. The most his face has ever turned is purple.”

“You’re an idiot,” Fitz says, by which he means, I’m worried about you and I know you’re lying and please, please just tell me how I can help and I swear I’ll do it, just say it. Sometimes Keefe wonders what, exactly, Fitz can divine from his own mannerisms, quirks in speech. He hopes it isn’t nearly as much.

“But a handsome one. Also, unrelated note slash complete topic change, any idea why Bee’s been in such a mood lately? I haven’t seen her like this since I filled her pillowcase with spiders.”

Fitz tips his head backwards, exposing the fragile lines of his throat and lifting his face to the fading sun. “You mean since she beat you up so badly she got grounded. Dad’s making her try and be friends with Sophie. I don’t think Biana likes her for whatever reason, but I’m sure she’ll come around. Sophie’s great.”

Keefe makes a noncommittal noise. Neither Biana nor her grudges are easily swayed.

“Oh, and according to the rumor mill you’re dating Thyra,” Fitz says with a flare of an undecodable emotion. “Crush cuffs and everything.”

“Of course I am.” Keefe snorts. “I think we’ve spoken, like, twice.”

“You can’t forget the time you took that midnight arthropleura ride through Atlantis,” Fitz says very seriously.

With a grumbling sigh, Keefe tucks himself closer to Fitz’s side. “I’m sure that particular story’ll pass soon.”

“They always do.” Fitz rests his head against Keefe’s hair, tucking his knees up so they lie partially on Keefe’s outstretched legs. “Remind me again when we have to be in class?”

“Healthy hour, I’d say,” Keefe says.

“What about what the bells would say?”

“Like, twenty minutes, probably. But I’ve never been on time once in my life and that’s added surprisingly little to my stock of detentions. Sufficiently imaginative excuses will do you a world of good if you play it right.”

Fitz chuckles. “I’d rather just be punctual.”

From his bag, Keefe grabs his sketchbook and a pencil, idly drawing something out. “Where’s the fun in that.”

It doesn’t take much time for him to become absorbed in his artwork. The shapes he creates are abstract, messy, slowly melding into a form like a shadowed man. The steady scratch of his pencil beats out the only sound other than their own breathing. Around them, the scent of dust and paper permeates the air, and the shelves stretch seemingly endlessly onward. They march towards an infinity of ephemeral things caught on pages.

When he looks back at Fitz, his eyes are closed. If he’s sleeping, he surely needs it, but the cast of his feelings says otherwise. In sleep the heart is remarkably quiet.

But right now that same love is there, tucked between his atria. Despite the fact that Sophie is nowhere near, it’s every bit as strong as it was before, only softer. It shouldn’t feel like it does. There’s a marked difference between newly sprouted love and the kind that’s grown between partners that have spent years with lives intertwined, and this seems disconcertingly closer to the second. It doesn’t make sense.

It doesn’t make sense, and it’s there nevertheless, defying all logic. Keefe could drown in it. Strange that his Empathy would let him experience this love, the sort he doesn’t ever expect to hold towards another or to be directed towards himself. Yet it may as well beat beside his own heart.

Never has he been this close to love as an Empath. He hadn’t realized there was so much to it. It had seemed simple, the way people talked about it, and after all his mentors in the matter had been his parents. Whatever their loved looked like, it certainly had never been this. Keefe finds himself thinking that he’s jealous. Fitz has fallen, fallen deeply, and it had taken him too long to notice it. He’s sure to find the life he wants, as everything in his future settles into place.

And looking at him, face calm and the traces of a smile curling up the edges of his lips, Keefe can’t help but want that for him too.

So. That’s decided, then.

Subtlety is the name of the game. Or, at the very least, it’s scribbled all over the rulebook, because Keefe is determined to do this right. He won’t mess this one up. He knows, as he has always known, that he’s usually the problem, so to speak. It’s Fitz bailing him out of trouble with a few carefully placed pleas to Dame Alina and Fitz spinning stories to convince Cassius to let his son do this or that. In the grand scheme of their friendship, it’s always him helping Keefe out, so rarely the other way around. Keefe’s sick of being the screw-up.

The setup, to convince Yasmin Hadi to throw a party this weekend with all of his charismatic knowhow, is accomplished easily.

The rest of the necessary machinations require more precision. Fitz, when it comes down to the wire, is rarely so easily swayed. He can sense a setup a mile away—his instincts, what with those he’s surrounded with, have become incredibly fine-tuned to the presence of a scheme. Not that this is a scheme, of course. Only close.

Keefe catches him by his locker (surprise, surprise, Sophie’s there too, but that actually works rather in his favor) and doesn’t hesitate before hooking an arm around his shoulders.

“Yasmin’s throwing a party Saturday,” Keefe says.

Fitz spares a second away from running through carefully written flashcards to shoot him an incredibly skeptical expression. “That’s good for her.”

Keefe rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright, so you’re really making me spell it out for you? We should go.”

“We really shouldn’t.”

“Still hung up on the Rigged Ripplefluff Incident, eh?” Keefe says.

Sophie glances between the two of them. “Do you call everything incidents?”

“Well—”

“That one’s not worth mentioning,” Fitz interjects.

“He makes it out to be a bigger deal than it is.” Keefe ducks Fitz’s rather half-hearted elbow, raising his own hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. My point is, we shouldn’t deprive Sophie of her first ever elven party, right? Maybe even first ever party period?”

“I don’t know about that,” Sophie says with an awkward chuckle. One hand goes to her eyelashes, tugging gently, and she shifts her shoulders so half her hair whooshes in front of her face. “I don’t think I’m the sort of person who’d like parties. You’re welcome to go without me.”

“I promise it’s not as bad as you think.” Finally, Fitz stows his notecards, turning instead to face Sophie fully and knocking Keefe’s arm off in the process. It disconcerts Keefe, lacking that thrum of connection. “I’m pretty sure humans do it worse.”

Keefe nods sagely. “So I assume you’re in agreement that we should show Sophie how elves live it up?”

“You don’t have to,” Sophie says.

“Keefe, you bring me so much pain,” Fitz grumbles. “Of course I’m in. You’re helping me make up for lost study time, though.”

“You’re a liar and a fraud if you’re seriously claiming you’d be studying Saturday evening,” Keefe says.

Because he’s a terrible, terrible person, Fitz grins at him. “Well, now, I’m studying Thursday evening. With you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get to my next session before I’m given detention just for hanging around you two outlaws.”

Sophie laughs. “I think he basically just played you. You sure that’s worth it?”

Keefe grumbles out something unintelligible. It’s worth it. It has to be worth it. It isn’t for him, after all, it’s for Fitz, and if that study session is part of this so be it. Very soon it’ll be harder to find time alone with his best friend, in all likelihood. Maybe the price of this is a mercy too.

Yasmin Hadi’s house, at the overly reasonable hour of four in the afternoon, pulses slowly with the milling footsteps and clustered chatter of Foxfire’s finest. Its great, elaborately-carved wooden doors swing thrown open like every one of the window shutters. The breeze winds through the front entrance and twists through the thrown-open patio doors, nudging the entire first floor into that gray space between outside and in.

Outside, amidst the party’s nucleus, Yasmin herself shines softly, waving heartily at each new arrival and pulling them into the fold. People group together in bubbles of quiet activity, distinct collections of two and three and five and fourteen like islands on the same sea. They recline on cushioned furniture and take glistening refreshments from green-glass tables. Over it all rests the music’s hum, the sound of a babbling brook occasionally intermingled with trilling birdcalls set to a sharper tempo. Several partygoers sway to the rhythm.

“When you said ‘party’,” Sophie says, glancing around as though in a dream or a fae ring, “this is decidedly not what I pictured.”

“Human thing?” Keefe guesses, to which she nods. “Wait, what were you thinking of? I’ve heard some wild stories—”

Fitz cuts him off with a pleading, “Don’t tell him, for my sanity’s sake.”

Shaking her head at the two of them, Sophie snatches a square of mallowmelt from a nearby table and takes a thoughtful bite. “I don’t know. Something like in all the movies, maybe? Loud music, flashing lights, people bouncing around in close quarters, someone probably doing something exceptionally dumb?”

“Sounds like my scene.” Keefe heads for a calm alcove, abandoning his usual routine at parties like these. He can’t lose sight of his mission. Tonight provides the perfect opening, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take it and take it right… especially after already having purposefully created the opportunity in the first place. All Sophie and Fitz need is a little nudge in the right direction. Or maybe a giant shove, whatever works.

The three of them settle onto a long, low-lying couch, far from the bustling center. Carefully, Keefe sits close enough to Fitz so that their knees brush, so he can keep tabs on everyone’s emotions and make sure everything proceeds in the right direction. Much as his friends like to joke that he lacks caution, lacks subtlety, he is an Empath. That gives him an automatic edge on this and similar matters, and his plan is already unfolding perfectly in all its complex designs.

Mentally, he casts about for any potentially useful avenue of conversation, yet one begins before he can quite get there.

“You’re really sure this is edible?” Sophie peers at a translucent sunset orange orb, rolling it in the palm of her hand so that the tiny, sparkly flecks swirling within catch the light. “It doesn’t look edible. Unless you think marbles look appetizing.”

“I’m not really sure what that is,” Fitz admits, “but they’re edible. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party that didn’t have them.”

Keefe snorts. “Right. Because you let me drag you along to parties so often.”

Fitz swings one leg out, over and over, all jerky movements in a jarring rhythm so familiar Keefe’s tempted to join in with a melody. “Not everyone likes parties.”

Still squinting at the spherical confection, Sophie squishes it in her hand, considering it for a last moment before popping it into her mouth. She makes a scrunched-up face and scrapes her teeth along her tongue. “Considering that this just seems like free food, I’ve a feeling most people really do like elven parties.”

“Do you even like the food?” Fitz asks.

She points one overdramatically accusing finger his way. “Free food is free food.”

Keefe leans back against the couch, trying to fade into the background so that he can watch without interruption. The two of them play off of each other well. Through where his leg is pressed against Fitz’s own, he can sense a convoluted mix of nervousness and joy. It’s going well, then. They just need a bit of a push.

Carefully, he concentrates on a cup of rich blue liquid a refreshment table away, managing to slowly lift it with his mind. It bobs gently in the air as it floats towards him. When it finally nears, he lets loose some of his control and leans into the way it wobbles back and forth. A little more, a little more—

The glass tips. Its contents arc downwards, vibrant blue splattering as it spills, all directly onto Sophie’s white tank top. It drips down her shoulders, coalesces in the hollows of her collarbone, and seeps into dark stains on her shirt.

“Whoops,” Keefe says, trying for a passable imitation of being genuinely apologetic. “I’m, uh, sorry I ruined your shirt.”

Sophie brushes him off with a quick shake of her head. “It’s fine. I’m sure I can get it out when I get home, though I wouldn’t mind some napkins.”

“I’ll grab some,” Fitz offers. He gets up without waiting for a reply, and Keefe focuses in on Sophie.

Keefe sighs. “Foster, Foster. Think of my image! I can’t be seen with you in public if you’re covered in blue. Talk about a fashion faux pas.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I bet Fitz could lend you his jacket…”

Naturally, Fitz chooses that exact moment to return, a bundle of napkins in one hand. “What? You’re the one who spilled. I’m cold enough wearing it.”

“Yeah, well, your jacket matches her shirt better,” Keefe argues.

“Yours is literally the same color,” Fitz says.

“I don’t need anyone’s jacket.” Sophie squints between the two of them, unspoken questions dancing in her gaze. Fitz shrugs in reply, as if to say he’s just as bemused as she is. “Also, honestly, it’s pretty warm here anyway.”

Narrowing his eyes, Keefe considers whether to concede on the matter, though he doesn’t have much of a choice. His first attempt at matchmaking is officially a total failure. Unless… what if both of them were so cagey about it solely because they liked each other? What if they were at least partially aware of their mutual crush, or one side of it anyway, enough so that certain actions felt awkward and charged? If anything, that meant try one was a strange success: it confirmed the likelihood of meeting the mission goals overall. Score one for Keefe, cupid extraordinaire.

Still. He does need to change tactics—and he knows the perfect opportunity is coming up, if he can just ensure he’ll be able to seize it. “So,” he says, not bothering to hide his own abruptness, “how are you settling in to the elven world, Sophie? Was neglecting to introduce you to elven parties an oversight or has Fitz fully failed you as a tour guide?”

Sophie shifts in place, managing a half smile. “It’s weird here, sure, but nice so far. And I really haven’t had time to explore the Lost Cities yet.”

“Awfully polite way of throwing Fitz under the arthropleuras,” Keefe comments.

A group of party guests drifts closer towards them, laughs alight and shining on their lips, and their noise nearly drowns out Fitz’s next words. “For once, Keefe, you may have a point. Do you know what sort of thing you want to see, Sophie, if anything?”

“Food sounds good,” Sophie says with a laugh. “You can’t really go wrong knowing the best places to go for a snack.”

Oh, there it is, the great golden beacon of opportunity. Keefe strikes. “In that case… Fitz, do you remember that bakery in Atlantis we went to last month?”

“The one where everything was so small you had to order, like, four things just for a regular portion?” Fitz’s gaze flits back towards his best friend, soft with the memory.

Keefe nods. “You have to admit they were so good though.”

“I nearly choked on an almond,” Fitz says.

“But you were fine! Thanks to my quick thinking and excellent reaction times you’re still here with us today.” Keefe slings an arm around Fitz’s shoulder, mainly for the simple pleasure of being able to reach up and ruffle his hair. The point of having a best friend is to know and do what annoys them with impudence… plus, Fitz’s hair is just soft. “Also, I still distinctly recall you asking for the recipe.”

Fitz huffs. “Not the almond bar-cookie-thing. I would’ve had more time to compare notes with the bakers if not for you.”

“In my defense—”

“—you have never once managed to finish that sentence with a valid defense—”

“—hey, if you listen, maybe you’ll find this is the first time. Point is, it wasn’t my fault this kind from our level dared me to telekinetically lift a table or two.” Keefe shrugs. “What did you want me to do, back down from a dare?”

“Um, yeah, that’s exactly what I wanted you to do. And it wasn’t a table or two, it was all of them. I still haven’t gotten the sound of crashing dishware out of my head.” Fitz shudders, perhaps a tad overdramatically. “You still didn’t even manage the stupid dare.”

“I live in shame every time I see Bellamy to this day,” Keefe says solemnly. “Yet I did all I could to rise to the challenge.” He pauses. “I also live in shame and hunger every time I’ve passed that bakery since.”

“I stand by their choice to ban you,” Fitz grumbles. “I’m just lucky they didn’t ban me too.”

Keefe chuckles, meeting Sophie’s eyes again and trying to tamp down his own sappy emotions. He needs to focus, no matter what. “It’s a great bakery.” His voice comes out softer than he’d like. “A great memory.”

The warmth emanating from Fitz is deliriously strong and sweet, fond and familiar. It’s so intense Keefe almost can’t take it, even after so many years of living through Fitz’s feelings right along with him. And Keefe has the power to make sure this feeling sticks around for Fitz.

“Sounds like it,” Sophie says, a smile working at the edges of her lips.

“You should go,” Keefe suggests, and there it is, the play perfectly in place. “Just the two of you, of course, I’m positive they still know my face there.”

The two of them both offer easy agreement. There. Clearly, the thing with the jacket was just a misstep, which was obviously bound to happen somewhere along the way. No matter. Keefe has obviously gotten into his groove. He’s a genius.

It may not have been phrased as such, but the bakery thing is literally a date. Anyone could see it. A romantic shop in Atlantis? Just Sophie and Fitz, with Keefe conveniently automatically out through an incredibly ironclad excuse? A lesser matchmaker could, and probably would, go ahead and stop now. This is basically already victory, right? But Keefe refuses to see this halfway through. He’s going to make sure his best friend’s happiness is completely and totally secured by the end of tonight, Keefe style.

Subtly as he can, Keefe flashes Yasmin the signal, so she knows he’s ready to move on into the next essential stage of his plan. From across the patio, she shoots him a thumbs up.

It’s go time.

The first bracelet falls nigh unnoticed, like an autumn leaf, drifting down to rest in a bowl of shimmering liquid a couple of tables away. Slowly, though, they begin to fall in full force, beads twinkling in a multitude of vibrant shades. Gasps spread outwards from the first person to grasp one, excitement buzzing through the air and bringing with it a clamoring chorus of reinvigorated chatter.

The bracelets find their places littered across the ground and resting atop people’s heads, but eventually, the result is the same as always: everyone holds one within their palm. Chaos breaks out in a flurry of activity. There’s blushing, giggling, even crying.

“What’s going on?” Sophie asks warily, twisting her bracelet’s red beads over and over in her hands.

“An elven party tradition.” Keefe gives a nonchalant shrug. “It’s like a mini version of crush cuffs, I guess. Everyone’s supposed to give theirs to the person they’d most want to be matched with and any pair who both chose each other all slow dance to the next song.”

Fitz’s staring rather determinedly at his lap, voice strangely quiet. Oh. That’s definitely nervousness, but there’s nothing to worry about, not with Keefe at his side. “It’s a bit of a weird one. If you’d rather abstain…”

“Don’t be boring,” Keefe goads. “I mean, it’s not that intimidating if you give them to each other…”

Glancing between the two of them as though they’re a puzzle she still can’t quite work out, Sophie says, “It’s fine. We all know no one in their right mind would let me slow dance anyway—no need to double the amount of feet I might trip over.”

Maybe they’re a bit more anxious about all this than Keefe thought. Which makes sense, he supposes. They’ve both never even been on a date before, right? All they need is the right push towards confidence. “C’mon, the dance moves are easy. You can’t miss out on this, uh, spectacular elven thing.”

“You could dance with her too,” Fitz points out.

Keefe frowns. Does his best friend really not see he’s doing this to help him out? “Nah, too dorky for me. Luckily, though, you two are dorks!”

“Thanks,” Sophie says drily. “Look, Keefe—”

“I’d be neglecting my duty as a friend if I didn’t—”

Severing all contact between them, Fitz rises to his feet, one arm wrapped firmly around his waist. “Could you please just drop it?”

“It’s just a silly party game. Lighten up, dude,” Keefe tells him. “Do you not want to dance with Sophie?”

Sophie turns a glower towards him. “What’s with you tonight? It really doesn’t matter tp me.”

In exasperation, he throws his hands up. “I don’t get either of you right now. Mostly Fitz. I get that you’re nervous—”

“Would you cut it out already?” Fitz snaps. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry about my ridiculous feelings and the fact that you have to deal with them. I’m sorry if you’re sick of it.” His voice breaks, splitting in two like a gaping canyon of understanding Keefe can’t cross, because none of this makes sense. Nothing’s making sense. “But this? This is just cruel.”

“What on earth are you saying?” Keefe stands up too, reaching out towards his best friend. Maybe, if he could just get a read on him the same way he always does, he could sort this out. He could get down to the root of whatever’s got this whole situation scrambled into shattered pieces. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He doesn’t even know what this is.

Fitz backs away, raising his hands in desperate defense. “Stop pretending you don’t know,” he whispers. “You’re… you’re such an asshole, Keefe.”

“Fitz, come on!” Keefe shouts, but it’s too late. Already too late. Fitz is vanished, shoving forward into the crowd, swallowed up by a sea of bodies. The evening’s cold around him but he doesn’t feel it. For the first time in his life, Keefe doesn’t feel anything, icy numbness sinking deep into his bones.

Keefe sways. His head’s pounding.

How did this happen?

He doesn’t understand. He can’t understand. None of this is adding up. Everything he planned, everything he put in place just to make his best friend happy, has fallen to pieces around him. He’s an idiot and an asshole and he doesn’t even know why.

But it’s worse than that. Of course it’s worse than that. Because for the first time since he found his person, the one who was for so long the only contact and comfort he had, Keefe is alone. Totally alone.

There’s nothing left.

And somehow, it’s all his fault.

#ari writes #ari can words #kotlc #keefitz #keefe sencen #fitz vacker #this is. certainly a fic. that's all i've got #this chapter really did fight me though and i have no idea how it turned out #but i wanted to finish it and again after midnight #i refuse to be blamed for my actions on a tuesday #this does NOT feel like seven thousand words #will be sleeping now

11 notes · View notes

eosofspades · 2 years

Note

Next for no excuses writing meme >:3c

"They haven't talked much either, and she knows, logically, it's probably just because he's busy, but there's a part of her so certain that he knows, and that he doesn't want to see her."

send me an ask based on my current wip!

#this is not from the same wip as waffle's ask because that was my original project but it recently got COMPLETELY revamped #so u get. angsty ari fic <3 #ask meme #ask #my writing

2 notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 3 months

Text

yan!gojo is in the works hehehe >:33

#the only yan!character i will ever write for 🔥🔥#he’s a lovely lovely man his moral compass is just a tinyyy bit skewed ok . i could fix him #this was just the bout of inspo i needed hehe if nobody got me i know alexis got me #i dont think ill be able to finish the kenny fic this week so maybe ill post this instead 👀👀#i dont dabble in darker content v often at all so im a lil nervous to post it 👉👈 but !! im happy w how its looking so far :33 #just a fun lil writing exercise (but i am also extremely abnormal abt him)#ari noises ✩

36 notes · View notes

bigtreefest · 22 days

Text

Do you enjoy my fics? Are you following along with the storyline? Did I write them well?

Is there a gap I missed? Can you relate to the character? Did I put too many scientific/technical terms?

I don’t know! There are other ways to give feedback besides likes. You can comment on a fic if you don’t want people you know to be in your business about what you’re reading like a reblog would cause. You can send an ask if something’s not adding up/you’re curious!!

I just want any sort of feedback besides your serial likes!! I can tell when you’ve binged without saying what you liked/thought.

#I appreciate the like but I wish you would say something!!#I literally have no idea what you think if you don’t say a word #I feel like I got comments on my first few fics and now everyone is just silent besides mutuals??#I really don’t want to seem like a pessimistic complainer but I feel like I’m shouting into the void #I’ve been waiting to post this meme because I’m proud of it but I don’t want you guys to think I’m a passive aggressive jerkwad #I have been told I’m very good at being passive aggressive tho #whatever I’m gonna keep writing anyways #st made a meme #this new Ari chapter I’m writing is so cute but idk how to do anything but fluff #anywayyyyyy I’m going to bed

0 notes

worldlxvlys · 6 days

Note

I HAVE A IDEA (MR CRABS I HAVE AN IDEA)

yk the new song ari came out with (we can't be friends) Chris fic were the reader and him are best friends that always flirt and they made out drunk at a party and have not been talking for a week untill Chris shows up at her house and they makeout and maybe some smut? Idrk

Anyways that's all 💋

we can’t be friends

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of drinking/being drunk, smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), squirting, cursing

a/n: i’ve been absolutely OBSESSED with this song and itching to write about ittt

i hope you enjoy

i let out a heavy sigh at his last text, before throwing my phone onto my bed.

of course i wanted to fight for us, but this was about more than just our friendship . this was about what was best for us individually.

for as long as i could remember, i always put chris’ feelings before my own. i spent so long chasing after him, just to end up heartbroken.

i watched him constantly pick other people over me, blissfully unaware of how deeply he was wounding me.

but no matter how much i wanted to, i couldn’t blame him. it was easier to point fingers at him than to accept the fact that this was partially my own fault.

i let him continue to hurt me, over and over again, never telling him what he was doing to me. and if i didn’t tell him, how would he know any better ?

so, even though it killed me to act so cold and distant toward him, it was time to look out for myself for once.

i needed to take the time to love and take care of myself before expecting someone else to do so.

sure, he’d be upset for a short while, but once he got over me he would easily move on to the next girl. that’s all i was to him, after all. just another girl.

i was pulled from my thoughts when i heard my front door open and close suddenly, followed by quick footsteps toward my room.

i waited behind my bedroom door, quick to swing my arm out in front of me when the person made it to the doorway.

i was met with chris, who immediately caught my wrist in his hand.

we stared at each other with wide eyes, neither one of us speaking. i blinked up at him, watching his eyes trail down to my lips.

“don’t do that” the words flew out of my mouth before i could stop them.

his eyes immediately shot back up to mine, a curious expression taking over his features.

“don’t do what?” he asked, loosening his grip on my wrist to let it slide down, intertwining our fingers.

“chris, we aren’t doing this. i meant what i said earlier, we’re better off not being friends”

“you keep saying that, but you won’t tell me why. you gotta talk to me baby” he spoke.

“i don’t want to” i spoke back, shaking my head as i backed up slightly to create more distance between us.

“how am i supposed to know what i did wrong if you don’t talk to me?”

he was right, of course he was. it was unfair of me to just cut him off with no reasoning. but the second we start talking about it is the second it becomes real. i didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that i was trying to end one of the most important friendships i’d ever had in my life.

“you didn’t do anything, chris” i answered. he wasn’t having it. “no, tell me. i’m not letting you just end our friendship like this, not without a reason”

“i just can’t be friends with you”

“why? what is so wrong with me that you don’t want me in your life? and completely out of nowhere” he spoke, his voice rising slightly.

“see, that’s the problem. i don’t want you out of my life, i want you in it forever. but you clearly don’t want that, and it’s ok.”

“who the hell said i didn’t want that?” chris asked, his brows furrowing.

“chris, it’s fine. you don’t have to try to make me feel better-”

“so you don’t believe me?” he cut me off.

“i mean, i don’t know, i just…” my babbling trailed off as i tried to find the right words.

“let me prove it to you” he whispered as he toyed with the strap of my tank top.

my breathing grew shallow as he moved the fabric down my arm slightly, pressing his lips to my shoulder.

“chris….we shouldn’t” i whispered, but tilted my head to the side, allowing him more access as his lips moved up my neck.

“really? you weren’t complaining a week ago” he spoke against my skin.

i slapped his chest lightly at that. “yeah, well we were also drunk”

he bit down on my neck, harshly enough to leave a bruise and elicit a moan from me. “so, you don’t want this?” he asked.

i let out a deep sigh, “of course i do, chris. but do you?”

he looked as though he was going to say something, but i stopped him “don’t tell me yes just because you want sex. i don’t want you to just want somebody, i want you to want me. if you’re just gonna fuck me and move onto the next girl, then forget it” i spoke.

the more i thought about it, the more i convinced myself that he didn’t really want me.

“hey” he spoke softly, cupping my jaw. “this isn’t about the sex, this isn’t even about me wanting you. this is about me needing you. this is about me not being able to live without you. yes, i’ve been with other girls. but there’s a reason that you’re the only one that’s always been there”

“i was so sure you didn’t feel the same, so i tried to move on. but i couldn’t, because none of those girls are you. and i’m so sorry that i hurt you, i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if i have to”

chris looked at me as though he could cry. his blue eyes shot back and forth between my own, his thumb caressing my jaw gently.

“so make it up to me” i whispered, pulling his lips to my own.

one of his arms smoothly slid behind my back, supporting my weight as i found it hard to keep my balance.

he kissed me like he had waited his whole life for this moment. his lips felt so soft against mine, unlike our last kiss.

this kiss made our drunken one feel sloppy and desperate, like two people who were just horny, but this was more than that. it was eye-opening, sweet, gentle, it was everything i didn’t know i needed.

but chris did, he always knew what to say or do to make me happy. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if i wanted to.

“let me make you feel good?” he asked when we pulled away. “yeah” i let out breathlessly, nodding my head.

“lay down for me” he said, leaving another kiss to my neck. i did as he said, getting onto my bed and laying on my back.

he wasted no time in crawling over me, his hands placed on either side of my waist. “can i?” he asked, lightly tugging at the hem of my top.

i nodded at him, lifting my upper body up as he pulled off my top. without a word, he attached his lips to my nipple while caressing the other with his hand.

i let out a loud moan at the feeling, beginning to squirm underneath him.

“shit, chris” i sighed out, his eyes immediately looking up at mine.

he swirled his tongue around the hardened bud, watching as my body melted into his touch.

he sucked on my tit until the skin turned dark, moving to the other to give it the same treatment.

“god, chris. feels so good” i moaned out while he continued to work my sensitive nipple with his tongue.

“you look so pretty like this” he rasped as he soothed my boobs with his hands, “can’t believe i have you all to myself” he mumbled to himself.

he moved his face downwards, leaving gentle kisses to my rib cage and abdomen. he paid special attention to every birthmark and scar he found, pressing a kiss to each one.

his fingers rubbed small circles into my skin as he ventured further and further down my body.

he stopped at the waistband of my shorts, leaving a kiss to my crotch area. due to the thin material or the shorts and my lack of underwear, my hips shot up involuntarily at the feeling.

“no underwear? such a dirty fucking girl” he spoke, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

he licked a long stripe up my pussy through the shorts, eliciting a long whine from me. “chris, stop teasing me” i spoke as i squirmed under him.

“you just make it so easy, baby” he spoke, before continuing to leave kisses down my thighs and calves.

“lift up” he spoke as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts. i raised my hips, allowing chris to pull them off.

i let out a sigh at the feeling of my heat being exposed to the cold air of the room.

chris stared down at my glistening pussy, mouth hung open slightly as he pulled my folds apart, spreading me open.

“my god, you’re so gorgeous” he spoke, blowing cool air onto my heat.

“hold your legs apart for me, beautiful” he spoke, his lips inches away from my core.

“so wet” he mumbled before running his tongue along my thighs, just missing where i needed him.

“chris, please. i need your mouth so fucking bad” i whined. “where, baby?” he asked, teasing me some more.

finally having enough, i wrapped my legs around his head, pulling his face into my heat.

he let out a long moan into me, his eyes rolling back as he licked up every drop of my slick.

my head fell back at the feeling, legs loosening around him to let him pull back if needed, however he stayed right where he was.

the words that fell out of my mouth sounded like gibberish, but i didn’t care about that. all i could focus on was chris.

the way he groaned into me, his needy tongue lapping me up like i was his last meal. his piercing eyes never left mine, only making the tight feeling in my stomach grow.

my arousal covered his flushed cheeks, making me even wetter.

there was something that i found so incredibly hot about how messily he was eating me out. it was like all he cared about was me finishing.

he moved his face from my legs, making me let out a whine at the loss of contact.

he stuck his tongue out, his spit dripping down onto my pussy.

“what do you think about when you touch yourself? ” he asked suddenly while he brought his finger down to my core to rub me.

“i- oh” i cried out in surprise at the feeling of his finger entering me.

“holy fuck, you’re so tight” he whispered as he pushed his pointer finger in and out of my tight walls.

“oh my god” i whimpered when he pushed another finger in.

“if you don’t answer me, i’m stopping” he spoke.

“this! i think about this!” i rushed out, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his rough fingers inside of me.

“i think about how perfect your hands are. fuck- how long your fingers are” i struggled out between moans, “i think about you” i finished.

“yeah? what about my cock?” he asked as his fingers sped up.

“you think about what it would feel like for me to fuck you into oblivion? ” he asked as he curled his fingers, hitting my g-spot.

“fuck, yes! i’m so close chris” i cried out as he continued to plunge his fingers in and out of me.

“c’mon, you got it. doing so well for me, want you to make a mess all over me” he rasped out, fingers moving rapidly inside of me.

“chris, wait! i’m gonna-” i tried to warn him, but i was too far gone as my juices shot out of me.

the liquid dripped down his face, onto the saturated sheets underneath us.

“yes, yes, fuck yes” chris groaned as his mouth hung open. i leaned up slightly, watching the way his hips stuttered and his body shook.

“fuck” he let out breathlessly, as he began to shudder.

“did you just come untouched?” i asked, eyes widening slightly.

“if that doesn’t prove how much i want you, nothing will”

wait why’d i kinda eat ??? 🤭

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nicksmainbitch @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

721 notes · View notes